Gromet's PlazaPackaged, Encasement & Objectification Stories

The Waxing Moon

by Jo

Email Feedback | Forum Feedback

© Copyright 2012 - Jo - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; naked; box; wax; encase; fetish; tease; sex; cons; X

"Ken, where do we get our wax?"

"Who wants to know?"

I knew who wanted to know - the MILF. I had seen her walk by, knew she'd taken a spot on the side. And, sure enough, Sam pointed at the blonde with the green dress.

"I'll take care of it."

Three visits in three weeks and no kid this time. I had her number at a glance. She wore a ring, but not a wedding ring, she had a kid about ten years old (a girl), which put her in the thirties, and there was no evidence of a man.

I flirted with her and she played back, an easy thing to do at renfest. The women are a bit more bawdy and the men a tad more lecherous. It's all in good fun.

"Well, back again! Where's the girl?"

"She's with her father."

"His monthly visit?"

"We have joint custody. Kendra lives with me and spends two weekends a month with him."

"Mm. So, you had a question about the wax?"

"Yeah. What kind is it?"

All she needed to do was Google "wax hands" and in two seconds she'd know all she needed to. But I humored her.

"I need to see your ID."

"My what?"

I shrugged.

"Insurance. The stuff's not dangerous, but it's not 100% safe either. It needs to be handled properly. And I can't give out any information without checking your ID."

That was, of course, a lie. I just wanted a name to go with the face so I wouldn't have to keep calling her the MILF.

She fumbled with the leather pouch on her hip. I took the opportunity to look at her a bit more closely. She wore a long green dress and a white, peasant blouse. She had a suede cincher tied around her waist. The effect emphasized her tits and hips nicely. She handed me the card.

Leah Adams, 131 Greenwood, 5'4", 130#, hair blonde, eyes green. I did the math on her birthdate - 32.

"Thanks. You know how crazy the whole liability thing is."

Leah tucked the card back into her pouch.

"Leah. That's a pretty name."


I offered my hand.


She shook it.

"Nice to meet you."

I gave her the spiel about the wax, we use paraffin because of its low melting point, the pans are set at 125 degrees, totally safe, yack, yack, yack.

When I had finished I pointed at the two white globs sitting on the shelf. The shop is called Wax Hands. These weren't hands.


Leah smiled.

"Yeah, maybe."

She dropped the "hands" into a plastic bag, said, "Thanks," and turned to go.

"Leah! Listen, uh, if you have no plans for later I'd like to buy you a glass of wine. Canon is at 5:30. A bit over an hour. Won't take me a minute to close up shop."

She hesitated only a moment.

"Sure. Yeah, okay."

"Great. Swing by when you hear the canon."

Sam gave me a leer.

"So, is Kenny gonna get lucky?"

"Watch it smartass or I'll sic Billie on you."

Billie and Sam are both lesbians and Billie has a serious crush on her, drives her nuts.

She gave me an evil look and turned to help another customer.

The echo of the cannon hadn't yet died when Leah walked up. I opened the cash box, paid Sam.

"You want help closing up?"

"Nah, I got it. See you tomorrow."

That got me another look as she held the gate for Leah.

I turned off the elements, lowered and tied the tarps. I grabbed the cash box and led Leah into the shop, locked the door behind us. Lead her out the back door. Locked it. I gestured to my trailer.

"Home sweet adobe."

Leah looked nervous.

"We have to kill about a half hour while they do the security sweep. If they catch you they'll kick you out. You can have that wine while I count the till."

I flicked the lights and held the door. Leah paused a second, then stepped in. The place looked good. I'm not a slob, but I'm not mister clean either. I let Sam hold the fort earlier and had ducked back to tidy up.

"It ain't much, but it's home, kind of."

I pulled two glass from the cupboard.

"Red or white?"

"Uh, red, please"

Leah sipped her wine while I counted the cash. We did the "What do you do? Where you live?" thing. Wine turned into talk of dinner.

"Can I go like this?"

"Oh, sure. Give me a second and I'll join you."

I don't have festival clothes per se, but I had a clean set of work clothes. It's an outfit of sorts. We matched well enough.

Later we sat in my truck yacking about nothing in particular. We'd had more wine with dinner and were both feeling mellow. We had enough similarities and differences to make it both comfortable and interesting. When I opened the door she stepped out of the truck and into my arms. We kissed. Not a kiss that would lead to anything, but nice kiss all the same.

"Can I see you tomorrow?"

Leah hesitated.

I reached into the glove box.

"I have bribes. Free tickets."

She laughed and said, "Sure."

* * * *

It rained the next day, but Leah showed up. I let Sam and Bill leave early, shut down one bank of heaters. No point wasting electricity.

I stepped back into the trailer, came back with two mugs.

"Something to keep the chill off."

She stuck her nose in.


"And you were expecting what? Coffee?"

