From Mon Sep 21 13:06:24 1998
This is a rather weird story, with many damsels in distress 
and LOTs of latex.

I DID NOT write this story and DO NOT have any claim on it.  
If you wish to contact the author, an email address is 
supplied but it is indicated that all flames will be piped 
to /dev/null.  Requests for latest versions will be ignored.

The Bondage Perils of Supergirl V1.7
by Fast Fist (c/-


*** Copyright (c) 1998 - All Rights Reserved ***
        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.


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.

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 
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.


        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 
one had followed the dark path and survived before.  
Informants told the Princess that Zorelle was using her new 
spells to create an army of mindless followers....completely 
unstoppable, marching them towards total dominance of the 
land and its people.  One by one she was capturing her 
enemies and dealing with them in a terrible fashion.  Only 
Zorelle's wicked mind was capable inflicting such suffering 
on the kingdom.

Dangerous battlefields

        A very tired Princess Linda Danvers used her super 
powers to hover in mid air and scan the massive enemy army 
many miles below.  The hostile force was made up mostly of 
forced conscripts, ordinary citizens who had been captured 
and clad in the glistening black leather bondage suits that 
all in Zorelle's enchanted army wore.  The magical 
punishingly buckled and booted costumes took merely five 
minutes to convert a struggling captive into a docile 
obedient soldier who would follow the destructive woman's 
mental commands without question.  Once controlled by the 
suit, they would walk happily into certain death for the 
evil spellstress, smiling anonymously beneath their tight 
hoods and expanded gags, and even help to force dress more 
conscripts.  Half of the squeaking, suctioned forms had once 
been in Linda's own army, but were now "prisoners of war" 
in every sense.  Zorelle had made some of the conscripts 
into winged rubber scouts, imprisoning their arms and legs 
together in a single tube of frictionless black latex so 
that all but the round circle of their faces was visible.  
She attached dragon-like rubbery wings to their corseted 
backs and controlled them remotely so that the stiffly 
encapsulated scouts flew obediently over what had once been 
their own army.  These flapping rubber creatures observed 
much while arrows battered their dark wings.  Zorelle used 
their vision as her own.

        From her vantage point in the clouds, Linda spied a 
figure in the Sorceress's colours of gold and silver 
standing in front of a very well-appointed tent.  Borne by 
desperation and hoping to catch Zorelle by surprise, the 
Woman of Steel flew down in a split second and appeared 
beside her enemy.  Knowing that she could not allow the 
witch to try an escape or attack spell, she enveloped 
Zorelle's mouth with hers, grasped the spell-weaving hands 
and then utilized her super-strength to crush them.   There 
was a brilliant flash, and the strikingly clad woman she was 
holding seemed to both stretch and collapse into herself, 
looking terrified in the process.  The woman was a decoy, no 
doubt crafted from one of Supergirl's own soldiers.  The 
hapless gold and silver outfitted figure who she had 
imagined to be Zorelle shimmered into a harness of glowing 
green straps....kryptonite!  How had Zorelle managed to find 
some?  Her first thought was to flee, but the nightmare 
harness seemed stuck to her wrists and face already, neatly 
circling her forearms with wide cuffs and sliding between 
her lips to insert a glowing green gag in her mouth that 
expanded to fill every crevice.  She fought against it 
feebly with her rapidly draining strength to no avail.  The 
myriad of remaining straps on the harness encircled her body 
like snakes and threaded themselves through the buckles as 
Linda sank gasping to her knees.  They tightened themselves 
mercilessly and Linda was soon neatly packaged, a powerless 
super-bundle. <IMG src="spgirlgrid2g.jpg"> A layer of the 
cuffs peeled away and rolled down over her hands, forming 
slim D-ringed mittens, canceling any hopes she had of using 
her fingers to undo a buckle or two.  Likewise, her ankle 
cuffs peeled down over her high-heeled blue feet forming 
slippery D-ringed booties of deadly green.  Not to be 
outdone, the straps began unfolding rapidly, doubling in 
width and joining each other until Supergirl was cocooned 
seamlessly from the neck down in polished greeny black.  She 
rolled to the ground in a weakened, dizzy state as her 
collar folded up to cover her chin, then covering her mouth, 
nose, eyes with a clear layer which thickened rapidly.  The 
real Zorelle's black boots came into her dwindling field of 
vision and in her hallucination-affected vision, Linda 
briefly imagined that she could see the forlorn blank faces 
of her recently lost officers staring out at her from the 
surface of the shiny black rubber boot leg....was that the 
mound of a miniature coated breast?....the curve of a 
torturously bent elbow she could see through the green haze?  
No, she decided, trying to  clear her swimming head....her 
mind must be playing tricks.  She lapsed into blissful 


The victory tent

A captured male officer was marched to stand in front of the 
Sorceress as she paced back and forth excitedly in front of 
her throne, unable to stand still for long now that 
Supergirl was her captive.  The six inch metal heels of her 
glossy black rubber hip boots made sharp noises as they 
struck the marble flagstones, a novel flooring for a tent, 
but a luxury that she demanded and received at every new 
battleground.  Against her skin she wore a spectacular 
metallic gold latex catsuit that hugged all of her sumptuous 
body, leaving just her smug face exposed.  The all-in-one 
seamless garment had slim gloves joining the sleeves and a 
glossy attached hood with a ponytail tube in the top from 
which a waterfall of dark hair flowed over a firmly anchored 
golden crown.  Connected to the taut latex at her erect 
nipples and flowing over her shoulders was a large silver 
cloak to complete the ensemble, which was kept polished to a 
mirror sheen by the latex dipped maids who hovered silently 
around her.
  "It looks very much like you chose the wrong side, young 
man" she laughed, pointing out the rubber baby costumed 
form of his former leader and princess sitting docily in the 
corner.  In stark contrast to the way he remembered his 
strong commander a few hours ago, Supergirl was now strapped 
in a high chair and sucking purposefully on a magical 
pacifier.  The all enclosing latex-kryptonite babysuit she 
was sheathed in was designed in attractive transparent 
green.  Her hands and feet terminated in stiff frilled 
mittens and booties, and from the frills around her neck 
hung a sparkling rubber bib, as if ready to catch the 
slightest dribble.  A tight airless hood with a mockery of a 
baby-face fashioned on it was stretched up to cover her head 
from the suit at her neck and crowned with a ludicrous 
little bonnet.  It appeared she could not stop sucking the 
pacifier, which was unfortunate because it was connected to 
the large tank of brilliant green fluid strapped to the back 
of her high chair.  Kryptonite laced water!

The young man gave a stricken cry, and even managed to take 
a step towards his princess, struggling against the powerful 
spell holding him in place.
        "Don't bother.....there is nothing you can do to help 
her." Laughed Zorelle, fingering a small rubber purse on 
the table beside her as she settled her golden form 
comfortably in the throne.
        "She should think herself lucky - I was going to make 
a superheroine pussy purse out of her once she was 
rubberised.  I would have enjoyed watching her pussy zip 
shut and her body collapse - quite distressingly! - into 
that lovely pouch shape, but I realised it would be much 
more fun to string out her punishment."
        She zipped open and fingered the tiny sample latex 
purse, watching the defenseless latex clitoris spring to 
life even though its owner had long since been turned into 
rubber lining.  She waved it at the shaking man.
        "You would look very nice as one of these".  A look 
of horror crossed his face as a zip sealed vagina appeared 
where his sex had been moments before.
        "But no, not today.  I promised myself I'd only make 
clothing trophies for a while - I have a boxful of these 
darned purses already and they never wear out so consider 
yourself lucky.  Soon you'll be just another doll to blend 
into my collection!  Come!  Join your friends".
        Zorelle waved her hand flippantly and in a process her 
staff had seen many times, the officer transformed painfully 
into an abundantly endowed nude female form.  Uselessly 
straining for control of her limbs, the very feminine buxom 
trophy marched like a stiff marionette to a bench near the 
side of the tentroom and lay back on the shiny red vinyl 
surface.  A mist formed around the officer's body as she 
arched in pain.  A short cry escaped her lips, followed by a 
liquid hiss, then total silence.  The air cleared to reveal 
her unaccustomed feminine curves coated completely in glossy 
black rubber.  The sightless effigy wriggled in an effort to 
escape her new costume now that a spell wasn't controlling 
her movements but it was pointless.  Not only did her 
rigidly boned vlatex (a special blend of vinyl and latex) 
layer keep her stretched out flat on the bench, but she 
could not bend her legs enough to even push herself off it 
with the towering heels that had been permanently bonded to 
her booted feet.  Zorelle placed her hands on the black clad 
form and concentrated a little, casting the spell to shrink 
it into a tiny quivering doll in her fist.  She bent down 
and pressed the hand-sized doll against the polished yet 
strangely lumpy smoothness of her right boot and the toy 
sank beneath the surface like it was being swallowed in a 
bog....its arms and feet sank first, followed by hips and 
shoulders.  Soon just one knee of the doll and its face to 
the cheeks protruded from the raven-black layer along with 
the tip of a breast.  Zorelle stopped pushing.  Her latest 
boot addition stared somewhat beseechingly at the world, its 
expressionless vlatex face framed by the glistening sea of 
rubber that was to be its prison for all eternity.  As if 
disturbed by the arrival of a new resident, the most recent 
of the other trapped forms in the dark Queen's boots rippled 
slightly as they sought escape from the magical coating that 
would hold them forever.  The bulk of the "residents" 
merely lay still, for they had long ago worked out the 
futility of struggling.  Indeed, some had struggled 
themselves beneath the surface because the enchantment 
worked in one direction only.  The evil woman always enjoyed 
watching their tiny encapsulated bodies struggle as she 
pushed them into their new rubbery dimension as part of her 
footwear.  Hmmmm....Zorelle thought to herself.  When the 
enemy army surrendered soon, she would have enough unwilling 
victims to make a matching catsuit or two.  It would be nice 
to arrange some of the figures as shoulder pads.  She mused 
over making a half dozen different catsuit styles for a 
moment as she absently brushed her fingers around two slight 
cherry bumps protruding from the boot at her left thigh.  
She had long since forgotten who they belonged to, but they 
were the only remaining signs of a captured colonel.  It was 
no longer possible to identify him much less rescue him - 
she had endowed him with massive basketball breasts before 
turning him into the doll and embedding him until only his 
nipples remained.  His two female aides had been made into 
chesty little rubber Barbie dolls and set face-to-crotch 
inside a dildo shaped sheath that was currently a feature of 
the pussy-stimulation unit wriggling away tirelessly between 
Supergirl's babified legs.

        Linda squirmed weakly against the snugly buckled straps 
holding her in her highchair.  Her Barbie-doll vibrator was 
awash with her own lubricant and the translucent rubber 
costume gripped every inch of her skin, causing undeniably 
erotic sensations.  The spell she was under kept her sucking 
noisily on her pacifier and she was unable to stem the 
strength-sapping flow at all by squeezing her teeth or lips 
together.  The spurting nipple of the oversized dummy 
between her teeth had expanded inside her mouth and could 
not be removed even if she was able to stop her compulsive 
suckling.  She knew that her forced infantization was a 
deliberate reduction of her status for the benefit of her 
rebellious people but there was no way she could avoid being 
reduced to a mere toy when confronted by magic as powerful 
as this.  Through the velvety, transparent latex mask she 
watched as the shape of another of her officers appeared and 
was swiftly coated.  Was this their reward for being loyal 
to her?  Somehow she would save them and exact her revenge, 
but it depended on her survival....right now the Kryptonite 
coursing through her veins ensured she could think of no 
plan at all.  An out-of-focus Zorelle loomed in her green 
tinged vision to gloat over her prize catch.  She adjusted 
Linda's stimulation unit so it sat deeper in her pussy and 
cupped the glossy breasts and stimulated her nipples until 
the princess came again with a slurp.
        "See snugglepot - trying to hold back makes no 
difference.  Come on, say goo goo ga ga for Mommy.  It's 
time to get you ready for the big parade".  She unbuckled 
Linda from the chair and watched the girl slide like liquid 
to the floor.  The feeding tube was still joined to 
Supergirl's mouth and it stretched taut, preventing her 
bonneted rubber head from squeaking against a recently 
created marble flagstone.  The Sorceress unplugged the hose 
from the large tank and joined it to a smaller, softer, more 
portable latex bag full of the same liquid.  The flaccid bag 
had an attached harness which enabled it to be strapped to 
the poor girl's back, forcing her to keep drinking.
        "I have a very special diaper for you to model 
today." said Zorelle as she produced a strange voluminous 
latex diaper and proceeded to glide its frilled mass up the 
captive's gleamingly sheathed legs.
        "It used to be one of your officers too - I'll bet he 
never thought he would be this close to your pussy!".
        The feminine diaper consisted of many puffed and 
stretched layers of glossy polished latex, crafted in the 
same iridescent blue colour her Supergirl costume had been, 
and it had her large `S` super logo stretched across the 
generous padded bottom.  The cool rubber slid into place, 
covering her sex and enveloping her from thighs to hip in a 
strange tingling embrace.  The tightening of an attached 
smooth latex buckle belt at the waist and two more around 
her upper thighs ensured that no leakages could occur from 
the sealed diaper.  Zorelle attached a leash to Supergirl's 
posture collar and dragged her along an expensively carpeted 
part of the tent floor, forcing her to crawl along behind on 
all fours because she lacked the energy to stand.  As they 
left the tent, Linda felt the tingle of the magic diaper 
again.  She experienced a sudden stab of pressure on her 
bladder and her green-shrouded face reddened with shame as 
her muscles involuntarily released control.  The warm fluid 
flowed from her groin for over a minute, and filled her 
squeaking diaper to bursting point.  A faint sloshing sound 
could be heard as the babified rubber princess crawled 
behind her captor, who was marching her through the 
appreciative ranks of her evil army.  In front of the massed 
forces were the huge city gates, already shattered and ready 
for the invasion of the city.  All pockets of defenders had 
been flushed out or overrun days ago.  Striding through the 
gates with her metal heels striking sparks on the 
cobblestones, the evil queen led the procession into the 
heart of the city, dragging her unwilling infantized display 
piece behind her with its bulging Supergirl logo gleaming 
across tautly stretched buttocks.  The loyal citizens sobbed 
in fear when they recognized the super symbol and the 
identity of the adult rubber baby being paraded past their 
homes and down the streets to the castle.  Supergirl's 
public humiliation had begun and the morale of her people 
was broken. 


A lithe figure ran from one pool of shadow to another in the 
corridor.  Her star spangled uniform identified her as the 
Amazon super hero, Wonder Woman.  Wondie knew that by 
finding Zorelle she would also find her friend Supergirl and 
perhaps rescue her.  To her surprise, after subduing just 
two rubber soldiers who had been coated to the pointr of 
uselessness outside a room, she stumbled upon Supergirl.  
But she was not dressed as Diana expected.  A large adult-
sized playpen with gold rubber coated bars held the 
enthusiastically slurping baby that had been her friend.  
Dressed in her frilled rubber daiper and enveloped over that 
from the neck down in a shimmering transparent green baby's 
romper that included feet and hands, the rubber baby still 
suckled on her tank of kryptonite water, lacking the 
strength even to climb over the low golden barrier that 
fenced her in.  Linda looked up through the green haze of 
her mask at the sign of movement and could just make out the 
distinctive costume on the figure approaching.  It was her 
friend Wonder Woman, come to save her.  The Amazon beauty 
was more than a little turned on by the fetish scene before 
her but hid her disappointment that she would have to 
release her friend instead of enjoying a little fun first.  
The lubricant from her own pussy would have been long but 
time was short.  She stepped over the low fence and did not 
notice the universe shift around her as she passed through 
the magic trap that extended from the top of the barrier to 
the ceiling.  She did however immediately notice her vision 
tinge to green and looked down over her body to find that 
she was now dressed identically to Linda.  She had become a 
rubber infant too.  A feeding tube snaked away from her 
mouth and try as she might, she couldn't dislodge it.  The 
second baby in the pen struggled briefly as the first of 
powerful drugs pumped down her feeder into her mouth, but 
her limbs became heavy and soon she was laying still with 
her friend, slurping pitifully.


