Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Jennifer's Holiday

by Rubberised

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© Copyright 2023 - Rubberised - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF/f+; latex; catsuit; hood; corset; armbinder; catheter; enema; insert; electro; toys; buttplug; cons; XX

Continues from

8: The Factory

By the time they pulled into the parking lot of a low grey industrial unit, Jennifer's pulse had slowed to normal and she almost had her breath back. Steve parked in a space by the mirrored glass entrance doors and jumped out to open the door for them. As Jennifer unbuckled herself Miranda squeezed her shoulder and gave her a conspiratorial smile. “I hope you enjoyed the ride,” she said, causing Jennifer to both smile and blush as she recalled the uninhibited release of ecstasy she had gone through on their way here. Getting out of the car she pulled the short red mack tight round her waist and smoothed it down over her hips, hoping it would disguise the throbbing she still felt in her loins.

At the back of the car Steve had opened the trunk and was helping Jane out of her confinement. Soon the four of them were heading toward the door of the factory building. There were no signs or anything to indicate what went on inside. The parking lot was around half-full, and at the far end a truck was backed up to the loading bay. As pallets we wheeled into the truck Jennifer caught a glimpse of the figure pushing the trolley; he seemed to be clad head to toe in black and wearing breathing apparatus. Puzzling over this she followed Steve, Miranda and Jane through the sliding glass doors which the sign said lead to reception.

Inside was a smart, brightly-lit reception area. Black rubber and chrome chairs were arranged around a low table, and a reception desk was located in the middle of the back wall, with opaque glass doors either side of it. Behind the desk Jennifer could just see the head and shoulders of the receptionist. An immaculately made-up elfin face was framed by a hot pink open-faced hood, the girl's lipstick matching the hood perfectly. On one side the tight hood revealed the outline of an earpiece underneath, with the thin boom of the microphone protruding out from the hood to the girl's mouth. On the other side a thin tube snaked over her ear, appeared at the side of the open face of the hood and disappeared into her nose. She was talking to someone on the phone, but when she caught sight of them her eyes lit up and she quickly finished the call.

“Mistress Miranda!” she cried, smiling broadly “and Master Steve!” she added just as excitedly. She pushed her chair back and after some wriggling stood up and came to greet them. As she stood up Jennifer saw that the hood extended seamlessly into the girl's outfit, and when she emerged from behind the desk Jennifer was able to take it all in. The girl was quite petite, barely reaching Jennifer's shoulder despite her high heels, but she had the most enormous chest. Her breasts were easily the size of soccer balls, and just as firm and round. She wore a full bodysuit which sheathed her completely in glossy, shocking pink. It was moulded to her extreme dimensions; stretched tightly across her breasts but moulding them exactly. The suit appeared to have a built-in corset which pulled in her tiny waist but also supported the enormous globes. Her arms were pulled tightly behind her, and her pink legs moulded seamlessly into ballet boots.

“Hello Trixie,” Miranda said, and introduced her to Jennifer. “Trixie was our maid for a while, but we made the mistake of introducing her to one of our friends and he stole her away from us.” Trixie looked slightly ashamed, but it was obvious Miranda was teasing. “Actually Philip is one of the engineers here at the factory; we may meet him later.”

“Master Philip is in his office,” Trixie informed them. “He should be down soon though to take me to lunch.”

“He's allowing you lunch?” Steve questioned. “That's not like him.”

“Well when I say ‘taking me to lunch’ I'm not sure I'll get to eat much,” Trixie replied.

Whilst they had been talking Jennifer had been able to get a closer look at Trixie's bizarre outfit. Her arms were held behind her in an armbinder, but unlike the one Jane wore there were no straps or zips. In fact there didn't seem to be any openings anywhere on the suit other than the open face of the hood. Realising Jennifer's attention Trixie twirled slowly to give her a full view.

“Do you like my suit? Master Philip designed it especially for me. I have it in several colours and wear it every day to work. It's completely seamless; I put it on through the opening in the hood. I can't quite manage the armbinder myself but Master Philip likes to watch me try, then helps me into it when I fail.”

“It looks wonderful,” Jennifer replied, "but how can you work the switchboard? And...” she added cautiously, “what about using the bathroom?” Trixie giggled.

