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From: woodsmok@gte.net (MC Woodsmoke)
Subject: The Bondage Perils of Supergirl V1.7
(bd/nc/mc/latex/magic/tech/statue/tg/encap/plaster)
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This is a rather weird story, with many damsels in distress
and LOTs of latex.
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. Requests for latest versions will be ignored.
The Bondage Perils of Supergirl V1.7
by Fast Fist (c/- fast_fist@hotmail.com)
bd/nc/mc/latex/magic/tech/statue/tg/encap/plaster
*** Copyright (c) 1998 - 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. If
we determine you are not of legal age, the appropriate
authorities will be notified.
DISCLAIMER:
This story is a work of extremely explicit and graphic
sexual *fantasy*. This story may or may not include 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. The depiction of
any act in this story 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
unrelated paragraphs - which is why the story may seem
disjointed. 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 any
of 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 evil Zorelle had
been exiled by Princess Linda's father 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, marching them towards total dominance 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 kingdom.
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 Zorelle's enchanted army wore. The magical
punishingly buckled and booted costumes took merely five
minutes to convert a struggling captive into a docile
obedient soldier who would follow the destructive woman's
mental commands without question. Once controlled by the
suit, they would walk happily into certain death for the
evil spellstress, smiling anonymously beneath their tight
hoods and 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 corseted
backs and controlled them remotely so that the stiffly
encapsulated scouts flew obediently over what had once been
their own army. These flapping rubber creatures observed
much while arrows battered their dark wings. Zorelle used
their vision as her own.
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 then utilized her super-strength to crush them. There
was a brilliant flash, and the strikingly clad woman she was
holding seemed to both stretch and collapse into herself,
looking terrified in the process. The woman was a decoy, no
doubt crafted from one of Supergirl's own soldiers. The
hapless gold and silver outfitted figure who she had
imagined to be Zorelle shimmered into a harness of glowing
green straps....kryptonite! How had Zorelle managed to find
some? 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 gag in her mouth that
expanded to fill every crevice. 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. <IMG src="spgirlgrid2g.jpg"> 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 other until 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 as she paced back and forth excitedly in front of
her throne, unable to stand still for long now that
Supergirl was her captive. The six inch metal heels of her
glossy black rubber hip boots made sharp noises as they
struck the marble flagstones, a novel flooring for a tent,
but a luxury that she demanded and received at every new
battleground. Against her skin she wore a spectacular
metallic gold latex catsuit that hugged all of her sumptuous
body, leaving just her smug face exposed. The all-in-one
seamless garment had slim gloves joining the sleeves and a
glossy attached hood with a ponytail tube in the top from
which a waterfall of dark hair flowed over a firmly anchored
golden crown. Connected to the taut latex at her erect
nipples and flowing over her shoulders was a large silver
cloak to complete the ensemble, which was kept polished to a
mirror sheen by the latex dipped maids who hovered silently
around her.
"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, as if ready to catch the
slightest dribble. A tight airless hood with a mockery of a
baby-face fashioned on it was stretched up to cover her head
from the suit at her neck and 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 princess, 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 as she settled her golden form
comfortably in the throne.
"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 for a while - I have a boxful of these
darned purses already and they never wear out so 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 tentroom 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 wasn't 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 out flat on the bench, but she
could not bend her legs enough to even push herself off it
with the towering heels that had been 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 hand-sized 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 from the raven-black layer 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 to be 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 dimension as part of 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 basketball 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 snugly buckled straps
holding her in her highchair. Her Barbie-doll vibrator was
awash with her own lubricant and the translucent rubber
costume gripped every inch of her skin, causing undeniably
erotic sensations. The spell she was under kept her sucking
noisily on her pacifier and she was unable to stem the
strength-sapping flow at all by squeezing her teeth or lips
together. The spurting nipple of the oversized dummy
between her teeth had expanded inside her mouth and could
not be removed even if she was able to stop her compulsive
suckling. She knew that her forced infantization was a
deliberate reduction of her status for the benefit of her
rebellious people but there was no way she could avoid being
reduced to a mere toy when confronted by magic as powerful
as this. 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 the Kryptonite
coursing through her veins ensured 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 and stimulated her nipples 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. The feeding tube was still joined to
Supergirl's mouth and it stretched taut, preventing her
bonneted rubber head from squeaking against a recently
created marble flagstone. The Sorceress unplugged the hose
from the large tank and joined it to a smaller, softer, more
portable latex bag full of the same liquid. The flaccid bag
had an attached harness which enabled it to be strapped to
the poor girl's back, forcing her to keep drinking.
"I have a very special diaper for you to model
today." said Zorelle as she produced a strange voluminous
latex diaper and proceeded to glide its frilled mass up the
captive's gleamingly sheathed 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 diaper consisted of many puffed and
stretched layers of glossy polished latex, crafted in the
same iridescent blue colour her Supergirl costume had been,
and it had her large `S` 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
strange 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 diaper. Zorelle attached a leash to Supergirl's
posture collar and dragged her along an expensively carpeted
part of the tent floor, forcing her to crawl along behind on
all fours because she lacked the energy to stand. As they
left the tent, Linda felt the tingle of the magic diaper
again. She experienced a sudden stab of 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 diaper to bursting point. A faint sloshing sound
could be heard as the babified rubber princess crawled
behind her captor, who was marching her through the
appreciative ranks of her evil 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 flushed out or overrun days ago. Striding through the
gates with her metal heels striking 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 Supergirl logo 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!>
A lithe figure ran from one pool of shadow to another in the
corridor. Her star spangled uniform identified her as the
Amazon super hero, Wonder Woman. Wondie knew that by
finding Zorelle she would also find her friend Supergirl and
perhaps rescue her. To her surprise, after subduing just
two rubber soldiers who had been coated to the pointr of
uselessness outside a room, she stumbled upon Supergirl.
But she was not dressed as Diana expected. A large adult-
sized playpen with gold rubber coated bars held the
enthusiastically slurping baby that had been her friend.
Dressed in her frilled rubber daiper and enveloped over that
from the neck down in a shimmering transparent green baby's
romper that included feet and hands, the rubber baby still
suckled on her tank of kryptonite water, lacking the
strength even to climb over the low golden barrier that
fenced her in. Linda looked up through the green haze of
her mask at the sign of movement and could just make out the
distinctive costume on the figure approaching. It was her
friend Wonder Woman, come to save her. The Amazon beauty
was more than a little turned on by the fetish scene before
her but hid her disappointment that she would have to
release her friend instead of enjoying a little fun first.
The lubricant from her own pussy would have been long but
time was short. She stepped over the low fence and did not
notice the universe shift around her as she passed through
the magic trap that extended from the top of the barrier to
the ceiling. She did however immediately notice her vision
tinge to green and looked down over her body to find that
she was now dressed identically to Linda. She had become a
rubber infant too. A feeding tube snaked away from her
mouth and try as she might, she couldn't dislodge it. The
second baby in the pen struggled briefly as the first of
powerful drugs pumped down her feeder into her mouth, but
her limbs became heavy and soon she was laying still with
her friend, slurping pitifully.
<snip!>
The next day, Zorelle eyed the matchingly dressed women,
beautiful latex babes that differed only in hair colour.
She pulled the new dark haired one to its feet and out of
the playpen, unlocking and disconnecting its feeder tube
from the constantly suckling mouth flange.
"So nice of you to join us Wonder Woman! I knew you would
be along to play with your friend sooner or later but I
never realised you wanted to live your life in the crib.
You can't in fact - I have other plans for you. First of
all you will become one hundred percent submissive, starting
with your career as Supergirl's nursemaid. Ultimately the
original Wonder Woman as you know yourself will cease to
exist, but for now I have a rather special place for you in
the throne room. Maids! Bring her along!"
Zorelle pointed at an adult-sized circular child's
training walker that was waiting to be used beside the crib.
The large, rubber coated plastic toy had four castors
underneath to allow a frictionless glide and looked
moderately normal from the outside, albeit oversized.
Wondie's gleaming legs were lowered through the internal
harness of the donut-shaped unit and straps pulled tight
beyond her reach to lock her in place. Looking down at the
front of her humiliating vehicle near her hips, Diana
noticed a rigid plasticized face of a woman staring unseeing
up at her. She wondered who the artwork was modelled on and
followed the curve of the toy around with her green-hazed
eyes and found a hardened breast on the left and right -
they were the comforting bumps on which she had been resting
her slippery hands. Wonder woman reached behind and sure
enough, she could feel the embossed folds of a stiffened
plastic pussy. She was sitting in the middle of a
horrifically modified victim! At first she refused to walk
but a threat from Zorelle to totally babify her mind there
and then and be done with her immediately changed Diana's
attitude. On latex padded feet she rolled herself along,
following the striding Sorcoress through the secret passage
to the throne room.
<snip!>
Maids lifted a round boiler cap that was hinged to the
flagstones of the throne room to reveal a body-sized tube
sunken deep into the floor. Wonder Woman's feet were fed
into the opening and she found it deep enough to be able to
stand and still see the proceedings in the room. An air
compressor hose was attached to a concealed valve in the
front of her new green playsuit and activated. The flow of
air separated married sheets of latex all over her suit and
began to fill the cavities within, expanding her form to
occupy every inch of space in the hole. She was soon held
prisoner by the layers of compressed air and rubber in her
costume, trapped with just her head and neck exposed at
floor level. The hood and the collar of her inflated latex
babysuit were removed and replaced with a circular latex
seal emlazoned with her bright stars and stripes logo where
all could see. The seal fit cozily against the base of her
bare throat and was zipped to the circular edge of her
prison to close her in completely. <IMG src="wondie.jpg">
Under the Sorcoress's watchful eye, a conjured male demon
went to work on Wonder Woman's permanent enslavement. With
blinding speeed Wondie's lasso was fashioned into a tightly
woven golden collar with no end, fused into a tight
unbreakable loop by the very masculine demon. When it was
done, the demon bowed goodbye and vanished moments before a
television crew arrived. Cameras were wheeled in to focus
on her plight. Stencils on the cameras showed that it was
for the hit TV segment "Real Rubber TV".
The anonymous voiceover boomed.
"Live from Her Majesty's throne room, today only, a special
mystery guest who cannot lie - over to you, Fetishgirl!".
Fetishgirl gave her black rubber corset dress a final spray
of polish and turned to face the camera. She had jumped
through hoops to get this television job, even to the point
of getting her whole epidermal layer of skin stripped and
replaced with bright yellow latex. She couldn't afford to
stuff it up now. She pouted her saffron-coloured lips at
the lens and gave her trademark kiss as she lifted the chain
on the lid to reveal the disemodied head of a prisoner
within.
"I think most people ought to know already, given that
design we can see on....what is that?....some kind of latex
seal? For the viewers out there, Georgeous, tell us who you
are." she purred, half at the camera, half at the
struggling captive.
The snared Amazon shut her lips tightly and resolved to say
nothing but they sprang open of their own accord and she
heard herself speaking clearly into the proffered
microphone.
"I am Wonder Woman". Her golden lasso-collar was
making her tell the truth!
Fetishgirl smiled with a squeak of her pneumatic rubber
lips and breathed closer to Wondie's face as the cameras
zoomed in for a closeup. "Bearing in mind that you are on
national telivision, tell me your darkest sexual fantasy"
The beautiful prisoner groaned at the question, for she knew
she could do nothing but be honest. "I have always liked
being bound and helpless during sex games with my
lovers....I was secretly hoping to be captured on this
mission so that I would have no choice other than to become
Zorelle's rubber sex-pet as I have heard happens to others.
I feel that I need it."
The interview continued as Fetishgirl probed deeper and
deeper into Wonder Woman's secret desires. The inflated
captive talked about everything from dildo suits to forced
sex with aliens as her hidden self was bared to the world.