  The next day, Zorelle eyed the matchingly dressed women, 
beautiful latex babes that differed only in hair colour.  
She pulled the new dark haired one to its feet and out of 
the playpen, unlocking and disconnecting its feeder tube 
from the constantly suckling mouth flange.
"So nice of you to join us Wonder Woman!  I knew you would 
be along to play with your friend sooner or later but I 
never realised you wanted to live your life in the crib.  
You can't in fact - I have other plans for you.  First of 
all you will become one hundred percent submissive, starting 
with your career as Supergirl's nursemaid.  Ultimately the 
original Wonder Woman as you know yourself will cease to 
exist, but for now I have a rather special place for you in 
the throne room.  Maids!  Bring her along!"
        Zorelle pointed at an adult-sized circular child's 
training walker that was waiting to be used beside the crib.  
The large, rubber coated plastic toy had four castors 
underneath to allow a frictionless glide and looked 
moderately normal from the outside, albeit oversized.  
Wondie's gleaming legs were lowered through the internal 
harness of the donut-shaped unit and straps pulled tight 
beyond her reach to lock her in place.   Looking down at the 
front of her humiliating vehicle near her hips, Diana 
noticed a rigid plasticized face of a woman staring unseeing 
up at her.  She wondered who the artwork was modelled on and 
followed the curve of the toy around with her green-hazed 
eyes and found a hardened breast on the left and right - 
they were the comforting bumps on which she had been resting 
her slippery hands.  Wonder woman reached behind and sure 
enough, she could feel the embossed folds of a stiffened 
plastic pussy.  She was sitting in the middle of a 
horrifically modified victim!  At first she refused to walk 
but a threat from Zorelle to totally babify her mind there 
and then and be done with her immediately changed Diana's 
attitude.  On latex padded feet she rolled herself along, 
following the striding Sorcoress through the secret passage 
to the throne room.


Maids lifted a round boiler cap that was hinged to the 
flagstones of the throne room to reveal a body-sized tube 
sunken deep into the floor.  Wonder Woman's feet were fed 
into the opening and she found it deep enough to be able to 
stand and still see the proceedings in the room.  An air 
compressor hose was attached to a concealed valve in the 
front of her new green playsuit and activated.  The flow of 
air separated married sheets of latex all over her suit and 
began to fill the cavities within, expanding her form to 
occupy every inch of space in the hole.  She was soon held 
prisoner by the layers of compressed air and rubber in her 
costume, trapped with just her head and neck exposed at 
floor level.  The hood and the collar of her inflated latex 
babysuit were removed and replaced with a circular latex 
seal emlazoned with her bright stars and stripes logo where 
all could see.  The seal fit cozily against the base of her 
bare throat and was zipped to the circular edge of her 
prison to close her in completely. <IMG src="wondie.jpg">  
Under the Sorcoress's watchful eye, a conjured male demon 
went to work on Wonder Woman's permanent enslavement.   With 
blinding speeed Wondie's lasso was fashioned into a tightly 
woven golden collar with no end, fused into a tight 
unbreakable loop by the very masculine demon.  When it was 
done, the demon bowed goodbye and vanished moments before a 
television crew arrived.  Cameras were wheeled in to focus 
on her plight.  Stencils on the cameras showed that it was 
for the hit TV segment "Real Rubber TV".

The anonymous voiceover boomed.
"Live from Her Majesty's throne room, today only, a special 
mystery guest who cannot lie - over to you, Fetishgirl!".

Fetishgirl gave her black rubber corset dress a final spray 
of polish and turned to face the camera.  She had jumped 
through hoops to get this television job, even to the point 
of getting her whole epidermal layer of skin stripped and 
replaced with bright yellow latex.  She couldn't afford to 
stuff it up now.  She pouted her saffron-coloured lips at 
the lens and gave her trademark kiss as she lifted the chain 
on the lid to reveal the disemodied head of a prisoner 

"I think most people ought to know already, given that 
design we can see on....what is that?....some kind of latex 
seal?  For the viewers out there, Georgeous, tell us who you 
are." she purred, half at the camera, half at the 
struggling captive.

The snared Amazon shut her lips tightly and resolved to say 
nothing but they sprang open of their own accord and she 
heard herself speaking clearly into the proffered 
        "I am Wonder Woman".  Her golden lasso-collar was 
making her tell the truth!
        Fetishgirl smiled with a squeak of her pneumatic rubber 
lips and breathed closer to Wondie's face as the cameras 
zoomed in for a closeup.  "Bearing in mind that you are on 
national telivision, tell me your darkest sexual fantasy"

The beautiful prisoner groaned at the question, for she knew 
she could do nothing but be honest.  "I have always liked 
being bound and helpless during sex games with my 
lovers....I was secretly hoping to be captured on this 
mission so that I would have no choice other than to become 
Zorelle's rubber sex-pet as I have heard happens to others.  
I feel that I need it."

The interview continued as Fetishgirl probed deeper and 
deeper into Wonder Woman's secret desires.  The inflated 
captive talked about everything from dildo suits to forced 
sex with aliens as her hidden self was bared to the world.  
She spoke out loud that she wanted to ask how much it would 
cost to get glossy artificial skin like the voluptuous 
presenter.  Little did she know - she was now in the hands 
of a monster, who would soon remove all traces of her former 
personality from her body, starting with her lovely tanned 
skin.  The interview abruptly finished when the sleek 
presenter unlaced her suctioned dress, crouched down and 
mashed her glistening yellow latex pussy into the mouth of 
her interviewee.  Noisy slurping could be heard by the 
millions of viewers as the folds of soft rubber that was her 
pussy were eaten out thoroughly.  After the climax Wonder 
Woman's lid was lowered back into place and she was once 
again deprived of sight and sound as darkness enveloped her.  
Outside, the TV station played an ad break about some new 
life-sized sex dolls on the market and Fetishgirl was being 
congratulated on her interview and prepared for her next 
show, a tour of a milking factory.


Soon the less restrictingly bound staff of the castle 
discovered she was trapped in the floor.  Diana quickly 
became the castle pussy-eater.  She was given no food other 
than pussy juice and the occasional luxury spurt of high-
protein semen from a lucky envoy.  On her fifth day, just as 
she was getting used to the taste of her feeding sessions, 
she was deflated and released by two strangely dressed 
nurses who were catsuited to the eyes in white vinyl.  It 
was the first time Wonder Woman had seen the recently 
adopted travel uniform of the Asylum nurses and she 
marvelled at the lack of seams and impossible constriction 
of the heavy duty garments.  The nurses strapped Diana 
tightly to a medical stretcher using an intricate network of 
interlaced leather straps and re-inflated her to ensure 
complete unity with the trolley.  In this form she was 
transported without even the hint of a struggle to the 

Wonder Woman's time in the Asylum was awful.  First her 
breasts were artificialy enlarged by the insertion of huge 
kryptonite-silicone implants.  Her eyes turned a bright 
glowing green almost immediately as the foreign substance 
permeated her body.  Her fingernails and toenails turned the 
same artificial hue but the rest of her body showed no 
visible signs of the contaminant that would run through her 
veins forever.  Trapped in the stasis field of the auto-do 
cubicle, her skin molecules turned completely to rubber.  To 
an observer it appeared that she was wearing a head-to-toe 
stars and stripes catsuit made from very tightly polished 
latex, but it was actually her new permanent uniform.  She 
would shower in it, sleep in it, wear ever more restrictive 
clothes over it - it would be with her for the rest of her 
life.  Huge cow-udder teats as long as her hand protruded 
obscenely from her glistening bosom, and thanks to a tiny 
slow release hormone capsule injected invisibly into her 
neck, she was already dribbling a light green milk from each 
teat.  Her fingers were blended seamlessly together to form 
single paddle hands and her feet were stiffened into 
painfully arched ballet boots that she would have to wear to 
bed for there was no way to take her own feet off!  True to 
Zorelle's orders, parts of her brain were adjusted and 
remodelled to prepare her for her new life.  The real Wonder 
Woman was locked away in a section of her mind where she 
could only feel and observe while she was made as obedient 
as a lapdog.


Gongs announced the arrival of the new slave for the Queen's 
audience.  Zorelle gazed lovingly over her very own 
rubberised Amazon.  The surprised looking creature squeaked 
as she approached for her muscly, latex resurfaced curves 
were additionally squeezed into a billowing vlatex ballroom 
dress.  The heavy garment had been designed in an old world 
style except for two small circular buckled openings at the 
bosom.  Through these openings squeezed Wondie's 
impressively matronly milkers.  Zorelle wanted the slave's 
freakish modifications presented to the watching kingdom at 
all times, even if it meant constant discomfort for the 
redesigned superheroine.  The shiny dress too had Diana's 
familiar stars and stripes design all over it to ensure that 
everyone knew who the gorgeous wearer was.  Zorelle cupped a 
hefty breast in each hand and rubbed until the nipples 
extended to their full length.

"Welcome to my nursery Wondertits!  There, give Mistress a 
smile - you should be very happy here now that you are my 
pet!  You're going to be the wettest of all dream nurses for 
Superbaby - even if your special milk is her downfall"

Wonder Woman inside recoiled in horror realising she would 
be instrumental in the destruction of her best friend.  
Outwardly Wondertits however showed no negative emotions of 
any kind - her new body flushed with helpless pleasure at 
the though of her nipples being suckled.  Her time at the 
Asylum had been a success.  She would not only willingly 
feed baby Linda, but she would design ever more humiliating 
costumes for her ever-weakening charge as she forced the 
captive heroine towards total helplessness. 

The folds of her gown rustled softly as she climbed the low 
fence of the playpen as she had done in a different form 
just a short time ago.  She disconnected the feeding tube 
from the mouth-flange of the foetal adult baby and replaced 
it with the left udder from her magnificent star-spangled 
bosom.  Superbaby resignedly accepted the nipple and fed on 
it with spell induced gusto, her strong suction stretching 
the coated flesh to twice its extraordinary length.  Soon 
the udder had slipped through her tonsils to nestle deep 
down her throat, spraying the doubly potent strength-sapping 
milk almost directly into her stomach.

In her mind, the real Wonder Woman watched and teared 
impotently at her unbreakable mental bondage.  She was a new 
creature now - Linda's giant kryptonite wet-nurse - and 
could never have a will of her own again.  While her subject 
was feeding, Wondertits gazed down over her body.  Beneath 
the matchingly designed and polished dress she wore, `Tits 
had her rubber stars and stripes uniform-skin.  She would 
always glisten like her protruding breasts did.  It was 
almost as if she was coated by a thin sheen of sweat, but 
she knew she could never sweat again.   She ran a useless 
hand around a bizarre latex teat on her glistening bosom to 
see yet again if it was real.  She loved her remodelled 
titties.  She hoped that Zorelle would someday make her 
udders long enough to tie together in a bow, albeit a 
slightly painful one.

She cuddled her arms around Linda's frilled head and looked 
down into terrified eyes.
"Look at the wonderful changes they made to me in the 
Asylum, Superbabe - these huge rubber tits are designed 
especially for feeding you!  I am now Zorelle's very own 
sex-pet and she says that you are going to be mine for 
awhile.....delicious!  They fixed my mind to make me like 
it!   Now I am a complete submissive, although I can be a 
domina where required, especially for you.  If you're 
looking for the old Diana, she's still in here somewhere but 
she will _never_ get out.  Right now I have her wearing a 
stainless steel block from the neck down, but even if she 
somehow got free she couldn't come back to reverse my 


  Of course the public had a ringside seat as the former 
Amazon gave Superbabe a disciplinary spanking, strapped down 
over Wondie's lap on a chair, wearing adult sized frilled 
baby spanking pants that left the bottom covered by just a 
condom-thin yet impervious layer of latex.  Linda actually 
cried when she saw the tiers of free public seating in the 
stadium - a latex bonnet, zipped closed down the front and 
inflated had kept her surroundings hidden for the 
preperation of the show - a show she would repeat all day 
every day for two weeks.  Often, while wearing a transparent 
full body daiper, a costume with frills in every conceivable 
place, Supergirl would be magically induced on close-up 
camera to soil herself at which time her ever-attendant 
nurse would strap her to a puffed pink rubber table, clean 
the helpless heroine's bottom and give her a humiliating 
glossy bright blue diaper change.  Copious kryptonite milk 
breast feeding was the climax of the show as Linda sat 
buckled in a papoose bag and high chair affair.  Her 
pitifully brainwashed nurse was using a breastfeeding regime 
designed to enslave and Superbabe could feel herself 
succumbing ever so slowly to the physical and mental 
pressure of being reduced to an adult baby in front of the 
public who had once adored her.


Months the throne room of the royal castle a 
shackled heroine, dressed once again in her Supergirl 
costume, stands before a haughty sorceress queen:

        At Zorelle's magical coercion, the heroine in distress 
jerked like a puppet involuntarily forward with a jingle of 
her chains.  Thankfully Princess Linda no longer wore her 
strength-sapping green babysuit; in another room an 
unidentified rubber woman was being forced to keep that 
discarded outfit warm in a high chair bolted to the bottom 
of a large aquarium full of gradually hardening and 
pressurised clear latex.  Supergirl's domineering mistress 
Wondertits had been releived of her duties as wet nurse and 
was using her impervious skin to advantage as she crawled 
enthusiastically around with bright yellow Fetishgirl in a 
glass-walled playpen of thick semen for yet another segment 
of "real rubber TV".  Her again-extended nipples were 
bound together in a cute little bow just as she had asked 
for.  Linda on the other hand had been cleaned up and her 
new lycra Supergirl costume gleamed uncharacteristically in 
the torchlight, for it was not lycra at all - it had been 
changed into a parody of shiny red and blue vlatex.  Dozens 
of bright silver buckles notched to their tightest settings 
were strategically placed in the garment, down the small of 
her back, at her wrists, between her thighs and at her neck.  
Her curves were accentuated by the the long sleeved 
cheerleader's dress, nipping her naturally hourglass waist 
into almost nothing.  In new subtle ways the Sorceress was 
emphasising how much power she had over the woman of steel.  
Linda had spent the last few weeks wearing a full body 
version of her latex diaper which sealed at the throat, 
wrists and ankles.  The gallons of Kryptonite spiked water 
they had been making her drink had soon filled it to 
bursting point as she lay in hospital restraints in her 
special adult crib in a huge glass display case in her old 
room at the castle.  When the green mineral had invaded 
every cell of the Princess's body and sapped her strength to 
a level where she could be handled safely for a known 
period, it was possible to release her restraints and put 
her on public display in her crib.  Tens of thousands of her 
previously loyal subjects filed silently through the castle 
for a look at the fate of their Princess.  There Supergirl 
lay, in her frilly, humiliatingly full baby costume, 
surrounded by little pink rubber dolls and inflated rubber 
toys that had been specially crafted from soldiers from her 
defeated army. 
        There in the throne room, with no energy reserves at 
all, standing weakly in front of her captor, she could do 
nothing but be a fetish marionette for the moment.  Zorelle 
clawed the air in front of her and Supergirl's barely-worn 
vlatex super costume was torn from her by invisible hands.  
Outfits could be created or destroyed in the blink of an 
eye; the new queen demonstrated this often unless she wanted 
to observe her victim being reduced to helplessness slowly.  
The evil woman murmured a single word and the nude princess 
was instantly clothed again, this time as a military issue 
concubine.  The full-length catsuit was made of black patent 
leather, doubly stitched for strength, joined to a tight 
chrome collar at the neck, and to closely fitting metal 
manacles at both her wrists and ankles.  The skin-tight 
outfit had oval holes for her attractive breasts, which had 
always defied the light gravity in a remarkable way, and a 
thin slot between her legs which opened to a mass of blonde 
pubic hair when she parted her legs.  The suit glowed with 
minute quantities of kryptonite powder, enough to render the 
girl powerless against bonds that she would ordinarily laugh 
at, and the boning from the corset-like waist of the catsuit 
were made from a cage of Kryptonite fibres embedded between 
the layers of leather.  The evil queen was emphasising her 
control.  The suit did not have any zips or lacings, and 
appeared to have been sprayed even if she had a 
little energy, Supergirl could not entertain the thought of 
struggling free of the humiliating costume - she would 
require cutting tools and help.  She fell to her hands and 
knees and a jeweled posture collar was slotted around her 
throat along with a leash.  Zorelle slid her fingers over 
the taut costume of her deliciously helpless new pet.
        "Maids!  I want our captive to spend the night wrapped 
in a krypton-plaster cast - over the top of her new finery, 
of course!  Oh! - make sure you leave her breasts free of 
the plaster - I will be along later to connect her up to the 
milking machine."
  She ruffled the hair of her captive heroine and snibbed 
the end of Linda's leash to the single D-ring at the back of 
a waiting transport maid.  The maid wore the standard stiff 
vlatex maid's costume, but her black rubber coated arms had 
been fused together behind her in a permanent arm binder.  
The snugly moulded addition mated her two limbs neatly into 
one, flowing in a smooth unbroken line from the shoulders to 
where her fingertips had been, terminating in a large ring 
designed for carting various trolleys and suitably helpless 
prisoners throughout the castle.
        "I have sooo many experiments for you to try my 
dangerous little pet - I'm sure I can relieve you of that 
super strength soon....I will find out how to transfer it to 
my body!".