“The bathroom is easy; I'm all plumbed in. See?” She turned round, spread her legs and bent forwards so her bound arms pointed skywards. Between her legs were two valves, aligned with her front and rear openings. Around each valve was a ring of electrical contacts. “The suit has an enema plug and dildo built in. I'm also catheterised”. Leading Jennifer back behind the desk she showed her her workstation. There was a saddle-shaped chair upholstered in black rubber. In the middle of the seat were two sets of connectors which would align with those in Trixie's suit. “When I sit down the valves connect and I'm plumbed in” she explained. “The electrical contacts mean both plugs can be inflated remotely. They also vibrate and have TENS contacts. Master Philip can control it all from his phone. Although sometimes he gives his colleagues control. Some of them are very cruel” she shuddered slightly at the thought, but Jennifer detected a smile playing across Trixie's pink lips. “The switchboard is another of Master Philip's inventions. Look under the desk”. Jennifer saw there was a computer screen on the desk but no keyboard. Under the desk were two rows of large buttons, positioned to be foot operated. Trixie slid herself onto her chair and Jennifer heard a succession of clicks and whirrs as the connectors and valves were aligned and sealed, accompanied by a satisfied sigh from Trixie as the dildos were inflated. Just then a call came in, so Trixie was able to demonstrate how she could direct the call and control the computer entirely with her ballet-pointed toes.

As Jennifer was admiring this the frosted glass doors to the right of reception slid open as a man walked in. He was wearing what initially looked like smart business attire; a slim cut charcoal grey suit, white shirt and blue tie. Only as he came closer was it apparent that the outfit was entirely rubber. When saw Steve and Miranda he came over to greet them.

“Philip, I'd like you to meet some new friends of ours. This is Jennifer”. Philip smiled and welcomed Jennifer to the factory. “And this is Jane,” said Miranda, stepping aside to allow Philip to see the tightly bound Jane on the leash behind her.

“I see,” said Philip, in a knowing manner. “And are you here on business or pleasure?”

“A little of both I think,” replied Steve. “How are the new designs coming along?” He and Philip moved to one of the low tables and began a conversation, the details of which Jennifer couldn't hear.

“OK, I think they'll be a while,” said Miranda. “Let me show you around.”

Leaving Trixie to her duties Miranda headed towards the frosted glass doors through which Philip had arrived a few minutes ago. Jane followed dutifully along on the end of her silver chain, and Jennifer walked beside Miranda as she explained the business.

“We’ve always been into rubber, and I started making my own outfits as a hobby. Steve couldn’t resist applying technology to the task, and it grew from there. The first thing was the laser scanner, which you’ve already experienced. That enabled us to create accurate patterns, but the clothes were all still put together by hand. Also you can’t avoid having seams. That’s where Steve’s other innovation came in.” They were walking past glass walled offices and meeting rooms. Jennifer saw people working at computers, on the phone or in meetings. One was evidently a design meeting; large photo proofs were stuck up around the walls with several men and women discussing them. In every case the people were dressed in rubber. Some work latex business attire like Philip – slim fitting suits or tight pencil skirts. In other cases people had on tight catsuits in numerous styles and colours, or separates. Some were completely covered, with hoods, masks and gloves, whilst others were less severely attired.

“You have a very strict dress code here,” Jennifer commented.

“Actually there’s no dress code at all,” replied Miranda. “People can wear whatever they want. However we find that new employees almost always start wearing rubber very quickly – even if they weren’t fetishists before they joined. Also we have a very good staff discount!” she added.

By this time they had reached another set of glass doors at the end of the corridor. As these opened Jennifer saw rows of white boiler suits hanging on rails down one side of the room and a long bench on the opposite wall. They went into the room.

“From here on you’ll need to wear one of these suits,” Miranda instructed. “They’re loose-fitting, so should go over what you’re wearing now. They’re also in size order. Here…” she said, picking a suit and handing it to Jennifer “This looks about right. Jennifer took the white bundle. Unsurprisingly she realised it was rubber. Holding it up she saw she was holding a white boiler suit with attached white boots, gloves and hood. The hood was seamlessly moulded to a white mask with a wide transparent visor. A rear zip allowed access, so sitting on the bench Jennifer took off her ankle boots and slipped her rubber-stockinged feet into the legs of the suit. Her arms easily slid into the sleeves and reached the thick white attached gloves. She ducked her head into the hood then shrugged the suit over her shoulders. It was surprisingly light; although it looked like a drysuit it was very thin rubber so not too heavy.

Meanwhile Miranda had also donned a suit. She zipped Jennifer up, then turned round to allow Jennifer to do the same. Next she undid Jane’s armbinder, hanging it on a hook above the bench. Jane stretched and massaged her freed arms.

