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Subject: The Perils of Supergirl V1.0 by Richard Marnet (bd/nc/mc/latex/magic/tech/statue/tg/encap)
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The Perils of Supergirl V1.0
by Richard Marnet (c/- fast_fist@hotmail.com)
bd/nc/mc/latex/magic/tech/statue/tg/encap
*** Copyright (c) 1997 - All Rights Reserved ***
* WARNING * WARNING * WARNING *
This is a work of pornographic fiction intended for
adults only. It describes sexual acts and behaviour in
explicit and graphic detail. Only read this story if you
have reached the age of sexual consent in your country.
DISCLAIMER:
This story is entirely fictional. The characters,
places and events depicted in this story are not intended to
represent or resemble any real persons, places, or events.
Any such resemblance is purely coincidental.
This story is a work of extremely explicit and graphic
sexual fantasy. The depiction of any act in this story,
including, but not limited to, non-consensual sexual
activity, oral/vaginal sex, heterosexual and homosexual
acts, encapsulation, use of drugs and other mind-altering
substances on an unwilling or unknowing human being, and
degradation, humiliation, restructure/forced sex-change or
enslavement of a human being should not be construed to
imply that the author condones the performance of said act,
either on the author's part or on the part of anyone else.
This is not a story for narrow minded people or for people
who cannot distinguish between fantasy and reality. Leave
now.
IF YOU ARE NOT OF LEGAL AGE IN YOUR PLACE OF RESIDENCE TO
READ AND VIEW PORNOGRAPHIC MATERIAL, OR THE PRESENCE OF ANY
OF THE ACTIONS LISTED IN THE SECOND PARAGRAPH, ABOVE, OFFEND
YOU, DO NOT READ THIS STORY. Note: This story is a work of
FICTION. The story, names, and events depicted in this text
are fantastical. No names are changed, as no one is
innocent or real in this story. IF YOU ARE NOT OF LEGAL AGE
TO READ SEXUALLY EXPLICIT ADULT CONTENT STORIES, DO NOT READ
FURTHER. Also, if you are offended by consensual adults
enriching their lives through harmless mental fantasies, or
if you have a religious / moral / anti-pornography agenda,
please go away. Many people who are worthy pillars of your
community enjoy complex and fulfilling fantasies that you
will never understand, so do not be so arrogant as to judge
them against your strait-laced existence. You have been
thoroughly warned. This is heavy stuff.
************************************************************
*
Introduction.
Within days of the King's death and her coronation, the
ruling Princess of Steel heard rumours of Sorceress
Zorelle's return from forced exile. The Princess knew that
the evil Zorelle had been exiled for dabbling in the
forbidden magics; the cruel woman had used her time away
effectively, learning the full extent of her powers....no
one had followed the dark path and survived before.
Informants told the Princess that Zorelle was using her new
spells to create an army of mindless followers....completely
unstoppable. It was obvious that her aim was to seize total
control of the land and its people. One by one she was
capturing her enemies and dealing with them in a terrible
fashion. Only Zorelle's wicked mind was capable inflicting
such suffering on the land.
Dangerous battlefields
A very tired Princess Linda Danvers used her super
powers to hover in mid air and scan the massive enemy army
many miles below. It was made up mostly of forced
conscripts, ordinary citizens who had been captured and clad
in the glistening black leather bondage suits that all in
the enchanted army wore. The magical punishingly buckled
costumes took merely five minutes to convert a struggling
captive into a docile obedient soldier who would follow
Zorelle's mental commands without question. Once controlled
by the suit, they would walk happily into certain death for
the evil spellstress, smiling beneath their expanded gags,
and even help to force dress more conscripts. Half of the
squeaking, suctioned forms had once been in Linda's own
army, but were now "prisoners of war" in every sense.
Zorelle had made some of the conscripts into winged rubber
scouts, imprisoning their arms and legs together in a single
tube of frictionless black latex so that all but the round
circle of their faces was visible. She attached dragon-like
rubbery wings to their corseted backs and controlled them
remotely so that the stiffly encapsulated scouts obediently
flew over what had once been their own army. Everything
these flapping rubber targets in the sky saw, Zorelle saw
through her magic.