        The transport maid dragged her weakly resisting charge 
away and the other maids followed to begin wrapping 
Supergirl in her full body cast for the night.  Zorelle knew 
her staff would have had the newly installed castle milking 
machine warming already, for a luckless individual had been 
installed in it every night so far.  The recently created 
machines were hardly different than those used for cows, but 
were designed to be quite a pleasurable experience - once 
the hormone-induced milk started flowing, of course.  The 
slurping cups could be excruciatingly painful until the 
first droplets of product appeared.  Zorelle had quite a 
taste for human milk and had wasted no time in starting a 
large dairy factory where row after row of rubber cocooned 
milk maids hung in tiny hay lined stalls, quietly feeding 
the populace with their massively enhanced mammary glands.  
The black and white cow-patterned podlike costumes stretched 
the fully enclosed maids taut by the hands and feet and 
angled their dappled bodies a foot above the ground to an 
optimal forty-seven degrees for milking.  A polished brown 
leather collar with a large attached cow bell provided an 
attractive contrast against the crash-test dummy colours of 
the amorphous hood that joined the costume.  Once squeezed 
into a tiny milk maid skin and incarcerated in the factory 
there was little chance of release, for Zorelle had decreed 
that the dairy be a one way trip.  Unless there were other 
plans for them, the milk maids passed through an induction 
programme which removed their capacity to concentrate on 
anything but muscle control for milk production.  Men did 
not escape their duties either, for it took just one extra 
day for the hormones to turn a man into a large breasted, 
fully functional milk producer.  Zorelle soon discovered 
that the hapless males produced stronger milk than the 
females, so she had the half feminized creatures milked 
between the legs as well as the breasts to add to the feed 
of the ladies and pass on some of their potency.  The brain 
re-arrangement of the producers did not seem to stop the 
milkmaids that were predisposed to misbehavior.  The worst 
would wait patiently until they heard the muffled voices of 
the attendants nearby and kick wildly the moment they felt 
any of their connecting tubes being handled, sometimes even 
dislodging the milking cups from their constantly spurting 
nipples.  These recalcitrant milkers were disconnected from 
the hooks stretching their pods and fed without further ado 
into a chute to the loosely named "Battery Section" of the 
factory.  There they were given a dose of potion that 
retracted their arms and legs into their bodies while moving 
all of the extra body mass to their already enormous 
breasts.  An appropriately smaller latex sheath became the 
new attire of the compact milkers, leaving no evidence of 
limbs that had once existed.  They were lifted easily by 
machinery and hooked to their straining bars.  The cows were 
strained so close together in the battery section that each 
rubbed her armless latex shoulders against her neighbor.  
Their distorted, efficient torsos shuddered from the strong 
vibrations of the continuous milking process, causing their 
super-stretched rubber coatings to squeak disagreeably.  The 
Battery Milking section was always quite noisy and not a 
favorite of the dairy staff, even though its occupants were 
zero maintenance - completely controlled and enhanced by 
automatic machines from the moment they arrived in the 

The wine cellar

   Humming happily to herself, Zorelle headed down to her 
wine cellar to choose something fruity to go with the 
evening's meal.  As expected of an evil dictatoress, her 
cellar was huge, with hundreds of barrels of surprising, 
exquisite liquor stretching away into the cool darkness.  
The quantity wasn't the surprising part.  Each barrel 
contained the armless and legless torso of a rubberised 
woman, stasis-spelled and pressurised into complete 
immobility.  The entombed females were nursing the precious 
fluid surrounding their warm vlatex bodies to maturity - a 
process which could take hundreds of years.  The only 
visible part of these silent helpers was a rigid, glossy 
rubber face protruding from the sealed rubber end of each 
barrel, heads bent achingly back so they looked straight 
ahead as the barrels lay naturally on their sides.  The 
barrel girl's expressions were fixed for eternity, their 
eyes mostly bonded in widely fixed stares - the whites of 
their eyes contrasting dramatically against their glossy 
black vlatex faces.  Row after row of beseeching eyes could 
be seen dotting the wall of neatly stacked barrels that 
stretched away into the darkness.  Some of the older barrel 
girls had been lucky enough to retain their own lips, albeit 
rubber coated and heavily gagged, for they had a tap below 
the point where their chin would have been from where the 
wine could be sampled.  Zorelle had soon tired of this 
wasted opportunity.  She found it more aesthetically 
pleasing to have a tap protruding directly from the rubber 
lips and to modify the internal plumbing.  Having eyes fixed 
wide open could be quite traumatic for newly converted 
barrel girls, for over the months and years they saw many 
cellar rats crawling between the barrels, and often had 
large spiders making their webs over their rubber faces.  
Zorelle had been collecting and barreling vintages since her 
first year of exile, making up the contents with enemies and 
agents who had been sent to keep an eye on her.  Each spy 
had no choice but to continue her watching job, but from the 
discomfort of her own personal barrel.  Zorelle didn't care 
much who she barreled these days, but she had added some fun 
to the process.  Often she would just seize the first person 
who happened by, sheath and change him/her into a high-
heeled, armless vlatex doll, and make the bizarre figure 
stomp her own grapes before conversion into a new addition 
to the cellar.  Zorelle made a gift of five barrel girls to 
her new senior minister Lord Eccles, one of whom was his 
freshly tap-mouthed ex-wife, barreled without his knowledge 
for they had separated on bad terms.  Eccles graciously 
accepted the gifts and placed them on stands in his 
entertaining room where they could be the subjects of 
interest and humiliation by guests.  His current wife Belle 
took an instant dislike to the pretty rubber faces with 
their darting eyes and gave such a tantrum when she found 
out who the pink beribboned barrel contained that Eccles 
finally gave in to her smug demands.  He called in a service 
unit, and had it seal over the barrel girl's faces with an 
extra flat layer of vlatex so as to render them forever 
blind and smoothly expressionless.  Belle gloated on her 
control over her man as she slid her fingers over the 
polished hard rubbery curves that hid the face of the woman 
she had replaced a few years ago.  She had won again.  
Little did she know, but in six months time she would give 
her last ever tantrum.  It was to be a silly yet common 
incident where she demanded that her Lord stop seeing his 
brother because she was jealous of his wife's sense of 
humour.  Sure enough, the next day she found herself 
sheathed in armless vlatex, tap-mouthed in readiness and 
walking her six inch booted feet in a circle through the 
grapes she would accompany in her barrel:

        Belle woke up in bed feeling very strange.  Something 
was wrong with her eyes.  She couldn't blink properly.  Her 
skin was tingling with an unusual pressure from all 
directions.  "Must be another hangover" she thought and 
tried to push herself to a sitting position and rub her 
eyes.  Her arms positively refused to answer so she twisted 
her legs and rolled over onto her back near the edge of the 
bed.  "I ought to remember not to sleep on my hands next 
time" Belle thought groggily.  Ow! her neck was so stiff 
she couldn't turn her head.  She gyrated to a seating 
position and caught her reflection in the mirror, gasping 
with horror - or she would have gasped if the tap wasn't 
where her mouth used to be.  Her entire body had been coated 
- dipped in black vlatex, and her arms were *missing*, her 
glossy shoulders showing no evidence of where limbs had been 
attached just hours before.  Ballet booted feet tapered 
endlessly away from her as she lifted her foot into her 
field of vision.  She was going to be a barrel girl!  What 
had she done to deserve this?  She raced to the door of the 
bedroom, but it was solidly closed.  Without hands, turning 
the round doorknob was an impossibility.  She threw her 
latex self down on the pink satin sheets and sobbed - or 
tried to sob, but her mouth tap was in the "off" position 
and all that came out was a few sniffs from her nostrils.  
Lord Eccles opened the door and looked down over the shiny 
black vlatex creature that lay face down on the bed making 
funny noises.  The ebony darkness of Belle's artificial skin 
was framed beautifully  by the contrasting masses of pink 
satin sheets.  The doll on the bed had been his wife just 
twelve hours earlier and it was too late to change her back.  
He must press on.  He rolled her over and her tear reddened 
eyes immediately blazed with hatred.
"Ah!  Merciful silence!  You look much better in this form 
dear wife - I'm almost tempted to keep you like this....but 
I cannot.  The spell has more work to do on you and I have 
to decide what to fill you with.  The grapes are good for an 
excellent Cabernet vintage this year.  You look so stiff!  
Permit me to examine you with my hands - after all, you can 
do so no longer!" he laughed, skating his fingertips over 
every inch of her surprisingly sensitive frictionless body, 
marveling at the workmanship that Zorelle had described in 
her magic potion - the same potion that Belle had quaffed in 
her wine the evening before.
        Belle spent the whole of the day automatically walking 
around in circles in her grape crushing half-barrel, often 
stumbling into the rich red grape mash, coating her flawless 
waterproof rubber body in juice.  When she had filled a 
large tank with her forced stomping, the juice had a 
fermenting culture added and it was again mixed.  Lord 
Eccles reached over the edge of the stomping barrel and 
grasped hold of his soon to be ex-wife's mouth tap, pulling 
her to face him.
"Now comes the time for you to make your dramatic departure 
from the real world, my dear." he murmured with a hint of 
sadness.  "I hope that my next wife marries me for love 
instead of money or power.  But I really didn't mind that so 
much.  *You* had to be such a bitch on top of it all, didn't 
you?  You'll have plenty of time to reflect on your 
foolishness Belle, at least while you still have your mind, 
that is!  Such a waste of one of the sexiest women around 
  He opened her mouth tap and she immediately felt a 
sensation of falling towards the ground, down towards the 
pool of unused juice about her ankles.  Her beautiful legs 
were getting shorter!  In seconds they were completely 
retracted such that just two vlatex ankle boots protruded 
from her hips where her legs had been.  They quickly 
disappeared altogether.  Unbalanced, Belle toppled flat onto 
her back in the ruby fluid.  She had become a rubberised 
torso of herself, limbless and helpless as a newborn baby.  
A tube from the fermenting tank was connected to her facial 
tap and without further ado the tank's contents were hosed 
into Belle's mouth tap.  As the fluid was pumped in, a 
second layer of the skin on her torso parted and expanded 
like a balloon, rounding into a barrel shape and forcing her 
head to arch back and become the front end of the container.  
They stood her new rigid vlatex form on its circular bottom 
and Belle could feel the cool liquid streaming down the 
front of her glossy internal breasts and the pressure 
building up.  The tank filled and she could feel her 
thoughts blending with the young wine.  Lady Belle had been 
turned into a barrel girl.  As a barrel girl, she was 
labeled clearly and given pride of place in the entertaining 
room for a few weeks before her face was sealed over just as 
she had ordered done to her compatriots beside her.

        Brushing cobwebs aside to peer at labels, Queen Zorelle 
always found it difficult to choose a vintage, but settled 
on the barrel that contained the first boyfriend who had 
ever dumped her.  She waved at a shapely drink-maid who 
scurried over and connected her rubber mouth flange to the 
end of the tap protruding from his feminine glossy pouting 
lips.  There was a brief hiss of escaping air as the seal 
was made good and Zorelle turned the tap, allowing dark red 
wine to flow steadily into the drink maid's breast tanks, 
expanding her rubber bosom to massive proportions.  The evil 
queen briefly toyed with the idea of giving the drink maids 
their arms back so she wouldn't have to do the menial task 
of connecting the seals herself, but no, she enjoyed the 
look of horror on the faces of both unwilling participants 
enormously.  The drink maids always panicked when their 
breasts expanded so much that they thought they would burst 
or fall over - walking was difficult enough already on their 
ballet booted rubber legs without ten litres of wine to 
carry - and the barrel girls were horrified too, because 
they all knew that their amount of retained humanity was 
directly proportional to the amount of wine they nursed 
inside their rubber forms, almost as if their intelligence 
was stored in the wine itself.  And so it was.  With each 
glass, the best of their thoughts and knowledge were being 
transferred forever to Zorelle's ever expanding mind.   
Empty or near-empty barrel girls watched the world with 
vacant stares and no recollection of who they once had been.  
Zorelle had all their memories, and even used this 
information to seize and barrel whole groups of friends.

Linda the spectator.

        Queen Zorelle, leader of the victorious army ran her 
sleek gloved hand over the hardened plaster figure of a 
completely encased Princess Linda, now set solid on all 
fours, her plaster knees and palms supporting her weight on 
the floor, with her enlarged heavy breasts hanging exposed 
below to be swallowed by the vacuum milking cups of the 
Auto-Milk machine.  By casting a strong motherhood spell, 
Zorelle had extracted hundreds of litres of super milk from 
Linda's enchanted bust and quite enjoyed it on her breakfast 
each morning.  The spell was only temporary and would return 
her bosom to normal size within a few days, but inside her 
stiffened shell Linda was wondering if she would have to 
carry the huge breasts around forever.  Zorelle pointed at 
the white figure.
        "Okay, I want our princess to be able to see what's 
going on again.  Cut her out and put her in slave girl 
restraint.....with the usual trimmings of course so she 
can't move."
  Linda was relieved of her plaster layer and inner 
concubine catsuit with a diamond saw, and struggled into a 
similar tight fitting leather jumpsuit-like outfit that had 
been dampened in preparation for the dressing.  The black 
one-piece garment had ridiculously long straight jacket 
sleeves and was so snug a fit that she could barely move.  
It had a high, restrictive buckling collar and an attached 
kidskin facial hood that was so tight that you could perhaps 
tell who she was beneath it.  Embedded in the suit at the 
groin were two dildos pointing inward;  one large one which 
was slid up her cunt, and another smaller one which was 
pushed up her rear.  Both dildos were hollow, which allowed 
her to answer the calls of nature when she needed to, but 
they could also be unscrewed from their position and 
replaced with any of the torture devices the evil sorceress 
had developed for those openings.
        The moist straight jacket was securely laced up the 
back with steel wire from the small of her back to the top 
of her head by a specially designed binding machine and 
welded together, leaving poor Linda struggling for breath, 
her head hidden beneath the amorphous mask.  Both of her 
hands were laced tightly into the mittened sleeves of the 
garment; one ended in a buckle, and the other, a strap.  Two 
female guards took hold of her damp, leather enclosed arms, 
wrapped them snugly around her body so that she was tightly 
hugging herself, and buckled them firmly in position against 
her torso.  Her buckled cradling arms lifted her compressed 
bosom so that the suit clearly showed imprints of her 
nipples in the fabric.
        Next came a pair of similarly wet thigh length leather 
boots raised on six-inch stiletto heels.  They were laced up 
so snugly that she could not bend her knees at all.
        "Lock her in the drying room" ordered Zorelle.
The drying room was a large padded cell with a huge fan at 
one end blowing hot air through it.  No matter where a 
person was in the room, their clothes would be dried by the 
fan.  After a short while in the room, Linda's garment began 
to shrink and stiffen as it dried.

