Encased

Emma stood before the full-length mirror, and neither of you spoke.

The suit was perfect. Every single millimeter of her body was enclosed in sleek, obsidian black latex that caught the bedroom light and fractured it into dark rainbows across the walls. The seamless transitions from limb to torso to extremities made her look like a single, continuous sculpture rather than a person wearing clothing. Her shape was preserved — accentuated, even — every curve of her breasts, every dip of her waist, every swell of her hips rendered in liquid-black detail.

But her face was gone. In its place, smooth, featureless latex stretched from forehead to chin, utterly expressionless. No eyes visible behind that glossy plane. No mouth discernible. Just a perfect, anonymous, feminine silhouette.

The three red condensation-like openings dotted the suit's surface: the mouth hole at center-chest level, the vaginal hole at the crotch, and the anal hole at the small of her back. Each one framed in neat latex edges, each one exposed and **** despite the rest of her being completely hidden.

Between her legs, nestled against the inside of her thighs, you could see the outline of the inserted silicone plug — a smooth, flared beam that filled her completely, its base seated snugly against her latex-covered rear. At her front, the vibration device was already nestled firmly inside her, its small wireless control unit resting against her inner thigh where the latex molded over it.

The penis gag filled her mouth — a smooth, tapered silicone shaft extending from the chest-hole, buckled securely behind her now-latex-covered head with adjustable straps. It held her jaw open in a permanent, silent O, her tongue visible and pressed against its surface.

Emma — or rather, the fuckdoll — stood motionless before the mirror. Her arms hung at her sides. Her head was slightly bowed. Through the smooth face-plate, absolutely nothing of her original appearance remained visible.

She was, for all intents and purposes, an object.

A perfect, beautiful, helpless object.

And she had never felt more herself.

"You look incredible," you whispered, stepping behind her. Your reflection appeared in the mirror behind hers — behind the suit. Behind the doll. A person looking at their possession.

She didn't move. Didn't speak. Couldn't, really — not with the gag in place.