Gromet's PlazaTransformation Stories

Suiting Danielle

by Kim Manners

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© Copyright 2012 - Kim Manners - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; lab; suit; latex; experiment; harness; transform; paralyse; tank; encase; wax; bodysuit; m2f; mast; climax; cons/nc; X

Part 1

It was not Danielle Kasimir's habit to answer strange-looking ads on Craigslist, but the one she was considering was one of the oddest-- and most lucrative-looking-- she had seen in a while.


Looking for woman, 18-30, to fit-model unique costumes. Must not be claustrophobic, not have allergies to latex or polyvinyls, be able to devote a whole weekend. No nudity or photography, must sign confidentiality doc. Pay $3K. Respond with picture.

Dany started scrolling through iPhoto, looking for a sexy pics of herself to send. She considered getting Helen or Kimmy to come over and take some new photos, but she did not want to explain what she was going to use the pics for. She found a nice one from last summer taken in Pismo, her on the dunes in a tiny bikini she had borrowed from Kimmy, in fact. It was scandalously revealing, but it showed off her body well. It wasn't a perfect, skinny bod, she thought, but still nice, not unlike Kate Upton's, a little rounded-- And Upton made the cover of Sports Illustrated, after all. She replied to the ad and attached the photo without hesitation.

She admitted to herself she was not a hundred percent sure what she was in for: the ad said no nudity, but it didn't exactly say no sex. But a quick look at her bank account and the gaps in her work schedule at Vons and she realized she was not in the position to be choosy.

Not six hours after Dany submitted her reply the ad vanished and she received a rather formally worded acceptance -- with a confidentiality agreement form attached. She filled it out, sent it back, and minutes later received two replies: a notice that limo would pick her up first thing Friday morning, and a Paypal advance of $1500. Dany was impressed, and any doubts she may have been harboring seem to evaporate.

The limo that morning took her out into the desert, past the wind farms outside Palm Springs. It stopped well past the major towns, at the gates of a secluded, large villa near the north shore of the Salton Sea.

Dany stepped out and was immediately struck by an anvil of heat-- it was late summer and it must have been at least 105° at 10 a.m. The door of the villa opened and she was waved inside. She stood in the impressively large, well-air-conditioned atrium, and was greeted by a 40-ish man.

“Good morning, Ms. Kasimir. I'm Doctor Martin Fisher, the one who took out the ad.”

Dany looked him over. He looked normal enough, and was dressed in khakis and a blue dress shirt. He didn't look like any sort of pervert: he looked like a pro golfer. She extended a hand. “Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Fisher.”

“Please: call me Marty or Dr. Fisher, whatever you prefer.”

“Okay. Where do I put my things?” She waved her small suitcase.

“Oh, just leave it here. If you don't mind, we should get right to work.”

She took a moment, nodded in agreement, and placed her case on the floor.

Dr. Fisher led her through the large spanish-style mansion and down stairs to a hallway that was likely below ground level. Even though they traversed the entire large house, Dany did not see another person. The hallway went on for quite a while and ended in a concrete chamber, all subterranean cool.

The large room was divided in two: one side was empty and draped with backdrop curtains, and the other side full of scientific equipment, none of which looked familiar to Dany. She was walked over to a couch on the empty side and offered a seat and given a bottle of water.

“Danielle,” Dr. Fisher said, “I'm a materials research scientist. I formulate and test new garment fabrics, most of which have high-tech applications and capabilities. I have a new series of polymerase sheeting I think I've perfected, a sort of memory material. It may have applications for NASA or the military, I'm not sure. It's not at all harmful to the skin, and actually you might find it kind of fun to wear. Well, I think you'll find it fun. It's all in the packaging, really.”

Dany smiled at the word “fun.” “Alright, Marty, I'm in. I came this far, right?”

“You sure did. Let me get the test garment.”

She waited with some slight trepidation as she watched Dr. Fisher head to the scientific side of the chamber, grab a plastic tote and haul it over. He opened it in front of Danielle and pulled out a mass of black rubber-looking material.

“Wow!” she said. “Is that... Latex?” She had worn latex once in a while: it was quite the craze in LA when she was a teenager, and she still owned a red Syren latex dress she was proud to still be able to wiggle into.

“Not quite, Danielle-- but the material is latex-based. It has that smell, that unforgettable latex smell, doesn't it?”

“It sure does.”

