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From: woodsmok@gte.net (MC Woodsmoke)
Subject: The Bondage Perils of Supergirl V1.5 by Richard Marnet (bd/nc/mc/latex/magic/tech/statue/tg/encap/plaster)
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I am posting this for the author. Please send all
responses directly to his hotmail account.
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.
The Bondage Perils of Supergirl V1.5
by Richard Marnet (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. Everything these flapping rubber targets in
the sky saw, Zorelle saw through her magic vision.
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 utilized her super-strength to crush them.
There was a brilliant flash, and the strikingly clad
woman she was holding seemed to collapse into
herself, looking terrified in the process. The
woman was a decoy. The hapless gold and silver
outfitted figure who she imagined was Zorelle had
shimmered abruptly 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. She fought against it feebly with her rapidly
draining strength to no avail. The myriad of
remaining straps on the harness encircled her body
like snakes and threaded themselves through the
buckles as Linda sank gasping to her knees. They
tightened themselves mercilessly and Linda was soon
neatly packaged, a powerless super-bundle. A layer
of the cuffs peeled away and rolled down over her
hands, forming slim D-ringed mittens, canceling any
hopes she had of using her fingers to undo a buckle
or two. Likewise, her ankle cuffs peeled down over
her high-heeled blue feet forming slippery D-ringed
booties of deadly green. Not to be outdone, the
straps began unfolding rapidly, doubling in width
and joining each 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. 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 curvy body, leaving
just her proud 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 permanently anchored golden crown. A large
silver cloak completed the ensemble, polished to a
mirror sheen and seemingly connected at two points
to her erect nipples.
"It looks very much like you chose the wrong side,
young man" she laughed, pointing out the rubber baby
costumed form of his former leader and princess
sitting docily in the corner. In stark contrast to
the way he remembered his strong commander a few
hours ago, Supergirl was now strapped in a high
chair and sucking purposefully on a magical
pacifier. The all enclosing latex-kryptonite
babysuit she was sheathed in was designed in
attractive transparent green. Her hands and feet
terminated in stiff frilled mittens and booties, and
from the frills around her neck hung a sparkling
rubber bib ready to catch the slightest dribble. A
tight airless hood with a mockery of a baby-face
fashioned on it 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. 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 was not controlling
her movements but it was pointless. Not only did
her rigidly boned vlatex (a special blend of Vinyl
and Latex) layer keep her stretched out flat on the
bench, but she could not bend her legs enough to
even push herself off the bench 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 little doll against
the polished yet strangely lumpy smoothness of her
right boot and the toy sank beneath the surface like
it was being swallowed in a bog....its arms and feet
sank first, followed by hips and shoulders. Soon
just one knee of the doll and its face to the cheeks
protruded 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 its prison for
all eternity. As if disturbed by the arrival of a
new resident, the most recent of the other trapped
forms in the dark Queen's boots rippled slightly as
they sought escape from the magical coating that
would hold them forever. The bulk of the
"residents" merely lay still, for they had long ago
worked out the futility of struggling. Indeed, some
had struggled themselves beneath the surface because
the enchantment worked in one direction only. The
evil woman always enjoyed watching their tiny
encapsulated bodies struggle as she pushed them into
their new rubbery home in her footwear.
Hmmmm....Zorelle thought to herself. When the enemy
army surrendered soon, she would have enough
unwilling victims to make a matching catsuit or two.
It would be nice to arrange some of the figures as
shoulder pads. She mused over making a half dozen
different catsuit styles for a moment as she
absently brushed her fingers around two slight
cherry bumps protruding from the boot at her left
thigh. She had long since forgotten who they
belonged to, but they were the only remaining signs
of a captured colonel. It was no longer possible to
identify him much less rescue him - she had endowed
him with massive 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 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 rubber.
"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, 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!>
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. Linda had been cleaned up and her new
lycra Supergirl costume gleamed uncharacteristically
in the torchlight, for it was not lycra at all - it
had been changed into a parody of shiny red and blue
buckled vlatex, notched to its tightest settings for
good measure. In new subtle ways the Sorceress was
emphasising how much power she had over the woman of
steel. Linda had spent the last few 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
disastrously, it had been safe 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 stuffed
toys that were made 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 when I've worked out how to
transfer it to my body....soon I hope!".
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 little different than those
used for cows, but were designed to be quite a
pleasurable experience - once the hormone-induced
milk started flowing. 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 carpeted
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 with 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 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 perhaps 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
fully 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 eyes were mostly permanently bonded
into widely fixed stares - the whites of their eyes
contrasting dramatically against their glossy black
vlatex faces. Row after row of beseeching eyes
could be seen dotting the wall of neatly stacked
barrels that stretched away into the darkness. Some
of the older barrel girls had been lucky enough to
retain their own lips, albeit rubber coated and
heavily gagged, for they had a tap below the point
where their chin would have been from where the wine
could be sampled. Zorelle had soon tired of this
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 fem-service unit, and had it seal over
the barrel girl's faces with an extra flat layer of
vlatex so as to render them forever blind and
smoothly expressionless. Belle gloated on her
control 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
as though 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 a barrel girl! What had she done to deserve
this? She raced to the door of the bedroom, but it
was closed. Without hands, turning the round
doorknob was an impossibility. She threw her new
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 low purr-
like noise 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. He
rolled her over and her tear reddened eyes
immediately blazed with hatred.
