The game did this to me, and it has completely broken me, I could not even benefit the modest triumph over the curse it has placed upon me. Everything I see on the leopard was now a part of me, I loved the Panthera pardus in the mirror ; the exotic latex wet dream which stood before me, its heart so inviting, innocent, and gleamed with badness. Then I would hate it for everything it had taken from me, and the unwanted endowment I received in exchange.

I cupped a hand of water and smeared it on my latex cheeks, to clean off the black scars my permanent eyeliner left on my glow, spotted face when I attempted to get rid of it. My fetish hound clicked, and my sinewy breasts tested the tight latex stretched thin over my reactive flesh. I wobbled towards the toilet paper rolling to dry my nerve. military posture slowly returned to my legs, weak from the scrumptious feast of sensations my female body had to offer to my male person thinker for the first time. The thought of the waves of electrifying blissfulness flushed my cheeks and renewed the warmth in the moistness where my manhood should hold been.
I experimented with how I walked, I tried to avoid using the six inch blackguard, focusing solely on the ball of my foot, not a dear melodic theme. With some hesitancy, I stepped forward with the farseeing gleam black blackguard, planting it into the ground before stepping forward. With, decelerate, wobbly, steps the heels brought me to the toilet paper, as I tried to bend my back to reach the toilet paper ; I was reminded of my unyielding corset, tears gathered behind my eyes waiting for my worked up dam to explode, but I stayed strong. I bend my knees, a slow creaking came from the tegument of my joints as my body lowered. I steadied my balance on my bounder before reaching out for my reward.

My rubber-base paint skin gave irritating squeaks as I returned to an upright billet. I bury my irritation and comeback to the mirror with timid clicks from my heels, one black glossy heel in front of the other. Keeping my legs together and reducing my stride helped with Libra the Balance. I watched my sexy leopard body move closer towards the mirror gleam in the sparkle, looking up helped with my rest more. With the residue came an enticing feline careen in my pelvic girdle, I was sickened at how feminine I had become, but if it came to swaying my rosehip or being winded again, the choice was obvious. I straightened my backbone, pushing my breasts out, my second skin stretches to foreclose my breasts from escaping, teasing my mamilla. With that, I've done it, I've found my meat of balance.

The sentiency of achievement quickly turned into More despair as I was no closer to retrieving my manhood. Fresh tears leaked from the leopard's dark eyes. I dabbed the paper over the it's human skin surrounding its eye, to avoid spreading piddle to the corrupting blackness eyeliner, creating more of a peck than before. With a few Thomas More mother fucker and dabs of the paper, prefect, the leopard did not depend like an upset Goth anymore. She was a rubber-base paint vixen again, save the slightly red puffy eyes. My mind retaliated, reminding me who the leopard was. NO, I didn't wishing to be a latex vixen, this isn't NORMAL. I reached down to turn off the tap, and realized that my round off, red nails were not damaged from the effort against the latex. Not the slim dent, scratch or damage to the food color. NO, this too ? I already knew the answer deep within me, that this has also become a perm office of my new twisted consistence. Yet the nails attacked each other in the running water, emerging unscathed. I wrapped my fingerbreadth around the tap, staring at the light reflecting off of my manicured nails, and turned off the water.

The leopard ` s gaze was blank, as our eyes met, blank like my head. The rubber-base paint had imprisoned me, took my personal identity away, broke me, it has won. My mind was blank, as butterflies slowly settled into my tummy, a sickly feeling, stirring in my abdomen. There was also a heavy feeling around the same area, a downwards look, like a kind of pressure… leading to the genitals area. It wasn ` t the heat I felt before, but- then it hit me. I needed to live over myself.

No, this can ` t be, the latex has me completely sealed in. My newly realized star increased in air pressure, I haven ` t gone since last night, and the conflict against my new skin had me distracted, I did not clear the pauperization to still myself. My mind raced as I began to panic, did I have to wet myself because I was trapped in this suit ? But that would mean I would be trapped in my own dissipation ? Should I go or obtain it ? But how farsighted could I give it for until I went ? How was I holding it in ? How do I let go of it ?

My hand slid in between my branch, gentling resting the fingers over my polish latex crotch, hoping my hand would be able to sooth the pressure building in my bladder. I did not dare to stroke the field, as the consequence were still wise in my mind, though I would like to try it again, it would not help my current position. My fingerbreadth felt a variety of dampness, from the center of the crease lining my fork. Another digit went to the crease to enquire, and met with the same moist feeling.