“Now, I admit I needed a pattern for the test suit and the best pattern, the one that most appropriate for the needs of this fit session, was taken from fetish clothing. So I apologize if it's... a little weird.”

Dany stood up and he handed the garment to her. It was surprisingly heavy. She could make out the form: it was a full body suit, from toes to hands to hood, shiny, rustling, squeaking black rubber-- Or something so much like rubber she could not tell the difference. She saw the opening in the back running from shoulder to shoulder. She looked up to Dr. Fisher questioningly.

“You need to take off all your clothes, of course, to get in. And don't forget to take off any body jewelry. It'll tear the fabric. There are two layers in this garment, and the inner one is thin and can be damaged easily. I'm going to pull the curtain and wait on the other side until you have it on almost all the way. I'll help you with the hood and zipping up. Like I said, no nudity!”

Dr. Fisher backed away from the couch and pulled the curtain closed, leaving Dany holding the bulky rubber suit. She shrugged and started undressing.

It took Dany a while to unscrew the cap on her belly ring and take it out, but after a few minutes she was completely naked and unadorned. She sat down and put one foot into the opening of the garment, pulling it on. She could see the two layers of the suit: the black rubber-like outer layer was quite thick, while the inner suit was semi-opaque tan, not attached to the outer suit, rather just placed inside. The inside was cool and very smooth, and her foot slid right in. With a little struggling she had both legs fully in the suit. When she stood up she received quite a surprise-- the suit had built-in heels. Very high heels. She realized she was standing like a ballerina, toes on the floor, stilettos behind. She teetered unsteadily until she managed to pull the heavy suit up to her waist, then she sat down again to finish donning it. Her arms went into the tight sleeves, hands filling the gloves perfectly.

Dany pulled the suit up to her chest, her breasts fitting into individual cups. The hood dangled in front of her head, and she realized she could go no further without assistance. She called in Dr. Fisher to help.

When he pulled back the curtain Dany could see Dr. Fisher was taken aback by the sight of her. She saw his amazement, smiled, and gave him a seductive wiggle, letting the rubber squeak a little. “Little help?”

He stood Dany up and held her in her tottering ballet heels. “Standing and walking will be a bit easier as soon as the suit is all on. Now, the hood has a mouthpiece and you won't be able to talk when it's on, but I'm sure you'll be able to make yourself understood. Any last words?”

“Um, no offense, doc, but how long to I have to wear this thing?”

“Not as long as you think.”

She thought his smile had a touch of the sinister as he moved behind her and smoothed out the suit on her shoulders. “Okay, here goes! Lean your head forward.” He stretched the hood upwards, gently pushed Dany's head into it, and pulled it down. He moved in front of her and adjusted the fit of the face, lining up the eyes and nose and, pulling her jaw open, inserted the mouthpiece and had her bite down on it. It was shaped like the inside of her mouth: her teeth fit into arched pockets and her tongue had a tongue-shaped pocket as well. He pressed around her eyes: she felt hard cups attach just inside her sockets. He stepped behind her again and closed the suit-- twice: The inner suit closed with a plastic slider, then the outer suit was fastened with a large tough zipper.

Dr. Fisher carefully sat her down on the couch. “How's that?” Dany gave him a thumbs up. “Okay, wait here a few minutes and relax. The suit needs to warm up to body temperature. You can walk around, just be careful.” He chucked. “there's a mirror over there so you can see how incredible you look. I'm going to get some equipment, be back in a few minutes.”

All Dany could do was sit in on the couch and breathe through her nose. The suit was tight, and it was getting warm. She shifted a bit and it pulled on various parts of her body. The feeling was not altogether bad, she thought. She got a little bored just sitting there and, planting her toes and heels on the floor, gingerly lifted herself upright.

She stood for a minute and tried a few steps, her hard-capped toes and heels clicking on the concrete floor. Just like Dr. Fisher said, it was strangely easier to walk: her sense of balance seemed keener, and she mastered the ballet heels in moments. The stretching of the rubbery material over her body as she walked, the rhythmic tightening over her ass and crotch, was like a gentle massage. Still tingling with pleasure, while feeling her body heat up the suit, She walked over to the mirror and took in her amazing reflection.