She spoke out loud that she wanted to ask how much it would
cost to get glossy artificial skin like the voluptuous
presenter. Little did she know - she was now in the hands
of a monster, who would soon remove all traces of her former
personality from her body, starting with her lovely tanned
skin. The interview abruptly finished when the sleek
presenter unlaced her suctioned dress, crouched down and
mashed her glistening yellow latex pussy into the mouth of
her interviewee. Noisy slurping could be heard by the
millions of viewers as the folds of soft rubber that was her
pussy were eaten out thoroughly. After the climax Wonder
Woman's lid was lowered back into place and she was once
again deprived of sight and sound as darkness enveloped her.
Outside, the TV station played an ad break about some new
life-sized sex dolls on the market and Fetishgirl was being
congratulated on her interview and prepared for her next
show, a tour of a milking factory.
<snip>
Soon the less restrictingly bound staff of the castle
discovered she was trapped in the floor. Diana quickly
became the castle pussy-eater. She was given no food other
than pussy juice and the occasional luxury spurt of high-
protein semen from a lucky envoy. On her fifth day, just as
she was getting used to the taste of her feeding sessions,
she was deflated and released by two strangely dressed
nurses who were catsuited to the eyes in white vinyl. It
was the first time Wonder Woman had seen the recently
adopted travel uniform of the Asylum nurses and she
marvelled at the lack of seams and impossible constriction
of the heavy duty garments. The nurses strapped Diana
tightly to a medical stretcher using an intricate network of
interlaced leather straps and re-inflated her to ensure
complete unity with the trolley. In this form she was
transported without even the hint of a struggle to the
Asylum.
Wonder Woman's time in the Asylum was awful. First her
breasts were artificialy enlarged by the insertion of huge
kryptonite-silicone implants. Her eyes turned a bright
glowing green almost immediately as the foreign substance
permeated her body. Her fingernails and toenails turned the
same artificial hue but the rest of her body showed no
visible signs of the contaminant that would run through her
veins forever. Trapped in the stasis field of the auto-do
cubicle, her skin molecules turned completely to rubber. To
an observer it appeared that she was wearing a head-to-toe
stars and stripes catsuit made from very tightly polished
latex, but it was actually her new permanent uniform. She
would shower in it, sleep in it, wear ever more restrictive
clothes over it - it would be with her for the rest of her
life. Huge cow-udder teats as long as her hand protruded
obscenely from her glistening bosom, and thanks to a tiny
slow release hormone capsule injected invisibly into her
neck, she was already dribbling a light green milk from each
teat. Her fingers were blended seamlessly together to form
single paddle hands and her feet were stiffened into
painfully arched ballet boots that she would have to wear to
bed for there was no way to take her own feet off! True to
Zorelle's orders, parts of her brain were adjusted and
remodelled to prepare her for her new life. The real Wonder
Woman was locked away in a section of her mind where she
could only feel and observe while she was made as obedient
as a lapdog.
<snip!>
Gongs announced the arrival of the new slave for the Queen's
audience. Zorelle gazed lovingly over her very own
rubberised Amazon. The surprised looking creature squeaked
as she approached for her muscly, latex resurfaced curves
were additionally squeezed into a billowing vlatex ballroom
dress. The heavy garment had been designed in an old world
style except for two small circular buckled openings at the
bosom. Through these openings squeezed Wondie's
impressively matronly milkers. Zorelle wanted the slave's
freakish modifications presented to the watching kingdom at
all times, even if it meant constant discomfort for the
redesigned superheroine. The shiny dress too had Diana's
familiar stars and stripes design all over it to ensure that
everyone knew who the gorgeous wearer was. Zorelle cupped a
hefty breast in each hand and rubbed until the nipples
extended to their full length.
"Welcome to my nursery Wondertits! There, give Mistress a
smile - you should be very happy here now that you are my
pet! You're going to be the wettest of all dream nurses for
Superbaby - even if your special milk is her downfall"
Wonder Woman inside recoiled in horror realising she would
be instrumental in the destruction of her best friend.
Outwardly Wondertits however showed no negative emotions of
any kind - her new body flushed with helpless pleasure at
the though of her nipples being suckled. Her time at the
Asylum had been a success. She would not only willingly
feed baby Linda, but she would design ever more humiliating
costumes for her ever-weakening charge as she forced the
captive heroine towards total helplessness.
The folds of her gown rustled softly as she climbed the low
fence of the playpen as she had done in a different form
just a short time ago. She disconnected the feeding tube
from the mouth-flange of the foetal adult baby and replaced
it with the left udder from her magnificent star-spangled
bosom. Superbaby resignedly accepted the nipple and fed on
it with spell induced gusto, her strong suction stretching
the coated flesh to twice its extraordinary length. Soon
the udder had slipped through her tonsils to nestle deep
down her throat, spraying the doubly potent strength-sapping
milk almost directly into her stomach.
In her mind, the real Wonder Woman watched and teared
impotently at her unbreakable mental bondage. She was a new
creature now - Linda's giant kryptonite wet-nurse - and
could never have a will of her own again. While her subject
was feeding, Wondertits gazed down over her body. Beneath
the matchingly designed and polished dress she wore, `Tits
had her rubber stars and stripes uniform-skin. She would
always glisten like her protruding breasts did. It was
almost as if she was coated by a thin sheen of sweat, but
she knew she could never sweat again. She ran a useless
hand around a bizarre latex teat on her glistening bosom to
see yet again if it was real. She loved her remodelled
titties. She hoped that Zorelle would someday make her
udders long enough to tie together in a bow, albeit a
slightly painful one.
She cuddled her arms around Linda's frilled head and looked
down into terrified eyes.
"Look at the wonderful changes they made to me in the
Asylum, Superbabe - these huge rubber tits are designed
especially for feeding you! I am now Zorelle's very own
sex-pet and she says that you are going to be mine for
awhile.....delicious! They fixed my mind to make me like
it! Now I am a complete submissive, although I can be a
domina where required, especially for you. If you're
looking for the old Diana, she's still in here somewhere but
she will _never_ get out. Right now I have her wearing a
stainless steel block from the neck down, but even if she
somehow got free she couldn't come back to reverse my
programming"
<snip!>
Of course the public had a ringside seat as the former
Amazon gave Superbabe a disciplinary spanking, strapped down
over Wondie's lap on a chair, wearing adult sized frilled
baby spanking pants that left the bottom covered by just a
condom-thin yet impervious layer of latex. Linda actually
cried when she saw the tiers of free public seating in the
stadium - a latex bonnet, zipped closed down the front and
inflated had kept her surroundings hidden for the
preperation of the show - a show she would repeat all day
every day for two weeks. Often, while wearing a transparent
full body daiper, a costume with frills in every conceivable
place, Supergirl would be magically induced on close-up
camera to soil herself at which time her ever-attendant
nurse would strap her to a puffed pink rubber table, clean
the helpless heroine's bottom and give her a humiliating
glossy bright blue diaper change. Copious kryptonite milk
breast feeding was the climax of the show as Linda sat
buckled in a papoose bag and high chair affair. Her
pitifully brainwashed nurse was using a breastfeeding regime
designed to enslave and Superbabe could feel herself
succumbing ever so slowly to the physical and mental
pressure of being reduced to an adult baby in front of the
public who had once adored her.
<snip!>
Months 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. Supergirl's domineering mistress
Wondertits had been releived of her duties as wet nurse and
was using her impervious skin to advantage as she crawled
enthusiastically around with bright yellow Fetishgirl in a
glass-walled playpen of thick semen for yet another segment
of "real rubber TV". Her again-extended nipples were
bound together in a cute little bow just as she had asked
for. Linda on the other hand 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 vlatex. Dozens
of bright silver buckles notched to their tightest settings
were strategically placed in the garment, down the small of
her back, at her wrists, between her thighs and at her neck.
Her curves were accentuated by the the long sleeved
cheerleader's dress, nipping her naturally hourglass waist
into almost nothing. In new subtle ways the Sorceress was
emphasising how much power she had over the woman of steel.
Linda had spent the last few weeks wearing a full body
version of her latex diaper 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 hospital restraints in her
special adult crib in a huge glass display case in her old
room at the castle. When the green mineral had invaded
every cell of the Princess's body and sapped her strength to
a level where she could be handled safely for a known
period, it was possible to release her restraints and put
her on public display in her crib. Tens of thousands of her
previously loyal subjects filed silently through the castle
for a look at the fate of their Princess. There Supergirl
lay, in her frilly, humiliatingly full baby costume,
surrounded by little pink rubber dolls and inflated rubber
toys that had been specially crafted from soldiers from her
defeated army.
There in the throne room, with no energy reserves at
all, standing weakly in front of her captor, 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.
Outfits could be created or destroyed in the blink of an
eye; the new queen demonstrated this often unless she wanted
to observe her victim being reduced to helplessness slowly.
The evil woman murmured a single word and the nude princess
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 metal
manacles at both her wrists and ankles. The skin-tight
outfit had oval holes for her attractive breasts, which had
always defied the light gravity in a remarkable way, 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. 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 finery,
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 captive heroine and snibbed
the end of Linda's leash to the single D-ring at the back of
a waiting transport maid. The maid wore the standard stiff
vlatex maid's costume, but her black rubber coated arms had
been fused together behind her in a permanent arm binder.
The snugly moulded addition mated her two limbs neatly into
one, flowing in a smooth unbroken line from the shoulders to
where her fingertips had been, terminating in a large ring
designed for carting various trolleys and suitably helpless
prisoners throughout the castle.
"I have sooo many experiments for you to try my
dangerous little pet - I'm sure I can relieve you of that
super strength soon....I will find out how to transfer it to
my body!".
The transport maid dragged her weakly resisting charge
away and the other maids followed to begin wrapping
Supergirl in her full body cast for the night. Zorelle knew
her staff would have had the newly installed castle milking
machine warming already, for a luckless individual had been
installed in it every night so far. The recently created
machines were hardly different than those used for cows, but
were designed to be quite a pleasurable experience - once
the hormone-induced milk started flowing, of course. The
slurping cups could be excruciatingly painful until the
first droplets of product appeared. Zorelle had quite a
taste for human milk and had wasted no time in starting a
large dairy factory where row after row of rubber cocooned
milk maids hung in tiny hay lined stalls, quietly feeding
the populace with their massively enhanced mammary glands.
The black and white cow-patterned podlike costumes stretched
the fully enclosed maids taut by the hands and feet and
angled their dappled bodies a foot above the ground to an
optimal forty-seven degrees for milking. A polished brown
leather collar with a large attached cow bell provided an
attractive contrast against the crash-test dummy colours of
the amorphous hood that joined the costume. Once squeezed
into a tiny milk maid skin and incarcerated in the factory
there was little chance of release, for Zorelle had decreed
that the dairy be a one way trip. Unless there were other
plans for them, the milk maids passed through an induction
programme which removed their capacity to concentrate on
anything but muscle control for milk production. Men did
not escape their duties either, for it took just one extra
day for the hormones to turn a man into a large breasted,
fully functional milk producer. Zorelle soon discovered
that the hapless males produced stronger milk than the
females, so she had the half feminized creatures milked
between the legs as well as the breasts to add to the feed
of the ladies and pass on some of their potency. The brain
re-arrangement of the producers did not seem to stop the
milkmaids that were predisposed to misbehavior. The worst
would wait patiently until they heard the muffled voices of
the attendants nearby and kick wildly the moment they felt
any of their connecting tubes being handled, sometimes even
dislodging the milking cups from their constantly spurting
nipples. These recalcitrant milkers were disconnected from
the hooks stretching their pods and fed without further ado
into a chute to the loosely named "Battery Section" of the
factory. There they were given a dose of potion that
retracted their arms and legs into their bodies while moving
all of the extra body mass to their already enormous
breasts. An appropriately smaller latex sheath became the
new attire of the compact milkers, leaving no evidence of
limbs that had once existed. They were lifted easily by
machinery and hooked to their straining bars. The cows were
strained so close together in the battery section that each
rubbed her armless latex shoulders against her neighbor.