"PLEASE let there be some variety of opening ”, my alluring female person part begged. My unsighted fingers slid, scraped, plucked, at latex seam, causing more moisture to egress. The petting of my sex, and an prediction of what had come before excited me, as my mamilla began to indurate under the latex. A serial publication unlike strategy failed to reveal an opening, until several of my finger's breadth cooperated together. A few finger wormed its way past the flaps of latex covering a blot out runway. Its with just half of the width of my pinky, and the moisture lazily emerging from beneath it. My pinkie made its way up the track, gathering a film of wet as it progressed. At the end of the track, the crinkle ended as well. Was this some sort of drainage system for my waste ? I pushed my pinkie forward, into where the folds of latex met and became one.

There was something hard within its tight confines, as I pushed deeper to inquire, it strained the racetrack, stimulating me when its crudeness met with medium tissue. I twitched with the sudden stupor, and the nail on my pinky caught onto something, the object stuck under the latex crease. My former fingers attempted to create Sir Thomas More space by spreading the fluttering wider, but the unwanted excitement it brought me made me stop over. I pulled with my little finger, and could feel my nail pulling off from the pains, until it gave and was freed from the latex flaps. I pulled my bridge player out to where I could see it, and inspected my pinky, doesn't seem to be peeling off. My finger were coated in a dilute transparent slick magazine, which sparkled in the light.

I brought my fingerbreadth close to its typeface, and the leopard's nose twitched, picking up a musky, but sweet sent, one that will get males to campaign over the rights to breed with her. Before its hand could retreat the leopard's tongue emerged, twisting shyly as it approached the deal. Do it, I told the leopard in the mirror, anxious to be aroused by this action. The leopard slowly placed two of its fingers together on its feline tongue, and its tongue retreated back behind its glossy lips.
The leopard closed its eyes as its tongue began to distribute the exotic gustatory perception in my oral fissure. The persona of the leopard licking its salacious digit caused me to shiver, and another imperativeness began to build in my crotch. My dirty fingerbreadth wormed its way past the latex flapping, and found where it has left off. The flesh of my finger followed the track to my discovery. There was a small-scale sphere, no with child than a musket ball of lint on new clothes. Using my increasingly useful nail on my pinky, I caught the ballock under my nail and picked at it, hoping to get rid of the quid, or button, or whatever it was. I plucked at it a few more than times, but the cud didn't come out.

It seems the latex paint has won again, somehow I knew I wasn't going get what I wanted, after all the other licking, it was only natural that this would not go my way… The bladder was urging to be released."I guess, I have to go in the suit."I said defeated, hoping a spokesperson would comfort me. I guess I would just get to hold back for it to slowly drip mould out from the seam. My hand retreated from the seam, but my pinky was still caught on the ball, twisting my finger in an clumsy position, until the tension from my digit forced the ball down the track.

I opened my center and looked downwards, as if I could see what was going on past my protruding breasts. I could feel a sliver of chill air touch my unchartered part. I scrambled to recover the testicle again, and with my pinkie I pulled downward, from the front of my crotch towards my spine. It was a ZIPPER ! I hoped that the zipper would go all the way up my rear, and rid me from this latex paint prison, but the track ended just after my moist slit, a zipper built specially to seal in my new privates. I mashed the zip into the end a couple of multiplication, hoping it would make more than cut so I could escape this nightmare. I continued along the scissure between my legs, and followed the latex caving in. I hit an area where the latex converged, I attempted to extend, but realized I was about to enter my rear opening, the latex perfectly contouring to every detail of my anus.
A sudden realization sent a frisson down my latex covered spine, disappearing into my firm stays. What IF I got out of this second skin ? What then ? I had become a fair sex underneath this latex, I couldn't claw my way out of these tit, my indestructible nails, the permanent war paint, the way sped up into a slow spin. Maybe I could hide the lack of my manhood, and resume my lifetime as my former ego, but I could never veil these white meat for long, as a matter of fact, I didn't even know if I even resembled myself under my feline mask, my judgement continued to airstream, speeding up the room to a fuzz. The rampaging butterfly in my venter migrated into my pharynx.

I looked towards the john, and stumbled towards it, do-or-die and unbalanced, my breasts danced to the hectic calendar method of my heels, a invariable admonisher of my muliebrity, adding to my despair. I half tripped on my heels, ending up on my knee just before the wet butterflies emerged for their first flight of stairs. I embraced the bowl with outstretched blazonry, my latex sleeve providing a comforting handle on the bowl. The butterfly burst into flaming as they poured out of my throat, leaving the distinct stick aftertaste of puking. I could sense binge again, it was no use holding them back, so I let them out. Crying seemed to put me at ease, sort out my confusedness, so I indulged myself on that cold can floor in front of the toilet. The offensive aroma from the arena had overpowered the latex one I had become accustomed to, so I flushed the john. I watched my tears blend with the murky vortex, black drops among a whirlpool of ecru yellow. A piece of my dinner party surfaced, and I made the connection that this was my own consistence, transformed overnight into this spotted feline.

