[Clothing TF] Stellar Cruise

"Yes, it's one of those living ones!"
I barely heard the words over the hissing of hermetic seals being broken. There was a mechanical 'whir' as the metallic door slid away and light filled the compartment I was stored in. Before me stood two women, their dresses covered in the frills and laces of aristocracy. "It cost as much as the room, and that's only to rent it for the trip!" the closer one spoke with an accent to match her attire. "My allowance only just covered it this week, but Father said he'd buy one for me to keep if I liked it on the cruise."
"What makes them so special?" her companion asked. "What's it made of?"
The front one gripped the end of my arm with soft, manicured fingers. "It reacts to you much better than an AI can. Watch..." Their eyes bore into that part of me, and my vision followed. We all watched my blue, rubbery skin mold around her fingertip. The sweetness of vanilla lotion washed over my senses, and I could feel myself pressing into the minuscule ridges of her fingerprint; I felt as though I was sucking on her digits. Then, she let go and pulled away, allowing me to reform into my prior shape. "It also regulates your temperature better. As for what it's made of, I'm not sure. They only label it as 'proprietary biomass,'" she finished.
"Some kind of mold or solidified slime, I guess," the other woman concluded with a chuckle.
"Ew! Don't say that! Wearing slime would be disgusting!" my apparent owner laughed at the very idea.
"I've heard the Buori women wear-" but I didn't catch the rest of it. A button was pressed and the door once again sealed me in darkness with its airtight bond. Just before a series of freshness-boosting gases stole away my consciousness, I began to wonder if the meager pay was worth this new job.

I watched her undress with a sense of guilt. My compartment was open, and I was unable to move myself to look away, but my conscience sat unhappy with those excuses. I tried to focus my vision elsewhere... however, the trappings and furniture of her cabin were nowhere near as pleasant to gaze upon. While she was muted and unassuming for a young noblewoman, her gene-tweaked body easily outclassed the women usually seen at my pay grade. Her tall, thin, hairless frame shed her lacy undergarments without a care, allowing me full view of her genetically-enhanced assets that swayed freely as she stretched away the discomfort of her dress. Then, her attention finally turned to me. Sky-blue eyes studied my form as she sauntered over, brushing a wavy, golden lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, let's give you a try,” she breathed, as though she knew I was looking back.
She took me up in her grasp and removed me from my hanger. I was almost weightless, fluttering through the air, only pulled down by the heavy boots attached to my legs. But, she let go and I crumpled to the floor at once. Not even taking the time to test my length with her body: clearly this woman was used to exact tailoring.
I felt her dainty feet push parts of me aside, and then enter the boots that formed my own feet. As soon as her soles met the bottom, I tasted her. Stale lotion, day-old sweat, dust from floors and shoes all flowed into my senses from what had appeared to be a pair of fresh and unused feet. I squirmed mentally as her toes squeezed and kneaded the plush insoles that were the bottoms of my own feet, every test of their comfort forcing more of her scent onto me.
I felt her grip my shoulders and pull me up. My rubber-like skin folded to her flesh, clinging to it as I was pulled around her body. I tasted every inch of her, as though my entire interior were one big tongue that formed around the woman's legs, her thighs, her glutes, and her abs. Her arms entered mine, her fingers filled the attached gloves that were my hands. Finally, she used my digits to grip a zipper that hung below her womanhood. She pulled it up her body, and over her breasts until it came to an end on her neck. I was sealed around her as a second skin.
She moved herself- us- to examine me- herself- in a mirror. From my vantage on the slope of her bosom, I learned nothing I didn't already know; she was a very attractive woman, and I was a deep blue spacesuit that fit her form perfectly. Instead, I was lost in the sensations of her body. Her warmth was omnipresent, radiating into every centimeter of my existence. It brought with it the slickness of her sweat, a salt-laden moisture that was already beginning to seep from her tight and intimate areas, only to collect inside my rubbery skin as a film of microscopic beads. Muscles pulsed against me with her every minute motion. Quads, glutes, hamstrings, and calves tightened and relaxed as my wearer unconsciously shifted her weight from foot to foot, while biceps, triceps and shoulder muscles moved her arms to our center.
Her fingers used mine to feel herself, first testing my tightness along her belly, then along her hips. She moved our hands up our arms, and then my vision was obstructed as she lowered them down her chest. I cupped her breasts with her, feeling them shift not only in my hands but within what I could only describe as my cheeks. I was already learning her body intimately as clothing, but now I was exploring it as a person would, even though I had no control over the experience. Our fingers brushed over small bumps on either of her breasts. They grew from only the barest touch, pushing into my body such that I felt my cheeks form to accommodate them. From between the curious fingers, I caught sight of the mirror again. The two dots showed on me clearly, like seedlings breaking the soil for the first time. Further down, pelvic muscles tensed, and the humidity there increased. Our arms slid down her body, our fingers extending to take up her arousal. I was as hypnotized as she was.
Presently, a gentle, two-toned indicator rang from a hidden overhead speaker. A female voice, tinged with static and trans-galactic accent, softly spoke: “Dear guests, your captain wishes to inform you that the Splendor has now reached its designated cruising speed. The safety shielding is raised, and you may now partake of the exterior decks at your leisure.” With that, the two-tone played again.
My wearer and I stood as though awoken from a trance. I looked up at her face, trying to read her expression from the underside view I enjoyed. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, forcing a warm, cinnamon-scented breath over my face. She gave the mirror a smile, as if to say “I'll be back later.” Then, her leg muscles pulsed within me, and she walked back to my storage closet. Her heartbeat slowed, and the pinpricks on my face receded to their normal state.
For a moment, and as strange as it sounds, I fretted that I was being put away. But, fortunately, she merely pulled a helmet from where it was stashed in the compartment. I took a chance to examine it as she held it in front of me. Instead of the hardened, metal-plated contraption I was assigned in my regular job, her helmet was nearly all glass, as though it was made from a fishbowl with a rubber collar. Where mine required an external oxygen tank and radio, both functions were performed on hers by a small brass box just below her mouth, decorated with swirling golden etchings.
I watched her turn it around and easily slip it over her head. Her arms rose up again, and I felt her fiddle with the connectors that attached the helmet's collar to her- my- neck. They snapped into place, and, as the respirator system pressurized the interior, I felt like I'd gained a new part of myself. My vision still came from the top of her bosom, and my cheeks were still filled with the globes that were her breasts, but I began to feel her breath on my lips and nose. When she exhaled her warm, used air, I inhaled it; when she inhaled, I exhaled fresh, cool oxygen for her. I shuddered mentally. Despite earlier events, this was too intimate for my comfort. Would she agree to it if she knew I was conscious? It was better than lugging around a heavy air tank while still in gravity, but was the proximity worth it? I supposed it wasn't a decision she knew she could make, and it certainly wasn't a decision I was in any position to make.
Regardless of what I felt about our intimacy, my wearer thought it was all grand. I saw her smile. My eyes bounced as she chuckled with apparent excitement, and after posing with hands-on-hips for the mirror, we left her room.