Their distorted, efficient torsos shuddered from the strong
vibrations of the continuous milking process, causing their
super-stretched rubber coatings to squeak disagreeably. The
Battery Milking section was always quite noisy and not a
favorite of the dairy staff, even though its occupants were
zero maintenance - completely controlled and enhanced by
automatic machines from the moment they arrived in the
chute.
The wine cellar
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.
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 expressions were fixed for eternity, their
eyes mostly bonded in 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
wasted opportunity. She 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. 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 the bizarre figure
stomp her own grapes before conversion 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, barreled without his knowledge
for they had separated on bad terms. Eccles graciously
accepted the gifts 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 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 over her man as she slid her fingers over the
polished hard rubbery curves that hid 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 to be 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. Sure enough, 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:
Belle woke up in bed feeling very strange. Something
was wrong with her eyes. She couldn't blink properly. Her
skin was tingling with an unusual pressure from all
directions. "Must be another hangover" she thought and
tried to push herself to a sitting position and rub her
eyes. Her arms positively refused to answer so she twisted
her legs and rolled over onto her back near the edge of the
bed. "I ought to remember not to sleep on my hands next
time" Belle thought groggily. Ow! her neck was so stiff
she couldn't turn her head. She gyrated to a seating
position and caught her reflection in the mirror, gasping
with horror - or she would have gasped if the tap wasn't
where her mouth used to be. Her entire body had been coated
- dipped in black vlatex, and her arms were *missing*, her
glossy shoulders showing no evidence of where limbs had been
attached just hours before. Ballet booted feet tapered
endlessly away from her as she lifted her foot into her
field of vision. She was going to be a barrel girl! What
had she done to deserve this? She raced to the door of the
bedroom, but it was solidly closed. Without hands, turning
the round doorknob was an impossibility. She threw her
latex self down on the pink satin sheets and sobbed - or
tried to sob, but her mouth tap was in the "off" position
and all that came out was a few sniffs from her nostrils.
Lord Eccles opened the door and looked down over the shiny
black vlatex creature that lay face down on the bed making
funny noises. The ebony darkness of Belle's artificial skin
was framed beautifully by the contrasting masses of pink
satin sheets. The doll on the bed had been his wife just
twelve hours earlier and it was too late to change her back.
He must press on. He rolled her over and her tear reddened
eyes immediately blazed with hatred.
"Ah! Merciful silence! You look much better in this form
dear wife - I'm almost tempted to keep you like this....but
I cannot. The spell has more work to do on you and I have
to decide what to fill you with. The grapes are good for an
excellent Cabernet vintage this year. You look so stiff!
Permit me to examine you with my hands - after all, you can
do so no longer!" he laughed, skating his fingertips over
every inch of her surprisingly sensitive frictionless body,
marveling at the workmanship that Zorelle had described in
her magic potion - the same potion that Belle had quaffed in
her wine the evening before.
Belle spent the whole of the day automatically walking
around in circles in her grape crushing half-barrel, often
stumbling into the rich red grape mash, coating her flawless
waterproof rubber body in juice. When she had filled a
large tank with her forced stomping, the juice had a
fermenting culture added and it was again mixed. Lord
Eccles reached over the edge of the stomping barrel and
grasped hold of his soon to be ex-wife's mouth tap, pulling
her to face him.
"Now comes the time for you to make your dramatic departure
from the real world, my dear." he murmured with a hint of
sadness. "I hope that my next wife marries me for love
instead of money or power. But I really didn't mind that so
much. *You* had to be such a bitch on top of it all, didn't
you? You'll have plenty of time to reflect on your
foolishness Belle, at least while you still have your mind,
that is! Such a waste of one of the sexiest women around
too."
He opened her mouth tap and she immediately felt a
sensation of falling towards the ground, down towards the
pool of unused juice about her ankles. Her beautiful legs
were getting shorter! In seconds they were completely
retracted such that just two vlatex ankle boots protruded
from her hips where her legs had been. They quickly
disappeared altogether. Unbalanced, Belle toppled flat onto
her back in the ruby fluid. She had become a rubberised
torso of herself, limbless and helpless as a newborn baby.
A tube from the fermenting tank was connected to her facial
tap and without further ado the tank's contents were hosed
into Belle's mouth tap. As the fluid was pumped in, a
second layer of the skin on her torso parted and expanded
like a balloon, rounding into a barrel shape and forcing her
head to arch back and become the front end of the container.
They stood her new rigid vlatex form on its circular bottom
and Belle could feel the cool liquid streaming down the
front of her glossy internal breasts and the pressure
building up. The tank filled and she could feel her
thoughts blending with the young wine. Lady Belle had been
turned into a barrel girl. As a barrel girl, she 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 beside her.
Brushing cobwebs aside to peer at labels, Queen Zorelle
always found it difficult to choose a vintage, but settled
on the barrel that contained the first boyfriend who had
ever 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 briefly 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
enormously. 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 ten litres of wine to
carry - and the barrel girls were horrified too, because
they all knew that their 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 a
completely encased Princess Linda, now set solid on all
fours, her plaster knees and palms supporting her weight on
the floor, with her enlarged heavy breasts hanging exposed
below to be 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. The spell was only temporary and would return
her bosom to normal size within a few days, but inside her
stiffened shell Linda was wondering if she would have to
carry the huge breasts around forever. Zorelle 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 relieved of her plaster layer and inner
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 sorceress
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 damp, 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 similarly 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 the room, 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 and
attending to her toilet needs, 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
fresh 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 to play with, 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 sorceress 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 at the wall
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 athlete's legs are so much more attractive
now, messenger girl! Got any messages for me?". 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 neutralizing
her enemies as quickly as she could, and Supergirl was
unable to save any of them, at least not yet. The evil
sorceress 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 sorceress liked a good night's sleep.
Another former messenger, Lisa, was brought in and
fastened by wrists and ankles to the vertical rack. She was
very pale, freshly hairless, and looked somewhat relieved at
being released from months as a stretched milk maid for the
troops. The mass of black and white latex that had been her
cloying sheath during milk production lay discarded on the
floor. What Lisa currently thought of as her name,
"Daisy" could be read in small lettering amongst the folds
of mottled shiny rubber, and would soon be stretched larger
than life across the back of her replacement Daisy in the
dairy. Daisy's relief did not last long.
"I....I....Moooooooo!....oh....I....MoooOOOooo!"
stammered Milkmaid Daisy, explaining that she would try to
produce more milk next time. She looked around at her
audience with big glazed brown eyes that had once been deep
blue, and as she did so Supergirl noticed that her cowgirl
friend now sported little button-sized horns that were
starting to grow from her temples. The forced induction
programme at the dairy had left Lisa with a new name, a room
temperature IQ and matching single-syllable vocabulary.
She had had few opportunities to exercise the latter from
within her beautifully patterned kayak-shaped cocoon as she
hung in her tiny cubicle at the dairy. The figure-hugging
pod had always kept her perfectly silent, holding an
expanded penis shaft down her throat that spurted slightly
salty, liquid hormones into her stomach every hour, swiftly
converting her into the huge-breasted human cow currently
seen stretched out naked on Zorelle's vertical rack. In a
flurry of activity, 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 of her body tightly in rolls of
slimy plaster impregnated gauze, the kind used to mend
broken bones. But Daisy 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,
wet or dry, and her spectacular milk-maid breasts were
wrapped close to her chest by a criss-cross of plaster
bandages, hampering her breathing. While the plaster was
still saturated, Daisy 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 knuckles and knees, completely
disoriented by being unable to see or hear. The poor girl
could not even recall what she had done wrong, for that
information had once been stored in a thinking part of her
brain which had been neatly erased during cow training.
Daisy had little more intelligence than a real cow at her
disposal.
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
Daisy to her feet again and held her already stiffening arms
so that they crossed and cradled her generous bosom, 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 mummifying 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 prepared body so narrow that Linda imagined that
her friend could not have fitted inside it at all. Zorelle
assured the captive princess that Daisy was still quite
alive by amplifying the sounds of her labored 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 with the oversize breasts.
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 the ensemble
had special additions that ensured she kept her tightly
stretched clothing on. Through the clear plastic covering
the servant's mouth it could be seen that her lips and
artificially lengthened tongue had surgical eyelets added to
them and were laced neatly together, sealing them closed
both 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 the poison. 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 rail
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 naked, with the soles of
her feet epoxied to the marble floor in the corner of the
throne room. But nobody was ever naked long in Zorelle's
kingdom. Nozzles and melting tanks were set up around her
at all angles and 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
Rosemary, buffed and glossed to mirror perfection each time
as the evil sorceress had requested. That evening Zorelle
checked on what she planned to call her "rubber statue
corner". She found a finely polished bronze vlatex
creature struggling fruitlessly against her new rigid
rubbery sheath. Rosemary's bronze hands had bonded to her
bronze hips where she first tried to brush off the coating
and they had stuck instantly. The vlatex-coated floor that
blended seamlessly with her feet 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 do this
correctly - be my 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 probably outlast the
flagstones she was mounted on.
<IMG src="psgspray.jpg">
Something Fishy Going On.
Plasti-skin was a recent medical breakthrough used
mostly for plastic surgery. Once it was pressed against its
recipient's body, it would become permanent and alive if not
removed within five minutes. Despite the skin's capacity
for good, Zorelle had found evil ways to make use of it. A
few men who had been captured alive in the battle were
shaved and forced to don anatomically-correct female plasti-
skins that transformed their bodies completely on the
outside. They were tortured and brainwashed until they had
become submissive slave girls. The girls, often seen
wearing heavily laced Edwardian gowns made from transparent
plastic, were a relaxation for Zorelle when the stresses of
her long days suppressing the kingdom got to her.
The next of Linda's friends to be punished was a proud
Amazonian called Melanie, who had been the princesses'
chamber-maid and protector. Zorelle barked an order and a
white vinyl nurse-nun, Sister Josephine from the Sisters of
No Mercy bowed into the room with a swathe of shimmering
garments made from plasti-skin on a silver tray. The sister
no longer wore her traditional black and white cloth medical
habit, for it had been replaced with a tightly buckled white
vinyl catsuit that hugged her curves leaving nothing to the
imagination. The red cross of the catsuit was bright
between her glistening snowy breasts, and her vow of silence
was guaranteed by the attached skintight hood that left just
the demure eyes and nose uncovered. Bulging plastic cheeks
betrayed the huge expando-gag Sister Josephine wore beneath
her enclosing regulation head gear, and the only sound she
made was the rustle of her outfit and the click of her ten
inch heels as her booted feet touched the stone floor with
each dainty step. The fabric between her thighs was so
tight that it bisected her pussy into twin mounds, no doubt
a punishment in itself when walking any distance. The
Sisters of No Mercy had once been a charitable religious
order before Zorelle had done an "inspection". With the
help of a few choice spells she added a "No" to the name
plate on the front of the convent and converted the whole
order into one that would worship her alone. The plastic
nuns were compelled to do only her bidding - especially
useful when medical procedures were required. The
ridiculous heels were very difficult to balance on, so the
sister's hardened feet were always clamped to the floor
before a delicate operation.
Keeping Sister Josephine teetering patiently, the evil
sorceress turned to look at Melanie who was laying nude on
the cushions beside the throne. Under the effects of a
compulsion spell, the bronzed Amazon had been helplessly
frigging her drooling pussy with a colossal dildo for the
last hour. The over-sexed figure nestled amongst the satin
cushion shook as her pussy gripped the shaft in rhythmical
spasms and another climax wracked her body.