Linda spied a figure in the Sorceress's colours (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 like lightning and
appeared beside her enemy. Knowing that she could not allow
the witch to try an escape spell, she enveloped Zorelle's
mouth with hers, grasped the spell-weaving hands and began
to utilise her super-strength to crush them. There was a
brilliant flash, and the form she was holding seemed to
collapse into itself. It was a decoy. What she imagined
was Zorelle had evaporated into a harness of glowing green
straps....kryptonite! Her first thought was to flee, but
the nightmare harness seemed stuck to her wrists and face
already, neatly circling her forearms with wide cuffs and
sliding between her lips to insert a glowing green expando-
gag in her mouth. She fought against it feebly with her
rapidly draining strength to no avail. The myriad of
remaining straps on the harness encircled her body like
snakes and threaded themselves through the buckles as Linda
sank gasping to her knees. They tightened themselves
mercilessly and Linda was soon neatly packaged, a powerless
super-bundle. A layer of the cuffs peeled away and rolled
down over her hands, forming slim D-ringed mittens,
canceling any hopes she had of using her fingers to undo a
buckle or two. Likewise, her ankle cuffs peeled down over
her high-heeled blue feet forming slippery D-ringed booties
of deadly green. Not to be outdone, the straps began
unfolding rapidly, doubling in width and joining each time
until eventually Supergirl was cocooned seamlessly from the
neck down in polished greeny black. She rolled to the
ground in a weakened, dizzy state as her collar folded up to
cover her chin, then covering her mouth, nose, eyes with a
clear layer which thickened rapidly. The real Zorelle's
black boots came into her dwindling field of vision, and in
her hallucination-affected vision, Linda briefly imagined
that she could see the forlorn blank faces of her recently
lost officers staring out at her from the surface of the
shiny black rubber boot leg....was that the mound of a
miniature coated breast?....the curve of a torturously bent
elbow? No, she decided, trying to clear her swimming
head....her mind must be playing tricks. She lapsed into
blissful unconsciousness.
<snip!>
The victory tent
A captured male officer was marched to stand in front of the
Sorceress.
"It looks very much like you chose the wrong side, young
man" she laughed, pointing out the rubber baby costumed
form of his former leader and princess sitting docily in the
corner. In stark contrast to the way he remembered his
strong commander a few hours ago, Supergirl was now strapped
in a high chair and sucking purposefully on a magical
pacifier. The all enclosing latex-kryptonite babysuit she
was sheathed in was designed in attractive transparent
green. Her hands and feet terminated in stiff frilled
mittens and booties, and from the frills around her neck
hung a sparkling rubber bib ready to catch the slightest
dribble. A tight airless hood with a mockery of a baby-face
painted on it stretched up to cover her head from the suit
at her neck, and was crowned with a ludicrous little bonnet.
It appeared she could not stop sucking the pacifier, which
was unfortunate because it was connected to the large tank
of brilliant green fluid strapped to the back of her high
chair. Kryptonite laced water!
The young man gave a stricken cry, and even managed to take
a step towards his queen, struggling against the powerful
spell holding him in place.
"Don't bother.....there is nothing you can do to help
her." Laughed Zorelle, fingering a small rubber purse on
the table beside her. "She should think herself lucky - I
was going to make a superheroine pussy purse out of her once
she was rubberised. I would have enjoyed watching her pussy
zip shut and her body collapse - quite distressingly! - into
that lovely pouch shape, but I realised it would be much
more fun to string out her punishment." She zipped open
and fingered the tiny sample purse, watching the defenseless
clitoris spring to life even though its owner had long since
been turned into rubber lining. She waved it at the shaking
man.
"You would look very nice as one of these". A look of
horror crossed his face as a zip sealed vagina appeared
where his sex had been moments before. "But no, not today.
I promised myself I'd only make clothing trophies on
Wednesdays. Consider yourself lucky - soon you'll be just
another doll to blend into my collection! Come! Join your
friends".
