DollStories (WebArchive)

I feel I must record my story while I can, before whatever is happening to me prevents me from being capable of coherent thought. Not that I mind anymore, of course. I’m one big ball of sexual energy. An orgasmic hydrogen bomb, if you will. The only down side is I can hardly hold a thought in my head before movement, sound, even a slight breeze causes my brain to reboot from the pleasure.

My name is Amy Douglas, and this is my story.

It was a dark and stormy night. No, really, it was. The last of tropical storm Anna was slowly moving through, and thank the goddess my cable modem was still up, or else I would have gone mad from boredom. I was surfing my usual sites and groups, posting responses, IMing, all the usual Internet stuff. One of my webpals, a fellow latex fetish enthusiast, messaged me, saying she had found the absolute coolest online boutique for latex items. I copied the address into my browser and checked it out.

The opening frame was a beautifully luscious woman in a perfectly fitting, glossy black latex catsuit and clear, form-fitting hood. She was latex perfection, and I was getting horny just looking at her. I dug deeper into the site, and found more pictures of the same girl in different poses and outfits, but always with the black catsuit and clear hood underneath it all. My friend was right. This was the coolest boutique I had seen in a while. There was something so compelling about it. I clicked the ‘Shop’ button and browsed their catalog. As a rule, I always buy a pair of stockings from a rubber store to check their quality and customer service. Granted, they had lots I wanted to buy, like the highly detailed vagina panties or the form-fitting doll mask, but I stick to my rules. Maybe not anyone else’s, though… but that’s another story. Anyway, I found a pair of simple black rubber stocking easily enough. They were a little on the pricey side for stockings, but I hoped that meant an improvement in quality. I fed the site my shipping address and credit card numbers and ordered. After that is the worst part of all: waiting...