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From: woodsmok@gte.net (MC Woodsmoke)
Subject: The Perils of Supergirl V1.1 by Richard Marnet (bd/nc/mc/latex/magic/tech/statue/tg/encap)
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This is a rather weired story, with many damsels in
distress.
I DID NOT write this story and DO NOT have any claim on it.
If you wish to contact the author, an email address is
supplied but it is indicated that all flames will be piped
to /dev/null.
NOTE This is an update to V1.0 there are updates
and additional story.
The Bondage Perils of Supergirl V1.1
by Richard Marnet (c/- fast_fist@hotmail.com)
bd/nc/mc/latex/magic/tech/statue/tg/encap
*** Copyright (c) 1997 - All Rights Reserved ***
* WARNING * WARNING * WARNING *
This is a work of pornographic fiction intended for
adults only. It describes sexual acts and behaviour in
explicit and graphic detail. Only read this story if you
have reached the age of sexual consent in your country.
DISCLAIMER:
This story is entirely fictional. The characters,
places and events depicted in this story are not intended to
represent or resemble any real persons, places, or events.
Any such resemblance is purely coincidental.
This story is a work of extremely explicit and graphic
sexual fantasy. The depiction of any act in this story,
including, but not limited to, non-consensual sexual
activity, oral/vaginal sex, heterosexual and homosexual
acts, encapsulation, use of drugs and other mind-altering
substances on an unwilling or unknowing human being, and
degradation, humiliation, restructure/forced sex-change or
enslavement of a human being should not be construed to
imply that the author condones the performance of said act,
either on the author's part or on the part of anyone else.
This is not a story for narrow minded people or for people
who cannot distinguish between fantasy and reality. Leave
now.
IF YOU ARE NOT OF LEGAL AGE IN YOUR PLACE OF RESIDENCE TO
READ AND VIEW PORNOGRAPHIC MATERIAL, OR THE PRESENCE OF ANY
OF THE ACTIONS LISTED IN THE SECOND PARAGRAPH, ABOVE, OFFEND
YOU, DO NOT READ THIS STORY. Note: This story is a work of
FICTION. The story, names, and events depicted in this text
are fantastical. No names are changed, as no one is
innocent or real in this story. IF YOU ARE NOT OF LEGAL AGE
TO READ SEXUALLY EXPLICIT ADULT CONTENT STORIES, DO NOT READ
FURTHER. Also, if you are offended by consensual adults
enriching their lives through harmless mental fantasies, or
if you have a religious / moral / anti-pornography agenda,
please go away. Many people who are worthy pillars of your
community enjoy complex and fulfilling fantasies that you
will never understand, so do not be so arrogant as to judge
them against your strait-laced existence. You have been
thoroughly warned. This is heavy stuff.
***********************************************************
=============< An insight from the author >================
This fantasy started ten years ago as a collection of short
stories. It is being pieced together and re-edited in what
can only be described as a long process. The author is a
very sane, kind hearted person who does not believe anybody
deserves the fantastical fates in this story - if you
haven't guessed already, in his fantasies he would enjoy
changing places with Linda or her friends....
===========================================================
Introduction.
Within days of the King's death and her coronation, the
ruling Princess of Steel heard rumours of Sorceress
Zorelle's return from forced exile. The Princess knew that
the evil Zorelle had been exiled for dabbling in the
forbidden magics; the cruel woman had used her time away
effectively, learning the full extent of her powers....no
one had followed the dark path and survived before.
Informants told the Princess that Zorelle was using her new
spells to create an army of mindless followers....completely
unstoppable. It was obvious that her aim was to seize total
control of the land and its people. One by one she was
capturing her enemies and dealing with them in a terrible
fashion. Only Zorelle's wicked mind was capable inflicting
such suffering on the land.
Dangerous battlefields
A very tired Princess Linda Danvers used her super
powers to hover in mid air and scan the massive enemy army
many miles below. The hostile force was made up mostly of
forced conscripts, ordinary citizens who had been captured
and clad in the glistening black leather bondage suits that
all in the enchanted army wore. The magical punishingly
buckled costumes took merely five minutes to convert a
struggling captive into a docile obedient soldier who would
follow Zorelle's mental commands without question. Once
controlled by the suit, they would walk happily into certain
death for the evil spellstress, smiling beneath their
expanded gags, and even help to force dress more conscripts.
Half of the squeaking, suctioned forms had once been in
Linda's own army, but were now "prisoners of war" in every
sense. Zorelle had made some of the conscripts into winged
rubber scouts, imprisoning their arms and legs together in a
single tube of frictionless black latex so that all but the
round circle of their faces was visible. She attached
dragon-like rubbery wings to their corsetted backs and
controlled them remotely so that the stiffly encapsulated
scouts flew obediently over what had once been their own
army. Everything these flapping rubber targets in the sky
saw, Zorelle saw through her magic.