Zorelle waved her hand flippantly and in a process her staff
had seen many times, the officer transformed painfully into
an abundantly endowed nude female form. Uselessly straining
for control of her limbs, the very feminine buxom trophy
marched like a stiff marionette to a bench near the side of
the room and lay back on the shiny red vinyl surface. A
mist formed around the officer's body as she arched in pain.
A short cry escaped her lips, followed by a liquid hiss,
then total silence. The air cleared to reveal her
unaccustomed feminine curves coated completely in glossy
black rubber. The sightless effigy wriggled in an effort to
escape her new costume now that a spell was not controlling
her movements but it was pointless. Not only did her
rigidly boned vlatex layer keep her stretched flat on the
bench, but she could not even push herself off the bench
with the towering heels permanently bonded to her booted
feet. Zorelle placed her hands on the black clad form and
concentrated a little, casting the spell to shrink it into a
tiny quivering doll in her fist. She bent down and pressed
the little doll against the polished yet strangely lumpy
smoothness of her right boot and the toy sank beneath the
surface like it was being swallowed in a bog....its arms and
feet sank first, followed by hips and shoulders....soon just
one knee of the doll and its face to the cheeks protruded
along with the tip of a breast. Zorelle stopped pushing.
Her latest boot addition stared somewhat beseechingly at the
world, its expressionless vlatex face framed by the
glistening sea of rubber that was its prison for all
eternity. As if disturbed by the arrival of a new resident,
the most recent of the other trapped forms in the dark
Queen's boots rippled slightly as they sought escape from
the magical coating that would hold them forever. The bulk
of the "residents" merely lay still, for they had long ago
worked out the futility of struggling. Indeed, some had
struggled themselves beneath the surface because the
enchantment worked in one direction only. The evil woman
always enjoyed watching their tiny encapsulated bodies
struggle as she pushed them into their new rubbery home in
her footwear. Hmmmm....Zorelle thought to herself. When
the enemy army surrendered soon, she would have enough
unwilling victims to make a matching catsuit or two. It
would be nice to arrange some of the figures as shoulder
pads. She mused over making a half dozen different catsuit
styles for a moment as she absently brushed her fingers
around two slight cherry bumps protruding from the boot at
her left thigh. She had long since forgotten who they
belonged to, but they were the only remaining signs of a
captured colonel. It was no longer possible to identify him
much less rescue him - she had endowed him with massive
breasts before turning him into the doll and embedding him
until only his nipples remained. His two female aides had
been made into chesty little rubber Barbie dolls and set
face-to-crotch inside a dildo shaped sheath that was
currently a feature of the pussy-stimulation unit wriggling
away tirelessly between Supergirl's babified legs.
<snip!>
Five days later....in the throne room of the royal castle a
shackled heroine, dressed once again in her Supergirl
costume, stands before a haughty sorceress queen:
At Zorelle's magical coercion, the heroine in distress
jerked like a puppet involuntarily forward with a jingle of
her chains. Thankfully Princess Linda no longer wore her
strength-sapping green babysuit; in another room an
unidentified rubber woman was being forced to keep that
discarded outfit warm in a high chair bolted to the bottom
of a large aquarium full of gradually hardening and
pressurised clear latex. Linda's new lycra Supergirl
costume gleamed uncharacteristically in the torchlight, for
it was not lycra at all - it had been changed into a parody
of shiny red and blue buckled vlatex, notched to its
tightest settings for good measure. In subtle ways the
Sorceress was emphasising how much power she had over the
woman of steel. The Kryptonite spiked water they had been
making Linda drink for many days had sapped her strength
disastrously, so she could do nothing but be a fetish
marionette for the moment. Zorelle clawed the air in front
of her and Supergirl's barely-worn costume was torn from her
by invisible hands. The evil woman murmured a single word
and the nude girl was instantly clothed again, this time as
a military issue concubine. The full-length catsuit was
made of black patent leather, doubly stitched for strength,
joined to a tight chrome collar at the neck, and to closely
fitting chrome manacles at both her wrists and ankles. The
skin-tight outfit had openings for her pert breasts, which
easily defied the light gravity, and a thin slot between her
legs which opened to a mass of blonde pubic hair when she
parted her legs. The suit glowed with minute quantities of
kryptonite powder, enough to render the girl powerless
against bonds that she would ordinarily laugh at, and the
boning from the corset-like waist of the catsuit were made
from a cage of Kryptonite fibres embedded between the layers
of leather. The evil queen was emphasising her control
again. The suit did not have any zips or lacings, and
appeared to have been sprayed on....so even if she had a
little energy, Supergirl could not entertain the thought of
struggling free of the humiliating costume - she would
require cutting tools and help. She fell to her hands and
knees and a jeweled posture collar was slotted around her
throat along with a leash. Zorelle slid her fingers over
the taut costume of her deliciously helpless new pet.
