She knew she was making a horrible mistake: her bank account was already light this week, and she'd promised herself that she'd start budgeting. She'd told herself she was just going for a walk, but the bus was pulling up and she was on it before she could tell herself no. The store was a couple blocks away from the stop, down a couple of colonial alleyways that still had cobble paving. An unremarkable glassdoor read Skintight, with a "24/7" flashing in the window next to it being the only indication of a public storefront. She went in.

"Do you know what you're looking for sir?"

"Just looking," she squeaked. Of course, she'd forgotten to shave: she wasn't supposed to be going anywhere today. The worker looked her over again, realizing his mistake. "Oh sorry, ma'am, it's dark in here, y'know."

"It's OK." she responded, just wanting to go home. This was a stupid outing. But the store was too alluring, and she quickly was lost in the clothing racks. Along the walls, gorgeous models were splayed across abstract white backgrounds dressed in perfectly complementary outfits which highlighted their physiques. Though the brand had offerings for any gender, there was a pronounced excess of feminine curves and features in every shoot. A maid, a cowgirl, a nurse, and sometimes just sheer or black material, with the faces obscured— and of course, everything was stretched taut, so well tailored she couldn't imagine how they got in or out. God do I like the outfits or do I just want to be them she thought, just like she'd wondered every time she trawled their catalogue online. This time though, she was here in person, with every outfit she could ever desire trying on within easy reach. If she just had the nerve to ask for some help... and could find something affordable.

"Are you sure you don't need help ma'am?" The worker had come up behind her while she was entranced by the posters. "Sorry, it's just my first time in person." She noticed that though the attendant had on a typical graphic tshirt and shorts, underneath he was wearing a slightly transparent fullbody latex catsuit. Employee discount I bet... and god it looks so good. The store wasn't actually all that big, but a curtain at the back implied dressing rooms and maybe— "Our more adventurous offerings are behind there," the worker offered, following her eyeline, "but I definitely have to accompany you." "Oh of course," she said, "but I'm sure I'll find something up here." Trundling up and down a few aisles though, she realized most of the stuff up here was pretty tame, workout gear and underlayers mostly. She saw a couple cute skirts she knew she'd never have the confidence for, but nothing that she couldn't necessarily find somewhere else. You're already here, she told herself, come on. Turning around to ask for help, she found the attendant was already by the curtain waiting. "Ready for more?" She walked past as he held the curtain for her, and she was blown away.

