"Wait," your blue-coated friend says. "I have an idea on how we can get this stuff off."
So saying, he pulled out a pocketknife. "Wh-what are you going to do?" you stammer
nervously.
"Just hold still," replies Jung. "I'm going to make a small cut up here in the latex near your
neck, and then maybe we can peel it all off."
"What? Why can't we try that on you?"
"Because I'm the one with the knife. Now hold still." With that, your new blue buddy
reaches toward the spot where the skin of your neck meets the latex on your chest.
Although you can't see very well at that angle, you feel him pulling on the latex, and then
you feel a sharp stabbing pain!
"Hey! Watch your hands! "That was my skin, not the latex," you shout.
"Umm... actually, no it wasn't," says Jung. "But we have another problem. He holds up his
blue-coated hand, and you see drops of crimson on it. "It's not blood," he says to your
shocked look. "It's your latex. It's seeping out of the cut I made."
You nod dumbly, as you feel the now-familiar sensation of the latex coating you. It climbs
your neck, and you feel it beginning to devour the hair at your neckline. As the latex
reaches your ears, you feel a tickling sensation as it slides into the aural canal.
"Don't worry! I've still got the knife, in case it covers your mouth," says Jung in response to
your panicked glare. You're afraid to even open your mouth to say "Yeah, because that
worked so well last time you tried it." You feel the cool caress of the latex as it coats your
face and forehead, almost enjoying the pressure and relaxing as it stretches across your
face and skull. Nevertheless, you squint your eyes shut, anticipating the worst.
After a panicked few moments, you realize you can still breathe, and the crawling
sensation has faded. You open your eyes, and bring a latex-coated hand up to feel your
face. The contact brings a sharp squeak. From what you can tell, your entire body is
covered, but the latex has not entered your mouth or nose, and your eyeballs are also
unaffectd.
You look at Jung, gaping at you, and idly notice that the bulge beneath his pants is even
larger. A squeak from your own latexed cock warns you of an answering bulge. There's
no time for thinking about that; you're pissed off and frustrated. "So, buddy. Got any
more bright ideas?"