"Maids! I want our captive to spend the night wrapped in a
krypton-plaster cast - over the top of her new costume, of
course! Oh! - make sure you leave her breasts free of the
plaster - I will be along later to connect her up to the
milking machine." She ruffled the hair of her leashed
captive heroine. "I have sooo many experiments for you to
try my dangerous little pet - I'm sure I can relieve you of
that super strength when I've worked out how to transfer it
to my body....soon!".
The wine cellar
The maids dragged their weakly resisting charge away to
begin wrapping her in her full body cast for the night.
Humming happily to herself, Zorelle headed down to her wine
cellar to choose something fruity to go with the evening's
meal. As expected of an evil dictatoress, her cellar was
huge, with hundreds of barrels of surprising, exquisite
liquor stretching away into the cool darkness. But the
quantity wasn't the surprising part. Each barrel contained
the armless and legless torso of a rubberised woman, stasis-
spelled and pressurised into complete immobility. The
entombed females were nursing the precious fluid surrounding
their warm vlatex bodies to maturity - a process which could
take hundreds of years. The only visible part of these
silent helpers was a rigid, glossy rubber face protruding
from the sealed rubber end of each barrel, heads bent
achingly back so they looked straight ahead as the barrels
lay naturally on their sides. The barrel girl's eyes were
permanently bonded into widely fixed stares - the whites of
their eyes contrasting dramatically against their glossy
black vlatex faces. Row after row of beseeching eyes could
be seen dotting the wall of neatly stacked barrels that
stretched away into the darkness. Some of the older barrel
girls had been lucky enough to retain their own lips, albeit
rubber coated and heavily gagged, for they had a tap below
the point where their chin would have been from where the
wine could be sampled. Zorelle had soon tired of this, and
found it more aesthetically pleasing to have a tap
protruding directly from the rubber lips and to modify the
internal plumbing. Having eyes fixed wide open could be
quite traumatic for newly converted barrel girls, for over
the months and years they saw many cellar rats crawling
between the barrels, and often had large spiders making
their webs over their rubber faces. Zorelle had been
collecting and barreling vintages since her first year of
exile, making up the contents with enemies and agents who
had been sent to keep an eye on her. Each spy had no choice
but to continue her watching job, but from the discomfort of
her own personal barrel now. Zorelle didn't care much who
she barreled these days, but she had added some fun to the
process. Often she would just seize the first person who
happened by, sheath and change him/her into a high-heeled,
armless vlatex doll, and make her stomp her own grapes
before converting her into a new addition to the cellar.
Zorelle made a gift of five barrel girls to her new senior
minister Lord Eccles, one of whom was his freshly tap-
mouthed ex-wife. Eccles graciously accepted the gift and
placed them on stands in his entertaining room where they
could be the subjects of interest and humiliation by guests.
His current wife Belle took an instant dislike to the pretty
rubber faces with their darting eyes and gave such a tantrum
when she found out who the pink beribboned barrel contained
that Eccles finally gave in to her smug demands. He called
in a fem-service unit, and had it seal over the barrel
girl's faces with an extra flat layer of vlatex so as to
render them forever blind and smoothly expressionless.
Belle gloated on her control of her man as she slid her
fingers over the polished hard rubbery curves of the face of
the woman she had replaced a few years ago. She had won
again. Little did she know, but in six months time she
would give her last ever tantrum. It was a silly yet common
incident where she demanded that her Lord stop seeing his
brother because she was jealous of his wife's sense of
humour and the next day she found herself sheathed in
armless vlatex, tap-mouthed in readiness and walking her six
inch booted feet in a circle through the grapes she would
accompany in her barrel. As a barrel girl, Belle was
labeled clearly and given pride of place in the entertaining
room for a few weeks before her face was sealed over just as
she had ordered done to her compatriots nearby.
