The Rubber Curse (Patreon)

Here is the third Patreon Reward in 10/2024! The continuation of this story (In Jake POV)

Thanks for all your support! Please check all high-res files on your Onedrive links.

📔 🖌️ 🖊️

The sound of squeaky rubber echoed in your ears as you stirred awake. Disoriented and groggy, you struggled to piece together your fragmented memories. The last thing you recalled was slipping into a sleek, werewolf-themed rubber suit for a Halloween party. It had fit like a second skin, snug and oddly comfortable, drawing admiring glances and nervous laughter from the crowd. But now, something was wrong.

The rubber encasing your body squeaked loudly as you sat up, the material taut against every inch of your form. The suit felt different—tighter, more integrated. Your hands, encased in oversized wolf-like rubber paws, moved sluggishly. You looked down, eyes widening as you noticed something: a zipper, positioned unnervingly down the front of the suit.

Relief flooded you. A zipper meant you could escape this strange encasement. With trembling paws, you grabbed the zipper tag and began to pull. The resistance was satisfying, a promise of freedom. But when the suit opened, revealing what lay beneath, your heart sank.

Instead of your bare skin or the T-shirt you vaguely remembered wearing under the costume, there was... more rubber. A second layer, identical in texture and design, molded seamlessly to your body. Panic bubbled up as you fumbled with this new zipper, pulling it down with feverish determination.

Another suit.

And another.

Layer by layer, you stripped away the rubber, each discarded suit forming a growing pile around you. The room reeked of latex, and the exertion left you breathless. With every layer you removed, you hoped—prayed—that the next would reveal your own skin. But hope dimmed as the layers kept coming, each one as smooth and impenetrable as the last.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you unzipped what you thought must be the last suit. Instead of skin, your body was encased in a smooth, featureless white rubber layer. No seams, no zippers, no details—just a blank, shiny surface. Your hands were now mittens, your face a seamless curve without a mouth, eyes, or nostrils. You were a formless, rubberized mannequin, robbed of all individuality.

You tried to scream but no sound came. Panic gave way to exhaustion as your rubberized form betrayed you, numbing your body and sapping your strength. You collapsed among the pile of discarded suits, unable to move, see, or feel.

As you drifted into unconsciousness, a dreadful realization dawned on you. This wasn’t just a costume—it was a curse. And worse, the pile of werewolf suits around you lay waiting, ready to ensnare the next unsuspecting victim.

---

When your roommate came home hours later, they were puzzled by the eerie silence and the strange sight of a heap of discarded rubber suits in the middle of the room. Intrigued, they picked one up, admiring its craftsmanship and the strange allure of the shiny material.

“I wonder how this feels…”

They stepped into the suit, tugging it on piece by piece. The moment the zipper closed, their fate was sealed.

And the cycle began anew.