        When the room was opened up the next morning.  Linda 
lay gasping for water, on the floor in her new rock hard 
leather skin.  She could now be left in the suit 
indefinitely, and there was absolutely no possibility of 
escape from it without help.
        After giving her a great deal of water to drink and 
attending to her toilet needs, a guard snapped a collar and 
leash around the leather coated princess' throat and pulled 
her roughly to her feet.  Hobbling along as best as she was 
able in very tiny steps, she was led back into the main 
anteroom where Queen Zorelle sat.  The captive princess' 
stiffened leather sheathed legs were lowered down into two 
fresh holes in the floor facing the throne.  Her feet were 
locked in place from beneath the floor so that she remained 
fixed with her waist at floor level.  To an observer it 
would appear as though she had no legs at all.  Laces were 
released to expose her face, and a harness of straps and 
hooks was placed over her head which pulled apart her upper 
and lower jaws to keep her mouth open wide, rendering 
intelligible speech impossible.

        Zorelle clicked her fingers and Linda's friend Cynthia 
was brought out.  She had been stripped of her leather 
hobble sheath gown they originally dressed her in and shaved 
from scalp to toe.  With her hands converted into useless 
appendages by tight leather mittens, Cynthia had been 
teetering from one mind-numbing punishment to another for 
the last month.  She stood struggling between two guards, 
her lips protruding unnaturally over the large red ball gag 
she had in her mouth, the straps for which dug deeply into 
her cheeks.  The gag and straps were part of a modified 
horses bridle that she had strapped around her head, which 
had the added effect of sealing her deeply packed ears from 
the outside world.  Another array of snug straps around her 
hips and lower torso held a similar-sized red ball wedged up 
her pussy.
        The dark queen turned to Linda, "I am so used to having 
her around to play with, I have decided to make Cynthia a 
permanent fixture, to serve me here as a piece of practical 
art.  She will become a living mannequin, to join the others 
already being used by my seamstresses in the bondage 
clothing workshops.  She could survive up to ten or fifteen 
years once painted with our special lacquer.  The 
meticulously tested formula cannot be removed once applied - 
it's permanent" laughed Zorelle. She picked up a large heavy 
tin and a brush.  "Let's begin shall we?"
        Chains and metal cuffs were locked on Cynthia's hands 
and feet.  The chains pulled taut so that she was raised 
upright above the ground in a spread-eagled position.  
Stepping forward, Zorelle dipped her brush in the glutinous 
liquid, and began liberally painting all over Cynthia's 
trembling body, with the exception of her sex.  The lacquer 
dried very quickly, and Cynthia's struggles became less 
effective as her skin began to harden and appear glassy.  
Zorelle painted Cynthia's face and smooth hairless head too, 
her buttock-length black hair many days gone.  Even the poor 
girl's eyelids were lacquered rigidly and permanently open, 
her eyes magically modified as an afterthought to retain a 
the wide stare of a frightened animal.  When Cynthia was 
immobillised, the shackles and harnessing straps had to be 
removed so that the areas they covered could be painted 
also.  With sucking noises, the two red balls were extracted 
from her, one from her puckered mouth and one from her 
pussy.  She stood there stiffly like a scarecrow, with her 
legs and arms widely outstretched while the evil queen 
painted her some more.
        Linda watched from her position in the floor in 
powerless horror as her friend became a glistening hardened 
statue.  Even though the coated girl was obviously never 
going to move again, Zorelle continued to apply coats of 
lacquer to her captive until the large tin was empty.
        The dressmaker's dummy that was once Cynthia had an 
open circular mouth through which a feeding tube of life 
giving soft food and nutrients would be inserted once a day.  
She could not speak because her tongue and voice box had 
been swiftly removed when she was first captured, but her 
breathing was ragged as if she was trying to warn Linda of 
her fate in Zorelle's hands.  The sorceress demonstrated how 
tubes could be inserted between Cynthia's legs to collect 
her waste products and even force fed back into her using 
small pumps if she had to be punished....not that she could 
possibly disobey anything now - but Zorelle would think of 
something.  The only movement possible in the lacquer doll 
was a pair of tearful eyes, forever open and moving and 
watching.  She was propped up against a wall behind the 
throne with all tubes connected in place.
        "Oh, don't worry, Cynthia dear....after a few weeks as 
a mannequin you'll really start to believe you are 
one....and after a month or two you'll have trouble 
remembering your own name.....most of my dummies can't even 
remember they had names at all!  Believe me, there is no 
return from *that* state, my pretty one."
        "I once lacquered a *very* pretty explosives 
scientist, but after three months the lacquer broke down and 
I thought she would need an immediate re-coat.  Not so!  She 
was already long gone into mannequin-land.  She really 
thought she was one - didn't move, couldn't remember how to 
talk properly or even think straight.  I had to dip her in 
flexy stiff vinyl to make her look and feel like a dolly 
again just like she wanted.  She actually begged me to!"

  Since the cost of supplying feed to all 'tubed' captives 
added up, Zorelle usually cast a stasis spell on them, 
especially after the novelty of feeding them their own waste 
products wore off.  The Cynthia doll was so modified three 
months later.  This meant that she could not die from 
starvation or any other ailment such as lack of oxygen as 
long as she was being sustained magically.  Much later, when 
Zorelle grew tired of playing with her rigid life-sized 
doll, she slid her down on the top of a short pole on an 
ornate stand and fixed her in position.  This made her into 
a more conventional mannequin, raised with just the tips of 
her toes touching her pedestal.  Cynthia was used as an 
experimental bondage mannequin for a few years until the 
factory had a big cleanout, and she was moved into warehouse 
storage along with a half-dozen other dolls who had shared 
her original fate.  The Cynthia doll disappeared unnoticed 
one night, no doubt smuggled home by a lonely night watchman 
to brighten up his decor.  Not that she cared who owned her 
anymore - she had long ago pushed the painfully happy 
memories of her past life from her mind and rollercoasted 
into a nicely maintainable empty-headed role.  As long as 
she was kept on her lovely stand, Cynthia was content.  
Perhaps one day somebody would come to rescue her, but 
perhaps if she made an effort to stare blankly at the wall 
they would leave her be.  Time would tell.

        The next one of Linda's friends to be led out in front 
of her was Joanna, also naked.  Joanna prided herself on her 
muscular physique and had been a runner for Supergirl's 
messages during the war.
        "Ah Joanna....put her in one of our new inflatable 
rubber suits, ready to be pressurised" ordered Zorelle.
        After a brief dressing struggle Joanna was wearing the 
strange bulky black garment, enveloping her completely from 
head to toe with all the sealing zips locked closed.  Her 
only links to the outside world were small breathing tubes 
in her nostrils, and the much larger ones forced into her 
mouth, cunt and rear.  Once the enveloping costume was 
inflated, these tubes were designed to keep her body 
supplied with the minimum of life-giving essentials whilst 
removing any wastes she produced.  The wearer could be 
enclosed indefinitely without need for removal.
        Zorelle screwed a hose onto the valve at the very top 
of Joanna's suit and with a little hiss of escaping gas, 
connected the other end of it to a nozzle on the wall.  She 
turned on a tap and the pressure suit began to fill and 
expand steadily.  But not with air.  The substance that was 
inflating it was heavy, plainly a kind of paste.  The 
rubber-sheathed creature was dragged like a giant bloated 
slug down onto the floor under the extra weight.  Joanna's 
arms were inexorably lifted out, away from her body as the 
pressure of the swollen suit gradually overcame her 
strength.  Linda's worst suspicions were confirmed when a 
helper moved revealing a label on the pipe reading "Q.D.P."
        "Yes, that's right, Joanna is to become one of my 
statues also, my dear" gloated Zorelle as she followed 
Linda's gaze.  "A plaster one this time though.  Once the 
suit has been completely inflated, Joanna will be compressed 
and immobilised inside.  This Quick Drying Plaster should 
set in about ten minutes, and it will swell as it dries, 
compressing her with the pressure.  The plaster also 
generates quite a lot of heat as it sets, which I am sure 
will be unpleasant for Joanna with the hot tight rubber 
against her skin."
        When the suit had completely ballooned out, it become 
so heavy that it took four guards to lift the swollen 
captive to her feet and hold her in a standing position.  By 
the time the pressure in the drum-stretched suit had reached 
90 PSI according to the pressure gauge on the pipe, all 
movement from the girl within had ceased.  The guards 
wobbled the sides of the suit to consolidate any tiny air 
bubbles and make them boil back up the filling tube, topped 
it up one final time and screw-capped the valve closed.
        Zorelle waited patiently for fifteen minutes while the 
rubber and plaster encased girl hardened.  She cut away the 
outer rubber layer to reveal a bulbous white plaster statue 
beneath.  It had no features save several tubes that were 
hanging from the face and groin.  The guards were instructed 
to carve a likeness of Joanna's face on the head of the new 
plaster dummy and to dress it in fat rubber imitations of 
the clothes that Joanna was wearing when she was captured, 
including a rubber evening gown, rubber petticoat, rubber 
corset, and high heeled rubber lace-up boots.  The dummy's 
shoed feet were set into a heavy plaster pedestal to prevent 
it from toppling over and then the dummy containing Joanna 
was slid over to rest beside the stiff lacquer mannequin and 
had its tubes connected to the pumps.

Zorelle laughed as she ran her hand down the back of the 
smooth white plaster head.
        "Ooh! Your athlete's legs are so much more attractive 
now, messenger girl!  Got any messages for me?".  She put 
her ear to the mouth region of the silent statue as if 
listening for a voice.  "Don't fret gorgeous, since you 
can't see, hear, or speak, you'll have even less time than 
the Cynthia mannequin to enjoy your old identity.  Your mind 
will automatically adjust to the situation - trust me, it 
always happens that way.  In no time at all you'll believe 
you always were a plaster and latex mannequin.  The most 
joyous part of your new life will be the feeding times, 
regardless of what we decide to pump in.  That's if I don't 
cast the stasis spell on all of you statues to save myself 
the trouble."

        Linda tried to find a weak spot in her confinement but 
as she expected, there were none.  Zorelle was neutralizing 
her enemies as quickly as she could, and Supergirl was 
unable to save any of them, at least not yet.  The evil 
sorceress had a complex about being overpowered in her sleep 
because it was then that magi were most vulnerable.  She 
made an effort to ensure all non-believers were safely 
packaged....even a sorceress liked a good night's sleep.

        Another former messenger, Lisa, was brought in and 
fastened by wrists and ankles to the vertical rack.  She was 
very pale, freshly hairless, and looked somewhat relieved at 
being released from months as a stretched milk maid for the 
troops.  The mass of black and white latex that had been her 
cloying sheath during milk production lay discarded on the 
floor.  What Lisa currently thought of as her name, 
"Daisy" could be read in small lettering amongst the folds 
of mottled shiny rubber, and would soon be stretched larger 
than life across the back of her replacement Daisy in the 
dairy.  Daisy's relief did not last long.
stammered Milkmaid Daisy, explaining that she would try to 
produce more milk next time.  She looked around at her 
audience with big glazed brown eyes that had once been deep 
blue, and as she did so Supergirl noticed that her cowgirl 
friend now sported little button-sized horns that were 
starting to grow from her temples.  The forced induction 
programme at the dairy had left Lisa with a new name, a room 
temperature IQ and matching single-syllable vocabulary.   
She had had few opportunities to exercise the latter from 
within her beautifully patterned kayak-shaped cocoon as she 
hung in her tiny cubicle at the dairy.  The figure-hugging 
pod had always kept her perfectly silent, holding an 
expanded penis shaft down her throat that spurted slightly 
salty, liquid hormones into her stomach every hour, swiftly 
converting her into the huge-breasted human cow currently 
seen stretched out naked on Zorelle's vertical rack.  In a 
flurry of activity, breathing tubes were placed in her 
nostrils, and a food tube sealed to her lips.  Waste 
disposal tubes were inserted into her lower body in the same 
way the others had been.  Once prepared, the guards 
proceeded to wrap every limb of her body tightly in rolls of 
slimy plaster impregnated gauze, the kind used to mend 
broken bones.  But Daisy had no broken bones.  Before long, 
she was encased from head to toe in a catsuit-like thin 
plaster body cast, which hampered any attempt at bending her 
limbs to any great degree.  Her hands were balled into tight 
slimy white fists that were going to be of no use to her, 
wet or dry, and her spectacular milk-maid breasts were 
wrapped close to her chest by a criss-cross of plaster 
bandages, hampering her breathing.  While the plaster was 
still saturated, Daisy was released from the rack, 
completely encased in seamless white.  Her slippery form 
with the protruding tubes slithered helplessly to the floor, 
trying to crawl on her knuckles and knees, completely 
disoriented by being unable to see or hear.  The poor girl 
could not even recall what she had done wrong, for that 
information had once been stored in a thinking part of her 
brain which had been neatly erased during cow training.  
Daisy had little more intelligence than a real cow at her 
        Since the plaster was still freshly applied, she could 
still move in a limited fashion, but to no avail.  This was 
not to be the extent of her confinement.  The guards lifted 
Daisy to her feet again and held her already stiffening arms 
so that they crossed and cradled her generous bosom, pulling 
her legs together as though standing to attention.  They 
attached the start of a large roll of the gauze to the back 
of her head and wrapped her from head to toe again, 
effectively mummifying her.  Her static plaster form was 
laid down on its back and left to dry until completely hard.  
During that time, the movements from within became less and 
less as the stiff wrappings shrank considerably.  This made 
her fully prepared body so narrow that Linda imagined that 
her friend could not have fitted inside it at all.  Zorelle 
assured the captive princess that Daisy was still quite 
alive by amplifying the sounds of her labored breathing for 
a moment.  The plaster mummy was painted in an exquisite 
Egyptian style and placed under glass in the Royal Museum 
along with the rest of the historical Egyptian exhibit.  Her 
feed tubes were connected out of sight of the patrons who 
would shuffle by day after day, remarking on the timeless 
beauty of the rigid painted mummy with the oversize breasts.

        Back in the throne room, a serving girl teetered over 
to Zorelle with the queen's afternoon coffee on a tray.  The 
girl wore a completely clear plastic ballet boot costume 
that was laced from her toes to her nose, and the ensemble 
had special additions that ensured she kept her tightly 
stretched clothing on.  Through the clear plastic covering 
the servant's mouth it could be seen that her lips and 
artificially lengthened tongue had surgical eyelets added to 
them and were laced neatly together, sealing them closed 
both against and through the clear plastic.  She wasn't 
planning to speak out of place anytime soon.  A little 
ribbon with "Tammy" written on it hung from each plastic 
sheathed nipple.  In a disastrous attempt to please her new 
employer the girl hurried a little, catching her heel on the 
edge of a rug and spilling a single drop of hot coffee on 
Zorelle.  The evil queen exploded with rage and grabbed the 
clumsy girl's hobbling chain and anchored it to the floor.  
Zorelle produced a little vial marked "plasticiser" from 
her potions bag and dipped a tiny pin in it.  The serving 
maid's eyes widened and she trembled visibly with fear.
        "Hold still dear.....this won't hurt a bit" she said 
as she pricked the tethered serving girl on the cheek, 
ending a half-hearted attempt to avoid the poison.  The most 
immediate change was that Tammy stopped moving the instant 
she was jabbed.  After a moment a shine crept down the 
girl's cheek as her skin and flesh became translucent, 
changing into some kind of artificial substance...seemingly 
a kind of plastic.  Her head went misty and in moments had 
turned completely clear as the effect travelled down her 
neck.  Her lithe shoulders and breasts hardened and became 
clear too as the change worked more rapidly.  All Tammy 
could do was stand there as the plastic grew downwards, 
flowing down her flat stomach like water and making her legs 
crystal clear.  Just as the plastic reached her toes Tammy 
felt a rush of panic and then nothing, as all thoughts left 
her forever.  Zorelle quickly pressed the statue's palms 
together in front of her as though in prayer and pushed it 
to a crouch.  It had taken just a few seconds to transform 
clumsy serving girl Tammy into erotic plastic towel rail 
Tammy.  Zorelle ordered the new furniture to be placed in 
the servant's showers.