Queen Zorelle always found it difficult to choose a
vintage, but settled on the barrel that contained the first
boyfriend who had dumped her. She waved at a shapely drink-
maid who scurried over and connected her rubber mouth flange
to the end of the tap protruding from his feminine glossy
pouting lips. There was a brief hiss of escaping air as the
seal was made good and Zorelle turned the tap, allowing dark
red wine to flow steadily into the drink maid's breast
tanks, expanding her rubber bosom to massive proportions.
The evil queen toyed with the idea of giving the drink maids
their arms back so she wouldn't have to do the menial task
of connecting the seals herself, but no, she enjoyed the
look of horror on the faces of both unwilling participants
too much. The drink maids always panicked when their
breasts expanded so much that they thought they would burst
or fall over - walking was difficult enough already on their
ballet booted rubber legs without litres of wine to carry -
and the barrel girls were horrified too, because they all
knew that the amount of retained humanity was directly
proportional to the amount of wine they nursed inside their
rubber forms, almost as if their intelligence was stored in
the wine itself. And so it was. With each glass, the best
of their thoughts and knowledge were being transferred
forever to Zorelle's ever expanding mind. Empty or near-
empty barrel girls watched the world with vacant stares and
no recollection of who they once had been. Zorelle had all
their memories, and even used this information to seize and
barrel whole groups of friends.
Linda the spectator.
Queen Zorelle, leader of the victorious army ran her
sleek gloved hand over the hardened plaster figure of
Princess Linda, set on all fours with her enhanced, heavy
breasts swallowed by the vacuum milking cups of the Auto-
Milk machine. By casting a strong motherhood spell, Zorelle
had extracted hundreds of litres of super milk from Linda's
enchanted bust and quite enjoyed it on her breakfast each
morning. She pointed at the white figure.
"Okay, I want our princess to be able to see what's
going on again. Cut her out and put her in slave girl
restraint.....with the usual trimmings of course so she
can't move."
Linda was cut out of her plaster layer and concubine
catsuit with a diamond saw, and struggled into a similar
tight fitting leather jumpsuit-like outfit that had been
dampened in preparation for the dressing. The black one-
piece garment had ridiculously long straight jacket sleeves
and was so snug a fit that she could barely move. It had a
high, restrictive buckling collar and an attached kidskin
facial hood that was so tight that you could perhaps tell
who she was beneath it. Embedded in the suit at the groin
were two dildos pointing inward; one large one which was
slid up her cunt, and another smaller one which was pushed
up her rear. Both dildos were hollow, which allowed her to
answer the calls of nature when she needed to, but they
could also be unscrewed from their position and replaced
with any of the torture devices the evil sorcoress had
developed for those openings.
The moist straight jacket was securely laced up the
back with steel wire from the small of her back to the top
of her head by a specially designed binding machine and
welded together, leaving poor Linda struggling for breath,
her head hidden beneath the amorphous mask. Both of her
hands were laced tightly into the mittened sleeves of the
garment; one ended in a buckle, and the other, a strap. Two
female guards took hold of her leather enclosed arms,
wrapped them snugly around her body so that she was tightly
hugging herself, and buckled them firmly in position against
her torso. Her buckled cradling arms lifted her compressed
bosom so that the suit clearly showed imprints of her
nipples in the fabric.
Next came a pair of wet, thigh length leather boots
raised on six-inch stiletto heels. They were laced up so
snugly that she could not bend her knees at all.
"Lock her in the drying room" ordered Zorelle.
The drying room was a large padded cell with a huge fan at
one end blowing hot air through it. No matter where a
person was in the room, their clothes would be dried by the
fan. After a short while in there, Linda's garment began to
shrink and stiffen as it dried.