"Uhhh....please make it stop... ....ohhhhhhhh...
..uh... ...no more... ...uh... ...oooooo... ...can't
think... ...mmmmmm... ...uh... ...not again..." she cried
as she watched her own hands slide the dildo almost lovingly
home again.
"Here we are Melanie dear, your new costume is ready.
One more orgasm and you can stop your display for everyone
here" said Zorelle gesturing at the silver tray. "This
the reason why the Sisters were measuring you so minutely
yesterday. Here, let me show it to you"
Wearing her shoulder-length latex gloves and being
careful not to touch it against her skin, Zorelle lifted the
unusually crafted garment. It was shaped like a body length
tube, beginning with a high collar, tapering to a large
fish's tail at the bottom. The plasti-skin suit had scales
all over it, and the mermaid's tail was connected where the
feet would normally be. Melanie's eyes widened but she did
not even break her rhythm as her hungry hips demanded more
upon more pleasure to feed the climax sweeping through her
body yet again. Smiling to herself, Zorelle halted the
compulsion spell and had the guards hold the recuperating
Melanie's arms at her sides and her feet together to a
point. With haste, Zorelle shrugged the narrow outfit up
the girls' body until the Amazon was completely enclosed and
quite helpless - her arms were ensconced in the internal
sleeves of the membrane. She sealed the neck and waited for
the skin to set. Melanie the armless Mermaid flopped
pathetically around on the floor for some time in an attempt
to escape before she was permanently altered, but she did
not succeed. Her arms had disappeared inside her scaly
torso, and where her legs had been was now a big slithery
tail. Zorelle dragged her new mermaid over to a huge glass
spa that she had had filled to near the brim with cool,
sticky butter, which soon hardened. With some help from the
guards, she threw Melanie over the rim, and the modified
girl lay flat on the surface of the butter. Zorelle pushed
her struggling form into the centre with scoops.
"Now for some light sport!" she laughed to Linda, who
watched with revulsion at her servant's plight. "Watch my
new little mermaid swim!"
The butter began to melt from Melanie's body heat, and
she started to sink into it. She thrashed about and managed
to get to some slightly harder butter, but the heat from her
exertions just made it melt faster. Soon the butter was
melting faster than she could cope with, and her tail sank
in up to her waist. In a panic, she wriggled over to the
edge of the glass tank and tried to flip her mermaid body
over the two foot rim of the spa, but could not, since she
no longer had any arms or legs. By kicking with her tail,
the terrified mermaid managed to slow but not stop
altogether her downward movement. Soon she had sunk to the
point where all she could do was swim jerkily around in a
small pool of her own melted butter, desperately trying to
keep her head afloat. She swallowed repeated mouthfuls of
butter, and slowly her strength left her, until finally with
a gurgling scream she sank below the surface and hung still
- passing out from fear rather than lack of oxygen because
Zorelle had cast a stasis spell on her long ago. The evil
sorceress had the mermaid fished out and revived for
transport to her new home at the city aquarium, where
Melanie spent many of her subsequent days gracing a display
stand inside a small glass tank wearing a full body, neck-
to-toefin corset that left just the tip of her tail fins
free.
Trudi and Pamela were identical twins. During the fall of
the city they had answered a desperate knock on their door
and found Melanie, very scared, on their step - she was on
the wanted list. They looked after her and lay low for
several days until a surprise raid netted the three of them.
The sisters had no hope of release - aiding a wanted
"criminal" was a serious offence - and their conversion to
mermaids was swifter than Melanie's had been. Beginning
life as the rubber ballet slippers they had been made to
wear, the rubbery skin curled up their nude bodies with the
aid of Zorelle's magic and had no five minute setting time.
Crazy with fear, the freshly created twin mermaids caused a
wild scene in the throne room. The distressed women began
thrashing their powerful tails in all directions, bowling
over a number of the chambermaids who rushed to subdue them
and even toppling a porcelain vase girl who shattered in a
million pieces on the marble floor. Eventually the sheer
number of rubber-clad maids grasping them managed to hold
the wriggling girls still. Long couches were wheeled from
backstage of the throne room entertainment area and the
mermaids were grasped by both arms and strapped down on
them, right to the tips of their tails. An enclosing,
muffling metal helmet, with a single blinking red light on
the top was placed over the head of each fish-tailed girl
and activated. All in the room watched the jiggling forms
as their movements diminished and finally the light changed
to green. Two placid, well adjusted mermaids were released
and handed a pile of shimmering green vlatex that turned out
to be their costumes. They obediently helped to dress
themselves, sliding their tails and upper bodies
simultaneously through the single tiny opening down the back
of the fully enclosing and heavily lubricated skinsuits,
casting a spray of radiated green light across the room.
Once the transformed girls had squirmed fully into their
frictionless outfits, there was a hiss as all remaining air
in the sheaths was expelled. The small slits up their
glossy backs sealed shut and then disappeared without a
trace as the enchanted costumes took over the packaging
role. The girls showed indifference as the airtight vlatex
was suctioned against their faces, demonstrating the
effectiveness of Zorelle's stasis spells when breathing was
impossible. The vacuum-sheathed kryptonite rubber mermaids
flopped greasily around on the floor as Zorelle made them
tiny. When they were a small proportion of their original
size, the petite rubber creatures were doubled over and
squeezed into globular bags made from the same everlasting
green vlatex. The stretchy prisons were topped up with
lubricant and then sealed closed, leaving two slightly
transparent seamless soccer balls quivering and bucking on
the floor as if they had a life of their own. The half fish
half woman creatures tested the strength of their warm
slippery homes by thrashing joyously around inside. The
latex walls that enclosed them gave ground initially with
each push, then sprang neatly back into place.
The jiggling globes were rolled over to where Linda watched
powerlessly from her embedded floor position, still wearing
her tightly stretched leather slave girl restraint. She
struggled to free her arms from the stiffened leather
sleeves of the straight jacket that cradled her leather
covered bosom but the material was like sheet steel. The
part of the costume covering her breasts shimmered and
disappeared, exposing her naked skin to the air of the room
- air that seemed refreshingly cool due to the hot confines
of the suit.
Zorelle carefully lifted the large wobbling rubber creations
in her hands and, kneeling down, squashed them against
Supergirl's comparatively miniature breasts.
"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have
breasts this big, Princess? No? Well, how about you try it
for a while....perhaps forever?"
The sorceress's eyes glowed and her hands became
difficult to see clearly, but it seemed apparent that she
was slowly sinking her fists and the implants into Linda's
chest. The princess of steel almost passed out at the sight
of Zorelle's wrists protruding from her presented bosom,
watching in dismay as the evil queen slid her fists deeper,
as if Linda's super-flesh was made out of soft wax. The
princess could feel Zorelle maneuvering the implants into
position inside her breasts and after what seemed like hours
the invading hands withdrew, minus the load they had been
carrying. The result: Supergirl with gravity defying size
EE breasts! The evil queen had developed this bizarre
method of control for Linda because the kryptonite vlatex
that encased the mermaids inside the Princess's new breast
inserts would prevent her from mustering any of her super
strength until they were removed - and there was not a
scalpel in all the land that could cut Supergirl's flesh.
In fact, Linda would not need restraining at all unless she
found out a way to remove the implants. Having a "live"
bust caused the princess much distress - her two captives
kicked and struggled night and day, jiggling her heavy
breasts even as she slept....or tried to sleep. Zorelle
squeezed two tautly stretched nipples between her fingers.
"Your plastiskin'd bosom buddies are there to stay
Princess. I hope you'll enjoy getting to know them - they
are certainly enjoying their new format, courtesy of our
little `beg to be bound' helmets here". She cupped the
huge mammaries and felt their ponderous weight.
"My! These will be heavy!", Zorelle chuckled, half to
herself. "Don't worry Supertits! - I have plenty of
costumes with stiffened backs to lace you into!
Hmmmmm.....I wonder if I can add boning and laces to a
plastiskin garment - perhaps you could end up as my super
mermaid?...we'll see!"
In the past, Zorelle had also used the skin to get her
revenge on a serving maid called Lillian who had tried to
poison her. Zorelle drugged the girl's food, and whilst she
was asleep, she rolled Lillian tightly from the neck down in
a large sheet of plasti-skin. Before pressing the skin
smooth all over, she cut two small holes for access to the
drugged girl's lower openings, front and rear, and two more
through which her breasts could protrude. Long after the
five minute setting time had passed, Lillian awoke to find
that she could not get up. She could not seem to get her
arms or legs to move at all. They had disappeared, and
apart from her head, breasts and sex, she looked like a
rather curvaceous human worm, destined for one of the
queen's brothels. Lillian's accomplice Charlotte was
revenged upon in a similar but worse way. She simply had
her usual plastic prison bedsheets and pillows replaced with
identical plasti-skin ones. She awoke the next morning to
find that she had been permanently fused into her bed.
Linda was lifted from her recess in the floor to
balance weakly on her boot sheathed legs. Zorelle grasped
her leash and dragged her away from the throne room at a
brisk pace, each stiffened step bouncing and jiggling her
new bosom. Linda found that she had no energy in reserve at
all due to the kryptonite embedded in her chest, but despite
the difficulty of walking upright with the extra weight of
her bosom pulling her down over her towering heels, she
managed to walk perfectly all the way. She would spite her
captor if it killed her. They reached their destination; a
section of the castle had been under construction since the
takeover and the sorceress was also the architect. Zorelle
was quite angry at the show of defiance, so she had her
slave fitted with two huge vibrators that locked snugly into
the Princess's leather costume. A doubly layered rubber
body bag followed her cruelly buckled inserts, and once
inflated, it compressed Linda's body from the neck down in a
neat tubular mass of ballooning clear-red latex, a polished
sheath that hid none of her busty attributes due to its
glistening transparency. The super-captive was lifted to
her air cushioned feet and buckled in a dozen places to a
recently finished pillar so she could watch the progress of
the royal builders. These hard working staff were examining
a set of plans to work out which prisoners were supposed to
be installed where, and as which part of the
building....perhaps as components for a door or a ceiling
relief. Zorelle had drafted many plans since renovations
had begun. The builders were checking the numbers on the
blueprints against the numbers on a rack of anonymous black
rubber pods that hung in storage until they were needed for
installation. Zorelle commanded the worker's attention.
"Release pod sixty two - that annoying wench who was
captain of the guard. We'll do the support pillar now.",
she said. Linda's loyal subject Valeria slid, well
lubricated, from the breached seal at the base of her pod.
After a brief cleaning ritual a punishment and feeder helmet
with the standard air and food hoses attached was laced over
her head, leaving her without sight or voice. Valeria was
dragged to a huge perspex cylinder about two metres in
diameter that ran vertically from floor to ceiling. At the
queen's command, her head, arms, and legs were pulled back
as far as they could go into adjustable round openings in
the cylinder. The guards entered the pillar via a door in
the base and shackled the silent girls' limbs rigidly inside
it to rings, so that only her naked torso remained outside,
leaving her anonymous vagina and breasts arched achingly to
the world. The food and air tubes protruding from her face
were connected to two remaining holes in the cylinder which
were just above her head.
"Welcome to your new home, number sixty two. This
concrete pillar will be it for a very very long time!"
announced Zorelle, chuckling at the sight of the struggling,
but firmly secured woman.
"When the pressurised concrete sets, only your naked
torso from the throat to hips will be on the outside of the
pillar....then you'll feel what I felt in your dungeon so
many years ago - despair! I suspect your loss of freedom
won't be as temporary as mine was!".
The builders made fast work of the concrete pipe assembly
that would be feeding into the top of the pillar because
they did not want to fall victims of their mistress's feared
temper. Once it was all done, Zorelle took hold of the
control lever, but hesitated with a sudden malicious
thought.
