"The Covenant"

The girl's name was Chiara, nineteen years old, dark eyes full of holes, a scar on her left wrist, she ran away from home, without money, without a destination, only an emptiness inside that no music, no kiss, no night was enough to fill.

Sofia had found her sitting on a park bench, her hands intertwined as if in prayer, her gaze lost in the darkness beyond the street lamps,

"Are you looking for something?" she had asked her,

"I would like to disappear," Chiara had replied;

Sofia had smiled, a sad, true, false smile, she didn't know anymore.

"I know a place where you can do it, where you don't have to think anymore, where you are loved unconditionally,"

Sofia replied, and so hand in hand, they had arrived in front of the store.

The black window, the pulsating red light, the door that opened by itself, Chiara hesitated,

"Is it... real?" More real than you can imagine," said Sofia,

They entered, the shop was silent, the hanging suits barely quivered, the red lights slowly came on, like eyes opening; Maya and Lara were not there, they were still under maintenance, but the shop was awake. From the center of the room, from the floor itself, a deep, collective, ancient voice emerged,

"Have you brought an offering?"

Sofia took a step forward, pushing Chiara towards the center, the girl was shaking, but she didn't back down,

"Yes," Sofia said, "You... In return... I want to be free, I want you to let me go, to free me from the suit, from control, I want to go back to being myself"

… Silence ...

Then the voice answered: You are no longer yourself, you have been modified, The latex is in your skin, in your nerves, in your blood, "I know," Sofia said, her voice firm,

"But I want to try, I want to forget, I want to live without having to fight every night, I give you her... in exchange for my freedom, my oblivion,"

A long sigh filled the room, The latex on the walls vibrated, "We accept  "

Chiara shouted: "No! Wait! I didn't say..."

But Maya and Lara suddenly appeared, silent, black, perfect; They surrounded her, their latex hands touched her, she struggled, then she felt the first shiver, the first artificial pleasure, And she stopped resisting,

Sofia backed away, a sharp pain ran through her body, as if a thousand needles were withdrawing from her nerves, the pressure on her neck vanished, and the latex melted sliding over her body and creating a black puddle on the floor, and then... she forgot. Fragments, Images, sounds, The girl's name, The shop, the escape, went like sand between her fingers.

She went out the door, looked at her hands, they were naked, normal, but inside her something pulsated, weak, distant, like a memory that she didn't want to die. She didn't know what it was, she didn't know what she was doing there, only one thing she felt, clear, deep, inevitable: she wanted to wear latex, she needed it. Not for fashion, not for fetish, for completeness.

A couple of weeks passed since then and Sofia felt the urge to buy her first jumpsuit that she found in a bdsm store outside the city. red, shiny, tight; She wore it that same evening and when the zipper closed, she sighed, because for the first time in weeks...

She almost felt at home,

Little did she know that, as she looked in the mirror, her lips had been sealed for an instant, that her eyes had shone red, that, in the silence of her head, a very weak voice had whispered:  Welcome...

The shop smiles, because it knows that Sofia will come back,

Not today, not tomorrow,

but when the desire is too strong,

when latex will no longer be enough to appease the void,

She will feel the pulse again,

and walk towards it,

like a daughter coming home,

"The New Skin"

Months passed, Sofia had built a new life for herself, or at least something that resembled her. She lived in a bright apartment, with large windows and succulents on the windowsill, She worked as a freelance designer, she always wore tight-fitting clothes, all black, all shiny, and when she could she wore corsets, long gloves, boots with mirrored latex soles. She didn't know why she needed them, only that, without them, she felt empty, as if her skin wasn't enough hers.

One day, while leafing through an old Berlin fetishwear catalog, he had an idea. Why not open one here? A small, elegant, refined store, nothing extreme, just alternative clothing and high quality latex, for those who loved the look, the contrast between softness and rigidity, between sensuality and control.

He called it "Second Skin",

She furnished it with maniacal care: anthracite gray walls, warm spotlights, light ambient music, the clothes were displayed as works of art, on articulated mannequins, illuminated by very soft red lights almost imperceptible, too weak to seem threatening, but perfect for awakening something deep inside. And then there was her, Sofia never put on too much makeup, she didn't smile too much, but it was enough to look at her to feel attracted, Her movements were fluid, precise, almost ritualistic; When she spoke, her voice was low, warm, as if she knew secrets she would never tell.

"This material," she said to customers, caressing a black jumpsuit, "doesn't cover you, it reveals you,"

and as she said it, her eyes shone, for a moment, just a moment, as if something inside her woke up... she was an unaware bait.

Customers arrived alone, often in the evening, young, curious, vulnerable, attracted by that mysterious charm that only certain garments could give.

There was Marco, an architecture student, with a childhood trauma buried under years of silence. Sofia put a blood-red corset in his hand,

"Try it," she said, "You'll see how nice it is not to have to fight anymore," He obeyed, And when he came out of the locker room, he was trembling, not out of embarrassment, out of excitement, out of recognition.

There was Noemi, a depressed dancer, obsessed with the idea of losing control of her body. Sofia offered her a full-length catsuit, with a back zip,

"This," she murmured, "keeps you together, prevents you from crumbling."

Noemi put it on, stayed in the locker room for thirty minutes to look at herself in the mirror and when she came out, her eyes were shining,

"It's like being hugged by someone who knows me," she said.

And there was Daniele, a fetishist since always, but never brave enough to really try, Sofia smiled at him, touched his wrist, just for a moment,

"You are made to be worn," she told him.

He blushed, ran away but came back every week to try something, but without the courage to buy it.