From her vantage point in the clouds, Linda spied a
figure in the Sorceress's colours of gold and silver
standing in front of a very well-appointed tent. Borne by
desperation and hoping to catch Zorelle by surprise, the
Woman of Steel flew down in a split second and appeared
beside her enemy. Knowing that she could not allow the
witch to try an escape or attack spell, she enveloped
Zorelle's mouth with hers, grasped the spell-weaving hands
and began to utilise her super-strength to crush them.
There was a brilliant flash, and the form she was holding
seemed to collapse into itself. It was a decoy. What she
imagined was Zorelle had evaporated into a harness of
glowing green straps....kryptonite! Her first thought was
to flee, but the nightmare harness seemed stuck to her
wrists and face already, neatly circling her forearms with
wide cuffs and sliding between her lips to insert a glowing
green expando-gag in her mouth. She fought against it
feebly with her rapidly draining strength to no avail. The
myriad of remaining straps on the harness encircled her body
like snakes and threaded themselves through the buckles as
Linda sank gasping to her knees. They tightened themselves
mercilessly and Linda was soon neatly packaged, a powerless
super-bundle. A layer of the cuffs peeled away and rolled
down over her hands, forming slim D-ringed mittens,
canceling any hopes she had of using her fingers to undo a
buckle or two. Likewise, her ankle cuffs peeled down over
her high-heeled blue feet forming slippery D-ringed booties
of deadly green. Not to be outdone, the straps began
unfolding rapidly, doubling in width and joining each time
until eventually Supergirl was cocooned seamlessly from the
neck down in polished greeny black. She rolled to the
ground in a weakened, dizzy state as her collar folded up to
cover her chin, then covering her mouth, nose, eyes with a
clear layer which thickened rapidly. The real Zorelle's
black boots came into her dwindling field of vision, and in
her hallucination-affected vision, Linda briefly imagined
that she could see the forlorn blank faces of her recently
lost officers staring out at her from the surface of the
shiny black rubber boot leg....was that the mound of a
miniature coated breast?....the curve of a torturously bent
elbow she could see through the green haze? No, she
decided, trying to clear her swimming head....her mind must
be playing tricks. She lapsed into blissful
unconsciousness.
<snip!>
The victory tent
A captured male officer was marched to stand in front of the
Sorceress.
"It looks very much like you chose the wrong side, young
man" she laughed, pointing out the rubber baby costumed
form of his former leader and princess sitting docily in the
corner. In stark contrast to the way he remembered his
strong commander a few hours ago, Supergirl was now strapped
in a high chair and sucking purposefully on a magical
pacifier. The all enclosing latex-kryptonite babysuit she
was sheathed in was designed in attractive transparent
green. Her hands and feet terminated in stiff frilled
mittens and booties, and from the frills around her neck
hung a sparkling rubber bib ready to catch the slightest
dribble. A tight airless hood with a mockery of a baby-face
fashioned on it stretched up to cover her head from the suit
at her neck, and was crowned with a ludicrous little bonnet.
It appeared she could not stop sucking the pacifier, which
was unfortunate because it was connected to the large tank
of brilliant green fluid strapped to the back of her high
chair. Kryptonite laced water!
The young man gave a stricken cry, and even managed to take
a step towards his queen, struggling against the powerful
spell holding him in place.
"Don't bother.....there is nothing you can do to help
her." Laughed Zorelle, fingering a small rubber purse on
the table beside her.
"She should think herself lucky - I was going to make
a superheroine pussy purse out of her once she was
rubberised. I would have enjoyed watching her pussy zip
shut and her body collapse - quite distressingly! - into
that lovely pouch shape, but I realised it would be much
more fun to string out her punishment."
She zipped open and fingered the tiny sample latex
purse, watching the defenseless latex clitoris spring to
life even though its owner had long since been turned into
rubber lining. She waved it at the shaking man.
"You would look very nice as one of these". A look
of horror crossed his face as a zip sealed vagina appeared
where his sex had been moments before.
"But no, not today. I promised myself I'd only make
clothing trophies on Wednesdays. Consider yourself lucky -
soon you'll be just another doll to blend into my
collection! Come! Join your friends".
Zorelle waved her hand flippantly and in a process her
staff had seen many times, the officer transformed painfully
into an abundantly endowed nude female form. Uselessly
straining for control of her limbs, the very feminine buxom
trophy marched like a stiff marionette to a bench near the
side of the room and lay back on the shiny red vinyl
surface. A mist formed around the officer's body as she
arched in pain. A short cry escaped her lips, followed by a
liquid hiss, then total silence. The air cleared to reveal
her unaccustomed feminine curves coated completely in glossy
black rubber. The sightless effigy wriggled in an effort to
escape her new costume now that a spell was not controlling
her movements but it was pointless. Not only did her
rigidly boned vlatex (a special blend of Vinyl and Latex)
layer keep her stretched flat on the bench, but she could
not even push herself off the bench with the towering heels
permanently bonded to her booted feet. Zorelle placed her
hands on the black clad form and concentrated a little,
casting the spell to shrink it into a tiny quivering doll in
her fist. She bent down and pressed the little doll against
the polished yet strangely lumpy smoothness of her right
boot and the toy sank beneath the surface like it was being
swallowed in a bog....its arms and feet sank first, followed
by hips and shoulders....soon just one knee of the doll and
its face to the cheeks protruded along with the tip of a
breast. Zorelle stopped pushing. Her latest boot addition
stared somewhat beseechingly at the world, its
expressionless vlatex face framed by the glistening sea of
rubber that was its prison for all eternity. As if
disturbed by the arrival of a new resident, the most recent
of the other trapped forms in the dark Queen's boots rippled
slightly as they sought escape from the magical coating that
would hold them forever. The bulk of the "residents"
merely lay still, for they had long ago worked out the
futility of struggling. Indeed, some had struggled
themselves beneath the surface because the enchantment
worked in one direction only. The evil woman always enjoyed
watching their tiny encapsulated bodies struggle as she
pushed them into their new rubbery home in her footwear.