"Hmm.. I can use this pillar to kill two birds with one
stone so to speak. Bring in Donna."
Raging impotently against her layers of stifling red
latex, Linda remembered that Donna had been one of her best
infiltrators, and had narrowly missed the evil queen with an
arrow before she had been captured.
Tightly bound in a network of crimson latex straps that
made up her body harness, with two vibrators buzzing loudly
inside her, Donna appeared. Sucking fearfully on her gag,
she was pushed through the small door to stand in the center
of the cylinder. Her feet were locked to the floor in a
widely spread stance, and just the gag was removed to free
up her mouth. Without bothering to connect any tubes to the
girl on whom she had passed a death sentence, Zorelle shut
the door and bolted it. She pulled the lever and liquid
concrete began pouring slowly over pleading Donna's head,
flowing like thick grey mud down her body. Some concrete
also splattered the head and limbs of her stretched
motionless partner Valeria in the process. In a little
while, the lumpy liquid had reached Donna's thighs, and had
completely covered the inner portion of wall-bound Valeria's
legs, stretched out as they were. Donna gasped under the
flow of grey liquid and cried out desperately
"Zorelle please! I can help you. I'll tell you
anything you want to know!"
"You already have my dear" answered the queen, smiling,
"you told me everything straight away when we forced the
truth serum into you. The other impalings we did to you on
torture stools and the like were simply for my
entertainment. Of course you would remember nothing of your
confession dear, we reverted your mind back to childhood for
a while. Your dozen or so helpers were easily rounded up
and now they grace spare bedroom number six, as arm and
legless rubber pillows".
By then the concrete had completely covered the first
girl Valeria, and the level had raised to the height of
Donna's breasts and neck. Donna began to scream. When the
liquid had reached the now completely grey girls' chin,
Zorelle halted the flow. She had a hole drilled at Donna's
face height in the cylinder and a wide pipe was pushed
through to the helpless girl.
"Open your mouth you little traitor! It is your only
hope for survival!" cried the sorceress with an evil gleam.
Donna opened her mouth as wide as she was able and allowed
the pipe to be forced and twisted in between her teeth. The
concrete flow was restarted and quickly covered the
terrified captive's head. In twenty minutes the whole
column would be filled, but would be left for days to dry.
Before the column was completed, Zorelle brought out a
finger-thin Burrowing Snake from a basket she materialized
and handed it carefully to a handmaiden.
"Feed this little cutie down the mouth of the tube we
just made" she said.
"But surely my mistress doesn't want to kill her now"
cried the girl, horrified that she had been told to take
part in the proceedings.
"What did you say wench? I'll teach you to disobey a
direct order! Plastiskin her!" shouted the angry queen at
two reluctant guardswomen. Wanting to make an example of
her, she raised her fist at the petrified girl. "Seal her
into one of the plastiskin body stockings."
The guards pounced on the handmaiden and stripped her.
One of them held open a pearl-coloured skinsuit, careful not
to handle any part of it for too long, while the other
forced the girl into it. The featureless skin adjusted
itself to the maiden's proportions and covered her smoothly
from head to toe, with the exception of two small nostril
holes for air. The frightened convertee was held down while
the plastiskin set on her. After five minutes, the guards
released their grip and she had changed to the
unrecognisable state that the dark queen had ordered. Even
though she could still breathe through the two nostril
holes, her mouth and all other openings were now sealed
over, so that she would not be able to eat and would
eventually starve. The pale, ghostlike figure was
mouthless, could not see or hear, and her groin area was now
a smooth sexless region. The pitiful, smooth-headed
creature was dog collared and chained to the throne as an
example to all. She flopped pathetically around the floor
in her new condition scrabbling where her mouth and eyes had
once been with smooth awkward paws.
"Now for the snake." ordered Zorelle heartlessly "You
do it!" she said, pointing to another handmaiden. Unwilling
to share the fate of her featureless comrade, the frightened
girl fed the snake down the mouth of the tube. The reptile
entered willingly, since it sensed a source of heat ahead to
burrow into and lay its eggs in. It slid quickly down the
tube until it was halfway in when it paused slightly. Faint
gagging noises could be heard and then the snake continued
its progress, burrowing down the throat and into the warm
body of the still living stasis-spelled woman who would
incubate and provide food for its babies.
<snip!>
The sanatorium
It was usually warm and sunny in the little country village
of Greenhaven. The place was barely a dot on the map, known
only for its hosting of the State Asylum for Women, a
complex large enough to house a thousand inmates. The
residents of these heavily secured white buildings remained
there for the protection of both themselves and the public -
since Zorelle had seized power, no news of events within
escaped its imposing walls.
Many years ago, when Zorelle had begun her quest for black
magic, she was forcibly sent to the Asylum by the Guild of
Magicians. There she received some severe punishment before
escaping. Recently, as the vengeful ruler of the country,
Zorelle decreed that her secret police should release every
inmate and make them a staff member, and imprison every
nurse and warden and sign their lives away forever as new
inmates. In a single overnight raid, the staff became the
inmates, and the inmates became the staff. She provided all
the new psychotic wardens with magical auto-do cubicles,
which had the power to change a victim to any format or
costume once sealed within. Most of the new wardens were
quite insane to begin with, and one by one their recent
human gifts paid terrible penalties for imagined
transgressions. Each former guard or nurse patient was
heavily modified to make the idea of ever escaping their new
home laughable. Even the humble tea lady was now a half
human, half machine trolley creature that pushed itself
along the corridors with its leather hip-booted legs. The
front half of former Nurse Jones spent the rest of her days
as a warm metal statue protrusion from the rear inner wall
of a locker in the wardens change rooms. A once-patient of
hers found it gratifying to hang his clothes on the hooks
that now terminated her polished metal bosom. Instead of
nipples, her breasts followed a smooth curve to a point,
then turned upwards to a hook. She had been converted into
solid metal furniture. Months ago, sealed helplessly inside
her warden's auto-do cubicle, Nurse Jones had shimmered
through many different formats to conform with the images
generated in the crazy head of her new master, who sat
comfortably in a chair nearby wearing the pickup headset and
watching the display screen. She was just thankful that she
had retained her mind and not been made into a drooling and
packaged vlatex vegetable like her two ex-warden friends she
had watched emerge before her.
<snip!>
It was one year since the great war, and Maria had just
finished her nursing degree. She saw an advertisement in
the newspaper for a job at the asylum and secured herself an
immediate interview. The director of the institute seemed a
little odd, given that she was dressed in a very severe
white vinyl dress that stretched from her chin to her
ankles, but she was pleasant enough, and Maria needed money
desperately so she accepted the job. Fashions of late had
been tending towards the restrictive anyway - Maria quite
expected women to be wearing bondage harnesses in public
soon if the tightly laced trends on the catwalks continued.
The guided tour showed many stiffly restrained and gagged
inmates, some undergoing thought replacement therapies with
coloured lights and computer generated tapes. It was
obviously the place for people with serious mental problems.
The one-piece uniform Maria had to wear was a purest white
vinyl nurse's dress, in a style similar to the director's
except for the hobble-skirt to her ankles and the long
sleeves with attached sterile mittens. A long zip up the
front of the dress stretched the shiny material taut over
her skin making it an effort to move, but every nurse
working there wore that regulatory uniform and seemed used
to it, so Maria soon forgot her initial annoyance with the
dress code. She worked long hours and found an uneasy
feeling in the place she could not put her rubber-stiffened
fingers on. One day, her curiosity got the better of her
and she briefly ungagged one of the struggling patients who
was scheduled for her final round of thought replacement.
The panicking woman was hopelessly combination locked to the
conveyor belt leading to the docilisation chamber, but
before she was erased to total obedience she managed to
share the full tale with Nurse Maria. Maria acted like she
didn't believe the story, and fussed over her recently
created feminine automation as she walked it back to its
room. It struck her as unusual that the chamber had chosen
to sew the woman's lips together, in addition to erasing her
brain and spraying her from head to toe in an airtight layer
of black rubber. The cloying latex effectively rendered the
processed inmate blind and deaf, and kept her arms locked in
a painful back prayer....mmmm - no...a closer inspection
revealed that the woman's hands and fingers had also been
sewn together beneath the tight coating. Somebody had made
sure that even as a vegetable the woman could never
communicate. Maria was very concerned and troubled as to
what action to take. Her uniform, with its mittened sleeves
molding of the hands into spoon shapes, made it impossible
to escape the complex during the day because the doors had
hidden security latches that required fingers. All cadet
nurses like Maria wore a regulation sleeping corset to bed,
which was laced from the tip of the toes to just above the
mouth (so they couldn't chatter) and locked closed with
special keys. The durable white patent leather garment left
just the arms bare, which were supposed to be clipped into
automatically-locking comfort cuffs on the bed. Although
her legs were married into a single boot, Maria knew she
could hatch her escape on a little motorised trolley nearby,
as long as no-one noticed her arms were not clipped in place
properly. Her idea was a success. Her vehicle got her all
the way out a service door, shuddering to a standstill right
at the top of the steps down to the street. She had to hop
down each step to street level, and stood ready to hold out
her thumb at any traffic on the quiet lane. After ten
anxious minutes, the lights of a red sports car bathed her
glitteringly white sheathed form. The passenger door opened
and she heard a young man's voice. "Mmmmmmm.....kinky!
Hop in, gorgeous". She breathed a sigh of relief that help
was at hand. Within minutes she would be at a police
station narrating her story once they worked out how to cut
her mouth free. Maria tried awkwardly to climb into the low
slung seat, but could not bend the corset enough. He got
out to help her, and there was a "Phhhht" as a
tranquiliser dart appeared in his neck. A confused look
took his face as his legs collapsed and guards appeared from
behind the bushes in a flurry of activity. Maria and her
luckless rescuer were quickly enveloped in straight jackets
- they found themselves neatly packaged, strapped to
trolleys and being led back inside the building. The
Directress had seen the entire exchange on a hidden video
camera.
<snip>
A week later, a new dull-eyed patient was wheeled to her
cell. She was freshly arm and legless, and a shiny white
patent leather papoose restraint sheathed her limbless
torso, laced and buckled gaspingly from the V point below
where her thighs had been, right up her middle to just
beneath the nose. The glossy suit curved smoothly up her
back to cup and envelop her head leaving just her eyes and
nose uncovered. The spark of intelligence was gone from her
dull brown eyes as Nurse Maria lay back on her trolley and
gazed fascinatingly at the ceiling. Even if Maria could
remember any of her exchange with the stricken patient and
get past her Total Erasure followed by Total Mental
Conditioning, it was impossible to communicate. Her
armless, legless body was rigidly encased in boned patent
leather, and her vocal chords had been permanently removed
to be made into the centres for plastic teardrop pendants
that hung from her glossy white plastic nipples. She could
not even blink, for her eyelids were fixed in an appealing
wide-eyed stare that was the fashion amongst patients at the
time. The Directress tested Maria's conditioning the first
night. Standing over the parceled nurse on the trolley, she
released the gag. A hiss of escaping pressurised air filled
the room for a second, the patient's glossy white vinyl
cheeks resuming their normal size. The Directress slid out
of her mirror-smooth white uniform and into a black vinyl
sleeping catsuit with openings at the nipples and groin.