It was beyond anything they listed online. Every fantasy even vaguely close to skintight outfits was represented, often on stunningly proportioned mannequins posed sensually. Here, too, pretty much everything was latex or rubber, from mundane shirts to the outlandishly sexual. A complement of compatible toys was also displayed along the wall, underneath a projected video which scrolled with company messaging. Skintight is Bold. Skintight is Beautiful. Life is better Skintight. Perfect Clothing for a Perfect Body. Underneath the text was a throbbing bulb of light, like a music visualizer just in beat with the abstract techno that was lilting from hidden speakers. This space was completely overwhelming, everything she'd ever dared to imagine it to be. Oh god I don't ever want to leave. "See anything you'd like to try on?" "I don't know if I can pick anything yet..." She walked to a nearby table which was covered in a suit with a built-in corset and a miniskirt that ended just above the zippered crotch. Looking for a size or pricing, she could only find the model name and its description: Playgirl, a head to toe sensation with easy access where it counts. Immediately she wanted it. "Do you have other sizes?" she asked. The worker gave her a wry smile. "We will make it fit. Just go to the fitting room, we have a sizing machine in there. Just go through the options and I'll bring you your selection and a few accessories that match." So convenient, she thought. She went to the corner where a few small doors led to cubicles. She picked the open one, though she wondered whether the others with closed doors were in use. Inside, instead of the bench she'd expected was a vinyl chair in front of a small touchscreen. She locked the door and sat down. Begin? She tapped the screen, and the lights dimmed slightly. Please relax as still as possible while we begin scanning. Scanning? she thought, concerned, but a red light passed quickly over her before she could react. Thank you, please allow us to process your information. The same visualizer from outside came back on the screen. It pulsed with pinks and purples and blues, shimmering like an oil slick. The electronic music was playing in here too, but it seemed to get louder. She was so excited to try on her outfit, she couldn't believe she was actually here. Plus, the worker had been so nice and made her feel so welcome. Skintight was such a nice company, she thought, Skintight wants me to feel Beautiful. The visuals were so alluring, and the lights in the room seemed to be synced up with the display, pulsing along in soft pastel waves. Our analysis is finished. You are not Playgirl compatible. She was horrified... how? Everything else had gone so smoothly... did they really not have her size... or was it her personality... she was too timid for an outfit like that, they must've noticed... it would probably just sit at the back of her closet. Would you like to become compatible? Become compatible? Such a weird way to phrase tailoring, but she was glad for the option. Skintight wants me to feel Beautiful. She clicked yes. The energy in the room ramped up in intensity. Please allow our compatibility process to complete. The flashing bulb grew bigger on the screen, and more complex. Within its iridescence she felt like she was seeing brand new colors. She couldn't look away, and the music made it impossible to think about how strange of an experience this was. Of course, she was also starting to feel so good, so Beautiful. Skintight makes me Beautiful. I want to be a Playgirl... Playgirls are Bold. Skintight makes me Bold. The words didn't seem to come from anywhere, but they were filling her head. Life is better Skintight. Perfect Clothes for a Perfect Body. She was suddenly very sure she had the perfect body. I am a Playgirl. I am Bold. I am Beautiful. For the first time in her life, she looked down at her body and loved it— and she wanted to show it off. Her baggy clothes that she'd grabbed from the drawer without thinking were stopping her, so she stood up and took them off. Her ratty sports bra she'd bought because she was scared of a fitting, she took off. Her black panties she'd bought because she was scared to buy anything nicer and feel like a pervert, she took off. Standing in the dressing room naked, her small breasts exposed, her lazy job keeping up with body hair, her little cock she looked away from when she showered, every pudgy roll she desperately had kept hidden from the world was out now. She looked in the mirror and loved the woman who stood there. Compatibility complete: prepare for fitting. The words on the screen didn't even register, just the blooming colors she was drawn back into. The door opened, as the attendant came in. His street clothes were gone, just the latex suit through which she could see every beautiful crevice of his body, and— his thick cock folded upwards within the suit, begging for release. She didn't register that fact, still transfixed by the colors. He handed her a Playgirl outfit, one with slightly transparent latex in a pinkish hue. Its corset and skirt were the only opaque elements, both in black— a playful amount of coverage that only accentuated how much was on display. She did her best not to look away from the screen as she stepped into the catsuit through the open back. She didn't worry about the suit being too tight: She was a Playgirl, and this was for her. Pulling it up was easy, and it came to rest over her body very quickly. As she pulled her arms through, she straightened the corset so that her breasts pushed out overtop, the form of the suit giving them a beautiful shape she'd been terrified of pursuing before. The attendant stepped behind her and began sealing the suit, pulling it taught and applying glue between both edges of the opening. He handed her a pair of heeled boots that she stepped into. Her whole body felt electric, every inch of skin was extra sensitive through the latex like it was being massaged. She couldn't think through the pleasure, only the slogans repeating in her head: Beautiful... Bold... Skintight... Playgirl... Be—