Hmmmm....Zorelle thought to herself. When the enemy army
surrendered soon, she would have enough unwilling victims to
make a matching catsuit or two. It would be nice to arrange
some of the figures as shoulder pads. She mused over making
a half dozen different catsuit styles for a moment as she
absently brushed her fingers around two slight cherry bumps
protruding from the boot at her left thigh. She had long
since forgotten who they belonged to, but they were the only
remaining signs of a captured colonel. It was no longer
possible to identify him much less rescue him - she had
endowed him with massive breasts before turning him into the
doll and embedding him until only his nipples remained. His
two female aides had been made into chesty little rubber
Barbie dolls and set face-to-crotch inside a dildo shaped
sheath that was currently a feature of the pussy-stimulation
unit wriggling away tirelessly between Supergirl's babified
legs.
Linda squirmed weakly against the buckled straps
holding her in her highchair. Her barbie-doll vibrator was
awash with lubricant and her translucent rubber costume
gripped every inch of skin, causing undeniably erotic
sensations. The spell she was under kept her sucking
noisily on her pacifier and she was unable to stem the flow
at all by squeezing her lips together. It was as though she
really did have a spraying nipple between her teeth. She
knew that her forced infantization was a deliberate
reduction of her rank and she could not avoid being reduced
to a mere toy. Through the velvety, transparent latex mask
she watched as the shape of another of her officers appeared
and was swiftly coated. Was this their reward for being
loyal to her? Somehow she would save them and exact her
revenge, but it depended on her survival....right now she
could think of no plan at all. An out-of-focus Zorelle
loomed in her green tinged vision to gloat over her prize
catch. She adjusted Linda's stimulation unit so it sat
deeper in her pussy and cupped the glossy breasts until the
princess came again with a slurp.
"See snugglepot - trying to hold back makes no
difference. Come on, say goo goo ga ga for Mommy. It's
time to get you ready for the big parade". She unbuckled
Linda from the chair and watched the girl slide like liquid
to the floor.
"I have a very special daiper for you to model
today." said Zorelle as she produced a strange voluminous
latex daiper and proceeded to glide its frilled mass up the
captive's gleaming legs.
"It used to be one of your officers too - I'll bet he
never thought he would be this close to your pussy!".
The feminine daiper consisted of many puffed and
stretched layers of polished latex, crafted in the same
iridescent blue colour her Supergirl costume had been, and
it had her large "super" logo stretched across the
generous padded bottom. The cool rubber slid into place,
covering her sex and enveloping her from thighs to hip in a
tingling embrace. The tightening of an attached smooth
latex buckle belt at the waist and two more around her upper
thighs ensured that no leakages could occur from the sealed
daiper. Zorelle attached a leash to Supergirl's posture
collar and dragged her along the expensively carpeted floor
of the tent, forcing her to crawl along behind on all fours
because she had no energy to stand. As they left the tent,
Linda felt a sudden huge pressure on her bladder and her
green-shrouded face reddened with shame as her muscles
involuntarily released control. The warm fluid flowed from
her groin for over a minute, and filled her squeaking
daipers to bursting point. A faint sloshing sound could be
heard as the babified princess crawled behind her captor,
who was marching her through the appreciative ranks of her
army. In front of the massed forces were the huge city
gates, already shattered and ready for the invasion of the
city. All pockets of defenders had been overrun days ago.
Striding through the gates, her metal heels strinking sparks
on the cobblestones, the evil queen led the procession into
the heart of the city, dragging her unwilling infantized
display piece behind her with its bulging <S> gleaming
across tautly stretched buttocks. The loyal citizens sobbed
in fear when they recognized the super symbol and the
identity of the adult rubber baby being paraded past their
homes and down the streets to the castle. Supergirl's
public humiliation had begun and the morale of her people
was broken.
