Taking My Work Home

The strip lights flicker on in my garage, revealing breezeblock walls and metal shelving. Even though I've put down carpet and sealed up the main door with insulation it still feels like a work room in here. But that's what I'm here for, to work.

I guess you could say I have a tendency to bring my work home but I prefer to think of it as transferable skills. Besides, there's no way this particular project would ever get greenlit back at the movie lot.

You enter the room behind me, nervous, curious. I've told you a lot, but not everything. Not even close to it. You balance on your tip toes, feeling the rough pile of the cheap carpet. I told you to undress, gave you a silk gown for the time being to keep warm. I set up a fan heater on the bench too, although soon you won't need it.

I show you to a chair in front of a mirror. Well, should be a mirror. There's a black sheet draped over it for now. This is going to be a suspense. Hopefully a thriller.

"Guess this is a bit different to what you're used to, huh?" I say, and you nod.

It is and it isn't, for both of us.

What I do is something of a dying art. Why put your cast through hours and hours of make up when you can just greenscreen and CGI the monsters in later. But there's something to be said for trying to make it a bit more real, to give something to act against, something that looks right. That's what I provide.

I pull on latex gloves and let them snap against my wrist. An affectation, but I glance at you as I do it and catch the involuntary shiver that spasms your shoulders. Just excited enough. Ready.

"This isn't going to hurt, but it might ache for a while," I say, taking a cloudy white plastic box from a shelf and flipping the lid off. "If you need me to stop, at any time, close your eyes and shake your head, okay?"

You nod, look at me, start to speak.

"Open wide," I say, before you have a chance to get a word out, and then I begin.

The first step is the spacer, made out of gumshield rubber from a dental mould I gave you to bite down on and make an impression in a couple of days ago. I push it in with powdery, gloved fingers and find the locating points, fitting over your back teeth and holding your mouth wide open with anchor points set in to the front.

I turn away to root in the box for the next part, hearing your gurgled question. I shrug my shoulders.

"Not sure yet, this is the first time I've done it all together." I look back at you, the way your eyes dart around. You need a little more reassurance. "I tested it on myself of course, the spacer. Managed five or six hours before it started to ache. Now..."

I bring the next piece over to you, the squidgy silicone liner that sits inside the spacer and attaches to the front of it. Its like a double walled cylinder, the middle open at both ends, the bottom side cut away so your tongue can nestle inside the wall cavity. Your eyes widen, it must look enormous.

Smiling, I grab a little cylinder from the bench and pop the cap off to reveal a spray head. I hold it against your lips and squirt it into your mouth a couple of times, a cool numbness spreading over your throat.

After a minute for the spray to do its thing, I carefully press the sleeve that will be the new interior of your mouth in through the spacer, gently nudging your tongue into the correct place. It will be hard for you to even try to speak, from here on in. I'll have to watch your reactions carefully.

I notice your hand slip inside the gown, starting to touch yourself. I let you, after all you won't be able to for much longer. I slip two fingers into the sleeve in your mouth and press against the bottom.

"Wiggle your tongue for me". It works perfectly, of course, but I choose not to hint in my expression whether I'm pleased or not. Your eyes follow me as I prepare the next step, assembling costume glue, putty and paints.

"Those parts took a while to figure out," I tell you, although I'm mostly speaking to myself as you're not exactly about to reply. "But this, this is the fun bit."

I take a handful of floppy rubber from the box, unfolding and straightening it to show that its a moulded prosthetic although careful to keep the detail out of your sight. I test fit it over your chin, mouth, cheeks and nose, wriggling it into position, checking it fits well around your oral appliance, making sure the breathing holes line up with your nostrils.

Satisfied, I start to peel back the edges and paint the silicone adhesive on your skin, working patiently to get the prosthetic fitted perfectly in place. I watch your eyes as you work, looking for discomfort, unease but seeing only patience. You're holding still like a pro.

Once the mask is firmly fixed I set to with the paints, filling and blending around the edges to make it appear to be a natural part of your face. It looks incredible, but I'm not ready to show you just yet. Maybe its a lot of effort to go to for a night's entertainment but I like something to act against, something that looks right.

You look up at me, blinking, perhaps trying to read from the way I look at you what I've done. I realise you've been in the chair for over an hour already, and I show you a bottle of water. You nod, vigorously, and as you do I watch how the mask flexes with the movement of your head. Perfect.

I open the water. Usually I'd give you a straw with it during a lengthy effects project, but you're only going to be able to suck things of a much larger diameter tonight. Instead, I push your head back lightly with fingertips on your forehead and tip a little water in through your mask, watching it lubricate the applicance fastened inside your mouth. I watch you swallow. Time to move on.

I indicate that you need to slip the gown off your shoulders and you do so, showing me your beautiful breasts. I recognise them, of course, but I hold back from touching them despite how much it frustrates both of us. I'm working now, it wouldn't do.

I ask you to fold your right arm over and grab your shoulder. We spend a bit of time working out a comfortable position that still allows the limb plenty of movement. I say "we". I mean that I hold your hand against your shoulder and move your arm around while watching for signs of discomfort. There are none, so I take a roll of vetwrap from the supplies box and tightly bind your arm to itself. Visually this is unacceptable, of course, but we're only just getting started.

The process is repeated with the other arm and as you sit there in the chair looking up at me, face transformed and arms immobilised, I'm beginning to see the overall effect. This is going to be good.

