Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

The Church of Bliss

by Spooky Boogy

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© Copyright 2023 - Spooky Boogy - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-F; fpov; latex; catsuit; hood; gasmask; drug; bond; breathplay; transform; cons; XXX

Continues from


I am lifted up

by the Bliss which strengthens me,

by the Bliss which sets me free,

the Bliss to which I owe my all;

by the Bliss which catches me

when I stumble or I fall.

Sister Elise felt wrong.

She had been feeling wrong for the past few weeks; an underlying thrum that had permeated everything she had been doing, ever since that first trip deep into the convent to milk the Oracles. It had persisted throughout her next few visits to aid the Sacrist in their task of extracting and purifying the ingredients for holy water, even though the additional layers of rubber seemed to dull the sensation, and not even long periods of meditation seemed to be able to subdue it – although, Elise still enjoyed spending time huffing the luxurious scent of holy water, despite now knowing where it came from.

Even when she had been assigned the envious task of cleaning the great icon of the Mother of Bliss in the main hall of the cathedral, her joy had been muted by the pit of dread steadily opening up in her stomach. Where she should have been consumed with Bliss, slowly running the polishing cloth over the enormous, latex silhouette of the founder of the Church, she was only running through the motions, lost in contemplation. Not even here, high above the rest of her earthly woes, only the near-permanent layer of latex over her skin keeping her from direct touch with material that once clung to the body of the Mother, was she safe from the ominous feeling.

After realising that the heavy protective layers of the bulky suits used to milk the Oracles seemed to dull the dread, Elise had requested that the bed in her chambers be upgraded and altered. She now spent her nights encased in a vacuum sealed embrace of a heavy sheet of latex, her flesh bearing a network of vibrating patches and electrical pads, lighting up her body each night with a torrent of sensation, all while her air supply was flooded with the intoxicating scent of holy water, only released each morning by an Initiate sent to extract her from her torment. It still wasn’t enough. The sensation only returned each day, ever stronger, even harder to force herself to ignore.

It was like a twisted gravitational pull, the sensation of Bliss but somehow altered. An irresistible urge, pulling her deeper into the cathedral, deeper beneath the earth. Something darker than the night, perfect, ink-black void. Calling out to her in every waking moment. She couldn’t even slip into the Bliss-laden autopilot that told her where she was needed, anymore, or else she’d snap back to her senses to find herself standing in front of unknown doors leading to ancient tunnels that Sisters weren’t permitted to access, or realise that she had been about to take a sip of holy water – the effects of which, she didn’t need to be told, would surely be both immensely pleasurable and utterly terrible.

Something had to change.

And so, she found herself standing before the entrance to the Mother Superior’s chambers, her gloved finger pressed to the bell signalling her desire to seek an audience with the leader of the convent. The chime rang out through the corridor, but there was no response. She had been told to expect that, though – waiting was part of the process. She stood still, steadily taking stock of her situation. The pressure on the balls of her feet from the high heeled boots that made up part of her uniform, the encasement of the rubber that made up the rest. The weight of her white habit resting on her shoulders, the faint chill of air drifting through the corridor transmitted through the thin latex. The snap of the membranes on her gas mask as she breathed in, then out. The unknown sensation

pulling her towards her destiny.

Another chime broke her from the moment, as the voice of the Superior sounded from the door. “Welcome, Sister Elise. I am currently residing in my Reflective Chamber, you will find the door at the rear of the main hall. Enter.”

Slowly, silently, the door swung open, allowing Elise to step through into the Mother Superior’s chambers. She had only been in this space once before, briefly, during her Initiation, but the initial impression had not changed – a cramped space, packed with bubbling and hissing contraptions which the Superior used for her own mysterious purposes, along with various shapes that might have been the squirming forms of particularly blessed Sisters, granted the honour of being the personal test-subjects of the Church’s leader, for a time. However, Elise had a different destination, and she wasted no time in striding through the main hall towards a small doorway at the back of the room, marked with “Reflective Chamber” and already opened and waiting for her.