"Ah! Merciful silence! You look much better in
this form, my dear wife - I'm almost tempted to keep
you like this....but I have other plans for you.
The grapes are good for an excellent 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 waterproof, flawless rubber skin
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
no matter. *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 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
form the front end of the container. They stood her
new rigid vlatex form on its circular rear end 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
there, Linda's garment began to shrink and stiffen
as it dried.
When the room was opened up the next morning.
Linda lay gasping for water, on the floor in her new
rock hard leather skin. She could now be left in
the suit indefinitely, and there was absolutely no
possibility of escape from it without help.
After giving her a great deal of water to
drink, a guard snapped a collar and leash around the
leather coated princess' throat and pulled her
roughly to her feet. Hobbling along as best as she
was able in very tiny steps, she was led back into
the main anteroom where Queen Zorelle sat. The
captive princess' stiffened leather sheathed legs
were lowered down into two 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 running legs are so much more
attractive! Got any messages for me now?". She put
her ear to the mouth region of the silent statue as
if listening for a voice. "Don't fret gorgeous,
since you can't see, hear, or speak, you'll have
even less time than the Cynthia mannequin to enjoy
your old identity. Your mind will automatically
adjust to the situation - trust me, it always
happens that way. In no time at all you'll believe
you always were a plaster and latex mannequin. The
most joyous part of your new life will be the
feeding times, regardless of what we decide to pump
in. That's if I don't cast the stasis spell on all
of you statues to save myself the trouble."
Linda tried to find a weak spot in her
confinement but as she expected, there were none.
Zorelle was 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. 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.
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 tongue had surgical eyelets added to
them and were laced neatly together, sealing them
closed. Her mouth and protruding surgically
lengthened tongue were tightly laced, 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 her bare 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 per
the evil sorceress's instructions. 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 the
vlatex-coated floor was now her pedestal. If she
hadn't had a stasis spell cast on her she would long
since have suffocated because her nose, mouth and
head had been sealed over completely.
"Since you can't train your own staff how to
serve properly, perhaps you can teach yourself how
to be a rubber statue" snarled Zorelle, giving the
quivering statue an exploratory push. As expected,
the feminine rubber form toppled backwards a little
before juddering upright again. This captive wasn't
going anywhere soon either. The glistening bronze
lips seemed to be trying to mouth words, but not a
sound emerged from the airless voice box. The spray
had hit so fast that even Rosemary's eyeballs had
been coated while her eyelids were wide open in
shock. Her sightless stare would last an eternity.
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 was
required. 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 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 sisters 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 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 extraordinarily fresh
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 an eternity, 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. She cut two small holes for access to
the drugged girl's cunt and rear, and two more
through which her breasts could protrude, and then
pressed the skin smooth all over. 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
and made to walk stiffly along behind Zorelle who
held her leash and led her to a section of the
castle under fresh construction since the takeover.
Linda found that she had no energy in reserve at all
due to the kryptonite embedded in her chest.
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 just to spite her captor. Zorelle was quite
angry at the show of defiance by the time they
reached their destination, so she had her slave
fitted with two huge vibrators that locked snugly
into the Princess's leather costume. An doubly-
layered rubber body bag followed that, once
inflated, compressed Linda's body from the neck down
in a neat tubular mass of ballooning red latex, a
polished sheath that hid none of her new 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. They 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 in a well lubricated way 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.
Very soon you'll have a new concrete pillar to call
home" 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. But you'll
be a permanent prisoner!".
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 mistresses' 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
our new 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 started her black
magic quest, 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 for
her secret police to release every inmate and make
them a staff member, and to 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 warders 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.
For example, 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. In
instead of nipples, her breasts followed a smooth
curve to a point, then turned upwards to a hook, to
finish her conversion into a utility device. 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 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 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 trend 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, but 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 that swallowed their arms and in no
time they found themselves as stiff parcels,
strapped to trolleys and being led back inside the
building. The Directress had seen the entire
exchange on a hidden video camera.
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 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!
Pauline gets punished, while the Rubbermaids look
on.
Pauline, a former interior minister who had
once called Zorelle a mongrel on account of the new
queen's multi-racial parentage, was led to stand
before her. Her 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
still she showed her contempt by refusing to bow for
this "half breed" as she (very stupidly now!) saw
the Sorceress. 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".
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 50% portion 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 Minta:
1) Rubberised Mannequin Maid - with or without arms
2) Vinyl Dolly
3) Marble Statue
4) Shop Mannequin
5) Blow up doll
6) Oak Statue - yes! I can do that!
7) Household Robot - skin type gold, silver or
plastic
Irresistible modifications will be made to her
thought patterns to match your choice exactly"
Lynette thought briefly. It would be fun to
humiliate her former boss 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
black glossy bosom, nipped in her now forever
suctioned 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!
Lynette also had two of her staunch opponents
neutralised by converting them into legless and
armless vlatex dolls. Zorelle 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.
Once in the seat of power, Lynette realised she
had the resources to hunt down the crooked lady
herself and avoid the fee, so she whelped on a
payment. She too was converted into a Rubbermaid.
==========< 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 59% of the 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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