Dany's body was coated with imposing, glistening black rubber, from the tips of her toes to her head. She stepped close to the mirror and examined her face. She tried to make a few faces, smiling and frowning, but it was for the most part expressionless-- but it was molded with high cheekbones and lips, so it looked like a woman's face made of glossy jet-black latex. Her eyes were hidden behind oval black plastic lenses, black flanges extended into her nostrils, and to her surprise the mouthpiece was a detailed simulation: white rubber teeth covered her real ones and her tongue was sheathed in a rubbery red tongue. She could open and close her mouth but could not make any sound at all.

There was a built-in corset-like cincher which drew her waist in, and over it her rubber-covered breasts stood out proud. They seemed larger than her real ones.

There was a small zipper on her crotch and when she opened it a sheath fell out. Not divining it's purpose, she stuffed it back in and zipped it closed again.

“How are you doing?” called out Dr. Fisher from the other side of the room. “See if you can walk over here. I want to take some temperature measurements.” Before she even realized she was doing it she strode over to him on her ballet heels, no tottering or hesitation, like she had been doing it all her life. “That is just... really impressive. The suit was designed to counterbalance your gait in ballet heels. That's why you can walk so well in them while you're in there. Now stand still for a minute.” He pointed a pyrometer over her rubber-encased body. “Do you feel warm?” She nodded emphatically. “Good. I think the suit is already at optimal temperature. Follow me.”

Dr. Fisher led the silent Dany to a tall framework. “Now stand right here and put your arms out.” She complied, and he fastened a nylon webbing harness to her torso. He attached the harness to framework at the shoulders high and tight enough to take some of the weight off her feet.

He then grabbed a large cylindrical injector full of pinkish-red fluid. “Now relax, Danielle, and let the harness hold you up. I'm just going to add a catalyst to your suit so we can get this session started in earnest.”

Dany tried to be calm in the harness but it wasn't easy. She felt the plastic buckles over and under her breasts and realized she could probably unhook herself if she needed to, so she did as he suggested and let some of the tension out of her legs. The harness creaked. She could feel Dr. Fisher fiddling with something at the top of the suit. She suddenly felt cold fluid flowing down her head. She jerked in the harness in surprise, emitting a muffled shriek.

Dr. Fisher came back into Dany's field of vision. “I know that's a little uncomfortable. Here, this will help you breathe easier.” He rather roughly reached into her mouthpiece and unscrewed a cap at the back of her tongue, one she had not realized was there when the thing was inserted. He then inserted a corrugated plastic tube and screwed it in place. While she gasped through the tube, he jammed rubber plugs into her nostrils, leaving her mouth tube as her only air passage.

The viscous fluid continued to flow down her head. She could not tell if if was flowing between the layers or over her skin. Soon, as the fluid ran down her back and chest, she realized it was on her skin: she could feel tingling, starting on her scalp, penetrating, leaving numbness. Her limbs began to feel heavy, her joints stiff, waxy. She could hear her breath whistling through the tube, frantic, then slower and slower as paralysis began to take over.

She was completely immobile, numb from head to toes, her breathing slow and shallow. She could not even close her eyes: she could only stare straight ahead, her vision rimmed with distortion from the heavy lenses. Her kinesthetic sense was still operational, even though her skin seemed numb to the bone: she could feel Dr. Fisher move her limbs around, working the fluid evenly and thoroughly in her suit, like basting a turkey in a bag. He then pushed a flat examination table up to her and sat on it, in full view of her unclosing eyes, checking his watch and occasionally pointing the pyrometer at her unmoving rubber-encased body.

After what seemed like several hours (but what was actually seventeen minutes) Dr. Fisher walked up to Dany's paralyzed, rubber-enclosed form and removed her from the harness. She fell into his arms like a floppy stage mannikin. He put her hundred-twenty-pound body over his shoulder and laid her down on the table, face down.

Dany could only lay there, her head facing sideways, and felt the movement as Dr. Fisher unzipped the outer suit and pulled it up over her head. It came away from the inner suit with resistance and a sucking sound. He had to lift her head up as he pulled the hood from her face. As he worked the outer suit off, she lay immobile-- she felt boneless, as if the inner suit was the only thing holding her together.

In her mind she was screaming. What was happening to her defied any explanation. She thought she was going to die at any moment. She realized she told nobody what she was doing or where she was going this weekend: It was, after all, a little embarrassing. Now she regretted not letting anyone know-- she would never be found, not this far from Los Angeles. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't sob and she couldn't even make tears.