She lifted Inmate Maria from her trolley and into the satin
sheeted bed with her, attaching the medically enhanced
pouting ruby lips to her hardening nipple. Maria's
programming sprang into action and she could have no other
thought than to pleasure the flesh filling her mouth. The
Directress touched a panel on the wall and it opened
noiselessly. From the recess wormed a creature that was so
similar to the new format Maria that it could have been her
twin. Unlike Patient Maria, it still knew it had once been
a young man in a red sports car, but the mental suggestions
installed in its brain could not be refused. The second
suckling inmate still held out hope for eventual rescue and
restoration, but her appearance belied this. As required by
the sexual conversion, her testicles had been removed and
silver plated, and now hung as pendants from her glossy
patent leather nipples that topped her huge restrained
breasts. Indeed, for the rest of their useful days, the
flashing balls were the only method of telling the twins
apart. The Directress reached across to a special bra
harness of buckles and straps beside the bed and threaded
them through the loops in her catsuit and the loops attached
to the smooth heads of her suckling ones. In no time they
were both securely squashed to her nipples by the bra cups
that hid their heads in a taut shiny plastic layer. Now,
even if she rolled over in her sleep during the night, her
bra bound twins would not stop their tireless work. The
peacefully relaxing woman mused that she would have to have
another set of twins made to service the two holes between
her legs. There would no longer be a need for the ensuite
immediately in the morning!
<snip>
Pauline gets punished, while the Rubbermaids look on.
Pauline, a former interior minister, was led to stand
before the new queen. She had once called Zorelle a mongrel
because the queen's mother was from one kingdom and her
father from another - mixed races. The minister had always
been quite an ugly woman and Zorelle disliked ugliness, so
she had immediately given her the expressionless face of a
Barbie doll. Pauline's conservative business suit had been
replaced with a long, sexy black plastic dress, thigh high
boots with eight inch heels that had been moulded in stiff
black platex about her legs to the hip and made her teeter
as she walked. Her hands were mittened in more of the
rubbery black plastic to the shoulder, curling her wrists as
though perpetually holding a shaft. Her now hairless head
was tightly ensconced in the amorphous layer of vlatex she
had been dipped in, which held a cruelly pressurised
expando-gag in her oral cavity. Her hugely distended cheeks
appeared as black billiard balls from the sheer pressure of
her inner packing. The unbroken ring of her strange new
shiny metal collar enhanced Pauline's look of captivity, but
even with her vacant-looking Barbie face she showed contempt
by refusing to bow to her mistress. At a word from Zorelle,
her head was instantly enveloped from the collar upwards in
a seamless golden metal egg, through which no sound
penetrated.....yet another form of the mind programming
device.....her body stiffened as she clutched impotently
with curled plastic hands at the impervious surface of her
encased head, sinking to her knees in submission while the
powerful device programmed her mind....her thoughts blended
into a fog...oooh such interesting new thoughts coming
in....and when the fog cleared, she was an adoring
submissive....existing only to serve her mistress....begging
her mistress to bind her....while in a small corner of her
enslaved mind, a proud woman screamed..
Zorelle clicked her fingers and Lynette, her personal rubber
mannequin-maid came to life from the corner where she had
stood for the past ten days. If her rubber lips had not
been fixed permanently in a glossy, frozen pout, she might
have said "your wish Madame?", but instead she teetered
over to the throne in her rubber ballet boots, squeaked her
shiny rubber body down towards the floor and curtsied as she
had been trained to do so naturally.
"Rubbermaid, find my new submissive a wardrobe to suit
her recently installed thought patterns...all doubly
stiffened platex and plastic if you will....and have her
fitted for her shiny dog costume - she'll adore being the
mongrel now. Make it the best selection for punishment
you've ever imagined or I'll reduce you to a strength II. I
want that dog costume so tight that she can't breathe at all
- her stasis collar will keep her alive".
Even with her limited perception the Rubbermaid could
understand the threat of being changed from her current
status as a strength III Rubbermaid into a strength II or
even (rubber forbid!) a strength I Rubbermaid. She knew
that as a strength II, with her latex arms bonded to her
sides to the wrist and her squeaking legs hobbled with a
sheath to the ankles, she could not possibly continue to
perform her required daily duties satisfactorily, and in no
time at all she would be punished and reduced to a mindless
strength I. A strength I Rubbermaid is merely a strength II
with her entire body sealed in a full inch cocoon of clear
latex. A whole corridor leading to the maid "re-
education" wards was lined with stiffly wobbling strength
I's as a warning to all who have the honour of being trained
as strength IIII's and III's. Inside each strength I pod
was a screaming rubbermaiden creature (they did not remember
they had once been women), but no sound ever penetrated the
serene polished black faces and their inches of clear
coating. Occasionally, one of the strength I Rubbermaids
would lose balance and topple, and would drop into a
disposal shaft as final punishment for their disobedience.
The shaft dropped them into a steaming vat of warm rubber
cement and they were melted and blended with the glutinous
black liquid by the vat mixers. When the count of
Rubbermaids in the vat reached fifty, it would be veritably
bulging with limbs trying to find an escape from the surface
tension of their stretchy rubber prison. The whole vat
would be then poured into a mould for yet another of the
hundreds of black rubber pillars in the castle extension
wing. Occasionally there would be inconsistencies in the
mix and tiny sections of the pillar would take longer to set
than others, and after the mould was removed a shiny black
hand or foot or elbow or buttock or breast or embossed face
would protrude from the pillar before it set for good....a
stark, slightly moving stiffened reminder forever of what it
was filled with. When the pillars were finished, Zorelle
planned to use any further "raw material" to make
furniture such as rubber sofas and mattresses.
The attentive Rubbermaid remembered little of her past life
as a high powered senior executive in a law firm. She could
not know that at that very moment her former boss Minta
graced stand 23 as a mindless type I......soon to slide
gently into the Vat.
Years ago, when Zorelle was a wanted criminal and the
Rubbermaid was a free human woman named Lynette, Vice CEO
Lynette had paid the sorceress to make her boss Minta
"disappear" and pave her way to success. The `fee' was a
mere fifty percent of the mega-company profits every month.
The police arrived at the office asking questions, and she
acted tearful at Minta's disappearance, even though she was
now president. That evening she arrived home and found a
letter under her door. It read:
"Please select your desired format for your former boss:
1) Rubberised Mannequin Maid - with or without arms
2) Vinyl Dolly - she will sit patiently on your bed.
3) Marble Statue. Nice for the garden.
4) Shop Mannequin. Rental income potential.
5) Blow up doll. Yes, easily deflatable for storage.
6) Oak Statue - 100% solid.
7) Household Robot - skin type gold, silver or plastic
Irresistible modifications will be made to Minta's thought
patterns to match your choice exactly"
Lynette thought briefly. It would be fun to humiliate her
ex-supervisor by making her work around the house as her
helpless servant forever, so she chose the Mannequin Maid
option. The following evening a crate was delivered. Minta
had been dipped completely in black rubber to anonymise her,
and lay quivering slightly in her box as if trying to escape
her permanent mental reprogramming. The mannequin maid did
not like the fleeting images in her head of a proud woman
behind a desk, but she was thankful that they were fading
away by the hour. Thank goodness, for she had important
work to do serving her mistress. The taut black and white
vlatex parody of a maid's dress stretched over her glossy
black bosom, nipped in her now forever suctioned and
invisibly corseted waist, and sheathed her generous hips and
buttocks with its fabric. Maid Minta's new feet were
crushingly moulded into ballet boots with eight-inch
stiletto heels. She made quiet "plik" noises on the floor
as she walked, or stilted, since her knees could bend only
very slightly. Every movement was accompanied by a tortured
squeak from her new skin. Oh, she loved being a maid so
much!
Following the successful neutralization of Minta,
Lynette also had two of her staunch opponents punished by
converting them into legless and armless vlatex dolls.
Zorelle, working her magic in person those days, had thrown
the two frightened naked women a shimmering black outfit
each to put on. They could not find sleeves or leg holes in
the costume and said as much, at which point the magical
sheaths in their hands flapped open wide and enveloped them.
Sealed completely inside their own personalised suctioned
plastic skins, the two figures writhed in the powerful
magic. Their limbs shrank away and the plastic sheathing
their glossy heads creaked as it shrank, compressing their
plastic faces into blank dolly smiles. Each doll had her
former name emblazoned in white across her back and her new
name "Cindy" or "Barbie" on her forehead. The two were
returned to their offices as a warning, where they rocked
ever so slightly in their office chairs for many years
before being moved to a display case in the boardroom.
After a few years in the seat of power, Lynette realised she
had the resources to hunt down and kill the crooked lady
herself and avoid the fee. She stopped paying and sent
dozens of contract killers to do the job. All failed.
Lynette soon found herself with shiny Rubbermaid skin,
dressed in a distinctive pink and white outfit and unaware
of her swift career change. She served Zorelle personally.
To make a Type V
Once again the weak Linda Danvers was dressed as an
adult baby and strapped in her wheeled high chair. One of
the Rubbermaids was assigned to pull the hermetically sealed
baby Linda along in her high chair - quite a painful
exercise when the maid's ringed clitoris was doing the
pulling. It was a smooth ride through to one of the newly
built extensions of the castle. Before they reached their
destination, an armless messenger clad in patent leather
scurried up to them with an envelope wedged in the stiffened
pocket between her breasts. Zorelle fished out the note and
scanned it briefly with an annoyed look on her face.
"What? Another envoy? Stay here - I shall be back
shortly. STORE!"
Having activated the maid's storage mode, she strode
hurriedly off. The Rubbermaid's perpetually wide eyes
instantly dimmed to opaque black and her arms flew behind
her into a crushing back-prayer as she was forced by unseen
hands into a tight kneeling position against the floor. Her
slippery rubber skin became liquid for an instant and then
hardened again, leaving a featureless, airtight latex
package behind, unable to even twitch, with the same little
chain as before joining its now-sealed clitoris and rear end
to Supergirl's chair. Linda heard voices coming through an
open door to her right and tried to twist her mobile chair
around so she could see what was going on. After a few
attempts and a few silent shudders from the parcel on the
floor when the chain was inadvertently pulled taut, she
managed it.
A figure in a latex body stocking lay writhing on the
plastic-sheeted bed. It was evident the figure was female,
though it had no flesh exposed. The captive's rubber
encapsulated face was featureless, with only two holes under
her nose for breathing. Her arms were one with her body,
with only mittened gloves that balled into fists where her
hands should be. It soon became evident that she was in
some distress. Another woman, dressed in a white leather
ball gown and towering white boots, stood over the bed and
helped tighten the straps holding the victim down. Linda
recognized the dominatrix as her former ally Samantha, now
much changed. Samantha now had a ridiculously overdone sexy
body, huge EE breasts and a waist in inches that had
obviously had some ribs removed to allow severe corseting.
The tormentor's glossy red pouting lips had been expanded to
a point that she could just barely open her mouth to speak.
Her once black hair was now bleach blonde and she wore a
strange glazed, hungry expression as her oversized,
grotesque lips strove to pronounce words correctly.
"Don' sthwuggle my pwetty wum.....er.....Don't struggle
my pretty one.....I know you have mind ants sealed in your
lovely slippery suit with you and I know they can be quite
pesky when they inject you with their poisons - but look on
the bright side! - soon your fleeting little personality
will be gone, washed away like the tide, and you'll be ready
to be made into something more useful like me! It's so
exciting being Bambi - you'll see!". She straddled her
prone captive and kissed it where the lips would have been.
"I know you're angry now but you won't hate me when I've
finished you. It doesn't make any difference to the process
if you were a man before - it's my job to change the people
that Mistress Zorelle gives me into Bambi like myself.
That's all I do, but it's so much fun. You'll be my twin
soon!"
She spied Linda watching and tottered over on her pointed
toes to swung the door closed. `She didn't even recognise
me!' thought Linda to herself in horror. What terrible fate
had befallen her friend? She wondered if it would be
possible to restore Samantha's mind.
