Surrounded by her Barbie Doll collection, Mouse looked around for inspiration. A Barbie book signing in her Barbie store attracted a lot of attention, and even though she would be in the background, she wanted to stand out. Not too elaborate but topical. Yes, Queen Elsa was perfect.
Mouse showered, dried herself thoroughly, powdered the white latex catsuit, and slipped into it. She liked the feeling of the rubber sliding over her skin and the way it fit perfectly and embraced her. It was not 100% correct for Elsa with gloves and a high neck, but she needed to cover up and insulate her skin as much as possible.
Diagnosed with an unusual sort of Atopic Dermatitis at age four, she had to live in a sterile environment at home and cover up as much as possible outside. If any part of her skin was exposed to air for more than just a minute, it burned. When she was small, she was clumsy, fell a lot, and damaged her latex clothing over her legs and hands. Her parents got her used to layer, and now she could not have it any other way, even when asleep. At times, especially in the beginning, it was a bother. Her parents distracted her with Barbie role play.
Like her deceased mother and her mother, Mouse was skinny to the point of anorexia. She ate 2,500 calories a day, a man’s recommended intake, she did not put on any weight. When she hit her teenage years, Mouse noticed that she was losing her Barbie waist, so she stopped eating. It was a difficult time for her parents because of her need to remain in a sterile environment. They conceded to her demand to wear a corset. But, aside from a reasonable length of bony leg and her Barbie waist, Mouse was skinny, breastless, and shapeless, but this was good for her. Mouse loved layering and felt a love-hate sort of pleasure the more clothing she put on.
Over her base layer gloved, footed, high necked white latex catsuit, Mouse drew on a pair of white brush-fleeced winter tights, then another and another. She ran her hands among her legs, feeling the softness and warmth of the tights. She had to keep them from webbing, so next came Mouse’s boob leotard, also with a high neck but short sleeves. It had teenage-sized breasts built-in, giving Mouse the semblance of femininity. Finished with her underwear, Mouse went about becoming Elsa.
Mouse looked at the snow-white sheer bodystocking with lace featuring over the chest and neck. Then she looked at a snow-white latex catsuit hanging in the wardrobe. She debated with herself which to wear but found herself in the latex catsuit before she knew she had decided. Rubber was an obsession with her now. Sometimes, especially so many layers over her fingers, she wanted to rip it all off, but then, she hated it when she did not wear it.
Mouse sat at her dressing table and worked in the barrier crème, noting the time. She lived in twelve-hour increments. That is when the crème wore off, and her skin burned. She drew on a latex hood over her bold head and another skin-colored hood and tucked it in. Eleven hours fifty-two minutes.
After washing her latex-covered hands, Mouse drew on a sheer white slip, the Elsa dress, white boots, white gloves, and the custom blue-purple Elsa coat which is her favorite. She pulled Elsa’s purple latex belt over her head and down to her waist, feeling the comfort of the additional firmness. Mouse was almost ready, except for her Elsa-hair. Blue eye contacts and her Elsa-cloak, and she stepped before the mirror.
Mouse hated her naked body but loved her Barbie look. Yes, it manipulated a woman’s figure, but at least people didn’t call her Anna-Rexia to her face as they did in school. They could tease her about being Barbie as much as they wanted.
Mouse collects her bag with her foot thermoses and to the front door down two flights of stairs. Mouse opened the airlock and stepped in, and waited for the seal to reinflate. She opened the outer lock that looked like an ordinary door outside then unlocked her safety door.
Not a lot of break and entry in her area, but if someone did break the house’s seal and let normal air in, Mouse could be in trouble. The massive air conditioner with her special air filters in the basement would need several hours to filter her house’s atmosphere clean. Mouse would have to shower every few minutes, remain in the bathtub, or encased in latex. She slept wrapped in latex, just in case, but really, she could not sleep in anything else. Mouse closed the doors and walked down the five stairs, then turned right towards her store.
People knew her and her particular likes, but they also knew Mouse ran a book shop with fantasy, sci-fi, and children’s books. She lived in a conservative suburb and was the accepted statistical inevitable weirdo. If you can’t see a weirdo anywhere, perhaps you are it, and Mouse was it for her neighbors.
Some accepted Mouse as she was, but none did more than look at her sconce. Frank looked at Mouse with kind eyes as he ate his bacon and eggs at his open window. Mouse waved to him, and he waved back. Frank was the closest she had to a friend.