Inside, the space was even smaller, but this room was designed for only one occupant at a time – and it was currently occupied. If Elise hadn’t had so much recent experience with the Oracles, she would have struggled to parse the sight hanging in the air before her, but now she could clearly pick out the bound limbs and humanoid form of the Superior nestled within the tangled network of pulsating pipes and throbbing, rubber tubes. Elise could even follow the path of the line back to the steadily inflating and deflating bladder that forced the Superior to take slightly shallower breaths than her lungs demanded, and mentally untangle the forest of wires around her body that linked to a cacophony of actuators and items designed to keep her permanently in a state of Bliss-induced arousal, right on the edge of an orgasm, where the mind was at both its most clouded from the haze of pleasure, and at its most clear to the revelations of Bliss.

“Sister. You are troubled, what ails you?” The voice of the Superior echoed through the room, impressively controlled and measured considering the onslaught of sensations that she must have been enduring, even though it was aided by the robotic, mechanical voice filters embedded into her suit.

Elise went to speak, but stopped short – how could she even begin to explain the strange sensation that was afflicting her? Some unknowable, untraceable feeling? It was pure delusion. However, she had made it this far… “Mother Superior, I… I have been feeling strange, lately, ever since the Sacrist took me to tend to the Oracles. It feels like, some sort of thing… calling to me. Something beneath the cathedral. The feeling is… intense, and it is leading to me struggling with my duties.” Elise suddenly felt a crushing weight on her, a desire to simply turn and leave, ignore the problem, simply endure it – “Ah, forgive me Superior, I believe I have wasted your time, I will return to my–”

“Silence, Sister.” The mechanical voice cut through Elise’s doubtful thoughts, leaving her stunned into standing at attention. “I know of the feeling of which you speak, of the sensation that vexes you. I did not experience it myself, but I know of some in the Church’s history who have.” The unknowable, obscured figure encased in layer upon layer of bondage and stimuli seemed to writhe in the air, remembering past experiences of Bliss. “It is not something to be feared, but it must be respected, and embracing it will… change you. I can only offer you a choice.”

The Sister was rooted to the spot, drinking in the fact that the Superior knew about the torment roiling within her, and also seemed to know about its source. “What choice can you offer me, Mother Superior?”

“You may choose to turn away from it, continue your path as a Sister, and be nothing more or less. You will enjoy the Bliss that suffuses this place, and perhaps even take on a significant role – the Prioress, when the time comes for the next to be appointed, another Sacrist, or perhaps you might even take my place in time. You have the potential to be great, and lead the convent well. The sensation will soon pass, once you have chosen to deny the call, and soon it will be nothing more than a distant memory…

“However. Another path is open to you. One that I can tell you far less about; I can simply open the way. You may choose to follow the sensation, descend deeper into the cathedral than any Sister has in decades, and face the true source of the Bliss. You will not return the same person, you may not return at all, but I can guarantee that you will achieve… apotheosis.”

A shiver went through Elise, a sympathetic reaction connecting her to the Superior through the Bliss, letting her feel a shadow of the physical sensation, but also allow her to understand the weight of the decision she was being faced with, and the sincerity of the Superior. She stood still for a long time; the only sounds in the room the creak of rubber, the whine of unknown electrical systems, and the rattle of breathing through two sets of masks. Ultimately, though, the decision was inevitable. She had been on this path ever since her Communion, ever since she had become an Initiate all those months ago.

“I’ll do it.”

“Very well. Good luck, Sister Elise. I hope to see you again.”

The next moments passed in a blur, a squadron of drones called to escort her, marching through the corridors, some of the other Sisters watching the commotion, the thrum of the sensation growing stronger and stronger, somehow satisfied, until she suddenly came to her senses standing before a rusted metal door, deep in a part of the cathedral she had never yet explored. There was no one else nearby, no one other than the four drones arrayed behind her. Elise looked at each of their blank, featureless faces in turn, finding nothing in them – as expected – before turning back to the door.

She opened the door, and stepped through.

I am lifted up

by the Bliss that's in control,

by the Bliss which owns my soul,

that completes me to make me whole.

The stairway on the other side was long, dark, and twisting. Elise’s heels clicked on each step, followed by the footfalls of the four drones. She quickly lost track of her location, only that she was descending deep, the thrum of the sensation in her chest growing stronger and stronger as she did. It felt like something wrapping around her, soaking her, swallowing her, consuming her. It felt good.

