Spooky Boogy

It started out as an ordinary night, for the most part – at least, relatively speaking. K had prepared for the event as they normally did: pulling their treasured catsuit out of its designated garment bag, relishing as the scent of latex filled the room for a few moments before they began the tiresome process of sliding and squeezing themselves into the tight embrace of the rubber. Fifteen minutes later, out of breath but all the happier for it, they dedicated another few moments to the act of applying what felt like half a bottle of spray-on polish, straining and stretching to try and reach every spot – the effort would almost certainly be wasted, given that they were about to put on another layer of clothes on top of what they quickly and comfortably began to think of as their skin so that they could transit to the venue without catching too many stares, but they needed that quiet moment to ground themselves, to feel the slick touch of rubber on rubber, watch the glistening shine coat their body and bring it closer to their ideal. ...

The next subject was wheeled into my chamber on a steel bed, their ankles and wrists shackled down with steel chains to prevent any unwanted reactions. I rose from my idle reading, waving the attendant away as I locked the bed into position and began to gather my equipment, placing the tools of my trade on a small platform beside the subject. I looked them up and down, evaluating their situation, while reaching for the tablet that would list out all of the specifics – I had made a little game of it, in my time working at the factory, trying to guess what had befallen the unfortunate souls that landed in my clutches. ...

“So it was abandoned, just like that?” “Yeah, like I said, they just up and left, and now it’s just a derelict. Cool, right?” The pair were standing up against an old, rusted fence, peering through the hazy twilight at an old hulk of a building, perched at the very edge of their hometown. It was a ruined edifice that might once have been beautiful; flowing lines and clean surfaces on the exterior now pockmarked with corrosion and stained with decay. ...

Pilgrimage 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. ...

Baptism The Church of Bliss accepts all and makes them one. Anonymity is Bliss. Obedience is Bliss. Pain is Bliss. Pleasure is Bliss. We are Bliss. Elise had barely recovered from her first divine exposure to pure, unfiltered holy water – an experience which had left her stranded in an abyss of rubber-tinged ecstasy, decoupled from her psyche at a fundamental level as the tenets of the Church of Bliss crashed through her mind and cemented themselves as core aspects of her future – before she was pulled to her feet by a pair of fellow Sisters, and prepared for her next steps. The tube linking Elise’s mask to the supply of holy water was disconnected, and she couldn’t help but let out a faint moan of loss as the cold air of the cathedral filled her lungs, displacing the Bliss that had once infused her senses. Her senses slowly swam back into focus, and she regained her balance, standing under her own power instead of relying on her Sisters to hold her up. She glanced down at herself, struck by the differences in what she could see through the lenses of her new equipment, everything somehow tinted to be darker, except the highlights of the gleaming latex encasing her Sisters. It only served to make the contrast with her own, dull, as-yet unpolished rubber all the more stark. ...

Mortification Lay aside your passing pleasures, Look beyond what cannot last Luxuries are mere distractions, Mundane comforts soon are past. See in Bliss a grand horizon, And a life more rich and vast They came for her in the night, long after the faintly glowing lamps in the corridors outside her small chamber had been extinguished. Elise had just completed her evening rituals; clad in the heavy, transparent rubber of her nightgown, rising from the foot of her bed where she had been meditating. She had been contemplating the Bliss now almost constantly thrumming through her body along with the events of the last week and all that had happened since she had completed her Baptism. All of those thoughts were interrupted, though, as a knock came pounding at her door. ...

Communion What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the Bliss of rubber; What can make me whole again? Nothing but the Bliss of rubber! The cavernous hall of the cathedral was cold, but the fire burning in Elise’s core kept her more than warm enough as the Initiate slowly paced down the dimly lit central aisle towards the altar. It was quiet, reverent, only the click of her heeled boots and the creaking of her clothing faintly echoing through the space. Other than herself, and those she was going to meet, there was no one else visibly present – although, who could say how many people might be invisibly present, nestled into the small alcoves and crannies of the ancient building, enduring penance or rewards of all kinds. ...

Sacrament As we receive the Sacrament, Our thoughts are turned to thee, Mother of Bliss, who lived for us, Enduring for eternity. Forgiveness is a gift from Her We seek with pure intent. With hands now pledged to do thy work, We take the Sacrament. Elise’s paddle cracked down on the drone’s perfectly shined, rubber-coated rear, a bark of pain erupting from inside the featureless hood of the latex creature, its first sound since the beating began almost 10 minutes ago. A physical thrill went through Elise at the utterance, the newly anointed Sister finally understanding the appeal of being on the delivering end of this practice, as she raised her arm for another strike, another hit, another groan of Bliss. ...

Apotheosis O Blissful Mother, Lady of Rubber Embrace Sweetest garment a tailor ever made; In all doubts I fly to thee for guidance Mother tell me what am I to do. She spent what felt like an eternity that passed in an instant drifting in the void of pure rubber Bliss, deep beneath the cathedral that had once been her home. She was broken down by the fluid, reformed, split apart again and rebuilt, in both her body and her soul. She reached out with her mind when it was coherent enough for lucidity, touched the blindingly black glow of the other entity floating in there with her, recognised it, embraced it – the Mother of Bliss, here yet nowhere. The human she used to be, Sister Elise, optimistic and enthusiastic convert to the Church of Bliss, was stripped down to her bare essentials, reshaped according to the Mother’s desires and designs, before she was put back together. But not the same. She would never be the same again. She had been blessed. She had been… adopted. ...