Then something strange happened: the examination table elevated, ascending until it was eight feet above the floor. Dr. Fisher wheeled a platform next to it and climbed up―again right in her field of vision. He looked right into her eyes and said: “You're about to begin the next phase of your life. In time, I'm sure you'll enjoy this wonderful transformation. But for now, remain calm and just let the process finish re-making you.”

He unzipped the inner suit and slowly peeled it away from Dany's back, upwards to her head. Her sense of touch came back with a vengeance: her exposed skin felt intense, blasting heat. It was like someone was putting a torch to her body. As he peeled the suit off her head, she though she was being roasted alive. He flipped her on her back and continued to peel the suit off her unmoving body until it was inside-out and slid it off her feet.

Dany laid on the steel table and felt her body begin to melt. This, she thought through the indescribable pain, was how it was going to end for her, being liquified by the terrible heat.

But then Dr. Fisher came into view-- odd, she thought, that he was not wearing any protection from this heat!-- and tilted the table. She felt herself slide down feet-first and splash into a fluid-filled tank.

The awful heat was replaced by soothing coolness. She could feel her body re-solidify as the coolness penetrated to her core. The cool relief-- and the realization she may actually live through this experience-- settled over her mind and she drifted into unconsciousness.

* * *

Danielle woke up some unknown time later, in a weightless state. She realized she was still immersed in fluid, specifically in a fluid-filled cylindrical plexiglas tank. She could move―sluggishly, but she could move her limbs and turn her head.

Then the oddities began to pile on.

Dany looked up and saw the tank she was in was sealed on the top. Which was not good, she thought, because how would she get some air--

--and then she realized she wasn't breathing.

It wasn't as if she was holding her breath: it was more like the need to take in air, the autonomic reflex that kept her diaphragm filling her lungs twelve times a minute, was just not there anymore. The idea of this panicked her. She reached up to check and see of her mouth and nose was somehow obstructed or a ventilator was hooked up to them, and--

--Dany's hand was not there. Her arm ended with a bulbous oblong shape, a vague outline of what her hand should be. She brought her other hand over and saw it was in the same condition. She ran one “hand” over the other and it felt extremely soft, waxen, the texture of paraffin or plasticine.

As her panic began to ratchet up, she saw something move on the other side of the thick plexiglas of the cylindrical tank. It was Dr. Fisher. He peered in on her and smiled-- this time quite wickedly.

“Danielle, I see you're awake.” He spoke a bit loudly so he could be heard through the thick plexiglas. “Good. Welcome to your new life.”

Dany, as shocked as she was, still managed to beat on the plexiglass with her “hands,” conveying her anger to him quite well. She stopped when she saw that the parts of her her body impacting the tank wall were flattening out, which gave her a scare.

Dr. Fisher chuckled at her distress. “Let me explain what I have done here, so you will have a full understanding of what it all means. The suits you were wearing were both made of what I call 'memory rubber,' a complex active polymer I derived from latex. The stuff I poured in was the catalyst, which activated the suit's one-time functioning cycle.

The two suits have slightly different functions: the outer one contained the reaction, and both suits acquired your dermal imprint. The other component of the catalyst transformed your living flesh into a biogenic plastic polymer, right down to the bone. In other words, your body has been turned into a hundred and twenty pounds of living wax.”

Dr. Fisher left for a moment and returned, wheeling the floor-length mirror. “Please, see for yourself. Danielle Kasimir is gone forever: You're not much more than a featureless human-shaped waxwork. I call what you have become a 'core body.'”

She looked at her reflection and a feeling of sinking terror came over her. It was true: she was an androgynous pink plastic... thing, floating in a a vat of clear fluid. Her head was a featureless oval, with two slightly dark spots where her eyes should be. No fingers, no toes, a straight tube-shaped torso, nothing between her legs. She was a melted Barbie doll.

He continued to explain Danielle's new situation. “Your new core temperature is now fifty-five degrees Fahrenheit. It's important for you to remember that. If you were to find a way out of that tank and made it out here, well, the room temperature is seventy-five degrees. Within an hour you'll literally melt. And if you somehow escaped and got outside, where it's a hundred and ten in the shade, you'll practically evaporate.

“The only way out of that tank... is in here.” He picked up the empty outer suit and waved it at her. “The outer suit, as I said, has your dermal imprint. Once your core body has stabilized, and you show me you have accepted your new form, I may let you wear it. You can't melt while you wear it. You'll be a speechless woman with black rubber skin and permanent ballet heels, but you'll have a woman's form, working hands and everything.”