        Of course, plastic Tammy had a trainer, Rosemary, who 
was ultimately responsible for the actions of her serving 
girls.  Rosemary soon found herself naked, with the soles of 
her feet epoxied to the marble floor in the corner of the 
throne room.  But nobody was ever naked long in Zorelle's 
kingdom.  Nozzles and melting tanks were set up around her 
at all angles and she was sprayed with a continuous fine 
mist of bronze vlatex.  She tried to scrape it off but it 
cured almost the instant it touched her skin.  The sticky 
film could not be avoided no matter which way she twisted.  
For many hours, coat after rubber coat was applied to 
Rosemary, buffed and glossed to mirror perfection each time 
as the evil sorceress had requested.  That evening Zorelle 
checked on what she planned to call her "rubber statue 
corner".  She found a finely polished bronze vlatex 
creature struggling fruitlessly against her new rigid 
rubbery sheath.  Rosemary's bronze hands had bonded to her 
bronze hips where she first tried to brush off the coating 
and they had stuck instantly.  The vlatex-coated floor that 
blended seamlessly with her feet was now her pedestal.  If 
she hadn't had a stasis spell cast on her she would long 
since have suffocated because her nose, mouth and head had 
been sealed over completely.
        "Since you can't train your own staff how to serve 
properly, perhaps you can teach yourself how to do this 
correctly - be my rubber statue" snarled Zorelle, giving 
the quivering statue an exploratory push.  As expected, the 
feminine rubber form toppled backwards a little before 
juddering upright again.  This captive wasn't going anywhere 
soon either.  The glistening bronze lips seemed to be trying 
to mouth words, but not a sound emerged from the airless 
voice box.  The spray had hit so fast that even Rosemary's 
eyeballs had been coated while her eyelids were wide open in 
shock.  Her sightless stare would probably outlast the 
flagstones she was mounted on.
<IMG src="psgspray.jpg">

Something Fishy Going On.

        Plasti-skin was a recent medical breakthrough used 
mostly for plastic surgery.  Once it was pressed against its 
recipient's body, it would become permanent and alive if not 
removed within five minutes.  Despite the skin's capacity 
for good, Zorelle had found evil ways to make use of it.  A 
few men who had been captured alive in the battle were 
shaved and forced to don anatomically-correct female plasti-
skins that transformed their bodies completely on the 
outside.  They were tortured and brainwashed until they had 
become submissive slave girls.  The girls, often seen 
wearing heavily laced Edwardian gowns made from transparent 
plastic, were a relaxation for Zorelle when the stresses of 
her long days suppressing the kingdom got to her.

        The next of Linda's friends to be punished was a proud 
Amazonian called Melanie, who had been the princesses' 
chamber-maid and protector.  Zorelle barked an order and a 
white vinyl nurse-nun, Sister Josephine from the Sisters of 
No Mercy bowed into the room with a swathe of shimmering 
garments made from plasti-skin on a silver tray.  The sister 
no longer wore her traditional black and white cloth medical 
habit, for it had been replaced with a tightly buckled white 
vinyl catsuit that hugged her curves leaving nothing to the 
imagination.  The red cross of the catsuit was bright 
between her glistening snowy breasts, and her vow of silence 
was guaranteed by the attached skintight hood that left just 
the demure eyes and nose uncovered.  Bulging plastic cheeks 
betrayed the huge expando-gag Sister Josephine wore beneath 
her enclosing regulation head gear, and the only sound she 
made was the rustle of her outfit and the click of her ten 
inch heels as her booted feet touched the stone floor with 
each dainty step.  The fabric between her thighs was so 
tight that it bisected her pussy into twin mounds, no doubt 
a punishment in itself when walking any distance.  The 
Sisters of No Mercy had once been a charitable religious 
order before Zorelle had done an "inspection".  With the 
help of a few choice spells she added a "No" to the name 
plate on the front of the convent and converted the whole 
order into one that would worship her alone.  The plastic 
nuns were compelled to do only her bidding - especially 
useful when medical procedures were required.  The 
ridiculous heels were very difficult to balance on, so the 
sister's hardened feet were always clamped to the floor 
before a delicate operation.
        Keeping Sister Josephine teetering patiently, the evil 
sorceress turned to look at Melanie who was laying nude on 
the cushions beside the throne.  Under the effects of a 
compulsion spell, the bronzed Amazon had been helplessly 
frigging her drooling pussy with a colossal dildo for the 
last hour.  The over-sexed figure nestled amongst the satin 
cushion shook as her pussy gripped the shaft in rhythmical 
spasms and another climax wracked her body.
        "Uhhh....please make it stop... ....ohhhhhhhh... 
..uh... 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 

Trudi and Pamela were identical twins.  During the fall of 
the city they had answered a desperate knock on their door 
and found Melanie, very scared, on their step - she was on 
the wanted list.  They looked after her and lay low for 
several days until a surprise raid netted the three of them.  
The sisters had no hope of release - aiding a wanted 
"criminal" was a serious offence - and their conversion to 
mermaids was swifter than Melanie's had been.  Beginning 
life as the rubber ballet slippers they had been made to 
wear, the rubbery skin curled up their nude bodies with the 
aid of Zorelle's magic and had no five minute setting time.  
Crazy with fear, the freshly created twin mermaids caused a 
wild scene in the throne room.  The distressed women began 
thrashing their powerful tails in all directions, bowling 
over a number of the chambermaids who rushed to subdue them 
and even toppling a porcelain vase girl who shattered in a 
million pieces on the marble floor.  Eventually the sheer 
number of rubber-clad maids grasping them managed to hold 
the wriggling girls still.  Long couches were wheeled from 
backstage of the throne room entertainment area and the 
mermaids were grasped by both arms and strapped down on 
them, right to the tips of their tails.  An enclosing, 
muffling metal helmet, with a single blinking red light on 
the top was placed over the head of each fish-tailed girl 
and activated.  All in the room watched the jiggling forms 
as their movements diminished and finally the light changed 
to green.  Two placid, well adjusted mermaids were released 
and handed a pile of shimmering green vlatex that turned out 
to be their costumes.  They obediently helped to dress 
themselves, sliding their tails and upper bodies 
simultaneously through the single tiny opening down the back 
of the fully enclosing and heavily lubricated skinsuits, 
casting a spray of radiated green light across the room.  
Once the transformed girls had squirmed fully into their 
frictionless outfits, there was a hiss as all remaining air 
in the sheaths was expelled.  The small slits up their 
glossy backs sealed shut and then disappeared without a 
trace as the enchanted costumes took over the packaging 
role.  The girls showed indifference as the airtight vlatex 
was suctioned against their faces, demonstrating the 
effectiveness of Zorelle's stasis spells when breathing was 
impossible.  The vacuum-sheathed kryptonite rubber mermaids 
flopped greasily around on the floor as Zorelle made them 
tiny.  When they were a small proportion of their original 
size, the petite rubber creatures were doubled over and 
squeezed into globular bags made from the same everlasting 
green vlatex.  The stretchy prisons were topped up with 
lubricant and then sealed closed, leaving two slightly 
transparent seamless soccer balls quivering and bucking on 
the floor as if they had a life of their own.  The half fish 
half woman creatures tested the strength of their warm 
slippery homes by thrashing joyously around inside.  The 
latex walls that enclosed them gave ground initially with 
each push, then sprang neatly back into place.

The jiggling globes were rolled over to where Linda watched 
powerlessly from her embedded floor position, still wearing 
her tightly stretched leather slave girl restraint.  She 
struggled to free her arms from the stiffened leather 
sleeves of the straight jacket that cradled her leather 
covered bosom but the material was like sheet steel.  The 
part of the costume covering her breasts shimmered and 
disappeared, exposing her naked skin to the air of the room 
- air that seemed refreshingly cool due to the hot confines 
of the suit.

Zorelle carefully lifted the large wobbling rubber creations 
in her hands and, kneeling down, squashed them against 
Supergirl's comparatively miniature breasts.
    "Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have 
breasts this big, Princess?  No?  Well, how about you try it 
for a while....perhaps forever?"
        The sorceress's eyes glowed and her hands became 
difficult to see clearly, but it seemed apparent that she 
was slowly sinking her fists and the implants into Linda's 
chest.  The princess of steel almost passed out at the sight 
of Zorelle's wrists protruding from her presented bosom, 
watching in dismay as the evil queen slid her fists deeper, 
as if Linda's super-flesh was made out of soft wax.  The 
princess could feel Zorelle maneuvering the implants into 
position inside her breasts and after what seemed like hours 
the invading hands withdrew, minus the load they had been 
carrying.  The result: Supergirl with gravity defying size 
EE breasts!  The evil queen had developed this bizarre 
method of control for Linda because the kryptonite vlatex 
that encased the mermaids inside the Princess's new breast 
inserts would prevent her from mustering any of her super 
strength until they were removed - and there was not a 
scalpel in all the land that could cut Supergirl's flesh.  
In fact, Linda would not need restraining at all unless she 
found out a way to remove the implants.  Having a "live" 
bust caused the princess much distress - her two captives 
kicked and struggled night and day, jiggling her heavy 
breasts even as she slept....or tried to sleep.  Zorelle 
squeezed two tautly stretched nipples between her fingers.
        "Your plastiskin'd bosom buddies are there to stay 
Princess.  I hope you'll enjoy getting to know them - they 
are certainly enjoying their new format, courtesy of our 
little `beg to be bound' helmets here".  She cupped the 
huge mammaries and felt their ponderous weight.
        "My! These will be heavy!", Zorelle chuckled, half to 
herself.  "Don't worry Supertits! - I have plenty of 
costumes with stiffened backs to lace you into!   
Hmmmmm.....I wonder if I can add boning and laces to a 
plastiskin garment - perhaps you could end up as my super 
mermaid?...we'll see!"

        In the past, Zorelle had also used the skin to get her 
revenge on a serving maid called Lillian who had tried to 
poison her.  Zorelle drugged the girl's food, and whilst she 
was asleep, she rolled Lillian tightly from the neck down in 
a large sheet of plasti-skin.  Before pressing the skin 
smooth all over, she cut two small holes for access to the 
drugged girl's lower openings, front and rear, and two more 
through which her breasts could protrude.  Long after the 
five minute setting time had passed, Lillian awoke to find 
that she could not get up.  She could not seem to get her 
arms or legs to move at all.  They had disappeared, and 
apart from her head, breasts and sex, she looked like a 
rather curvaceous human worm, destined for one of the 
queen's brothels.  Lillian's accomplice Charlotte was 
revenged upon in a similar but worse way.  She simply had 
her usual plastic prison bedsheets and pillows replaced with 
identical plasti-skin ones.  She awoke the next morning to 
find that she had been permanently fused into her bed.

        Linda was lifted from her recess in the floor to 
balance weakly on her boot sheathed legs.  Zorelle grasped 
her leash and dragged her away from the throne room at a 
brisk pace, each stiffened step bouncing and jiggling her 
new bosom.  Linda found that she had no energy in reserve at 
all due to the kryptonite embedded in her chest, but despite 
the difficulty of walking upright with the extra weight of 
her bosom pulling her down over her towering heels, she 
managed to walk perfectly all the way.  She would spite her 
captor if it killed her.   They reached their destination; a 
section of the castle had been under construction since the 
takeover and the sorceress was also the architect.  Zorelle 
was quite angry at the show of defiance, so she had her 
slave fitted with two huge vibrators that locked snugly into 
the Princess's leather costume.  A doubly layered rubber 
body bag followed her cruelly buckled inserts, and once 
inflated, it compressed Linda's body from the neck down in a 
neat tubular mass of ballooning clear-red latex, a polished 
sheath that hid none of her busty attributes due to its 
glistening transparency.  The super-captive was lifted to 
her air cushioned feet and buckled in a dozen places to a 
recently finished pillar so she could watch the progress of 
the royal builders.  These hard working staff were examining 
a set of plans to work out which prisoners were supposed to 
be installed where, and as which part of the 
building....perhaps as components for a door or a ceiling 
relief.  Zorelle had drafted many plans since renovations 
had begun.  The builders were checking the numbers on the 
blueprints against the numbers on a rack of anonymous black 
rubber pods that hung in storage until they were needed for 
installation.  Zorelle commanded the worker's attention.

        "Release pod sixty two - that annoying wench who was 
captain of the guard.  We'll do the support pillar now.", 
she said.  Linda's loyal subject Valeria slid, well 
lubricated, from the breached seal at the base of her pod.  
After a brief cleaning ritual a punishment and feeder helmet 
with the standard air and food hoses attached was laced over 
her head, leaving her without sight or voice.  Valeria was 
dragged to a huge perspex cylinder about two metres in 
diameter that ran vertically from floor to ceiling.  At the 
queen's command, her head, arms, and legs were pulled back 
as far as they could go into adjustable round openings in 
the cylinder.  The guards entered the pillar via a door in 
the base and shackled the silent girls' limbs rigidly inside 
it to rings, so that only her naked torso remained outside, 
leaving her anonymous vagina and breasts arched achingly to 
the world.  The food and air tubes protruding from her face 
were connected to two remaining holes in the cylinder which 
were just above her head.
        "Welcome to your new home, number sixty two.  This 
concrete pillar will be it for a very very long time!" 
announced Zorelle, chuckling at the sight of the struggling, 
but firmly secured woman.
   "When the pressurised concrete sets, only your naked 
torso from the throat to hips will be on the outside of the 
pillar....then you'll feel what I felt in your dungeon so 
many years ago - despair!  I suspect your loss of freedom 
won't be as temporary as mine was!".
   The builders made fast work of the concrete pipe assembly 
that would be feeding into the top of the pillar because 
they did not want to fall victims of their mistress's feared 
temper.  Once it was all done, Zorelle took hold of the 
control lever, but hesitated with a sudden malicious 
        "Hmm.. I can use this pillar to kill two birds with one 
stone so to speak.  Bring in Donna."
        Raging impotently against her layers of stifling red 
latex, Linda remembered that Donna had been one of her best 
infiltrators, and had narrowly missed the evil queen with an 
arrow before she had been captured.
        Tightly bound in a network of crimson latex straps that 
made up her body harness, with two vibrators buzzing loudly 
inside her, Donna appeared.  Sucking fearfully on her gag, 
she was pushed through the small door to stand in the center 
of the cylinder.  Her feet were locked to the floor in a 
widely spread stance, and just the gag was removed to free 
up her mouth.  Without bothering to connect any tubes to the 
girl on whom she had passed a death sentence, Zorelle shut 
the door and bolted it.  She pulled the lever and liquid 
concrete began pouring slowly over pleading Donna's head, 
flowing like thick grey mud down her body.  Some concrete 
also splattered the head and limbs of her stretched 
motionless partner Valeria in the process.  In a little 
while, the lumpy liquid had reached Donna's thighs, and had 
completely covered the inner portion of wall-bound Valeria's 
legs, stretched out as they were.  Donna gasped under the 
flow of grey liquid and cried out desperately
        "Zorelle please!  I can help you.  I'll tell you 
anything you want to know!"
        "You already have my dear" answered the queen, smiling, 
"you told me everything straight away when we forced the 
truth serum into you.  The other impalings we did to you on 
torture stools and the like were simply for my 
entertainment.  Of course you would remember nothing of your 
confession dear, we reverted your mind back to childhood for 
a while.  Your dozen or so helpers were easily rounded up 
and now they grace spare bedroom number six, as arm and 
legless rubber pillows".
        By then the concrete had completely covered the first 
girl Valeria, and the level had raised to the height of 
Donna's breasts and neck.  Donna began to scream.  When the 
liquid had reached the now completely grey girls' chin, 
Zorelle halted the flow.  She had a hole drilled at Donna's 
face height in the cylinder and a wide pipe was pushed 
through to the helpless girl.
        "Open your mouth you little traitor!  It is your only 
hope for survival!" cried the sorceress with an evil gleam.  
Donna opened her mouth as wide as she was able and allowed 
the pipe to be forced and twisted in between her teeth.  The 
concrete flow was restarted and quickly covered the 
terrified captive's head.  In twenty minutes the whole 
column would be filled, but would be left for days to dry.
        Before the column was completed, Zorelle brought out a 
finger-thin Burrowing Snake from a basket she materialized 
and handed it carefully to a handmaiden.
        "Feed this little cutie down the mouth of the tube we 
just made" she said.
        "But surely my mistress doesn't want to kill her now" 
cried the girl, horrified that she had been told to take 
part in the proceedings.
        "What did you say wench?  I'll teach you to disobey a 
direct order!  Plastiskin her!" shouted the angry queen at 
two reluctant guardswomen.  Wanting to make an example of 
her, she raised her fist at the petrified girl.  "Seal her 
into one of the plastiskin body stockings."
        The guards pounced on the handmaiden and stripped her.  
One of them held open a pearl-coloured skinsuit, careful not 
to handle any part of it for too long, while the other 
forced the girl into it.  The featureless skin adjusted 
itself to the maiden's proportions and covered her smoothly 
from head to toe, with the exception of two small nostril 
holes for air. The frightened convertee was held down while 
the plastiskin set on her.  After five minutes, the guards 
released their grip and she had changed to the 
unrecognisable state that the dark queen had ordered.  Even 
though she could still breathe through the two nostril 
holes, her mouth and all other openings were now sealed 
over, so that she would not be able to eat and would 
eventually starve.  The pale, ghostlike figure was 
mouthless, could not see or hear, and her groin area was now 
a smooth sexless region.  The pitiful, smooth-headed 
creature was dog collared and chained to the throne as an 
example to all.  She flopped pathetically around the floor 
in her new condition scrabbling where her mouth and eyes had 
once been with smooth awkward paws.
        "Now for the snake." ordered Zorelle heartlessly "You 
do it!" she said, pointing to another handmaiden.  Unwilling 
to share the fate of her featureless comrade, the frightened 
girl fed the snake down the mouth of the tube.  The reptile 
entered willingly, since it sensed a source of heat ahead to 
burrow into and lay its eggs in.  It slid quickly down the 
tube until it was halfway in when it paused slightly.  Faint 
gagging noises could be heard and then the snake continued 
its progress, burrowing down the throat and into the warm 
body of the still living stasis-spelled woman who would 
incubate and provide food for its babies.