Her thought was interrupted as Zorelle reappeared looking
much happier. The cocooned maid was released and they
continued on until Linda found herself unchained from her
helper in a very large suite. The well appointed room had
been extensively decorated since her capture, for every
surface was now padded white vinyl. The automatically
sensing entrance sported a large padded white vinyl door
whose luxurious width encapsulated the shiny puffed effigies
of two hapless vinyl women. Linda's new version of her
rubber baby costume was steadily increasing the levels of
Kryptonite in her body. She noticed four type V Rubbermaids
standing silently in the corner awaiting commands as their
costumes told them to do. A type V Rubbermaid had a luxury
that type IV Rubbermaids did not; they were not converted
permanently into rubber (although most ended up that way
when they became type IV's). Their clear latex maid
costumes were one piece, covering almost every inch of their
bodies from head to toe. The only skin showing was through
a dark-frilled circular portion above the breasts
advertising cleavage - but not real skin however, for they
wore latex leotards beneath, that had perfectly moulded,
realistic breast cups. Each puff-shouldered outfit was like
a full body catsuit with an overlaid and attached clear
maids dress stretching up from mid thigh. A frilly black
apron and high ruffled collar and bonnet matched dainty
scalloping at the upper arm where the puffed sleeves
terminated. A rack of at least two score empty costumes
stood against a far wall, ready for new converts, and a
strange machine sat nearby.
"Wasn't that a fun little ride, my yummy baby?"
Zorelle cooed tauntingly. "As you may have guessed, this
is the room where we make our privileged type V's
Rubbermaids. The enchanted material controls all thoughts
as long as its special side is touching the skin somewhere -
and as you can see, it is impossible to take it off with
only that small breast opening."
The sorceress turned as the effigy door squeaked slowly open
as fast as its silently working occupants could tiptoe
forward. A black-hooded captive stiffly entered, led by two
Rubbermaids, her sensorily deprived head covered in
glistening buckles that flowed down her back and front to
make a buckled corset, then down her legs where laces
continued to the toes, converting her legs into rods of
leather. The four maids came to life and detached the rest
of the costume from the hood, letting her lower casings drop
away to leave her nude from the neck down. The bodysuit
that made up the latex maid's chemise was zipped onto her
torso. The moment it hit her skin, the captive even began
helping in her own conversion. A type V suit was pulled
from the rack and the breast opening stretched wide by the
machine, revealing its reason for being there. The captive
swung her feet obediently into the opening and allowed the
fussing, silent maids to shrug her into it. The hood was
removed to allow the head to be covered and then the catsuit
opening was closed to reveal a brand new type V Rubbermaid.
Linda gasped to realise it was her royal cousin Natasha who
had just been pressed into permanent servitude. Natasha
marched to the evil sorceress and curtsied happily to her
shiny Mistress. The maids were dismissed and Zorelle
returned to her throne room.
Cow's milk, for sale.
As it turned out, the interrupting envoy had arrived
with beautifully designed and rare gifts that Zorelle had
never seen before. He asked for a favour in return which
she immediately granted - permission to pass laws enabling
special treatment of recalcitrant wives. Months later,
using the new laws, the envoy started a trend. As
punishment for a harmless flirt with the milkman, his wife
was forced to don a specially designed snug black rubber
catsuit cocoon, with no openings in it save an adhesive seal
up small of the back to the base of the neck where it joined
a tight seamless hood. There were valves at her sex and
anus, nipples, mouth and nostrils, and no other openings in
the black material at all. (the suits soon became so
popular and cheap that even convenience stores were selling
them). Every day, she was coated with more back rubber,
but the valves were kept clear to allow her air and food.
She quickly became an unidentifiable rubber creature. Once
a day her two lower valves were released, spurting her waste
products out under strong pressure. The erect valves
protruding from her black rubber breasts were screwed onto
the ends of milking machine suction hoses which flowed with
milk from the hormones she was being fed. The suit was so
stiff that if required, she could be held up by her nipples
only. The husband took her and her attached milking machine
home and stood her gently in the corner of his bedroom,
where she spent the rest of her days as a helpless rubber
cow. Eventually the envoy remarried, and Keiko, his new
cruel wife took an immediate unhealthy interest in the
silent cow-ette in the corner. She ordered it set in a
block of featureless black rubber with only the softly
humming milking machine tubes attached to it. Since the
Keiko was only in the marriage for money, soon her husband
occupied the space beside the featureless rubber block. He
had been mammarily modified and crushingly latex-dipped as
the new cow "maiden"....his heavy breasts vibrating
impotently with feminine rage at being converted to such a
helpless animal for the sole purpose of milking. He never
managed to escape his new imprisoning form. The envoy's new
wife did not stop there - each future husband eventually
joined her private dairy against their will, as did a number
of female acquaintances. Keiko sold the milk and made a
large profit - enough to expand her cottage industry and
seize a full sector of the beverages market. Keiko
industries became a household name.
<snip>
A young woman tourist saw the distinctive Keiko vending
machine standing in the quiet street. She was thirsty, and
the machine, shaped attractively like an ebony statue of a
woman, beckoned her taste buds. For no real reason other
than habit, she checked to make sure that the self-cleaning
nozzle at each nipple was sparklingly scrubbed before
inserting her credit card in the slot between the glossy
legs of the unit, marked by a large yellow arrow. As milk
flowed from the tap into her mouth, the arms of the machine
moved in a preprogrammed way to comfortingly hug the
customer to its bosom. The woman loved this part, and drank
hungrily, wondering briefly how big the internal tanks of
the unit were. Suddenly, everything went wrong. Her arms
and legs were sucked into and held firmly by the rubber
coated limbs of the machine. Automatic panels opened and
hooks tore off her jumpsuit and underwear with millimetres
to spare. Two conical suction cups enveloped her breasts
and a knob entered her mouth as others were screwed into her
sex and rear. Out of the corner of his eye, a distant
pedestrian saw a tiny flash of white steam as the machine
sealed her completely in an inch of hard black plastic. He
squinted and saw the two Keiko machines standing there, one
latex, one plastic. He dismissed the thought. "Must have
been a malfunction of the second machine" he thought to
himself and moved on. The tourist had been made into a
matching glossy black statuette vending machine on a
pedestal, with taps protruding from the tip of each breast -
plastic this time not latex. When either tap was turned on
she knew that lovely sweet human milk would flow from her
breast - the hormones were already working. The new milk
machine for the Keiko corporation stood silently beside the
original for a month, automatically beckoning and serving
customers, before maintenance crews arrived and took it
away. The unit was sold by Keiko to a family to keep in
their house as a fresh milk supply. To get the nutrients to
make her milk, food scraps and often even her own waste were
fed into the mouth valve with a small pump, where they were
converted into a paste for her to swallow.
As head of the corporation, Keiko had a bevvy of
reluctant milkers at her disposal from which she selected
the most shapely for display at business functions as
walking milkers. Each of these mobile milk machines was
sealed from head to toe in a shiny black rubber jumpsuit
with the customary taps at each nipple and locked valves at
the groin and rear to release waste under pressure. The
rubber was so thick and strong, that it took great effort to
bend limbs at all from a straight out position. The milkers
were almost stiff as a board but could just hobble along in
small stilted steps. Their mittened hands and feet looked
like smooth flippers of glossy rubber that showed not even a
ripple to indicate the fingers and toes trapped inside.
Whenever a guest required a drink they simply held out a cup
to a proffered breast and turned on a tap. A tightly
stretched parody of a milkmaids costume, this time a black
and white mottled catsuit with white rubber frills around
the collar turned the entertainment staff into stunning
visions of beauty.
<snip!>
Supergirl's kryptonite implants were enough to keep her
helpless, but she also wore her studded kryptonite collar
and impregnated jumpsuit to ensure her complete regulation.
Zorelle heaved the weakened blonde unceremoniously into an
auto-do cubicle of the most recent windowed, spherical
design and bolted the door from the outside. The captive
hardly resisted as the fields of the unit took control of
her limbs and she heard the voice of the Sorcoress as she
spoke into her console outside.
"Supergirl, I have decided that punishing just one of you
will never be enough for me, so I am about to make as many
duplicates of you as I need"
Intense light suffused Linda's prison for an instant, and
then the chamber was empty. The computer connected to the
machine spat out all that remained of the lady of steel; a
storage cube of information regarding the location and
alignment of every atom in her body. A tiny winking green
light at the top of the cube indicated that the data was
valid, and Zorelle kissed it happily. Her captive could be
instantly re-created by the machine at a later date, exactly
as she was when she had been recorded. She could also be
modified by computer before re-creation to make her an
ordinary human being. Multiple copies were possible, if
Zorelle wished to try out a number of different torments on
her victim. Zorelle chose to make a perfect copy to start
with, and soon Supergirl re-appeared, still helpless in her
jeweled suit. The limiting jeweled collar was left on her,
but the jumpsuit was unlaced from the girl. Then, over a
stiff kryptonite corset, the dark queen dressed Linda in
heavy duty leather catsuit, covering her from head to toe.
The creation had hundreds of buckles and straps all over it,
leaving her arms buckled permanently at her sides and her
legs buckled together. She was then laid out in front of
the throne for Zorelle to rest her booted feet on - that
duplicate would never leave that spot again. Zorelle made
copy after copy of the un-caped crusader, each one thinking
that she was the one and only Supergirl.
<snip!>
Linda had been a powder-pink rubber bunny for a week now.
Wearing the pink costume had been a spot of freedom to move
her limbs but the bizarrely full bosom of the bunny that she
saw in the mirror every morning was a stark reminder of how
hopeless her predicament was at the moment. The tight pink
rubber catsuit that stretched around her body had seamlessly
attached gloves, boots and hood - yes, the pink rubber clad
creature in the mirror was very obviously a woman. Two
separately added narrow slits in the garment from the base
of her throat to just below her breasts allowed her
enormously enlarged bosom to spill forth, cupped and
enclosed entirely from the point where they squeezed out of
the costume to the hard nipples. Her breasts were enclosed
in huge pink latex pouches that had been added with
customary vacuum tightness to the humiliating design of the
costume. With a little squeak of rubber against rubber
Linda lifted and rearranged her painfully rounded globes
with shiny pink paws as she had every morning, trying in
vain to find a less uncomfortable position for her breasts.
She could feel the constant draining power of the Kryptonite
implant twins in her bosom, and Zorelle had made sure that
her boobs were presented in a way that constantly reminded
her of them. Running fingerless hands down her waist that
was narrowed terribly by the inbuilt corset of the
bunnysuit, she turned sideways and hopelessly examined her
enlarged ass yet again for any seams in the impervious
fabric. There were none - not even where the cute white
rubber bunny tail protruded at her coccyx. Supergirl
wondered again why she had bothered. In her heart she knew
the outfit would require unlocking spells for removal. The
legs of the suit felt like they were extremely tightly laced
boots, very stiff and difficult to bend, but again there
were no laces evident on the shiny bunny in the mirror. The
baby pink latex enclosed her legs to the toes, where they
were arched into a numbing ballet point, making it
impossible to flatten her heel-less feet to the ground.
Linda's entire head was covered in a tautly strained hood of
airtight pink rubber fashioned into a womanly bunny face and
topped with large erect ears. The bunny of old fairy tales
had been recreated as the bunny of a fetish wet dream.
Hugely pouting red lipsticked lips curved up to a cutely
whiskered white button nose framed by large frightened
animal eyes, albeit a pretty blue. The only non-pink
attributes of the costume were her red and blue Super logos
that graced her lustrous pink breasts. She knew that sooner
or later she would be scheduled for brainwashing and wasn't
looking forward to it at all.
<snip!>
"Sister, I'll give you full access to the asylum to process
this doll." she said, pointing at a prone Supergirl
strapped into a tight rubber sheath on a stretcher. "No
need to panic - her super strength is gone. All duplicates
like this one have the kryptonite breast implants of the
original. Supergirl is no stronger than an ordinary person
now". It was true - the thin clinging latex held Linda in
position easily.