"Are you ready for your final adjustment?" The Worker was in front of her, his cock now unzippered and flexed to its full length. She nodded enthusiastically: Playgirls are Bold. "Follow me." She did. They walked back out into the store, but this time she didn't even bother looking around. She was following, and she had everything she needed. Her clothes, wallet, and phone lay in a pile behind her, but she didn't care. Some more customers had come in, but they didn't even look at her. She kinda wished they would—Playgirls are Beautiful— but the thought didn't linger for long: she was following. The worker took her through a door somewhat concealed behind a display. Here, a bunch more cubicles were stacked in rows up to the ceiling. A sign marked the rooms as containing "Display Models". "Skintight has decided you are a perfect Playgirl," the worker said, beckoning her to a room, "and we'd like it if you would stay around to help us share the Skintight lifestyle." She nodded readily. "That's what I thought." He smirked, "let's get you ready for storage." He reached into a box and pulled out a screened headset and a few mysterious tools. "Playgirls are Horny," he said, and suddenly she was the most aroused she'd ever been in her life. "We have to store Playgirls specially so they are ready for our customers to enjoy." She could only groan, writhing in the suit, her nipples hard and chafing against the latex as her cock strained for release, wet against her skin. Now her only thought was getting off, and she didn't care how or who with. The worker's cock made her salivate. "Playgirls are for our customer's pleasure. We keep them ready back here for our rewards program. Now, on all fours." She cratered to the floor, salivating as she was faced with his Perfect Cock. Playgirls are Horny... Playgirls are Beautiful... she knew she had a Perfect Body thanks to Skintight, so of course she wanted to help reward their loyal customers. She writhed on her hands and knees, so ready to prove how Bold she was, swishing her skirt against her cock and letting her breast bounce against each other just to try for a release. "Don't worry," he said, connecting a few cables to the wall, "you're almost ready for storage, and the only thing better than storage will be when we take you out to Play." She was so hard it was painful, and could only whimper in reply. He reached between her legs and unzipped her, her little cock flopping out and leaking onto the floor. Cold air played between her ass checks, then she felt the worker begin slathering a liquid all over her crotch and into her asshole. She shuddered, barely able to stay upright as her limbs trembled. But she had to stay put. She knew Skintight was doing what was best for her and she had to obey. He slipped a small sheath over her cock, locking it into place. Only her tip was exposed, leaking onto the floor. The ribbing on the inside almost sent her over the edge, but she knew that this wasn't the time. Next, he slipped a large dildo into her ass, filling her up as much as her body would allow. She was losing the ability to even attempt words in her mind, the pleasure was so great. Her drool fell to the floor, intermingling with her pre-cum. Every time her skirt or the attendant's hand brushed against her she saw a white flash as the pleasure overwhelmed even her ability to see. Next, he clipped an electrode to each of her nipples, and put an iv drip into her arm. She could only register the pains as even more incredibly erotic. "I know you're struggling to think anymore," the attendant smiled, "but I love explaining this cause it gets me off. You'll be here, kept on the edge of orgasm, until you're needed. This IV had all the nutrients you need, so you'll never have to leave this state of arousal, and you'll be allowed to lick up your little leaks every hour so that we can keep this place clean. And I'm gonna put this screen on your head so there's nothing you can think of except the colors and our approved advertising messaging. From now on, the only thing you exist to do is serve our loyal customers... and senior employees." He held the screen in front of her face, so the colors drifted over her eyes. She reacted with a primal whine, begging for the wonderful comfort of Skintight messaging. He laughed, "God all you trans girls are so pathetically predictable," as he slipped the screen over her head. She was incapable of responding, moaning with relief as the display washed over her consciousness. "Now one final calibration, and then you'll be all ready." She felt his cock rest on her bottom lip, and opened her mouth greedily. She'd never considered that giving someone else a blow job could be so pleasurable for her. She sucked all the way to the base, swallowing and working her throat as she desperately tried to be a good Playgirl. She felt him thicken, but he held himself under control until she was seeing black dots from lack of air. He grabbed her hair and pushed against her face, the latex sticking to her skin as her nose was smothered against his crotch. She was blacking out, but he wouldn't give up her throat— her sucking became as much desperate gasps for air as intended to pleasure his body. "When I cum, you cum." Her body readied mindlessly to fulfill his command. Just as she really was about to lose consciousness he let loose in her. She gurgled his salty release, more than she could keep in her mouth and swallow at once, so as he pulled his cock from her throat it splattered on the floor. Her pleasure was complete, a total annihilation of any other emotion except pure erotic bliss. She couldn't even maintain her position on her hands and knees, collapsing onto the wet floor and writhing and moaning, her hands desperately moving up and down her torso as she tried to keep the feeling going. Then the attendant flipped a switch, and her dildo and cock cage began vibrating, as her nipples were struck with electric pulses. She stopped moving instantly, as her brain lost its ability to comprehend the sheer intensity of arousal. The only signs of life were a high-pitched moan dribbling out of her mouth along the saliva and cum, and her hips lightly thrusting in time to the music and the vibrations inside her body. She was utterly broken: a Perfect PlayGirl. Laughing, the attendant wiped his cock dry in her hair and zipped himself back up. "God, Skintight is the best job." He left the door open behind him, and opened the next cubicle. Another girl in a yellow Playgirl outfit was kneeling on the floor, her back arched as she lightly thrusted with the dildoes in her ass and pussy. "Playgirl 176, go clean up the new Playgirl and put her back into a Playful Pose." The girl simply began to act, the only sign of any amount of thought a slight whimper as she unhooked her dildoes from their cables, zipping up her suit so they wouldn't fall out. She stood up and walked stiltingly towards the next room, her heels clicking. As the worker walked back towards the display floor, she began licking up the mess left around the new unit, savoring every drop as she swallowed contentedly.