The sanatorium

It was usually warm and sunny in the little country village 
of Greenhaven.  The place was barely a dot on the map, known 
only for its hosting of the State Asylum for Women, a 
complex large enough to house a thousand inmates.  The 
residents of these heavily secured white buildings remained 
there for the protection of both themselves and the public - 
since Zorelle had seized power, no news of events within 
escaped its imposing walls.

Many years ago, when Zorelle had begun her quest for black 
magic, she was forcibly sent to the Asylum by the Guild of 
Magicians.  There she received some severe punishment before 
escaping.  Recently, as the vengeful ruler of the country, 
Zorelle decreed that her secret police should release every 
inmate and make them a staff member, and imprison every 
nurse and warden and sign their lives away forever as new 
inmates.  In a single overnight raid, the staff became the 
inmates, and the inmates became the staff.  She provided all 
the new psychotic wardens with magical auto-do cubicles, 
which had the power to change a victim to any format or 
costume once sealed within.  Most of the new wardens were 
quite insane to begin with, and one by one their recent 
human gifts paid terrible penalties for imagined 
transgressions.  Each former guard or nurse patient was 
heavily modified to make the idea of ever escaping their new 
home laughable.  Even the humble tea lady was now a half 
human, half machine trolley creature that pushed itself 
along the corridors with its leather hip-booted legs.  The 
front half of former Nurse Jones spent the rest of her days 
as a warm metal statue protrusion from the rear inner wall 
of a locker in the wardens change rooms.  A once-patient of 
hers found it gratifying to hang his clothes on the hooks 
that now terminated her polished metal bosom.  Instead of 
nipples, her breasts followed a smooth curve to a point, 
then turned upwards to a hook.  She had been converted into 
solid metal furniture.  Months ago, sealed helplessly inside 
her warden's auto-do cubicle, Nurse Jones had shimmered 
through many different formats to conform with the images 
generated in the crazy head of her new master, who sat 
comfortably in a chair nearby wearing the pickup headset and 
watching the display screen.  She was just thankful that she 
had retained her mind and not been made into a drooling and 
packaged vlatex vegetable like her two ex-warden friends she 
had watched emerge before her.

It was one year since the great war, and Maria had just 
finished her nursing degree.  She saw an advertisement in 
the newspaper for a job at the asylum and secured herself an 
immediate interview.  The director of the institute seemed a 
little odd, given that she was dressed in a very severe 
white vinyl dress that stretched from her chin to her 
ankles, but she was pleasant enough, and Maria needed money 
desperately so she accepted the job.  Fashions of late had 
been tending towards the restrictive anyway - Maria quite 
expected women to be wearing bondage harnesses in public 
soon if the tightly laced trends on the catwalks continued.  
The guided tour showed many stiffly restrained and gagged 
inmates, some undergoing thought replacement therapies with 
coloured lights and computer generated tapes.  It was 
obviously the place for people with serious mental problems.  
The one-piece uniform Maria had to wear was a purest white 
vinyl nurse's dress, in a style similar to the director's 
except for the hobble-skirt to her ankles and the long 
sleeves with attached sterile mittens.  A long zip up the 
front of the dress stretched the shiny material taut over 
her skin making it an effort to move, but every nurse 
working there wore that regulatory uniform and seemed used 
to it, so Maria soon forgot her initial annoyance with the 
dress code.  She worked long hours and found an uneasy 
feeling in the place she could not put her rubber-stiffened 
fingers on.  One day, her curiosity got the better of her 
and she briefly ungagged one of the struggling patients who 
was scheduled for her final round of thought replacement.  
The panicking woman was hopelessly combination locked to the 
conveyor belt leading to the docilisation chamber, but 
before she was erased to total obedience she managed to 
share the full tale with Nurse Maria.  Maria acted like she 
didn't believe the story, and fussed over her recently 
created feminine automation as she walked it back to its 
room.  It struck her as unusual that the chamber had chosen 
to sew the woman's lips together, in addition to erasing her 
brain and spraying her from head to toe in an airtight layer 
of black rubber.  The cloying latex effectively rendered the 
processed inmate blind and deaf, and kept her arms locked in 
a painful back prayer....mmmm - no...a closer inspection 
revealed that the woman's hands and fingers had also been 
sewn together beneath the tight coating.  Somebody had made 
sure that even as a vegetable the woman could never 
communicate.  Maria was very concerned and troubled as to 
what action to take.  Her uniform, with its mittened sleeves 
molding of the hands into spoon shapes, made it impossible 
to escape the complex during the day because the doors had 
hidden security latches that required fingers.  All cadet 
nurses like Maria wore a regulation sleeping corset to bed, 
which was laced from the tip of the toes to just above the 
mouth (so they couldn't chatter) and locked closed with 
special keys.  The durable white patent leather garment left 
just the arms bare, which were supposed to be clipped into 
automatically-locking comfort cuffs on the bed.  Although 
her legs were married into a single boot, Maria knew she 
could hatch her escape on a little motorised trolley nearby, 
as long as no-one noticed her arms were not clipped in place 
properly.  Her idea was a success.  Her vehicle got her all 
the way out a service door, shuddering to a standstill right 
at the top of the steps down to the street.  She had to hop 
down each step to street level, and stood ready to hold out 
her thumb at any traffic on the quiet lane.  After ten 
anxious minutes, the lights of a red sports car bathed her 
glitteringly white sheathed form.  The passenger door opened 
and she heard a young man's voice.  "Mmmmmmm.....kinky!   
Hop in, gorgeous".  She breathed a sigh of relief that help 
was at hand.  Within minutes she would be at a police 
station narrating her story once they worked out how to cut 
her mouth free.  Maria tried awkwardly to climb into the low 
slung seat, but could not bend the corset enough.  He got 
out to help her, and there was a "Phhhht" as a 
tranquiliser dart appeared in his neck.  A confused look 
took his face as his legs collapsed and guards appeared from 
behind the bushes in a flurry of activity.  Maria and her 
luckless rescuer were quickly enveloped in straight jackets 
- they found themselves neatly packaged, strapped to 
trolleys and being led back inside the building.  The 
Directress had seen the entire exchange on a hidden video 


A week later, a new dull-eyed patient was wheeled to her 
cell.  She was freshly arm and legless, and a shiny white 
patent leather papoose restraint sheathed her limbless 
torso, laced and buckled gaspingly from the V point below 
where her thighs had been, right up her middle to just 
beneath the nose.  The glossy suit curved smoothly up her 
back to cup and envelop her head leaving just her eyes and 
nose uncovered.  The spark of intelligence was gone from her 
dull brown eyes as Nurse Maria lay back on her trolley and 
gazed fascinatingly at the ceiling.  Even if Maria could 
remember any of her exchange with the stricken patient and 
get past her Total Erasure followed by Total Mental 
Conditioning, it was impossible to communicate.  Her 
armless, legless body was rigidly encased in boned patent 
leather, and her vocal chords had been permanently removed 
to be made into the centres for plastic teardrop pendants 
that hung from her glossy white plastic nipples.  She could 
not even blink, for her eyelids were fixed in an appealing 
wide-eyed stare that was the fashion amongst patients at the 
time.  The Directress tested Maria's conditioning the first 
night.  Standing over the parceled nurse on the trolley, she 
released the gag.  A hiss of escaping pressurised air filled 
the room for a second, the patient's glossy white vinyl 
cheeks resuming their normal size.  The Directress slid out 
of her mirror-smooth white uniform and into a black vinyl 
sleeping catsuit with openings at the nipples and groin.  
She lifted Inmate Maria from her trolley and into the satin 
sheeted bed with her, attaching the medically enhanced 
pouting ruby lips to her hardening nipple.  Maria's 
programming sprang into action and she could have no other 
thought than to pleasure the flesh filling her mouth.  The 
Directress touched a panel on the wall and it opened 
noiselessly.  From the recess wormed a creature that was so 
similar to the new format Maria that it could have been her 
twin.  Unlike Patient Maria, it still knew it had once been 
a young man in a red sports car, but the mental suggestions 
installed in its brain could not be refused.  The second 
suckling inmate still held out hope for eventual rescue and 
restoration, but her appearance belied this.  As required by 
the sexual conversion, her testicles had been removed and 
silver plated, and now hung as pendants from her glossy 
patent leather nipples that topped her huge restrained 
breasts.  Indeed, for the rest of their useful days, the 
flashing balls were the only method of telling the twins 
apart.  The Directress reached across to a special bra 
harness of buckles and straps beside the bed and threaded 
them through the loops in her catsuit and the loops attached 
to the smooth heads of her suckling ones.  In no time they 
were both securely squashed to her nipples by the bra cups 
that hid their heads in a taut shiny plastic layer.  Now, 
even if she rolled over in her sleep during the night, her 
bra bound twins would not stop their tireless work.  The 
peacefully relaxing woman mused that she would have to have 
another set of twins made to service the two holes between 
her legs.  There would no longer be a need for the ensuite 
immediately in the morning!


Pauline gets punished, while the Rubbermaids look on.

        Pauline, a former interior minister, was led to stand 
before the new queen.  She had once called Zorelle a mongrel 
because the queen's mother was from one kingdom and her 
father from another - mixed races.  The minister had always 
been quite an ugly woman and Zorelle disliked ugliness, so 
she had immediately given her the expressionless face of a 
Barbie doll.  Pauline's conservative business suit had been 
replaced with a long, sexy black plastic dress, thigh high 
boots with eight inch heels that had been moulded in stiff 
black platex about her legs to the hip and made her teeter 
as she walked.  Her hands were mittened in more of the 
rubbery black plastic to the shoulder, curling her wrists as 
though perpetually holding a shaft.  Her now hairless head 
was tightly ensconced in the amorphous layer of vlatex she 
had been dipped in, which held a cruelly pressurised 
expando-gag in her oral cavity.  Her hugely distended cheeks 
appeared as black billiard balls from the sheer pressure of 
her inner packing.  The unbroken ring of her strange new 
shiny metal collar enhanced Pauline's look of captivity, but 
even with her vacant-looking Barbie face she showed contempt 
by refusing to bow to her mistress.  At a word from Zorelle, 
her head was instantly enveloped from the collar upwards in 
a seamless golden metal egg, through which no sound 
penetrated.....yet another form of the mind programming 
device.....her body stiffened as she clutched impotently 
with curled plastic hands at the impervious surface of her 
encased head, sinking to her knees in submission while the 
powerful device programmed her mind....her thoughts blended 
into a fog...oooh such interesting new thoughts coming 
in....and when the fog cleared, she was an adoring 
submissive....existing only to serve her mistress....begging 
her mistress to bind her....while in a small corner of her 
enslaved mind, a proud woman screamed..

Zorelle clicked her fingers and Lynette, her personal rubber 
mannequin-maid came to life from the corner where she had 
stood for the past ten days.  If her rubber lips had not 
been fixed permanently in a glossy, frozen pout, she might 
have said "your wish Madame?", but instead she teetered 
over to the throne in her rubber ballet boots, squeaked her 
shiny rubber body down towards the floor and curtsied as she 
had been trained to do so naturally.  
        "Rubbermaid, find my new submissive a wardrobe to suit 
her recently installed thought patterns...all doubly 
stiffened platex and plastic if you will....and have her 
fitted for her shiny dog costume - she'll adore being the 
mongrel now.  Make it the best selection for punishment 
you've ever imagined or I'll reduce you to a strength II.  I 
want that dog costume so tight that she can't breathe at all 
- her stasis collar will keep her alive".
        Even with her limited perception the Rubbermaid could 
understand the threat of being changed from her current 
status as a strength III Rubbermaid into a strength II or 
even (rubber forbid!) a strength I Rubbermaid.  She knew 
that as a strength II, with her latex arms bonded to her 
sides to the wrist and her squeaking legs hobbled with a 
sheath to the ankles, she could not possibly continue to 
perform her required daily duties satisfactorily, and in no 
time at all she would be punished and reduced to a mindless 
strength I.  A strength I Rubbermaid is merely a strength II 
with her entire body sealed in a full inch cocoon of clear 
latex.  A whole corridor leading to the maid "re-
education" wards was lined with stiffly wobbling strength 
I's as a warning to all who have the honour of being trained 
as strength IIII's and III's.  Inside each strength I pod 
was a screaming rubbermaiden creature (they did not remember 
they had once been women), but no sound ever penetrated the 
serene polished black faces and their inches of clear 
coating.  Occasionally, one of the strength I Rubbermaids 
would lose balance and topple, and would drop into a 
disposal shaft as final punishment for their disobedience.  
The shaft dropped them into a steaming vat of warm rubber 
cement and they were melted and blended with the glutinous 
black liquid by the vat mixers.  When the count of 
Rubbermaids in the vat reached fifty, it would be veritably 
bulging with limbs trying to find an escape from the surface 
tension of their stretchy rubber prison.  The whole vat 
would be then poured into a mould for yet another of the 
hundreds of black rubber pillars in the castle extension 
wing.  Occasionally there would be inconsistencies in the 
mix and tiny sections of the pillar would take longer to set 
than others, and after the mould was removed a shiny black 
hand or foot or elbow or buttock or breast or embossed face 
would protrude from the pillar before it set for good....a 
stark, slightly moving stiffened reminder forever of what it 
was filled with.  When the pillars were finished, Zorelle 
planned to use any further "raw material" to make 
furniture such as rubber sofas and mattresses.