<snip!>
Five days later....in the throne room of the royal castle a
shackled heroine, dressed once again in her Supergirl
costume, stands before a haughty sorceress queen:
At Zorelle's magical coercion, the heroine in distress
jerked like a puppet involuntarily forward with a jingle of
her chains. Thankfully Princess Linda no longer wore her
strength-sapping green babysuit; in another room an
unidentified rubber woman was being forced to keep that
discarded outfit warm in a high chair bolted to the bottom
of a large aquarium full of gradually hardening and
pressurised clear latex. Linda had been cleaned up and her
new lycra Supergirl costume gleamed uncharacteristically in
the torchlight, for it was not lycra at all - it had been
changed into a parody of shiny red and blue buckled vlatex,
notched to its tightest settings for good measure. In new
subtle ways the Sorceress was emphasising how much power she
had over the woman of steel. Linda had spent the last few
days wearing a full body version of her latex daiper which
sealed at the throat, wrists and ankles. The gallons of
Kryptonite spiked water they had been making her drink had
soon filled it to bursting point as she lay in her special
adult crib. The green mineral had invaded every cell of the
Princess's body and sapped her strength disastrously, so she
could do nothing but be a fetish marionette for the moment.
Zorelle clawed the air in front of her and Supergirl's
barely-worn vlatex super costume was torn from her by
invisible hands. The evil woman murmured a single word and
the nude girl was instantly clothed again, this time as a
military issue concubine. The full-length catsuit was made
of black patent leather, doubly stitched for strength,
joined to a tight chrome collar at the neck, and to closely
fitting chrome manacles at both her wrists and ankles. The
skin-tight outfit had openings for her pert breasts, which
easily defied the light gravity, and a thin slot between her
legs which opened to a mass of blonde pubic hair when she
parted her legs. The suit glowed with minute quantities of
kryptonite powder, enough to render the girl powerless
against bonds that she would ordinarily laugh at, and the
boning from the corset-like waist of the catsuit were made
from a cage of Kryptonite fibres embedded between the layers
of leather. The evil queen was emphasising her control
again. The suit did not have any zips or lacings, and
appeared to have been sprayed on....so even if she had a
little energy, Supergirl could not entertain the thought of
struggling free of the humiliating costume - she would
require cutting tools and help. She fell to her hands and
knees and a jeweled posture collar was slotted around her
throat along with a leash. Zorelle slid her fingers over
the taut costume of her deliciously helpless new pet.
"Maids! I want our captive to spend the night wrapped
in a krypton-plaster cast - over the top of her new costume,
of course! Oh! - make sure you leave her breasts free of
the plaster - I will be along later to connect her up to the
milking machine." She ruffled the hair of her leashed
captive heroine.
"I have sooo many experiments for you to try my
dangerous little pet - I'm sure I can relieve you of that
super strength when I've worked out how to transfer it to my
body....soon!".
The wine cellar
The maids dragged their weakly resisting charge away to
begin wrapping her in her full body cast for the night.
Humming happily to herself, Zorelle headed down to her wine
cellar to choose something fruity to go with the evening's
meal. As expected of an evil dictatoress, her cellar was
huge, with hundreds of barrels of surprising, exquisite
liquor stretching away into the cool darkness. But the
quantity wasn't the surprising part. Each barrel contained
the armless and legless torso of a rubberised woman, stasis-
spelled and pressurised into complete immobility. The
entombed females were nursing the precious fluid surrounding
their warm vlatex bodies to maturity - a process which could
take hundreds of years. The only visible part of these
silent helpers was a rigid, glossy rubber face protruding
from the sealed rubber end of each barrel, heads bent
achingly back so they looked straight ahead as the barrels
lay naturally on their sides. The barrel girl's eyes were
permanently bonded into widely fixed stares - the whites of
their eyes contrasting dramatically against their glossy
black vlatex faces. Row after row of beseeching eyes could
be seen dotting the wall of neatly stacked barrels that
stretched away into the darkness. Some of the older barrel
girls had been lucky enough to retain their own lips, albeit
rubber coated and heavily gagged, for they had a tap below
the point where their chin would have been from where the
wine could be sampled. Zorelle had soon tired of this, and
found it more aesthetically pleasing to have a tap
protruding directly from the rubber lips and to modify the
internal plumbing. Having eyes fixed wide open could be
quite traumatic for newly converted barrel girls, for over
the months and years they saw many cellar rats crawling
between the barrels, and often had large spiders making
their webs over their rubber faces. Zorelle had been
collecting and barreling vintages since her first year of
exile, making up the contents with enemies and agents who
had been sent to keep an eye on her. Each spy had no choice
but to continue her watching job, but from the discomfort of
her own personal barrel now. Zorelle didn't care much who
she barreled these days, but she had added some fun to the
process. Often she would just seize the first person who
happened by, sheath and change him/her into a high-heeled,
armless vlatex doll, and make her stomp her own grapes
before converting her into a new addition to the cellar.
Zorelle made a gift of five barrel girls to her new senior
minister Lord Eccles, one of whom was his freshly tap-
mouthed ex-wife. Eccles graciously accepted the gift and
placed them on stands in his entertaining room where they
could be the subjects of interest and humiliation by guests.
His current wife Belle took an instant dislike to the pretty
rubber faces with their darting eyes and gave such a tantrum
when she found out who the pink beribboned barrel contained
that Eccles finally gave in to her smug demands. He called
in a fem-service unit, and had it seal over the barrel
girl's faces with an extra flat layer of vlatex so as to
render them forever blind and smoothly expressionless.