When the room was opened up the next morning. Linda
lay gasping for water, on the floor in her new rock hard
leather skin. She could now be left in the suit
indefinitely, and there was absolutely no possibility of
escape from it without help.
After giving her a great deal of water to drink, a
guard snapped a collar and leash around the leather coated
princess' throat and pulled her roughly to her feet.
Hobbling along as best as she was able in very tiny steps,
she was led back into the main anteroom where Queen Zorelle
sat. The captive princess' stiffened leather sheathed legs
were lowered down into two holes in the floor facing the
throne. Her feet were locked in place from beneath the
floor so that she remained fixed with her waist at floor
level. To an observer it would appear as though she had no
legs at all. Laces were released to expose her face, and a
harness of straps and hooks was placed over her head which
pulled apart her upper and lower jaws to keep her mouth open
wide, rendering speech impossible.
Zorelle clicked her fingers and Linda's friend Cynthia
was brought out. She had been stripped of her leather
hobble sheath gown they originally dressed her in and shaved
from scalp to toe. With her hands converted into useless
appendages by tight leather mittens, Cynthia had been
teetering from one mind-numbing punishment to another for
the last month. She stood struggling between two guards,
her lips protruding unnaturally over the large red ball gag
she had in her mouth, the straps for which dug deeply into
her cheeks. The gag and straps were part of a modified
horses bridle that she had strapped around her head, which
had the added effect of sealing her deeply packed ears from
the outside world. Another array of snug straps around her
hips and lower torso held a similar-sized red ball wedged up
her pussy.
The dark queen turned to Linda, "I am so used to having
her around, I have decided to make Cynthia a permanent
fixture, to serve me here as a piece of practical art. She
will become a living mannequin to join the others already
being used by my seamstresses in the bondage clothing
workshops. She could survive up to ten or fifteen years
once painted with our special lacquer. The meticulously
tested formula cannot be removed once applied - it's
permanent" laughed Zorelle. She picked up a large heavy tin
and a brush. "Let's begin shall we?"
Chains and metal cuffs were locked on Cynthia's hands
and feet. The chains pulled taut so that she was raised
upright above the ground in a spread-eagled position.
Stepping forward, Zorelle dipped her brush in the glutinous
liquid, and began liberally painting all over Cynthia's
trembling body, with the exception of her sex. The lacquer
dried very quickly, and Cynthia's struggles became less
effective as her skin began to harden and appear glassy.
Zorelle painted Cynthia's face and smooth hairless head too,
her buttock-length black hair many days gone. Even the poor
girl's eyelids were lacquered rigidly and permanently open,
her eyes magically modified as an afterthought to retain a
the wide stare of a frightened animal. When Cynthia was
immobillised, the shackles and harnessing straps had to be
removed so that the areas they covered could be painted
also. With sucking noises, the two red balls were extracted
from her, one from her puckered mouth and one from her
pussy. She stood there stiffly like a scarecrow, with her
legs and arms widely outstretched while the evil queen
painted her some more.
Linda watched from her position in the floor in
powerless horror as her friend became a glistening hardened
statue. Even though the coated girl was obviously never
going to move again, Zorelle continued to apply coats of
lacquer to her captive until the large tin was empty.
The dressmaker's dummy that was once Cynthia had an
open circular mouth through which a feeding tube of life
giving soft food and nutrients would be inserted once per
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. Tubes could be inserted
between Cynthia's legs to collect her waste products and
could even be 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 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 and fixed her in position with glue. This made
her into a more conventional mannequin, raised with her feet
just off the ground. She was used as a bondage mannequin
for a few years until the factory had a big cleanout, and
she was put in a dark storage warehouse, quite forgotten
about for as long as this history goes....
The next one of Linda's friends to be led out in front
of her was Joanna, also naked.
"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. These tubes were designed to keep her
body supplied with the minimum of life-giving essentials
whilst removing any wastes she produced, once the enveloping
costume was inflated.
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."
"Joanna is to become one of my statues also, my dear"
gloated Zorelle when she saw the direction of Linda's
attention. "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 had
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, and
topped up 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 paste a blown up photograph of Joanna's face over the
"face" 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.
...another 80% of the story to come. Feedback please!
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