“Don’t think we won’t be back for that,” Miranda warned her. Jane said nothing, and obediently stepped into the boiler suit Jennifer held out for her. When all three of them were fully covered Miranda pressed a button to open the door at the far end of the room. The door slid open, but was obviously much more substantial than those they’d been through so far.

“This is an airlock,” Miranda explained. “We try to keep the spraying floor dust free, plus we don’t want latex mist covering the entire office.” Jennifer wasn’t sure she understood, but assumed it would all become clear.

Once the door had closed behind them, the door ahead of them slid open, revealing a large factory area divided up by glass screens into multiple cubicles. In each cubicle there seemed to be a two-armed industrial robot and a control desk at one side. As they reached the first cubicle Jennifer saw what was happening. On the end of one of the robotic arms was a life-sized mannequin. The head was featureless but it was otherwise anatomically correct, right down to the erect male genitalia. It was attached to the robotic arm between the shoulder blades. The other arm held a spray nozzle, and when the operator started the machine up the nozzle began spraying black latex onto the mannequin. As it did so the mannequin moved and twisted, whilst the nozzle moved around it, the two arms working in an intricately choreographed ballet.

“We 3D-print the mannequins from the laser-scanned dimensions of our customers,” Miranda said as they watched the performance. “Then the spraying process is computer-controlled. It ensures the latex is spread evenly, and we can reinforce the stressed areas with more layers. The Mannequin moves constantly so the liquid latex can’t run or pool.”

“Hence no seams…” Jennifer said in realisation.

“That’s right. The only blemish on an otherwise perfect suit is where the arm meets the mannequin, so we ensure that’s where the zip will go. For different garments we have different maquettes of course.” As they were talking they walked along past the cubicles. At one the mannequin was obviously male, with erect genitals. At the next the mannequin had similar cock and balls, but large round breasts as well. “We can tailor the mannequins to any requirements. Total coverage, inflatables, restrictive boning. Whatever a customer wants. This one…” she said as they reached a cubicle where the robot was in the process of spraying metallic silver latex “is for Jane. As you can see it’s similar to that worn by our lovely receptionist”. The mannequin was female, but the arms were pulled back behind and the space between them solid, so the resulting suit would have a built in armbinder. The robot was spraying the head too, so the hood would also be integral. “If Jane is going to be staying with us she’s going to need a wardrobe,” Miranda continued. Jennifer looked at her friend, and could immediately see she was very happy with this news.

As the spraying finished the robot arm lifted the glistening mannequin and engaged with a metal track running above the row of cubicles. With a click the arm disengaged and the mannequin was left hanging from a cable attached where the arm had been. As the arm withdrew the mannequin moved smoothly off along the track to the far end of the room.

“They go into a temperature-controlled drying and curing room next,” Miranda explained. “Then they’re finished by hand. We haven’t worked out a way to automate the installation of zips and other accessories – yet.” As she talked Miranda led them through the factory floor, past a dozen similar spray cubicles and into another airlock like the one by which they had entered. They stripped off the boiler suits and hung them up, then a further door took them to the finishing room. At rows of benches people were cutting, glueing and polishing latex clothing. As they watched, a large trolley came round the corner, the clothes rail on it laden with suits awaiting finishing. It was being pushed by a man wearing a black rubber boiler suit. From the way it oozed and flexed as he moved it looked to Jennifer as if it were made from very thick rubber. The legs looked like rubber waders and the sleeves ended in industrial black rubber gloves. His head was obscured by a thick hood, with a single corrugated tube emanating from where his mouth should have been. The eyes were dark black mirrors. Around his body a web of thick rubber straps was tightly fastened with chrome buckles. Similar strapping encircled his arms and legs and were attached to his torso by short chains, so he was restricted to walking hunched over in small steps. Where his hands met the handle of the trolley they passed through two metal loops which had closed down on his wrists, so he would not be able to let go.

Miranda followed Jennifer’s gaze. “One of our more submissive employees!” she said. “We have quite a few people who choose to be dressed and bound so restrictively, and be forced to do the menial work. It works out very well; nobody has to do a job they don’t want, and for many of our employees the factory is the only place they can truly be themselves.” As she spoke Jennifer looked around. The factory was a hive of activity, and whatever job these rubber-clad people were performing they all seemed very happy. Even those so obscured by extreme rubber bondage that they were barely recognisable as human were moving around in a way that seemed to suggest contentment with their lot.