We sipped our brandy. I made a few sales. We sipped some more, got a little giggly.

Leah was standing, her hand wrist deep in wax. I came up behind her, wrapped my arms around her, nuzzled her neck.

"You know what I'd like to do?"

She rubbed her butt against my crotch.

"I have an Idea."

"Yeah, well, that, too. No, I'd like to cover you in wax."


"You'd like it. I know you would. You have a thing for wax."

She was quiet.

"What the deal? With wax, I mean."

She shrugged

"Dunno. Just always liked the stuff. I used to burn those tall candles and when they'd burned down I'd peel off pieces, all warm and soft. I'd play with them like putty, press them against my skin. I still do. It's ... it's almost like a fetish."

She giggled.

"I probably shouldn't have said that."

"So! That's what this is all about. You just want me for my wax."

She rubbed her butt against me again.

"Among other things."

The "other things" turned out to be pretty good. First sex is always awkward, but it worked. She couldn't spend the night because the kid was coming home, so we made a date for the next weekend.

A friend of Leah's, another single mother, someone who knew the score, agreed to have Kendra over for a sleepover. I put Leah to work demonstrating how to make wax hands, though it ain't rocket science. It just gave us a chance to hang out and give her some play time. And later we had a little sleepover of our own.

Leah showed up the next Friday. Dad had the kid, so we had the whole weekend. The local pizza place delivers and I know the guy and tip well. He agreed to pick up a couple of six-packs of beer. Delivery time was forty minutes. We found a way to occupy our time.




"About that other idea of yours? How would you do it? I mean, if I'm standing, won't it all just drip off."

"Yeah, but I could splash it on you."

"I don't think I'd like that. I mean, I thought about it. About just standing there while you poured wax over me until I was nothing but a big, white blob."

She took a sip of beer.

"It would be cool if you could dip me, like we do with the hands. Getting totally covered and the layers building up thicker and thicker."

"I don't have a tub that big."

"But what about a tub? A real rub. I could roll around in it, get all nice and covered. Then before it cooled I could step out and you could pour more wax on me."

I resisted the urge to revisit that whole "occupy our time" thing.

"That's a thought."

"What do you do with the wax at the end?"

"Dump it."

"Seems a shame to waste it. I mean, if you're going to dump it you should get some use out of it first."

Fact is I already had a useful plan.

After the final cannon, I dropped the tarps, tied them off. I left the burners on. It was chilly, but the place soon heated nicely. It was almost dark, so I set some candles to burning around the place.

I have a sheet of plywood on saw horses, a work bench of sorts. I set the ply aside and brought out a fresh piece, followed by some 2x4s. I grabbed the screw gun and made a frame, splashed some wax along the seams to seal them.

Leah stripped. She wrapped her hair in a bit of plastic wrap. She looked great in the candlelight, tits bouncing, ass jiggling in the orange glow. We dumped pans of warm, liquid wax into the makeshift box. She climbed in.

"Oh God," she whispered. "Oh dear God."

I threw some more wax into a couple of pans. Didn't know if I'd need them, but there's no such thing as too much of a good thing.

I held the bit of hose I'd cut up for her.

"Uh uh. I want to feel the wax all over my face, over my lips. Don't we have some plastic straws?"

We do and I retrieved one and snipped it in half. I slipped the pieces into Leah's nostrils.

She wanted her face done first. She closed her eyes. I fetched a pan and ladled the wax onto her. I worked slowly, trying to be thorough, trying to prolong the experience for her. In a few minutes Leah's features disappeared beneath a thick layer of white. I removed the straws.

I fetched another pan, green this time, and worked my way down her neck and chest, across her shoulder, down her arm. When the wax engulfed her fingers she made an mmfing sound. I coated her other arm.

Another pan, red, and her leg was coated from thigh to toe. Warm wax flowing over her toes brought another mmf. Her other leg got the same treatment.

I worked down her chest, covering her tits. There was a bit more noise when the wax hit her nipples. Leah has VERY sensitive nipples. But it was nothing compared to when it flowed across her pussy lips. She had shaved for the occasion and her mound was extra, extra sensitive. The soft wax on her belly rose and fell with her panting breaths - until it cooled and didn't fall again. She looked slightly pregnant.

I still had three pans, plus the two I'd refilled. I passed on the ladle and simply poured the wax over her. I did it slowly, thoroughly, ensuring a good bond between the wax covering her and the wax she lay in.

When I finished there was no Leah to be seen, only a couple of bumps where her tits were on a vaguely human form. She looked simply like a multi-colored blob of wax.

I went around shutting off the heating elements. I stepped back into the trailer, poured myself a brandy. As I stepped across to the shop I looked up. The moon was nearly full. A nice waxing moon.



If you've enjoyed this story, please write to the author and let them know - they may write more!
back to
Packaged Stories