Belle gloated on her control of her man as she slid her
fingers over the polished hard rubbery curves of the face of
the woman she had replaced a few years ago. She had won
again. Little did she know, but in six months time she
would give her last ever tantrum. It was a silly yet common
incident where she demanded that her Lord stop seeing his
brother because she was jealous of his wife's sense of
humour and the next day she found herself sheathed in
armless vlatex, tap-mouthed in readiness and walking her six
inch booted feet in a circle through the grapes she would
accompany in her barrel. As a barrel girl, Belle was
labeled clearly and given pride of place in the entertaining
room for a few weeks before her face was sealed over just as
she had ordered done to her compatriots nearby.
Queen Zorelle always found it difficult to choose a
vintage, but settled on the barrel that contained the first
boyfriend who had dumped her. She waved at a shapely drink-
maid who scurried over and connected her rubber mouth flange
to the end of the tap protruding from his feminine glossy
pouting lips. There was a brief hiss of escaping air as the
seal was made good and Zorelle turned the tap, allowing dark
red wine to flow steadily into the drink maid's breast
tanks, expanding her rubber bosom to massive proportions.
The evil queen toyed with the idea of giving the drink maids
their arms back so she wouldn't have to do the menial task
of connecting the seals herself, but no, she enjoyed the
look of horror on the faces of both unwilling participants
too much. The drink maids always panicked when their
breasts expanded so much that they thought they would burst
or fall over - walking was difficult enough already on their
ballet booted rubber legs without litres of wine to carry -
and the barrel girls were horrified too, because they all
knew that the amount of retained humanity was directly
proportional to the amount of wine they nursed inside their
rubber forms, almost as if their intelligence was stored in
the wine itself. And so it was. With each glass, the best
of their thoughts and knowledge were being transferred
forever to Zorelle's ever expanding mind. Empty or near-
empty barrel girls watched the world with vacant stares and
no recollection of who they once had been. Zorelle had all
their memories, and even used this information to seize and
barrel whole groups of friends.
Linda the spectator.
Queen Zorelle, leader of the victorious army ran her
sleek gloved hand over the hardened plaster figure of
Princess Linda, set on all fours with her enhanced, heavy
breasts swallowed by the vacuum milking cups of the Auto-
Milk machine. By casting a strong motherhood spell, Zorelle
had extracted hundreds of litres of super milk from Linda's
enchanted bust and quite enjoyed it on her breakfast each
morning. She pointed at the white figure.
"Okay, I want our princess to be able to see what's
going on again. Cut her out and put her in slave girl
restraint.....with the usual trimmings of course so she
can't move."
Linda was cut out of her plaster layer and concubine
catsuit with a diamond saw, and struggled into a similar
tight fitting leather jumpsuit-like outfit that had been
dampened in preparation for the dressing. The black one-
piece garment had ridiculously long straight jacket sleeves
and was so snug a fit that she could barely move. It had a
high, restrictive buckling collar and an attached kidskin
facial hood that was so tight that you could perhaps tell
who she was beneath it. Embedded in the suit at the groin
were two dildos pointing inward; one large one which was
slid up her cunt, and another smaller one which was pushed
up her rear. Both dildos were hollow, which allowed her to
answer the calls of nature when she needed to, but they
could also be unscrewed from their position and replaced
with any of the torture devices the evil sorcoress had
developed for those openings.
The moist straight jacket was securely laced up the
back with steel wire from the small of her back to the top
of her head by a specially designed binding machine and
welded together, leaving poor Linda struggling for breath,
her head hidden beneath the amorphous mask. Both of her
hands were laced tightly into the mittened sleeves of the
garment; one ended in a buckle, and the other, a strap. Two
female guards took hold of her leather enclosed arms,
wrapped them snugly around her body so that she was tightly
hugging herself, and buckled them firmly in position against
her torso. Her buckled cradling arms lifted her compressed
bosom so that the suit clearly showed imprints of her
nipples in the fabric.
Next came a pair of wet, thigh length leather boots
raised on six-inch stiletto heels. They were laced up so
snugly that she could not bend her knees at all.
"Lock her in the drying room" ordered Zorelle.
The drying room was a large padded cell with a huge fan at
one end blowing hot air through it. No matter where a
person was in the room, their clothes would be dried by the
fan. After a short while in there, Linda's garment began to
shrink and stiffen as it dried.
When the room was opened up the next morning. Linda
lay gasping for water, on the floor in her new rock hard
leather skin. She could now be left in the suit
indefinitely, and there was absolutely no possibility of
escape from it without help.
After giving her a great deal of water to drink, a
guard snapped a collar and leash around the leather coated
princess' throat and pulled her roughly to her feet.
Hobbling along as best as she was able in very tiny steps,
she was led back into the main anteroom where Queen Zorelle
sat. The captive princess' stiffened leather sheathed legs
were lowered down into two holes in the floor facing the
throne. Her feet were locked in place from beneath the
floor so that she remained fixed with her waist at floor
level. To an observer it would appear as though she had no
legs at all. Laces were released to expose her face, and a
harness of straps and hooks was placed over her head which
pulled apart her upper and lower jaws to keep her mouth open
wide, rendering intelligible speech impossible.