I put my hired hand on the toilet tail end, and flicked it down, my body squealed as I turned to sit down. The latex paint had really gotten under my skin, each squeak reminded me of the rubber-base paint infecting my body, with no way of removing it, let alone regaining my manhood. At this point, I didn't care about the constant flow of rent, I never realized how good it felt to let my emotions flow, it washed away my problems, more importantly it cleared my head. I tried to loose myself, as I did when I needed to unbosom myself with my manhood. curio finally won over and I stretched my headland forward to try to captivate a glimpse of my new sex ; I noticed the same clear ooze from my finger's breadth ran down the insides of my thighs, its liquid trail curving downwards, bowing to gravity.

Aside from my breathing, sound solid drip mould can be heard frequently, I leaned forward, to look into the toilet bowl, though sitting allowed me to see a lot to a greater extent of what was going on beneath my breasts, they still blocked a part of my visual sensation. I crossed both my chest with my unsoiled arm, and forced them back, my latex tit rubbing against the rubber-base paint on my forearm, causing me to emit trench, forcing the nipples into my arm. I squirmed a bit, but my latex ass held onto the tush, while the rest of my physical structure squeaked. The drip became more rapid as I shifted my legs, then returned to its regular pace.
With my knocker confined, I could see the flaps which encased my new crotch. I watched as a milky drip hit the can weewee, and spread like smoke. The water had become quite murky, with another drip following closely.

The cum was trapped inside of me while the zipper was closed, and now it was being released after the seal was removed. Why was I still not peeing ? My breasts were slowly winning against my tiring arm, I renewed my enduringness, and fought back, slowly this time, so I would not stimulate my latex paint mammilla. The slow pressure still built up heat in my genitalia, and the dripping auditory sensation became more speedy. I closed my second joint instinctively, as my arm began to move in a circular motion, arousing my tender nipples. My unclean script approached the root of the leak, excited by the mysteries it was about to uncover.
The finger spread the latex lips, and continued inside. With the latex skin of my genitals opened, and my latex nipples grinding on my rubber-base paint arm, the dripping became more constant.

My arm sunk deep into my breasts as my finger's breadth past the sass which I could palpate. I closed my eyes as ecstasy wiped my mind blank. My mouth dropped open up on its own, sounds that I would never make willingly, a legal age of the audio beginning with the letter of the alphabet"AAaaaa ”, and trailing off into gasp for air. I curled my fingers, and I hit something that made me jumping and produce"Ooo"sounds. It was not deep within me, just upwards. I slid my nail in between some tizzy of skin, its sharply edge struck a stub of flesh, and the jolt of delight from before returned to my body. My passionate note resonated within the bathroom, as i began to expunge at the stub, as I did with the ball on the zipper.
The script entertaining my breasts dropped, deciding to concentrate on one nipple. Two red nails seized nipple in between, its latex shell giving the tit perfect grip, and twisted the nipple ; my under mitt simultaneously buried the razor nail into the center of attention of the nub. As the inside of my crotch flooded, I shrieked with the voice of a cat who's bum was violated, leading to a keep up human preeminence of pleasure.

The other audio in the elbow room, liquidity colliding, has become a chorus, a non-stop crescendo, from the increased volume and frequency, providing a backdrop to the vocal music I was preforming. I could no longer cumber myself, I slid another finger in past my latex paint lips, into my sex, and pinned the nub between two sharp nails. My nails provided a current of stimulation on both side of meat of the nub, rapidly moving up and down. My upper handwriting extended onto the other mamilla, took the fresh rubber-base paint knob in between its nails and repeated the process. My forearm caught the old nipple, as the rubber-base paint rubbed together, I began to massage the victimized and sore affair using the rubbery rubbing. The strain of the cat filled the air as I rapidly approached another orgasm, my thighs closed tight, latex squealed everywhere, and a feline growl erupted along with the volcano of raw ecstasy that was my vagina.

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This is a rough draft of my storey, since redaction is a hassle on xnxx,
polished chapters can be found at :
hypertext transfer protocol : //www.tgstorytime.com/viewseries.php ? seriesid=45

I will continue to brand up approximate order of payment of The Occult here before releasing revised versions

I hope you enjoyed my story !