"I want her skin to be changed into light brown plastic,
soft to the touch, and give her big blue doll eyes that
never close. That blonde hair must go - make sure she is
once and for all hairless from head to toe. I think she may
look better bald but we can always add plastic hair if we
want to".
"Oh, and take care of her vocal cords - dolls do not
speak."
Supergirl woke with a silent scream at the recurring
nightmare, writhing in the moisture and sweat of the neck-
to-toe latex sheath that had been her costume for weeks.
With no gag, she would normally have tried to make more
noise, but her vocal chords had been permanently removed
three days ago and the part of her brain that translated
words into commands for her vocal chords, tongue, and mouth
had been erased. She lay there in perfect silence, trying
in vain to remember how to make some kind of noise other
than the sound of her laboured breathing as she was rolled
swiftly into the auto-do chamber for processing. She knew
that soon she would be just another brainless doll unless
she could manage to escape her inescapable bondage.
"No....please help me!" she pleaded with her eyes to the
Sister who sat at the command console outside the sphere but
it was pointless. The Sister had a spell that controlled
her, and could no more remove her seamless glossy costume
than disobey a direct order from Zorelle. There was no
real need to have the console fixed in position outside the
sphere but quite a few dominatrixes had given in to the
desire to be inside the chamber watching and listening to
the tortured conversion of their slaves - and unwittingly
altered themselves in the same way.
The trolley shimmered and disappearred, leaving a latex
larvae suspended in space without visible means of support.
Linda could see a reflection of herself in the silvery walls
of her prison. The sheath binding her limbs turned to
liquid briefly and hardened again, leaving her in a perfect
bronze plastic catsuit. The hovering form rotated to her
feet and pirouetted as the Sister toyed with her. Instantly
Linda found herself being forced up onto her toes, as high
as she could go. As soon as she was on tiptoe, she felt her
feet and legs to the hip being encased in something stiffer.
The Sister's latest addition to Linda's fetish wardrobe was
a set of ballet boots, with eight inch stiletto heels. The
plastic of the boots was stiff enough to keep her ankles
from bending at all. The stiffness continued up her body as
the plastic hardened, acquiring the silky, artificial sheen
of fine polished plastex. She could not close her eyes and
felt her breasts harden out to her nipples. The coating
rushed down her arms and up her neck, smoothing a layer over
her proud facial features and flowing up to join at the very
top of her smooth, bald skull. She wiggled her fingers one
last time before it suddenly became a tremendous effort to
do so.
The Sister, dressed in her customary terribly restrictive
white catsuit, expertly guided the auto-do cubicle to
complete Supergirl's conversion to an attractive doll with a
full, voluptuous body and an empty head. First Linda's
memories had to be erased from her brain, followed by her
ability to tell good from bad. Then all dominant feelings
were removed and replaced with utter submission. The doll
would be happy only under complete control and reduction to
sex toy status. With her memories and personality gone, she
could never be more than an automation, schooled by the
machine to be skilled in the art of providing sexual
pleasure. Using atomic particles from trapped women, her
breasts were expanded to the size of bean bags. Five
terrified women stood in soundproof perspex inlet cylinders
attached to the rear of the machine away from scrutiny,
clawing and screaming at the impervious wall of their
prisons as their bodies provided the raw materials for
Supergirl's transformation, as their particles became
Linda's new breasts. It took a lot of matter to turn
somebody into a living pillow doll, and the auto-do cubicle
was indiscriminate in its selection of parts for absorbtion
and re-use. Not that the machine was overly cruel in its
operation - absorption was a pleasurable experience once
pain receptors were nullified on entry to the cylinder and
the remaining parts of each victim were restructured to keep
her alive and unscarred regardless of how radicaly the
absorption was. In some cases the fuel cells were even
added to if arms or excess fat were removed. But not in
this case. Fuel cell one bashed her fists impotently
against the strong plastic wall that kept her trapped. Her
breasts had gone first, shimmering away in a mist of
particles, leaving two smooth concave areas of skin on her
chest where they had been. As she struck the wall again her
arms desintegrated into billions of shining silver particles
and were swept into the vent above her head, leaving
smoothly rounded shoulders. She looked across at the woman
in cell two who was faring worse. Fuel cell two's occupant
was sitting on the floor gazing at the neat, petite stumps
of her wrists and ankles with stupification. Her lips had
gone too, completely smoothed over where her mouth had been.
Fuel cell five felt much lighter than she ever had before,
because almost all of her internal organs and ribs had been
removed. She still had all her limbs, but now sported an
impossibly narrow waist. She swallowed nervously as she
prodded where her ribs had been and saliva immediately
trickled from her pussy. She felt around between her ass
cheeks and realised that her anus had gone too. Her
digestive tract was now a direct channel from her mouth to
her sex. In stark contrast to her neighbour in cylinder
four, who had not been touched, fuel cell three was almost
completely depleted. She was a limbless, breastless torso
with a smooth expanse of skin where her mouth, eyes and ears
had been. A single nostril served her breathing purposes as
she flopped about her cell while a single lung and heart,
themselves reduced in capacity, kept her alive.
A light above the chamber glowed green and, preceded by
extraordinarily huge bean bag breasts, out stepped a new
plastic doll, enveloped in a new bronze polymer skin that
was alone enough to keep its prisoner trapped let alone any
further bondage. The impervious material hugged every curve
and angle of her body with sprayed-on precision, from the
top of her cueball smooth head to the bottoms of her
painfully arched feet - boots that were an integral part of
the costume. Painful as it seemed, not a sound emerged from
the mouth of the creature. Supergirl's doll suit had a cool
sleekness, shiny and reflective. Most unusual was the fact
that it had no seams at all - as if she were dipped in
liquid plastic and allowed to harden. Indeed she had been,
for the auto-do cubicle could make changes on a molecular
level. So singular was the suit that it came up over her
face as well, giving her bronze plastic lips, nose, and even
eyelids! Her small ears were barely-discernible ripples on
either side of the flawless hood. If it were not for
Linda's tearful blue eyes, she would have been
indistinguishable from an actual doll of solid plastic.
Her new skin was blemish free. Her unbelievable breasts and
tight, muscly rear were smooth, frictionless globes glowing
in freshly dipped and polished plastic, elegant and sensual
in its simplicity.
<snip!>
Weeks later, as Zorelle curled up her body to nestle
comfortably in the breasts of her new bean bag doll, what
was left of Supergirl could only flush with pleasure as her
nerves told her brain to feel wonderful. Her memories had
been taken away for many weeks now and she had never once
sensed the loss. In fact, the doll was deliriously happy.
Zorelle had informed her that her arms were going to be
altered; extended and joined together into a simple plastic
push-up bra to support her stupendous bosom. The thought of
losing her arms in that way made Lindadoll very wet in her
plastic pussy, buffeted by waves of ecstatic joy from the
new submissive pleasure centre installed in her brain.
Little did she know (or care!) but during the transformation
of her arms into living clothing her own ability to feel
sensation would go as well. Why should a living pillow doll
get pleasure all the time when you touch it? Her role was
to provide pleasure, not obtain it herself. The doll would
soon feel nothing at all.
"Lindadoll doesn't need feelings, does she?" asked
Zorelle as she zipped closed the armless creature's new
unique brassiere that had been fashioned from its own limbs.
Lindadoll shook her head enthusiastically.
"You certainly don't seem to miss them now that they're
gone, my cute little dolly!"
<snip!>
Supergirl the hooker could not remember the changes that had
been forced upon her mind to introduce her new vocation, but
she loved her job. She wore a Supergirl blue, heavily boned
leather corset. It dipped in front, cupping the underside
of her large breasts to the nipples. Large red tassels
emblazoned with the customary <S> symbol were threaded
through her pierced nipples. The midriff of the highly
polished corset was breathlessly laced to squeeze her waist
down to only 15 inches. The item was designed so that it
didn't obscure any part of her breasts or pussy. A red
leather G-string that barely contained her sex met the
bottom of the blue corset and formed a nice contrast. Linda
couldn't remember what the <S> symbol meant anymore, but she
had been conditioned to need it on every bit of her clothing
somewhere. The corset squeezed her waist down to an
impossibly small diameter, holding her back quite straight
in the process. The back support was beneficial because
above the corset, Supergirl's enormous breasts jutted out,
looking impossibly firm. She enjoyed her job tremendously,
even during the humiliation and depravity that some
clientele required. She had amassed a huge wardrobe of sex
costumes for the trade, many more than she actually needed
to earn her keep. Starting in leather, she had graduated to
PVC and then latex, until every square inch of space in her
apartment held a rack of vlatex clothing. Even on the days
she worked the streets in rubber, she would sleep in a more
restrictive latex costume that night. She was committed to
her career and didn't want to scare her more conservative
customers off. She saved up enough money for a procedure to
have every one of her beautiful teeth removed to allow her
to give the best oral sex. Nobody knew her choppers had
gone because she had a false set made that looked every bit
as good as the original. Removing Super teeth was not easy,
but Kryptonite was becoming more readily available, and
buying enough to fashion a pair of tooth pliers and nipple
piercers was easy. With so much competition nowadays, a
girl had to do what a girl had to do to earn her keep.
Linda had even considered other body modifications and limb
removals to enter the lucrative amputee market - but no,
that would come later. She could not guess that she was
becoming more submissive as the months rolled on.
Joe was an amateur scientist. He sat at his desk doing
calculations and pondering over what appeared to be
mammogram images as he absently ran his fingers through the
long blonde hair of the Woman of Steel who was playing
enthusiastic lip service to his manhood. Slurping with
surprising ferocity and simultaneously exploring his penis
with her tongue, Supergirl was an expert in the trade. She
knelt happily beneath the desk with Joe's shaft anchored in
the depths of her throat. She hoped he would come soon,
because she was getting hungry again. The less money she
spent on food, the more she could spend on rubber gear.
"Supe, I'd like you to stay the night - we're going to play
doctors and nurses - but the nurse will be in bondage too -
okay?"
Supergirl nodded silently without even changing her rhythm
and a thrill went through her. She loved bondage games.
Later that night Linda found herself strapped to a vertical
operating table, her bosom directly in the path of an
ominous looking laser. Joe delicately added a tube of green
kryptonite gas to the machine and fired the laser neatly
across her left breast.
"Finally I get to find our what it is hidden in your bosom,
my girl". Don't worry - I'll stitch you back up again!"
Her right breast had split cleanly with strangely no blood
and Joe had no difficulty prising the two halves apart to
expose the rounded globe and its trapped aquatic occupant.
The moment he touched the globe there was a flash of
lightning as Zorelle's protection spell activated. His body
shimmered and was replaced with the form of a rubberised
mermaid, complete with a matching airless latex sheath. The
newly created creature was pulled helplessly through the
surface of the implant, not through an opening, but rather
absorbed into it.
Supergirl awoke the next morning, still tightly bound and
wearing her squeaking nurse's outfit. She looked down at
her exposed bosom and noticed with horror that although
whole and unscarred again, her left breast was twice the
size of her right! She would have to buy a whole new
wardrobe of fetish garments now!
Q. Does anybody actually read (and like) this stuff? I
don't get much feedback at all so I'm thinking of quitting.
fast_fist@hotmail.com
==========< 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? I can
add html refs. to the story.
Unsolicited Bulk Email and newsgroup spam must end!
Unsolicited Bulk Email is theft!
All feedback via fast_fist@hotmail.com
=================================================
There is a plan to release Supergirl in the end, but lots
must happen in the story before that!
...another 50% of the original story to come.
** Fast does not have time to email copies of stories to
people, so do NOT ask! Read a.s.s.m or do a search for the
"perils of Supergirl". This is the Author's only story.
Intelligent comments/reviews/punishment ideas VERY welcome!
Feedback please via fast_fist@hotmail.com
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