Zorelle clicked her fingers and Linda's friend Cynthia
was brought out. She had been stripped of her leather
hobble sheath gown they originally dressed her in and shaved
from scalp to toe. With her hands converted into useless
appendages by tight leather mittens, Cynthia had been
teetering from one mind-numbing punishment to another for
the last month. She stood struggling between two guards,
her lips protruding unnaturally over the large red ball gag
she had in her mouth, the straps for which dug deeply into
her cheeks. The gag and straps were part of a modified
horses bridle that she had strapped around her head, which
had the added effect of sealing her deeply packed ears from
the outside world. Another array of snug straps around her
hips and lower torso held a similar-sized red ball wedged up
her pussy.
The dark queen turned to Linda, "I am so used to having
her around, I have decided to make Cynthia a permanent
fixture, to serve me here as a piece of practical art. She
will become a living mannequin to join the others already
being used by my seamstresses in the bondage clothing
workshops. She could survive up to ten or fifteen years
once painted with our special lacquer. The meticulously
tested formula cannot be removed once applied - it's
permanent" laughed Zorelle. She picked up a large heavy tin
and a brush. "Let's begin shall we?"
Chains and metal cuffs were locked on Cynthia's hands
and feet. The chains pulled taut so that she was raised
upright above the ground in a spread-eagled position.
Stepping forward, Zorelle dipped her brush in the glutinous
liquid, and began liberally painting all over Cynthia's
trembling body, with the exception of her sex. The lacquer
dried very quickly, and Cynthia's struggles became less
effective as her skin began to harden and appear glassy.
Zorelle painted Cynthia's face and smooth hairless head too,
her buttock-length black hair many days gone. Even the poor
girl's eyelids were lacquered rigidly and permanently open,
her eyes magically modified as an afterthought to retain a
the wide stare of a frightened animal. When Cynthia was
immobillised, the shackles and harnessing straps had to be
removed so that the areas they covered could be painted
also. With sucking noises, the two red balls were extracted
from her, one from her puckered mouth and one from her
pussy. She stood there stiffly like a scarecrow, with her
legs and arms widely outstretched while the evil queen
painted her some more.
Linda watched from her position in the floor in
powerless horror as her friend became a glistening hardened
statue. Even though the coated girl was obviously never
going to move again, Zorelle continued to apply coats of
lacquer to her captive until the large tin was empty.
The dressmaker's dummy that was once Cynthia had an
open circular mouth through which a feeding tube of life
giving soft food and nutrients would be inserted once a day.
She could not speak because her tongue and voice box had
been swiftly removed when she was first captured, but her
breathing was ragged as if she was trying to warn Linda of
her fate in Zorelle's hands. The sorcoress demonstrated how
tubes could be inserted between Cynthia's legs to collect
her waste products and even force fed back into her using
small pumps if she had to be punished....not that she could
possibly disobey anything now - but Zorelle would think of
something. The only movement possible in the lacquer doll
was a pair of tearful eyes, forever open and moving and
watching. She was propped up against a wall behind the
throne with all tubes connected in place.
"Oh, don't worry, Cynthia dear....after a few weeks as
a mannequin you'll really start to believe you are
one....and after a month or two you'll have trouble
remembering your own name.....most of my dummies can't even
remember they had names at all! Believe me, there is no
return from *that* state, my pretty one."
"I once lacquered a *very* pretty explosives
scientist, but after three months the lacquer broke down and
I thought she would need an immediate re-coat. Not so! She
was already long gone into mannequin-land. She really
thought she was one - didn't move, couldn't remember how to
talk properly or even think straight. I had to dip her in
flexy stiff vinyl to make her look and feel like a dolly
again just like she wanted. She actually begged me to!"
Since the cost of supplying feed to all 'tubed' captives
added up, Zorelle usually cast a stasis spell on them,
especially after the novelty of feeding them their own waste
products wore off. The Cynthia doll was so modified three
months later. This meant that she could not die from
starvation or any other ailment such as lack of oxygen as
long as she was being sustained magically. Much later, when
Zorelle grew tired of playing with her rigid life-sized
doll, she slid her down on the top of a short pole on an
ornate stand and fixed her in position. This made her into
a more conventional mannequin, raised with just the tips of
her toes touching her pedestal. Cynthia was used as an
experimental bondage mannequin for a few years until the
factory had a big cleanout, and she was moved into warehouse
storage along with a half-dozen other dolls who had shared
her original fate. The Cynthia doll disappeared unnoticed
one night, no doubt smuggled home by a lonely night watchman
to brighten up his decor. Not that she cared who owned her
anymore - she had long ago pushed the painfully happy
memories of her past life from her mind and rollercoasted
into a nicely maintainable empty-headed role. As long as
she was kept on her lovely stand, Cynthia was content.
Perhaps one day somebody would come to rescue her, but
perhaps if she made an effort to stare blankly they would
leave her be. Time would tell.
