Jealous Rubber - Latex TF
Tags: Inanimate, Latex, Flattening, Permanent, Melting, Latex fetish, Latex TF, Condom TF
Jessy had dated Mateo for a year and a half, and the breakup had been LOUD. Thrown phone loud. Neighbors filing complaints loud. Afterward she'd ignored him for weeks out of pure principle, because he needed to learn his lesson, and everyone knew how this worked. He'd crawl back. He was HERS. Excep…
Jessy had dated Mateo for a year and a half, and the breakup had been LOUD. Thrown phone loud. Neighbors filing complaints loud. Afterward she'd ignored him for weeks out of pure principle, because he needed to learn his lesson, and everyone knew how this worked. He'd crawl back. He was HERS. Except while she was busy winning the silent treatment, the buffoon went and found someone new and not just anyone. It was ISABELLA, her rival since school. Tall, effortless, dark waves of hair, that infuriating slow smirk that always made teachers love her and Jessy grind her molars flat. Isabella, dating HER man, cooking in HER old kitchen, sitting on the couch cushion that still probably had Jessy's butt print in it. She couldn't allow it, obviously. So she came up with a genius plan. Find dirt on Isabella. A girl like that HAD to be cheating already, it was statistically certain. Collect evidence, send it to Mateo, catch him when his heart shattered, done. The only problem was access. She didn't have keys anymore, and honestly, she barely knew anything about Isabella's life. Which was where her friend's contraband came in. Illegal TF technology, smuggled who knows how, a matte black latex bodysuit that turned the user fully malleable and TINY. Perfect infiltration gear. Her friend had explained everything, including, at some point, presumably, how to turn back. Jessy had been on her phone for that part. So on Friday evening she stood in the alley behind Mateo's building, stripped down, and stuffed her clothes into the big trash bin. It got emptied Mondays. She'd be done in a few days, easy. Then she pulled the bodysuit on. It clung instantly, sucking flat against her skin like it was drinking her, cool and slick, crawling up her legs, her hips, sealing over her belly and breasts, and then it PULLED. Her whole body compressed inward, and the sensation was beyond strange, muscles and bones and organs squeezing together, softening, melting into one dense lumpy mass, boundaries between parts dissolving, everything becoming everything else. 'Ohhh~ oh that's weird, that's SO weird~' The lumpiness smoothed. Her shape returned, but wrong, better, glossier. Her skin was black shining latex now, seamless from toe to scalp. Her hair had become a sculpted rubber bob. Her face, when she caught it reflected in a puddle, was latex too, glossy black with her own features molded in, eyes still moving, mouth still opening, though when she tried to speak, nothing came out but a faint rubbery squeak and she was TINY. The trash bin towered like a building. She'd shrunk to something that could sit in a palm, maybe seven inches of squeaky black doll. 'PERFECT! Operation Homewrecker Wrecker is go!' It was only halfway up the drainpipe, sticky rubber fingers gripping like gecko pads, that she remembered the part of the instructions she'd scrolled past. The turning back part. 'Later.... I'll figure it out later. Focus!' The window was cracked for the evening breeze. She squeezed her malleable body through the gap, flattening like dough under a rolling pin and popped back into shape on the inside sill and there they were. The living room smelled like popcorn and Isabella's perfume, something warm and expensive. The two of them were tangled on the couch, HER couch, watching Netflix, some cooking competition, Isabella's legs draped over Mateo's lap, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her ankle. 'DISGUSTING! He used to do the thumb thing to ME.' Nothing incriminating was happening, which was obviously a trick. Jessy climbed down the curtain, crossed the shadowed floor in bursts, and scaled the side table for a better view, nearly knocking over a soda can, the aluminum wobbling with a hollow tonk before settling. She froze. Nobody looked. The TV kept droning. "...and with only ten minutes left, contestants must plate their..." Then it happened. Isabella picked up her phone, and Jessy, perched above and behind, watched those manicured fingers tap in the passcode. 'That's GOLD!' Too fast to catch all of it, though. Six digits. Every unlock, Jessy memorized one more. Two, then a seven. Refresh Instagram. Two, seven, four. Check a message. Two, seven, four, nine. She clung to the lamp base like a tiny patient gargoyle, glossy and unblinking. Eventually Mateo stretched, said something about pasta, and the two of them wandered into the kitchen. Sizzling started. Garlic smell drifted out. 'NOW.' Jessy climbed down and misjudged the last foot, dropping to the floor with a soft rubbery boing, her whole body compressing flat and springing back, sensation rippling through her like a full body funny bone. Not loud. Thank god, not loud. She scrambled up the couch, got to the phone, and started pressing the passcode with both tiny hands, the screen huge as a billboard under her. Two. Seven. Four. Nine. A shadow fell over her. Isabella stood there, one eyebrow arched, a wooden spoon still in one hand, and that slow, infuriating smirk spreading across her face l