The attentive Rubbermaid remembered little of her past life 
as a high powered senior executive in a law firm.  She could 
not know that at that very moment her former boss Minta 
graced stand 23 as a mindless type I......soon to slide 
gently into the Vat.

Years ago, when Zorelle was a wanted criminal and the 
Rubbermaid was a free human woman named Lynette, Vice CEO 
Lynette had paid the sorceress to make her boss Minta 
"disappear" and pave her way to success.  The `fee' was a 
mere fifty percent of the mega-company profits every month.

The police arrived at the office asking questions, and she 
acted tearful at Minta's disappearance, even though she was 
now president.  That evening she arrived home and found a 
letter under her door.  It read:

"Please select your desired format for your former boss:

1) Rubberised Mannequin Maid - with or without arms
2) Vinyl Dolly - she will sit patiently on your bed.
3) Marble Statue.  Nice for the garden.
4) Shop Mannequin.  Rental income potential. 
5) Blow up doll.  Yes, easily deflatable for storage.
6) Oak Statue - 100% solid.
7) Household Robot - skin type gold, silver or plastic

Irresistible modifications will be made to Minta's thought 
patterns to match your choice exactly"

Lynette thought briefly.  It would be fun to humiliate her 
ex-supervisor by making her work around the house as her 
helpless servant forever, so she chose the Mannequin Maid 
option.  The following evening a crate was delivered.  Minta 
had been dipped completely in black rubber to anonymise her, 
and lay quivering slightly in her box as if trying to escape 
her permanent mental reprogramming.  The mannequin maid did 
not like the fleeting images in her head of a proud woman 
behind a desk, but she was thankful that they were fading 
away by the hour.  Thank goodness, for she had important 
work to do serving her mistress.   The taut black and white 
vlatex parody of a maid's dress stretched over her glossy 
black bosom, nipped in her now forever suctioned and 
invisibly corseted waist, and sheathed her generous hips and 
buttocks with its fabric.  Maid Minta's new feet were 
crushingly moulded into ballet boots with eight-inch 
stiletto heels.  She made quiet "plik" noises on the floor 
as she walked, or stilted, since her knees could bend only 
very slightly.  Every movement was accompanied by a tortured 
squeak from her new skin.  Oh, she loved being a maid so 

        Following the successful neutralization of Minta,  
Lynette also had two of her staunch opponents punished by 
converting them into legless and armless vlatex dolls.  
Zorelle, working her magic in person those days, had thrown 
the two frightened naked women a shimmering black outfit 
each to put on.  They could not find sleeves or leg holes in 
the costume and said as much, at which point the magical 
sheaths in their hands flapped open wide and enveloped them.  
Sealed completely inside their own personalised suctioned 
plastic skins, the two figures writhed in the powerful 
magic.  Their limbs shrank away and the plastic sheathing 
their glossy heads creaked as it shrank, compressing their 
plastic faces into blank dolly smiles.  Each doll had her 
former name emblazoned in white across her back and her new 
name "Cindy" or "Barbie" on her forehead.  The two were 
returned to their offices as a warning, where they rocked 
ever so slightly in their office chairs for many years 
before being moved to a display case in the boardroom.

After a few years in the seat of power, Lynette realised she 
had the resources to hunt down and kill the crooked lady 
herself and avoid the fee.  She stopped paying and sent 
dozens of contract killers to do the job.  All failed.  
Lynette soon found herself with shiny Rubbermaid skin, 
dressed in a distinctive pink and white outfit and unaware 
of her swift career change.  She served Zorelle personally.

To make a Type V

        Once again the weak Linda Danvers was dressed as an 
adult baby and strapped in her wheeled high chair.  One of 
the Rubbermaids was assigned to pull the hermetically sealed 
baby Linda along in her high chair - quite a painful 
exercise when the maid's ringed clitoris was doing the 
pulling.  It was a smooth ride through to one of the newly 
built extensions of the castle.  Before they reached their 
destination, an armless messenger clad in patent leather 
scurried up to them with an envelope wedged in the stiffened 
pocket between her breasts.  Zorelle fished out the note and 
scanned it briefly with an annoyed look on her face.
        "What?  Another envoy?  Stay here - I shall be back 
shortly.  STORE!"
Having activated the maid's storage mode, she strode 
hurriedly off.  The Rubbermaid's perpetually wide eyes 
instantly dimmed to opaque black and her arms flew behind 
her into a crushing back-prayer as she was forced by unseen 
hands into a tight kneeling position against the floor.  Her 
slippery rubber skin became liquid for an instant and then 
hardened again, leaving a featureless, airtight latex 
package behind, unable to even twitch, with the same little 
chain as before joining its now-sealed clitoris and rear end 
to Supergirl's chair.  Linda heard voices coming through an 
open door to her right and tried to twist her mobile chair 
around so she could see what was going on.  After a few 
attempts and a few silent shudders from the parcel on the 
floor when the chain was inadvertently pulled taut, she 
managed it.

A figure in a latex body stocking lay writhing on the 
plastic-sheeted bed.  It was evident the figure was female, 
though it had no flesh exposed.  The captive's rubber 
encapsulated face was featureless, with only two holes under 
her nose for breathing.  Her arms were one with her body, 
with only mittened gloves that balled into fists where her 
hands should be.  It soon became evident that she was in 
some distress.   Another woman, dressed in a white leather 
ball gown and towering white boots, stood over the bed and 
helped tighten the straps holding the victim down.  Linda 
recognized the dominatrix as her former ally Samantha, now 
much changed.  Samantha now had a ridiculously overdone sexy 
body, huge EE breasts and a waist in inches that had 
obviously had some ribs removed to allow severe corseting.  
The tormentor's glossy red pouting lips had been expanded to 
a point that she could just barely open her mouth to speak.  
Her once black hair was now bleach blonde and she wore a 
strange glazed, hungry expression as her oversized, 
grotesque lips strove to pronounce words correctly.

    "Don' sthwuggle my pwetty't struggle 
my pretty one.....I know you have mind ants sealed in your 
lovely slippery suit with you and I know they can be quite 
pesky when they inject you with their poisons - but look on 
the bright side! - soon your fleeting little personality 
will be gone, washed away like the tide, and you'll be ready 
to be made into something more useful like me!  It's so 
exciting being Bambi - you'll see!".  She straddled her 
prone captive and kissed it where the lips would have been.
"I know you're angry now but you won't hate me when I've 
finished you.  It doesn't make any difference to the process 
if you were a man before - it's my job to change the people 
that Mistress Zorelle gives me into Bambi like myself.  
That's all I do, but it's so much fun.  You'll be my twin 

She spied Linda watching and tottered over on her pointed 
toes to swung the door closed.  `She didn't even recognise 
me!' thought Linda to herself in horror.  What terrible fate 
had befallen her friend?  She wondered if it would be 
possible to restore Samantha's mind. 

Her thought was interrupted as Zorelle reappeared looking 
much happier.  The cocooned maid was released and they 
continued on until Linda found herself unchained from her 
helper in a very large suite.  The well appointed room had 
been extensively decorated since her capture, for every 
surface was now padded white vinyl.  The automatically 
sensing entrance sported a large padded white vinyl door 
whose luxurious width encapsulated the shiny puffed effigies 
of two hapless vinyl women.  Linda's new version of her 
rubber baby costume was steadily increasing the levels of 
Kryptonite in her body.  She noticed four type V Rubbermaids 
standing silently in the corner awaiting commands as their 
costumes told them to do.  A type V Rubbermaid had a luxury 
that type IV Rubbermaids did not; they were not converted 
permanently into rubber (although most ended up that way 
when they became type IV's).  Their clear latex maid 
costumes were one piece, covering almost every inch of their 
bodies from head to toe.  The only skin showing was through 
a dark-frilled circular portion above the breasts 
advertising cleavage - but not real skin however, for they 
wore latex leotards beneath, that had perfectly moulded, 
realistic breast cups.  Each puff-shouldered outfit was like 
a full body catsuit with an overlaid and attached clear 
maids dress stretching up from mid thigh.  A frilly black 
apron and high ruffled collar and bonnet matched dainty 
scalloping at the upper arm where the puffed sleeves 
terminated.  A rack of at least two score empty costumes 
stood against a far wall, ready for new converts, and a 
strange machine sat nearby.
        "Wasn't that a fun little ride, my yummy baby?" 
Zorelle cooed tauntingly.  "As you may have guessed, this 
is the room where we make our privileged type V's 
Rubbermaids.  The enchanted material controls all thoughts 
as long as its special side is touching the skin somewhere - 
and as you can see, it is impossible to take it off with 
only that small breast opening."
The sorceress turned as the effigy door squeaked slowly open 
as fast as its silently working occupants could tiptoe 
forward.  A black-hooded captive stiffly entered, led by two 
Rubbermaids, her sensorily deprived head covered in 
glistening buckles that flowed down her back and front to 
make a buckled corset, then down her legs where laces 
continued to the toes, converting her legs into rods of 
leather.  The four maids came to life and detached the rest 
of the costume from the hood, letting her lower casings drop 
away to leave her nude from the neck down.  The bodysuit 
that made up the latex maid's chemise was zipped onto her 
torso.  The moment it hit her skin, the captive even began 
helping in her own conversion.  A type V suit was pulled 
from the rack and the breast opening stretched wide by the 
machine, revealing its reason for being there.  The captive 
swung her feet obediently into the opening and allowed the 
fussing, silent maids to shrug her into it.  The hood was 
removed to allow the head to be covered and then the catsuit 
opening was closed to reveal a brand new type V Rubbermaid.  
Linda gasped to realise it was her royal cousin Natasha who 
had just been pressed into permanent servitude.  Natasha 
marched to the evil sorceress and curtsied happily to her 
shiny Mistress.  The maids were dismissed and Zorelle 
returned to her throne room.

Cow's milk, for sale.

        As it turned out, the interrupting envoy had arrived 
with beautifully designed and rare gifts that Zorelle had 
never seen before.  He asked for a favour in return which 
she immediately granted - permission to pass laws enabling 
special treatment of recalcitrant wives.  Months later, 
using the new laws, the envoy started a trend.  As 
punishment for a harmless flirt with the milkman, his wife 
was forced to don a specially designed snug black rubber 
catsuit cocoon, with no openings in it save an adhesive seal 
up small of the back to the base of the neck where it joined 
a tight seamless hood.  There were valves at her sex and 
anus, nipples, mouth and nostrils, and no other openings in 
the black material at all.  (the suits soon became so 
popular and cheap that even convenience stores were selling 
them).   Every day, she was coated with more back rubber, 
but the valves were kept clear to allow her air and food.  
She quickly became an unidentifiable rubber creature.  Once 
a day her two lower valves were released, spurting her waste 
products out under strong pressure.  The erect valves 
protruding from her black rubber breasts were screwed onto 
the ends of milking machine suction hoses which flowed with 
milk from the hormones she was being fed.  The suit was so 
stiff that if required, she could be held up by her nipples 
only.  The husband took her and her attached milking machine 
home and stood her gently in the corner of his bedroom, 
where she spent the rest of her days as a helpless rubber 
cow.  Eventually the envoy remarried, and Keiko, his new 
cruel wife took an immediate unhealthy interest in the 
silent cow-ette in the corner.  She ordered it set in a 
block of featureless black rubber with only the softly 
humming milking machine tubes attached to it.  Since the 
Keiko was only in the marriage for money, soon her husband 
occupied the space beside the featureless rubber block.  He 
had been mammarily modified and crushingly latex-dipped as 
the new cow "maiden"....his heavy breasts vibrating 
impotently with feminine rage at being converted to such a 
helpless animal for the sole purpose of milking.  He never 
managed to escape his new imprisoning form.  The envoy's new 
wife did not stop there - each future husband eventually 
joined her private dairy against their will, as did a number 
of female acquaintances.  Keiko sold the milk and made a 
large profit - enough to expand her cottage industry and 
seize a full sector of the beverages market.  Keiko 
industries became a household name.


A young woman tourist saw the distinctive Keiko vending 
machine standing in the quiet street.  She was thirsty, and 
the machine, shaped attractively like an ebony statue of a 
woman, beckoned her taste buds.  For no real reason other 
than habit, she checked to make sure that the self-cleaning 
nozzle at each nipple was sparklingly scrubbed before 
inserting her credit card in the slot between the glossy 
legs of the unit, marked by a large yellow arrow.  As milk 
flowed from the tap into her mouth, the arms of the machine 
moved in a preprogrammed way to comfortingly hug the 
customer to its bosom.  The woman loved this part, and drank 
hungrily, wondering briefly how big the internal tanks of 
the unit were.  Suddenly, everything went wrong.  Her arms 
and legs were sucked into and held firmly by the rubber 
coated limbs of the machine.  Automatic panels opened and 
hooks tore off her jumpsuit and underwear with millimetres 
to spare.  Two conical suction cups enveloped her breasts 
and a knob entered her mouth as others were screwed into her 
sex and rear.  Out of the corner of his eye, a distant 
pedestrian saw a tiny flash of white steam as the machine 
sealed her completely in an inch of hard black plastic.  He 
squinted and saw the two Keiko machines standing there, one 
latex, one plastic.  He dismissed the thought.  "Must have 
been a malfunction of the second machine" he thought to 
himself and moved on.  The tourist had been made into a 
matching glossy black statuette vending machine on a 
pedestal, with taps protruding from the tip of each breast - 
plastic this time not latex.  When either tap was turned on 
she knew that lovely sweet human milk would flow from her 
breast - the hormones were already working.  The new milk 
machine for the Keiko corporation stood silently beside the 
original for a month, automatically beckoning and serving 
customers, before maintenance crews arrived and took it 
away.  The unit was sold by Keiko to a family to keep in 
their house as a fresh milk supply.  To get the nutrients to 
make her milk, food scraps and often even her own waste were 
fed into the mouth valve with a small pump, where they were 
converted into a paste for her to swallow.

        As head of the corporation, Keiko had a bevvy of 
reluctant milkers at her disposal from which she selected 
the most shapely for display at business functions as 
walking milkers.  Each of these mobile milk machines was 
sealed from head to toe in a shiny black rubber jumpsuit 
with the customary taps at each nipple and locked valves at 
the groin and rear to release waste under pressure.  The 
rubber was so thick and strong, that it took great effort to 
bend limbs at all from a straight out position.  The milkers 
were almost stiff as a board but could just hobble along in 
small stilted steps.  Their mittened hands and feet looked 
like smooth flippers of glossy rubber that showed not even a 
ripple to indicate the fingers and toes trapped inside.  
Whenever a guest required a drink they simply held out a cup 
to a proffered breast and turned on a tap.  A tightly 
stretched parody of a milkmaids costume, this time a black 
and white mottled catsuit with white rubber frills around 
the collar turned the entertainment staff into stunning 
visions of beauty.


        Supergirl's kryptonite implants were enough to keep her 
helpless, but she also wore her studded kryptonite collar 
and impregnated jumpsuit to ensure her complete regulation.   
Zorelle heaved the weakened blonde unceremoniously into an 
auto-do cubicle of the most recent windowed, spherical 
design and bolted the door from the outside.  The captive 
hardly resisted as the fields of the unit took control of 
her limbs and she heard the voice of the Sorcoress as she 
spoke into her console outside.