He carefully folded the black suit and placed it in a locked drawer. As Dani watch with her unblinking black spot eyes, he moved to an industrial sink and pulled the pinkish inner suit from the soapy water it was soaking in. He talked to Dani over his shoulder as he began to thoroughly rinse the inside-out suit with a spray handle. “You're probably wondering why I'm doing all this. Well, part of it is the science of it: I've been fascinated with biological transformations since I was a kid, and it's been my life's work. The rest-- well, I'm cleaning the inner suit you were wearing. When it's fully dry, it will become very clear what I'm doing and why.”

“I know you have a million billion questions, and probably quite a few curses for me as well. But as you can see, as you are floating in an oxygenated dextrose solution with no usable hands or mouth, you're not exactly in the position to ask or curse.”

He took the inside-out inner suit and laid it carefully on the examination table, slightly tilted so the water would drain off. “No, Danielle, what you need to do is just float there and let the polymerizing process finish. What you can do is make sure your new 'skin' is smooth: it always comes out of the process a bit irregular or bumpy. Just rub any place that itches with your 'hands:' it'll feel great. See you in a few hours.”

Dr. Fisher left the concrete chamber, shutting off most of the lights as he did.

* * *

Danielle floated in the near-darkness of her cylindrical tank, the only sound the bubbling of what looked like an aquarium oxygenator above. Her mind was awash in emotion: fear, anger and dread, driving any abstract thoughts away. She floated motionlessly until she could feel those stronger emotions subside. It took a long time.

Dany felt an insistent itch on her left upper arm. She turned and saw a large rough patch, like wax roughened with a cheese grater. She rubbed her paddle-like hand over it in a circular motion and began to feel immediate relief. She let her hands wander of her the other itches on her new waxen body, the rubbed areas left gleaming smooth and tingling with pleasure, like her skin felt after a good spa treatment.

She thought about that and felt sad. That was something she would never feel again. Her body was gone, and her life reduced to two options: floating in a tank like a giant pink salamander or as a mad scientist's mute rubber submissive.

She took stock of her senses. Her skin, if her plasticine dermis could be called that, was feeling increasingly better as she rubbed it smooth. She could see, but she couldn't blink: she rubbed her face area and it seemed to clear up a haze over her eyespots. She could feel her teeth, and her tongue filling her mouth, but she could not open her jaw or move anything. Her fingers and toes all felt intact, but it was like they were glued together. She could feel ghostly traces of her breasts on her featureless torso-- and her vagina, inaccessible under her blank crotch. She was not sure if the body parts she felt were real or some sort of phantom body image, like the things she read about people who experienced sensation in severed limbs.

In her mind she felt quite intact, but when she looked in the mirror outside the tank in the dimmed room the view was profoundly dissonant. She was just a blank plastic form in a tank, staring at her reflection with two black spots for eyes.

It must have been hours later when the lights came on and Dr. Fisher re-entered the lab, wearing nothing but a terrycloth bathrobe. Danielle was in a semi-conscious fugue state, still mindlessly seeking out rough spots on her body with her flat paddle hands, the slow self-polishing sending a glow of pleasure deep into her new skin. When the light came on she came to and floated to the tank wall, head close to the plexiglas, watching his every move.

Dr. Fisher rolled the mirror away and examined his subject closely. “My, my, you really took my advice well, Danielle. Your new skin shines like glass. Good work. You know why it feels so good? By smoothing out the rough spots, you're reducing your total body area. It'll help cure your new skin, make it easier to tolerate being out of the tank for brief periods.”

He picked up the inner skin and shook it out, smiling. “Ah, completely dry and clean. Here, watch this: Like I said, this suit explains everything.” He held it up to her face and slowly, theatrically reversed the inside-out head.

What she saw drove her to the far end of the tube in a spasm of shock, the back of her head bumping the tank wall. It was her face-- Danielle Kasimir's face, her lips and closed eyes, her straight streaked-blond hair, the most realistic mask she had ever seen. Dr. Fisher grinned cruelly at her obvious distress and continued to reverse the suit, revealing her breasts, arms, slender waist, everything as real-looking as she was in her former flesh, but empty and flaccid as the rubber suit it was.

“You ain't seen nothin' yet!” He laughed as he undid his sash and his robe fell to the floor. She looked at his body-- an unremarkable 40-ish man's body, slight pot belly, fair amount of body hair, circumcised-- as watched Dr. Fisher sat on the table, shook the suit out and gathered it up at the opening across the shoulders.