The next one of Linda's friends to be led out in front
of her was Joanna, also naked. Joanna prided herself on her
muscular physique and had been a runner for Supergirl's
messages during the war.
"Ah Joanna....put her in one of our new inflatable
rubber suits, ready to be pressurised" ordered Zorelle.
After a brief dressing struggle Joanna was wearing the
strange bulky black garment, enveloping her completely from
head to toe with all the sealing zips locked closed. Her
only links to the outside world were small breathing tubes
in her nostrils, and the much larger ones forced into her
mouth, cunt and rear. Once the enveloping costume was
inflated, these tubes were designed to keep her body
supplied with the minimum of life-giving essentials whilst
removing any wastes she produced. The wearer could be
enclosed indefinitely without need for removal.
Zorelle screwed a hose onto the valve at the very top
of Joanna's suit and with a little hiss of escaping gas,
connected the other end of it to a nozzle on the wall. She
turned on a tap and the pressure suit began to fill and
expand steadily. But not with air. The substance that was
inflating it was heavy, plainly a kind of paste. The
rubber-sheathed creature was dragged like a giant bloated
slug down onto the floor under the extra weight. Joanna's
arms were inexorably lifted out, away from her body as the
pressure of the swollen suit gradually overcame her
strength. Linda's worst suspicions were confirmed when a
helper moved revealing a label on the pipe reading "Q.D.P."
"Yes, that's right, Joanna is to become one of my
statues also, my dear" gloated Zorelle as she followed
Linda's gaze. "A plaster one this time though. Once the
suit has been completely inflated, Joanna will be compressed
and immobilised inside. This Quick Drying Plaster should
set in about ten minutes, and it will swell as it dries,
compressing her with the pressure. The plaster also
generates quite a lot of heat as it sets, which I am sure
will be unpleasant for Joanna with the hot tight rubber
against her skin."
When the suit had completely ballooned out, it become
so heavy that it took four guards to lift the swollen
captive to her feet and hold her in a standing position. By
the time the pressure in the drum-stretched suit had reached
90 PSI according to the pressure gauge on the pipe, all
movement from the girl within had ceased. The guards
wobbled the sides of the suit to consolidate any tiny air
bubbles and make them boil back up the filling tube, topped
it up one final time and screw-capped the valve closed.
Zorelle waited patiently for fifteen minutes while the
rubber and plaster encased girl hardened. She cut away the
outer rubber layer to reveal a bulbous white plaster statue
beneath. It had no features save several tubes that were
hanging from the face and groin. The guards were instructed
to carve a likeness of Joanna's face on the head of the new
plaster dummy and to dress it in fat rubber imitations of
the clothes that Joanna was wearing when she was captured,
including a rubber evening gown, rubber petticoat, rubber
corset, and high heeled rubber lace-up boots. The dummy's
shoed feet were set into a heavy plaster pedestal to prevent
it from toppling over and then the dummy containing Joanna
was slid over to rest beside the stiff lacquer mannequin and
had its tubes connected to the pumps.
Zorelle laughed as she ran her hand down the back of the
smooth white plaster head.
"Ooh! Your running legs are so much more attractive!
Got any messages for me now?". She put her ear to the
mouth region of the silent statue as if listening for a
voice. "Don't fret gorgeous, since you can't see, hear or
speak, you'll have even less time than the Cynthia mannequin
to enjoy your old identity. Your mind will automatically
adjust to the situation - trust me, it always happens that
way. In no time at all you'll believe you always were a
plaster and latex mannequin. The most joyous part of your
new life will be the feeding times, regardless of what we
decide to pump in. That's if I don't cast the stasis spell
on all of you statues to save myself the trouble."
Linda tried to find a weak spot in her confinement but
as she expected, there were none. Zorelle was neutralising
her enemies as quickly as she could, and Supergirl was
unable to save any of them, at least not yet. The evil
sorcoress had a complex about being overpowered in her sleep
because it was then that magi were most vulnerable. She
made an effort to ensure all non-believers were safely
packaged....even a sorcoress liked a good night's sleep.
===============< A note from your sponsor >================
If you disagree with your child's choice of partner on the
basis of race, religion, wealth, or anything else other than
the worth of the person, then you are ignorant and wrong.
Give your kids a little more credit. Okay, now back to the
story...
============================================================
Another former messenger, Lisa, was brought in and
fastened to the vertical rack. She was freshly hairless,
and looked relieved at being released from whatever
punishment she had been receiving. Her relief did not last
long. Breathing tubes were placed in her nostrils, and a
food tube sealed to her lips. Waste disposal tubes were
inserted into her lower body in the same way the others had
been. Once prepared, the guards proceeded to wrap every
limb on her body tightly in rolls of slimy plaster
impregnated gauze, the kind used to mend broken bones. But
Lisa had no broken bones. Before long, she was encased from
head to toe in a catsuit-like thin plaster body cast, which
hampered any attempt at bending her limbs to any great
degree. Her hands were balled into tight slimy white fists
that were going to be of no use to her. While the plaster
was still wet, Lisa was released from the rack, completely
encased in seamless white. Her slippery form with the
protruding tubes slithered helplessly to the floor, trying
to crawl on her hands and knees, completely disoriented by
being unable to see or hear. Since the plaster was still
freshly applied, she could still move in a limited fashion,
but to no avail. This was not to be the extent of her
confinement. The guards lifted Lisa to her feet again and
held her already stiffening straight arms at her sides,
pulling her legs together as though standing to attention.