The rubber slave pushing the trolley had by this time delivered his load. The trolley clicked into place next to a workbench, and the act of engaging with the bench somehow released the manacles holding the slave’s wrists to the trolley. He shuffled off towards the end of the room where a similar trolley was stacked with boxes, put his hands on the handle and the manacles engaged around his wrists with a loud click. He pushed the trolley through a wide doorway covered by translucent rubber curtains. Miranda led them through the same door, into a loading bay. Boxes were being stacked onto pallets and wrapped tightly in plastic by more bound and chained rubber workers. Moving the pallets onto the waiting trucks were what Jennifer initially took to be industrial robots, but as she watched their stilted movement she realised there were people inside them! As one moved towards them she could see it was a robotic exo-skeleton, standing over two metres tall. At its heart was a human operator – clad of course entirely in rubber. Their gleaming black catsuit was tightly strapped into a harness, and their arms and legs were encased in more straps attaching them to the arms and legs of the skeleton. The arms ended in large vice-like claws, which could be rotated, opened and closed to grip the pallets. The man/machine moved with long fluid movements, accompanied by the whir of motors and hiss of pneumatics. The operator’s head was also covered in rubber, with a mask obscuring the face. Where the eyes should be was just a blank black rubber oval.

“How can they see what they’re doing?” Jennifer asked.

“There’s a VR headset built into the mask,” Miranda replied. “They can see what they’re working on, but also what’s behind them, information on incoming packages, and anything else they need.” Miranda waved to get the attention of the exo-skeleton worker Jennifer had been watching. It stopped what it was doing and came over to them in two long, heavy strides. Up close Jennifer could see there was more than just straps holding the operator into the machine. His feet were encased up to mid-calf in metal boots which were integrated into the skeleton. His midriff was encased in another form-fitting metal cover. Cables and tubes snaked around between his legs, and around the sides of his head. “The exo-skeletons are custom-fitted to each operator,” Miranda explained. “It fits perfectly, so they can operate in comfort for long periods. It takes a while to get into the skeleton, even for an experienced operator, so they’re also intubated and catheterised, so they don’t need to get out for meals or toilet breaks.” Miranda paused, then added with a slight smile “Also they rather like it!” The operator could obviously hear their conversation, because at Miranda’s smile there was a small shrug of the giant metal arms, before it pivoted round and returned to work.

Beyond the loading bay they passed back into the office area of the complex. A row of cubicles was filled with people working on computers. Some were seated, some standing but all appeared to be dressed in rubber. Some were on chairs similar to Trixie’s, and they could see wires and tubes protruding from underneath. Further on was a large break-room and canteen. As it was around midday there were a fair number of people sitting eating and chatting. At a table near the door a woman in a grey pinstripe latex skirt suit and black latex stockings was picking at her salad and chatting with a colleague, who was wearing a scarlet catsuit which covered her entirely, save her face. As they talked the lady in the pinstripes would occasionally hold a forkful of her salad down below the table, where a man in a black catsuit was kneeling. His mask had only mouth and nostril holes, the eye openings zipped shut. He sought out the food proffered in front of him with surprising efficiency; Jennifer presumed he was used to eating lunch this way.

All round the lunch room latex clad people seemed to be enjoying their day. Miranda looked very content with the scene.

“Your employees seem very happy” Jennifer complimented her. “Do you have any problems hiring people?”

“Quite the contrary,” Miranda replied “we have a waiting list of people who want to work here. At weekends we even have people working as volunteers, because they like the environment so much. Also they’re keen that we are successful, as that ensures the rubber community in the city will thrive.”

Steve and Philip were sitting at one of the tables, so the women went to join them. “How are your discussions going?” Miranda asked.

“Excellent,” Steve replied. “Philip says the submission suit is ready.”

“Wonderful, and we have a willing volunteer to try it,” Miranda said, looking at Jane.

“I’ve had it loaded into the back of your car,” Philip explained. “Jane’s dimensions are in the system so we were able to custom fit it. There’s also the first few of Jane’s new suits, packed and ready to go.”

“So what are we waiting for?” Miranda exclaimed. She leant over and pecked Philip on the cheek “You are a wonderful, talented, perverted man!”. With that she stood up, grabbed the leash still hanging from Jane’s collar and headed back to reception, ushering Jennifer and Steve along with them. They waved a quick goodbye to Trixie and headed out to the car park. The trunk was full of boxes, so Miranda strapped Jane into one of the rear seats and she sat in the front seat. Jennifer took the same seat as the journey there. As the car started she felt the stirring in her seat and prepared for the dildos to appear. As they still home stickily she heard a muffled squeal from the seat next to her. Jane had obviously not been warned about what was coming, but Miranda had unzipped the crotch of her suit as she strapped Jane in so the rubber plugs slid inexorably into Jane too.


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