Turning it on myself

In the near future, the House of Deity will temporarily relocate across the Atlantic to a famed city i haven't yet had the pleasure to visit. This city is one of the cultural scions for many things, but for my purposes, it plays a significant role in the world of fetish. While it isn't the official reason my girl and i are hopping on an easterly plane, kink will be explored, purveyed, played and even purchased. All of this will culminate in the attendance of one of the world's biggest fetish events, with a particular concentration on one of my three largest fetishes: latex

In preparation to attend this kinky gala, my girl and i have had a lot of fun perusing the ever growing market of latex clothing, in search for an update to her wardrobe. However, there is a kink (wink-wink) in this usually conventional search. Due to the profile this party receives, it must enforce a very strict dress code in order to maintain an immaculate latex orthodoxy. As a result, i've had to acquire a latex costume of my own. This is a first.

For years, i've happily plundered my dough on a rubbery dress or skirt for my female companion to don. In fact, 100% of my attention in any boutique that hawks these garments has been devoted to the "Women's" section. I never cared to look at the male offerings because so much of what i saw was so unappealing. Honestly, the notion of slapping on a full-body latex catsuit did nothing for me - worse, it conjured images of the limitless amateur photos i've encountered of male slaves awkwardly draped in the shiny, cocooning material. I didn't relish the task. My fetish isn't one where i'm the mannequin, but rather where i'm able to make my female counterpart the mannequin. Nonetheless, i received repeated assurance from my overseas connection that we would not be allowed entrance - no matter how incredible my girl looked - if i wasn't dressed in some rubberized fashion.

After much procrastination, we settled on a simple military-themed outfit from Libidex. My how easy it was to find something for her, in fact the more difficult task proved to be settling on just one outfit. We waited for our package to arrive in the mail.

When it finally arrived, greeted first by a burst of the heavy, smoky aroma of latex, we carefully peeled each slithery item from its envelope of tissue paper (which is a must when shipping latex, because unlike other clothing, these delicate items cannot lie against themselves out of fear that they will adhere to eachother). I purposely delayed in examining the shirt and pants we ordered for me, instead insisting on previewing her outfit. When i finally fished out my purchases, i was pleasantly greeted with a handsome plumb-colored short sleeved shirt with a striking military insignia on the arm.

The moment arrived to try it on. Having instructed several girls on the application of talcum powder to their bodies in order to facilitate the tug of these rubbery items over their flesh, for some reason, i felt a stubbornly masculine resistance to doing the same for me. I didn't need soft, slightly perfumed baby powder. My sheer will and determination will suffice. Boy, was i wrong. Not only was it a massive struggle to pull on the incredibly tight military trousers, but the material caught on every single hair on my legs and yanked at them, as if to tear each follicle from my flesh.

Eventually, i got the pants on, and then buttoned up the army shirt, still feeling a little weird to actually be someone putting on latex clothes. Almost immediately, i could feel the effect of the tight, stretch material that cause so many to become latex aficionados. I felt a cool breath on my body everywhere the latex touched, that would eventually warm up against my skin. The tight constriction of the material also had an unexpected appeal. I've worn tight pants before, but because these stretched and smoothed over my body to such an extreme degree, they really felt like they were a part of my anatomy, rather than simply draped over it. When we studied eachother, alternating between the mirror and looking straight at eachother, both me and my girl were excited at how relatively un-freakish we looked. She looked phenomenal in the dress we chose, the slick, liquidy latex flowing over her delicious curves. In many ways, we mutually felt like we had put on superhero costumes for Halloween. All we needed were eye masks to fully conceal our identity.

Even now, as i contemplate the fact that after all these years, i finally own some latex outfit for myself, the idea feels a bit surreal. It's like turning the transformation ray on myself, and sometimes i don't mind that notion, but for the most part that time in my life has passed, and i can't help but feel a little out of place.