Elise stumbled as she reached the base of the staircase, faced with another ancient door, dimly lit by an unknown source. The scream of rusted hinges echoed back up through the tall staircase as she heaved it open, almost tumbling through as the resistance suddenly let up after a moment. She found herself in an enormous, circular chamber that seemed to stretch off to infinity, every surface seemingly coated in inky black rubber, despite the clearly organic shape of what looked more like a cavern than any sort of purpose-built room. The drones filtered in behind her, but she was paying no attention – the tug of twisted Bliss was overwhelming here, and it was pulling her inexorably towards the centre of the space. Her feet began to move on their own, and she was powerless to resist.

Slowly, she began to be able to resolve what lay at the heart of the room. A slight depression, a divot in the middle of the room, surrounded a pool of what she could only identify as a mirror-smooth rubber surface, perfectly flat, reflecting the dim light that filled the room. She could feel it calling to her, demanding that she step out onto it, step into it, become part of it…

A blink, and she was at the edge of the mirror. She looked down, seeing her own face staring back, but altered, changed somehow, in a way that Elise couldn’t identify. She remembered the warning of the Superior, and knew that there would be no coming back – but she had already made her choice, already set herself on this path, there was no real hope of turning back now. “Drones, wait for me here,” Elise said, her voice shaking yet her resolve firm, before stepping forward, onto the mirror.

Her boot broke the surface of the rubber, a ripple spreading out across the mirror-like surface, and she suddenly realised that this was no solid surface, only a perfectly calm liquid. She felt a moment of panic, a flash of fear about tumbling in deeper, before her boot hit an unseen surface far below. Immediately, she felt the rubber liquid swirling around her encasing uniform, somehow merging and melting through the latex to touch her skin directly, the sensation beginning to tingle and throb on her flesh.

Another step, both feet beneath the surface, and another, up to her knees, further, her thighs beneath the rubbery fluid. Her uniform was melting away, only to be replaced immediately by a more perfect, more impossibly tight layer of rubber. As her hands sunk beneath the rubber, she let her fingers trace along her newly encased thighs, and felt her knees give way at the pleasure – toppling the rest of her beneath the surface. She didn’t even have time to do more than pull in a desperate gasp, before she vanished beneath the rippling surface. The void took hold.

She drifts in emptiness, but the space around her is full. The Bliss is around her. It’s within her. It’s moving through her, and with her, and because of her. The Bliss is rubber, rubber is Bliss, she is Bliss, so…

Her uniform lifts away from her skin, dissolving into the perfection of the latex around her, her gas mask does the same, she opens her mouth and the Bliss floods in, sliding down her throat, into her lungs, letting her breathe without breathing. Her muscles contract, her lungs strain, and the Bliss reaches her mind.

The rubber coats her skin, but it’s more than a coating. The first layer goes onto her skin, every inch coated in perfect, smooth latex, but then it begins to sink deeper, changing and morphing her body. Soon the rubber no longer covers her skin, the rubber is her skin, is her body, is her everything.

She is adrift in the rubber, but the rubber anchors her, holds her together. A suit of latex over a skin of rubber, reforming a uniform of sorts. She feels her mind expanding, encompassing, she feels the cathedral far above, she feels the Oracles like beacons of black light in the rubber haze, the Superior locked in prayer for what she might become, and then, she realises something more.

She is not alone.

There is another presence here, another thing that ascended beyond human reality, beyond worldly concerns, beyond everything.

The Mother.

She is drawn into an embrace, latex skin on latex skin, gas masks linked together, breathing synchronised through two sets of lungs that no longer need air. She feels only one thing.


She understands. She knows what she must do. Her new task. Spread the Bliss.

Rubber is Bliss. Bliss is Rubber. She is Bliss. She is Rubber.

The drones waited, patiently, standing at attention around the pool of liquid rubber. They didn’t track the time, they didn’t get bored, they simply existed. Then, suddenly, a figure broke the surface of the pool, rising out of the liquid in silence, not even creating ripples as it came to stand on the surface. Its heeled boots clicked on the liquid as it walked towards the door, moving back towards the cathedral. The drones followed, wordlessly. They understood. They had a task, and a new leader.

The Mother of Bliss had created her first Daughter.



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