While your arms are held securely with the self-adhesive wrap, its not quite enough. Out of the box come two carefully tailored elastic mesh socks, fitted to your measurements and designed to cope with the stresses your movements will put on them, and the layer above. Built into the closed ends are gel pads that fit snugly against your elbows and, at the other end, glove pieces which fasten around your hands and will hold them flat to the back of your shoulders when the straps that dangle from the ends are fastened around your body.

Again, the effect is pleasing, your folded arms smoothed into short, mobile but useless stumps. But still, visually, jarring. I give an expression halfway between a grimace and a smile, both for your current state and what is to come, and then gently help you up from the chair.

"You're gonna need to lie down now," I explain, and just as carefully help you to sit and then lay back on the short pile carpet. We repeat the process for your arms with your legs, although this is a little tricker because the fold puts pressure on your shins behind the knee and human feet aren't designed to tuck into the ass in quite the way I need them to. But we get the wrap on, and then the mesh and gel socks, and then you have four stumps.

I check for discomfort and distress and offer a little more water, which you eagerly accept. I look you over, bound up on my garage floor. I can't really believe you're really here, in my care, in my bindings. But this is still underwear. The final, transformative, most wonderful part is yet to come.

It has its own box. It has to, it's a lot bigger than the parts I've added to your body so far. I bring it down from the shelf and lay it beside you, letting you see it although not the whole of it.

It's latex, thick latex. A couple of layers bonded together with the seams at angles to each other for strength. A suit designed for the shape I expected you to be. The shape you now are. Although getting it on is going to be an effort.

I start with the legs, working it on over your created stumps, stretching carefully, make sure its tight, well fitted over the gel pads at your knees. Even with your detailed measurements it was still a gamble that this would work over bound limbs but so far, it seems good.

Your excitement, your anticipation, is building now. I find I have to keep asking you to stop wriggling. I also have to get the suit over your ass.

The crotch is cut out and finished with piping in an accent colour, but the lumps where your feet are bound up are pulling things out of place. I try lifting you back up to kneel but there isn't enough room to manoeveur. I have to rethink this, its frustrating and I can tell that both of us are getting hot. In all senses of the word.

I see you swallowing nothing, and offer more water before putting you on your back again. I have a new approach. I pull the suit up the front of your torso and carefully work it on your arms.

Once your four stumps are all in the suit I gently roll you on your side, and then over again to rest on your knees and elbows. Your breasts hang down and you arch your back, trying to stretch. I actually apologise to you. I didn't want to get you upright until I was done with the whole effect but I don't see another way around it.

Tugging firmly, I pull the suit over your hips and shoulders. The straps on your arm and leg socks can be drawn around your torso and fastened together, holding your hands and feet flatter. This helps, but still I have to manipulate your feet and ankles further to get them in a position that will let me fasten the suit along your back and around your throat. I pull the hood up, over your ears, tucking your hair in and tugging it down firmly over your forehead.

I stroke the latex as it clings to your body. I guess it was optimistic to hope to get it completely right first time. But this is better that nothing. No, better than that. It's amazing.

You pad around, turning towards me on your knees and elbows, looking up with an expression of lust and impatient.

"Almost, almost there," I tell you. Then you can see, and then we can play. You nod. I glance at the clock. Almost three hours just to get ready. Better than some of the creations I've done on set but still, a lot of effort for an evening of fun.

I rub your body over with a silicone spray and microfibre cloth, getting you nice and shiny. I can tell you appreciate the touching, pressing more and more urgently against my hands. But I want this to be perfect, I want to be finished with my work before playtime starts. I pull away, however reluctantly, and return to the supplies box.

The last touch. Because I had a hunch, and was proven correct, that your feet would obstruct easy use of your ass. I decide that I want to show you this, that this is the moment to reveal what I've done. I uncover the mirror and lift it from the bench, setting it against the wall to show you what I've made of you.

Your lower face, is gone. In its place, a beautifully sculpted pussy from the tip of your chin to the bridge of your nose, the shape and point of your nose forming the clitoris. Its blended into your skin so well that you can't see the join, and the interior is fitted perfectly to the applicance in your mouth. You blink, eyes widening, as you take it in, and I was expecting horror here. The safe gesture. But you gasp softly and wobble on your created stumps. And slowly nod.

Your eyes flick around, getting sight of the rest of yourself. The latex suit is a deep purple colour, patterned with tiger stripes in a dark silver, almost mirrored effect. It covers you almost completely, aside from your face and between your thighs, and moulded feline ears balance on top of your head.

I show you the final touch, bringing it close to your face. It's a tail, of course, coloured to match and terminating in a neat little plug for your ass. Too awkward for me to use it with your feet in the way, but I didn't want it left out.

You nod again, your eyes glinting. Your excitment is palpable, you know that you're ready. That my work is good. You told me a lot beforehand, but not everything. I had to infer what you wanted, match it to what I wanted. From your muffled moans I would say it was a good match.

Carefully lubricating you, I push the tail home. You shudder, the lips of your natural pussy glistening. I stand up, my own muscles already aching a little just from the work I've done here tonight. I don't know what we're going to manage, but as I look down at my creation, at you, I know whatever it is is going to be good.

I walk to the garage door, because the work room is no place to play, and I invite you to follow me. The actress, the starlet, made over, transformed. Cast into a role no one but us can ever know about.

So yeah, I guess this is bringing my work home. But I'll take you back tomorrow, I promise.