Mouse arrived in the shop on time and opened it. It would be a long day with Matilda quitting for a better job. It would have been better if she stayed the extra week for today’s book signing, but she did not. It was fair. Mouse could not pay like the large book shop two blocks down, Trundle, Trundle, and Dormister International Books.
Well, after the usual closing time, Mouse was pooped. She would have to do the coffee cup dishwashing tomorrow and hurry home to remove the barrier crème. She already felt the start of the burn. Rushing home, on the plus side, she had to reorder almost all of her Frozen books.
The author-reading and signing were good, but the children wanted their picture taken with Queen Elsa. Everyone knew that Mouse was not rich, but she would not accept money for posing with girls, boys, and adults. She loved being with children, and this was more of a pleasure than a chore. Instead, many bought books from her as a thank you. Mouse may have signed more books with Elsa of Arendelle than her guest author Gemma, although her book reading and sales went exceptionally well.
Pooped but a good sort of tired and achy feeling from her layering, Mouse, had to rush home before the barrier crème wore totally off. She would need to bring today’s cash to the bank tomorrow to cover Matilda’s severance cheque. Credit cards and other money would not come in for a while.
Turning the last corner to her house, she wondered if she should complete her Kitty Black Perkins Barbie ensemble. The living legend who changed the face of the fashion doll world. Now she had the money for the stunning gown but was afraid that if she looked like Black Barbie, it would cause problems. Some may say she was mocking dark-skinned people or some-such. Well, she could get the gown and try it out on Sunday or Monday at home, when her store is closed.
Mouse entered the airlock, closed the security door, then the front door. She sat and removed her wig. It was the one item that would have the most pollutants. She dropped it into the chute to the washroom and sat.
Their airflow ramped up and blew over Mouse as she ate from her thermos container. Occasionally she looked up at the gauge and checked that the contaminants she brought in were filtering out.
Once the green light confirmed that there were no more pollutants, Mouse walked into her house. She deposited her used food thermoses into the dishwasher, set for a gentle wash, then went to the fridge. She saw what she needed to make Bigos for tomorrow and the next day. Yes, she had bacon, sausage, turkey, cabbage, tomatoes, champignons, and of course, a couple of jars of sauerkraut. Pre-fry the bacon, sausage, champignons, put them in a pot, add sauerkraut, tomatoes, water, and vodka, and set it to cooking. Stirring it a few times, Mouse felt the itching on the useless barrier crème.
Mouse ran up to the third floor, removed her hood, and washed her face with filtered water. Mouse applied moisturizing cream to her face then drew over her house latex hood. It covered her head, leaving her eyes, mouth, and nose open for eating. She put on another hood just because she was irritated with her clothing. Either less or more, and Mouse liked more.
Mouse went downstairs, stirred the pot, added spices, turned down the heat, and ran upstairs. She removed her Elsa clothing, put it into the air washer, turned it to gentle, put on a pair of house boots, and ran down the stairs to stir the pot. She was down to her whites and would remain so until she was ready for bed.
Mouse sat in the kitchen, ate, and browsed the internet for new latex Barbie outfits. Most would not fit her, and she usually had to save up a while before she could get one custom-made, but dreaming was free. She knew to avoid Pinterest.com who usually had nothing original. As usual, all she found was a lot of junk with Barbie written on it, although the Ziggy Stardust anniversary Barbie was new.
Mouse went back to the Bigos, stirred the pot, turned the heat up, then fetched three food thermoses. Yes, they were Barbie-themed thermoses, her oldest from 1962. That one was upstairs with her Karl Lagerfeld and the Stefano Canturi Barbie copy. Thermoses filled and sealed; Mouse put them by the airlock. With undressing, showering, redressing, it was time to go to bed.
After the shower and hot air dryer, Mouse quickly slipped into a white base layer latex catsuit. Two pairs of woolen night tights, a woolen catsuit, latex hood, with the catsuit-hood over. This was nice. Her tent-like warm knitted woolen nightgown was ready so Mouse could seal herself in. Mouse had to use the night crème that counteracted the barrier crème. She put on her white latex outer catsuit and started to warm up. Almost ready.
Mouse switched her lights off, put on her heavy latex sleep hood with air openings, and then her knitted hood over. She smoothed it down along her neck, liking the feel of the material under her latex-covered hands. At this point, she always started feeling tired and ready for sleep.
Mouse drew over the nightgown, sorted her hands inside the gown’s mitten sleeves, sat, drew the gown about her, and slipped under her doona and duvet. Her waterbed was warm and toasty, and Mouse drew her bedcovers to under her chin and was asleep almost immediately.