No, Dany thought. No.

He gingerly inserted his right leg in the suit and pulled it up to his knee.

No. Nonono.

He had both feet in the suit now, and he stood up to gently tug it up to his hips.

No. This isn't happening.

He had the suit up to his chest level and was rolling his shoulder to fit one of his arms inside. Dany looked at his feet and noticed he looked top-heavy: big chest, slim waist, and he was standing on small feet, size fives. The suit did not looked stretched out to accommodate his larger body at all: it looked...

No. That's not possible.

Dr. Fisher had both arms in the suit and had it pulled up to his neck and shoulders. She took in the odd sight: a man's head, short salt-and-pepper hair and a five o'clock shadow, perched on a curvy woman's body. He looked down, laughed, and grabbed the top of the opening.

“Be seeing you, Danielle!” he said as he pulled the suit hood up and over his head, adjusted the fit and, using foot-long forceps, pulled the slider closed. There was a quiet stretching sound: he stood perfectly still and sighed.

No. Oh my God, no.

Dr. Fisher now wore Danielle's former body. Perfectly.

He ran his slender hands down his curvy sides and cupped his breasts. “Mmmm, these are nice.” he traced circles around his prominent nipples and let out a quiet moan. “You have a wonderful body,” he said in Danielle's high voice. “Or should I say, you had a wonderful body. It's mine now, to wear whenever I choose.”

“Now you know why I did this. I like to sample everything life has to offer, and part of that is to sample life as a girl, a beautiful girl. Young women seem to have all the advantages in life these days.”

Danielle would have laughed morosely at this, were she able to.

“I didn't want to be some sort of lame cross-dresser or get my dick chopped off in some crude sex-change-- because I like who I am too. No, I wanted a true transformation, the real thing-- it was my shining, personal life's goal to be able to change bodies at will.”

He got an idea, which showed as an impish smile on his lovely face. He pushed a rolling office chair to face the tank and sat in it. He draped a shapely leg over the arm and began to play with his pussy. “Oh, God, that feels amazing. Did you do this a lot?” He rubbed his clitoris vigorously, small moans escaping from his sensual mouth. His other hand explored his breasts, pinching and rubbing.

Danielle was devastated. Dr. Fisher was really showing his true colors now: He was taunting her, topping his already monstrous cruelty, taking enjoyment in her loss and helplessness. She wanted to look away, but her former form, so close but unreachable, was a hypnotic sight. Her rage at him was overwhelmed with a sense of profound loss.

Dr. Fisher reached climax, letting out a loud moan and arching his back. He finally settled back, and brushed his now-messy blond hair from his pretty face. “Ahhhh. Whew! That felt incredible. You were a lucky girl, to have such a responsive body. Sorry about my little show-- I like to test the equipment before I take it out for a spin.”

Danielle heard this last part and her feelings of loss were replaced by sick dread.

Dr. Fisher padded away and came back with an armful of clothes-- the ones Danielle had taken off before putting on the fateful pair of suits. He dressed slowly and deliberately, inching up her panties, re-inserting her belly ring and screwing the cap on, donning her tight t-shirt, zipping up her stretchy jeans.

He used his reflection in the tank to apply lipstick from her purse and brush out his long hair. To Danielle Dr. Fisher now appeared to be the exact same person she saw in her mirror back in her tiny LA apartment, dressed and waiting for the limo to arrive.

He stepped into her slingbacks and put his hands on his hips. “Well, Danielle, I'm off. Headed back to your place in Los Angeles. It will probably take a few days, but when I'm done Danielle Kasimir as a person will be history, gone. On a long trip, moved to China, I haven't made up my mind yet. Her friends won't miss her, her family won't look for her either. You know, it's easy to make someone vanish completely if you look and sound and act just like her.” Dr. Fisher put his lips up to the plexiglas and kissed it, leaving a perfect lip-print in MAC Frosty Peach #4.

“When I get back, your former life will be officially, even legally, over. Take these few days to adjust to this, and to your new situation, your new life. I'm sure after a few days you'll be dying to get out that little tank, and your new black rubber skin is waiting.”

Dr. Fisher turned and headed for the door. Danielle, floating limp in cool fluid, focused on watching her former ass, her near-perfect, well-toned butt covered in skintight jeans, as he walked out the door.



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