"Supergirl, I have decided that punishing just one of you 
will never be enough for me, so I am about to make as many 
duplicates of you as I need"

Intense light suffused Linda's prison for an instant, and 
then the chamber was empty.  The computer connected to the 
machine spat out all that remained of the lady of steel; a 
storage cube of information regarding the location and 
alignment of every atom in her body.  A tiny winking green 
light at the top of the cube indicated that the data was 
valid, and Zorelle kissed it happily.  Her captive could be 
instantly re-created by the machine at a later date, exactly 
as she was when she had been recorded.  She could also be 
modified by computer before re-creation to make her an 
ordinary human being.  Multiple copies were possible, if 
Zorelle wished to try out a number of different torments on 
her victim.  Zorelle chose to make a perfect copy to start 
with, and soon Supergirl re-appeared, still helpless in her 
jeweled suit.  The limiting jeweled collar was left on her, 
but the jumpsuit was unlaced from the girl.  Then, over a 
stiff kryptonite corset, the dark queen dressed Linda in 
heavy duty leather catsuit, covering her from head to toe.  
The creation had hundreds of buckles and straps all over it, 
leaving her arms buckled permanently at her sides and her 
legs buckled together.  She was then laid out in front of 
the throne for Zorelle to rest her booted feet on - that 
duplicate would never leave that spot again.  Zorelle made 
copy after copy of the un-caped crusader, each one thinking 
that she was the one and only Supergirl.


Linda had been a powder-pink rubber bunny for a week now.  
Wearing the pink costume had been a spot of freedom to move 
her limbs but the bizarrely full bosom of the bunny that she 
saw in the mirror every morning was a stark reminder of how 
hopeless her predicament was at the moment.  The tight pink 
rubber catsuit that stretched around her body had seamlessly 
attached gloves, boots and hood - yes, the pink rubber clad 
creature in the mirror was very obviously a woman.  Two 
separately added narrow slits in the garment from the base 
of her throat to just below her breasts allowed her 
enormously enlarged bosom to spill forth, cupped and 
enclosed entirely from the point where they squeezed out of 
the costume to the hard nipples.  Her breasts were enclosed 
in huge pink latex pouches that had been added with 
customary vacuum tightness to the humiliating design of the 
costume.    With a little squeak of rubber against rubber 
Linda lifted and rearranged her painfully rounded globes 
with shiny pink paws as she had every morning, trying in 
vain to find a less uncomfortable position for her breasts.  
She could feel the constant draining power of the Kryptonite 
implant twins in her bosom, and Zorelle had made sure that 
her boobs were presented in a way that constantly reminded 
her of them.   Running fingerless hands down her waist that 
was narrowed terribly by the inbuilt corset of the 
bunnysuit, she turned sideways and hopelessly examined her 
enlarged ass yet again for any seams in the impervious 
fabric.  There were none - not even where the cute white 
rubber bunny tail protruded at her coccyx.  Supergirl 
wondered again why she had bothered.  In her heart she knew 
the outfit would require unlocking spells for removal.  The 
legs of the suit felt like they were extremely tightly laced 
boots, very stiff and difficult to bend, but again there 
were no laces evident on the shiny bunny in the mirror.  The 
baby pink latex enclosed her legs to the toes, where they 
were arched into a numbing ballet point, making it 
impossible to flatten her heel-less feet to the ground.  
Linda's entire head was covered in a tautly strained hood of 
airtight pink rubber fashioned into a womanly bunny face and 
topped with large erect ears.  The bunny of old fairy tales 
had been recreated as the bunny of a fetish wet dream.  
Hugely pouting red lipsticked lips curved up to a cutely 
whiskered white button nose framed by large frightened 
animal eyes, albeit a pretty blue.  The only non-pink 
attributes of the costume were her red and blue Super logos 
that graced her lustrous pink breasts.  She knew that sooner 
or later she would be scheduled for brainwashing and wasn't 
looking forward to it at all.


"Sister, I'll give you full access to the asylum to process 
this doll." she said, pointing at a prone Supergirl 
strapped into a tight rubber sheath on a stretcher.  "No 
need to panic - her super strength is gone.  All duplicates 
like this one have the kryptonite breast implants of the 
original.  Supergirl is no stronger than an ordinary person 
now".  It was true - the thin clinging latex held Linda in 
position easily.
"I want her skin to be changed into light brown plastic, 
soft to the touch, and give her big blue doll eyes that 
never close.  That blonde hair must go - make sure she is 
once and for all hairless from head to toe.  I think she may 
look better bald but we can always add plastic hair if we 
want to".
"Oh, and take care of her vocal cords - dolls do not 

Supergirl woke with a silent scream at the recurring 
nightmare, writhing in the moisture and sweat of the neck-
to-toe latex sheath that had been her costume for weeks.  
With no gag, she would normally have tried to make more 
noise, but her vocal chords had been permanently removed 
three days ago and the part of her brain that translated 
words into commands for her vocal chords, tongue, and mouth 
had been erased.  She lay there in perfect silence, trying 
in vain to remember how to make some kind of noise other 
than the sound of her laboured breathing as she was rolled 
swiftly into the auto-do chamber for processing.  She knew 
that soon she would be just another brainless doll unless 
she could manage to escape her inescapable bondage.

"No....please help me!" she pleaded with her eyes to the 
Sister who sat at the command console outside the sphere but 
it was pointless.  The Sister had a spell that controlled 
her, and could no more remove her seamless glossy costume 
than disobey a direct order from Zorelle.   There was no 
real need to have the console fixed in position outside the 
sphere but quite a few dominatrixes had given in to the 
desire to be inside the chamber watching and listening to 
the tortured conversion of their slaves - and unwittingly 
altered themselves in the same way.

The trolley shimmered and disappearred, leaving a latex 
larvae suspended in space without visible means of support.  
Linda could see a reflection of herself in the silvery walls 
of her prison.  The sheath binding her limbs turned to 
liquid briefly and hardened again, leaving her in a perfect 
bronze plastic catsuit.  The hovering form rotated to her 
feet and pirouetted as the Sister toyed with her.  Instantly 
Linda found herself being forced up onto her toes, as high 
as she could go.  As soon as she was on tiptoe, she felt her 
feet and legs to the hip being encased in something stiffer.  
The Sister's latest addition to Linda's fetish wardrobe was 
a set of ballet boots, with eight inch stiletto heels.  The 
plastic of the boots was stiff enough to keep her ankles 
from bending at all.  The stiffness continued up her body as 
the plastic hardened, acquiring the silky, artificial sheen 
of fine polished plastex.  She could not close her eyes and 
felt her breasts harden out to her nipples.  The coating 
rushed down her arms and up her neck, smoothing a layer over 
her proud facial features and flowing up to join at the very 
top of her smooth, bald skull.  She wiggled her fingers one 
last time before it suddenly became a tremendous effort to 
do so. 

The Sister, dressed in her customary terribly restrictive 
white catsuit, expertly guided the auto-do cubicle to 
complete Supergirl's conversion to an attractive doll with a 
full, voluptuous body and an empty head.  First Linda's 
memories had to be erased from her brain, followed by her 
ability to tell good from bad.  Then all dominant feelings 
were removed and replaced with utter submission.  The doll 
would be happy only under complete control and reduction to 
sex toy status.  With her memories and personality gone, she 
could never be more than an automation, schooled by the 
machine to be skilled in the art of providing sexual 
pleasure.  Using atomic particles from trapped women, her 
breasts were expanded to the size of bean bags.  Five 
terrified women stood in soundproof perspex inlet cylinders 
attached to the rear of the machine away from scrutiny, 
clawing and screaming at the impervious wall of their 
prisons as their bodies provided the raw materials for 
Supergirl's transformation, as their particles became 
Linda's new breasts.  It took a lot of matter to turn 
somebody into a living pillow doll, and the auto-do cubicle 
was indiscriminate in its selection of parts for absorbtion 
and re-use.  Not that the machine was overly cruel in its 
operation - absorption was a pleasurable experience once 
pain receptors were nullified on entry to the cylinder and 
the remaining parts of each victim were restructured to keep 
her alive and unscarred regardless of how radicaly the 
absorption was.  In some cases the fuel cells were even 
added to if arms or excess fat were removed.  But not in 
this case.  Fuel cell one bashed her fists impotently 
against the strong plastic wall that kept her trapped.  Her 
breasts had gone first, shimmering away in a mist of 
particles, leaving two smooth concave areas of skin on her 
chest where they had been.  As she struck the wall again her 
arms desintegrated into billions of shining silver particles 
and were swept into the vent above her head, leaving 
smoothly rounded shoulders.  She looked across at the woman 
in cell two who was faring worse.  Fuel cell two's occupant 
was sitting on the floor gazing at the neat, petite stumps 
of her wrists and ankles with stupification.  Her lips had 
gone too, completely smoothed over where her mouth had been.   
Fuel cell five felt much lighter than she ever had before, 
because almost all of her internal organs and ribs had been 
removed.  She still had all her limbs, but now sported an 
impossibly narrow waist.  She swallowed nervously as she 
prodded where her ribs had been and saliva immediately 
trickled from her pussy.  She felt around between her ass 
cheeks and realised that her anus had gone too.  Her 
digestive tract was now a direct channel from her mouth to 
her sex.  In stark contrast to her neighbour in cylinder 
four, who had not been touched, fuel cell three was almost 
completely depleted.  She was a limbless, breastless torso 
with a smooth expanse of skin where her mouth, eyes and ears 
had been.  A single nostril served her breathing purposes as 
she flopped about her cell while a single lung and heart, 
themselves reduced in capacity, kept her alive.

A light above the chamber glowed green and, preceded by 
extraordinarily huge bean bag breasts, out stepped a new 
plastic doll, enveloped in a new bronze polymer skin that 
was alone enough to keep its prisoner trapped let alone any 
further bondage.  The impervious material hugged every curve 
and angle of her body with sprayed-on precision, from the 
top of her cueball smooth head to the bottoms of her 
painfully arched feet - boots that were an integral part of 
the costume.  Painful as it seemed, not a sound emerged from 
the mouth of the creature.  Supergirl's doll suit had a cool 
sleekness, shiny and reflective.  Most unusual was the fact 
that it had no seams at all - as if she were dipped in 
liquid plastic and allowed to harden.  Indeed she had been, 
for the auto-do cubicle could make changes on a molecular 
level.  So singular was the suit that it came up over her 
face as well, giving her bronze plastic lips, nose, and even 
eyelids!  Her small ears were barely-discernible ripples on 
either side of the flawless hood.  If it were not for 
Linda's tearful blue eyes, she would have been 
indistinguishable from an actual doll of solid plastic.    
Her new skin was blemish free.  Her unbelievable breasts and 
tight, muscly rear were smooth, frictionless globes glowing 
in freshly dipped and polished plastic, elegant and sensual 
in its simplicity.


Weeks later, as Zorelle curled up her body to nestle 
comfortably in the breasts of her new bean bag doll, what 
was left of Supergirl could only flush with pleasure as her 
nerves told her brain to feel wonderful.  Her memories had 
been taken away for many weeks now and she had never once 
sensed the loss.  In fact, the doll was deliriously happy.  
Zorelle had informed her that her arms were going to be 
altered; extended and joined together into a simple plastic 
push-up bra to support her stupendous bosom.  The thought of 
losing her arms in that way made Lindadoll very wet in her 
plastic pussy, buffeted by waves of ecstatic joy from the 
new submissive pleasure centre installed in her brain.  
Little did she know (or care!) but during the transformation 
of her arms into living clothing her own ability to feel 
sensation would go as well.  Why should a living pillow doll 
get pleasure all the time when you touch it?  Her role was 
to provide pleasure, not obtain it herself.  The doll would 
soon feel nothing at all.

        "Lindadoll doesn't need feelings, does she?" asked 
Zorelle as she zipped closed the armless creature's new 
unique brassiere that had been fashioned from its own limbs.  
Lindadoll shook her head enthusiastically.
   "You certainly don't seem to miss them now that they're 
gone, my cute little dolly!"


Supergirl the hooker could not remember the changes that had 
been forced upon her mind to introduce her new vocation, but 
she loved her job.  She wore a Supergirl blue, heavily boned 
leather corset.  It dipped in front, cupping the underside 
of her large breasts to the nipples.  Large red tassels 
emblazoned with the customary <S> symbol were threaded 
through her pierced nipples.  The midriff of the highly 
polished corset was breathlessly laced to squeeze her waist 
down to only 15 inches.  The item was designed so that it 
didn't obscure any part of her breasts or pussy.  A red 
leather G-string that barely contained her sex met the 
bottom of the blue corset and formed a nice contrast.  Linda 
couldn't remember what the <S> symbol meant anymore, but she 
had been conditioned to need it on every bit of her clothing 
somewhere.  The corset squeezed her waist down to an 
impossibly small diameter, holding her back quite straight 
in the process.  The back support was beneficial because 
above the corset, Supergirl's enormous breasts jutted out, 
looking impossibly firm.  She enjoyed her job tremendously, 
even during the humiliation and depravity that some 
clientele required.  She had amassed a huge wardrobe of sex 
costumes for the trade, many more than she actually needed 
to earn her keep.  Starting in leather, she had graduated to 
PVC and then latex, until every square inch of space in her 
apartment held a rack of vlatex clothing.  Even on the days 
she worked the streets in rubber, she would sleep in a more 
restrictive latex costume that night.  She was committed to 
her career and didn't want to scare her more conservative 
customers off.  She saved up enough money for a procedure to 
have every one of her beautiful teeth removed to allow her 
to give the best oral sex.  Nobody knew her choppers had 
gone because she had a false set made that looked every bit 
as good as the original.  Removing Super teeth was not easy, 
but Kryptonite was becoming more readily available, and 
buying enough to fashion a pair of tooth pliers and nipple 
piercers was easy.  With so much competition nowadays, a 
girl had to do what a girl had to do to earn her keep.  
Linda had even considered other body modifications and limb 
removals to enter the lucrative amputee market - but no, 
that would come later.  She could not guess that she was 
becoming more submissive as the months rolled on.

        Joe was an amateur scientist.  He sat at his desk doing 
calculations and pondering over what appeared to be 
mammogram images as he absently ran his fingers through the 
long blonde hair of the Woman of Steel who was playing 
enthusiastic lip service to his manhood.  Slurping with 
surprising ferocity and simultaneously exploring his penis 
with her tongue, Supergirl was an expert in the trade.  She 
knelt happily beneath the desk with Joe's shaft anchored in 
the depths of her throat.  She hoped he would come soon, 
because she was getting hungry again.  The less money she 
spent on food, the more she could spend on rubber gear.
"Supe, I'd like you to stay the night - we're going to play 
doctors and nurses - but the nurse will be in bondage too - 
Supergirl nodded silently without even changing her rhythm 
and a thrill went through her.  She loved bondage games.
Later that night Linda found herself strapped to a vertical 
operating table, her bosom directly in the path of an 
ominous looking laser.  Joe delicately added a tube of green 
kryptonite gas to the machine and fired the laser neatly 
across her left breast.
"Finally I get to find our what it is hidden in your bosom, 
my girl".  Don't worry - I'll stitch you back up again!"
Her right breast had split cleanly with strangely no blood 
and Joe had no difficulty prising the two halves apart to 
expose the rounded globe and its trapped aquatic occupant.  
The moment he touched the globe there was a flash of 
lightning as Zorelle's protection spell activated.  His body 
shimmered and was replaced with the form of a rubberised 
mermaid, complete with a matching airless latex sheath.  The 
newly created creature was pulled helplessly through the 
surface of the implant, not through an opening, but rather 
absorbed into it.
Supergirl awoke the next morning, still tightly bound and 
wearing her squeaking nurse's outfit.  She looked down at 
her exposed bosom and noticed with horror that although 
whole and unscarred again, her left breast was twice the 
size of her right!  She would have to buy a whole new 
wardrobe of fetish garments now!

Q. Does anybody actually read (and like) this stuff?  I 
don't get much feedback at all so I'm thinking of quitting.

==========< 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!
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All feedback via

There is a plan to release Supergirl in the end, but lots 
must happen in the story before that!

...another 50% of the original story to come.

** Fast  does not have time to email copies of stories to 
people, so do NOT ask!  Read a.s.s.m or do a search for the 
"perils of Supergirl".  This is the Author's only story.  
Intelligent comments/reviews/punishment ideas VERY welcome!  
Feedback please via

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