They attached the start of a large roll of the gauze to the
back of her head and wrapped her from head to toe again,
effectively mummifiying her. Her static plaster form was
laid down on its back and left to dry until completely hard.
During that time, the movements from within became less and
less as the stiff wrappings shrank considerably. This made
her fully wrapped body so narrow that Linda imagined that
her friend could not have fitted inside it at all. Zorelle
assured the captive princess that her friend was still quite
alive by amplifying the sounds of her breathing for a
moment. The plaster mummy was painted in an exquisite
Egyptian style and placed under glass in the Royal Museum
along with the rest of the historical Egyptian exhibit. Her
feed tubes were connected out of sight of the patrons who
would shuffle by day after day, remarking on the timeless
beauty of the rigid painted mummy.
Back in the throne room, a serving girl teetered over
to Zorelle with the queen's afternoon coffee on a tray. The
girl wore a completely clear plastic ballet boot costume
that was laced from her toes to her nose, and special
additions ensured she keep her tightly stretched clothing
on. Through the clear plastic covering the servant's mouth
it could be seen that her lips and tongue had surgical
eyelets added to them and were laced neatly together,
sealing them closed. Her mouth and doglike tongue were
tightly laced against and through the clear plastic. She
wasn't planning to speak out of place anytime soon. A
little ribbon with "Tammy" written on it hung from each
plastic sheathed nipple. In a disastrous attempt to please
her new employer the girl hurried a little, catching her
heel on the edge of a rug and spilling a single drop of hot
coffee on Zorelle. The evil queen exploded with rage and
grabbed the clumsy girl's hobbling chain and anchored it to
the floor. Zorelle produced a little vial marked
"plasticiser" from her potions bag and dipped a tiny pin
in it. The serving maid's eyes widened and she trembled
visibly with fear.
"Hold still dear.....this won't hurt a bit" she said
as she pricked the tethered serving girl on the cheek,
ending a half-hearted attempt to avoid it. The most
immediate change was that Tammy stopped moving the instant
she was jabbed. After a moment a shine crept down the
girl's cheek as her skin and flesh became translucent,
changing into some kind of artificial substance...seemingly
a kind of plastic. Her head went misty and in moments had
turned completely clear as the effect travelled down her
neck. Her lithe shoulders and breasts hardened and became
clear too as the change worked more rapidly. All tammy
could do was stand there as the plastic grew downwards,
flowing down her flat stomach like water and making her legs
crystal clear. Just as the plastic reached her toes Tammy
felt a rush of panic and then nothing, as all thoughts left
her forever. Zorelle quickly pressed the statue's palms
together in front of her as though in prayer and pushed it
to a crouch. It had taken just a few seconds to transform
clumsy serving girl Tammy into erotic plastic towel rack
Tammy. Zorelle ordered the new furniture to be placed in
the servant's showers.
Of course, plastic Tammy had a trainer, Rosemary, who
was ultimately responsible for the actions of her serving
girls. Rosemary soon found herself with her feet epoxied to
the marble floor in the corner of the throne room. Nozzles
and melting tanks were set up around her at all angles she
was sprayed with a continuous fine mist of bronze vlatex.
She tried to scrape it off but it cured almost the instant
it touched her skin. The sticky film could not be avoided
no matter which way she twisted. For many hours, coat after
rubber coat was applied to her and glossed according to the
evil sorcoress's instructions. That evening Zorelle checked
on what she planned to call her "rubber statue corner".
She found a finely polished vlatex creature struggling
fruitlessly against her new rigid rubbery sheath.
Rosemary's hands had bonded to her hips where she first
tried to brush off the coating and the vlatex-coated floor
was now her pedestal. If she hadn't had a stasis spell cast
on her she would long since have suffocated because her
nose, mouth and head had been sealed over completely.
"Since you can't train your own staff how to serve
properly, perhaps you can teach yourself how to be a bronze
rubber statue" snarled Zorelle, giving the quivering statue
an exploratory push. As expected, the feminine rubber form
toppled backwards a little before juddering upright again.
This captive wasn't going anywhere soon either. The
glistening bronze lips seemed to be trying to mouth words,
but not a sound emerged from the airless voice box. The
spray had hit so fast that even Rosemary's eyeballs had been
coated while her eyelids were wide open in shock. Her
sightless stare would last an eternity.
================< A note from your author >=================
Are there any half decent artists out there who would like
to try and create illustrations for this story? Can anyone
offer web space and time to look after the images?
Intelligent comments and story ideas welcome, but note that
Fast does not have time to email copies of stories to
people.
All feedback via fast_fist@hotmail.com
===========================================================
...another 70% of the story to come.
Feedback please via fast_fist@hotmail.com
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