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From: (MC Woodsmoke)
Subject: The Bondage Perils of Supergirl V1.5 by Richard Marnet (bd/nc/mc/latex/magic/tech/statue/tg/encap/plaster)
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I am posting this for the author.  Please send all 
responses directly to his hotmail account.

This is a rather weird story, with many damsels in 
distress and LOTs of latex.

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

The Bondage Perils of Supergirl V1.5
by Richard Marnet (c/-


*** 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.

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 
STORIES, DO NOT READ FURTHER.  Also, if you are 
offended by consensual adults enriching their lives 
through harmless mental fantasies, or if you have a 
religious / moral / anti-pornography agenda, please 
go away.  Many people who are worthy pillars of your 
community enjoy complex and fulfilling fantasies 
that you will never understand, so do not be so 
arrogant as to judge them against your strait-laced 
existence.  You have been thoroughly warned.  This 
is heavy stuff.

========< An insight from the author 
This fantasy started ten years ago as a collection 
of short unrelated paragraphs - which is why the 
story may seem disjointed.  The author is a very 
sane, kind-hearted person who does not believe 
anybody deserves the fantastical fates in this 
story.  If you haven't guessed already, in his 
fantasies he would enjoy changing places with Linda 
or any of her friends.


        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.  Everything these flapping rubber targets in 
the sky saw, Zorelle saw through her magic vision.

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


The victory tent

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

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

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


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

        At Zorelle's magical coercion, the heroine in 
distress jerked like a puppet involuntarily forward 
with a jingle of her chains.  Thankfully Princess 
Linda no longer wore her strength-sapping green 
babysuit; in another room an unidentified rubber 
woman was being forced to keep that discarded outfit 
warm in a high chair bolted to the bottom of a large 
aquarium full of gradually hardening and pressurised 
clear latex.  Linda had been cleaned up and her new 
lycra Supergirl costume gleamed uncharacteristically 
in the torchlight, for it was not lycra at all - it 
had been changed into a parody of shiny red and blue 
buckled vlatex, notched to its tightest settings for 
good measure.  In new subtle ways the Sorceress was 
emphasising how much power she had over the woman of 
steel.  Linda had spent the last few weeks wearing a 
full body version of her latex diaper which sealed 
at the throat, wrists and ankles.  The gallons of 
Kryptonite spiked water they had been making her 
drink had soon filled it to bursting point as she 
lay in hospital restraints in her special adult crib 
in a huge glass display case in her old room at the 
castle.  When the green mineral had invaded every 
cell of the Princess's body and sapped her strength 
disastrously, it had been safe to release her 
restraints and put her on public display in her 
crib.  Tens of thousands of her previously loyal 
subjects filed silently through the castle for a 
look at the fate of their Princess.  There Supergirl 
lay, in her frilly, humiliatingly full baby costume, 
surrounded by little pink rubber dolls and stuffed 
toys that were made from soldiers from her defeated 
        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 
  She ruffled the hair of her captive heroine and 
snibbed the end of Linda's leash to the single D-
ring at the back of a waiting transport maid.  The 
maid wore the standard stiff vlatex maid's costume, 
but her black rubber coated arms had been fused 
together behind her in a permanent arm binder.  The 
snugly moulded addition mated her two limbs neatly 
into one, flowing in a smooth unbroken line from the 
shoulders to where her fingertips had been, 
terminating in a large ring designed for carting 
various trolleys and suitably helpless prisoners 
throughout the castle.
        "I have sooo many experiments for you to try my 
dangerous little pet - I'm sure I can relieve you of 
that super strength when I've worked out how to 
transfer it to my body....soon I hope!".

        The transport maid dragged her weakly resisting 
charge away and the other maids followed to begin 
wrapping Supergirl in her full body cast for the 
night.  Zorelle knew her staff would have had the 
newly installed castle milking machine warming 

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

The wine cellar

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

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

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

Linda the spectator.

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

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

        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 
        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 

  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 

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

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

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

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

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

Something Fishy Going On.

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

        The next of Linda's friends to be punished was 
a proud Amazonian called Melanie, who had been the 
princesses' chamber-maid and protector.  Zorelle 
barked an order and a white vinyl nurse-nun, Sister 
Josephine from the Sisters of No Mercy bowed into 
the room with a swathe of shimmering garments made 
from plasti-skin on a silver tray.  The sister no 
longer wore her traditional black and white cloth 
medical habit, for it had been replaced with a 
tightly buckled white vinyl catsuit that hugged her 
curves leaving nothing to the imagination.  The red 
cross of the catsuit was bright between her 
glistening snowy breasts, and her vow of silence was 
guaranteed by the attached skintight hood that left 
just the demure eyes and nose uncovered.  Bulging 
plastic cheeks betrayed the huge expando-gag Sister 
Josephine wore beneath her enclosing regulation head 
gear, and the only sound she made was the rustle of 
her outfit and the click of her ten inch heels as 
her booted feet touched the stone floor with each 
dainty step.  The fabric between her thighs was so 
tight that it bisected her pussy into twin mounds, 
no doubt a punishment in itself when walking was 
required.  The Sisters of No Mercy had once been a 
charitable religious order before Zorelle had done 
an "inspection".  With the help of a few choice 
spells she added a "No" to the name on the front of 
the convent and converted the whole order into one 
that would worship her alone.  The plastic nuns were 
compelled to do only her bidding - especially useful 
when medical procedures were required.  The 
ridiculous heels were very difficult to balance on, 
so the sisters were always clamped to the floor 
before a delicate operation.
        Keeping Sister Josephine teetering patiently, 
the evil sorceress turned to look at Melanie who was 
laying nude on the cushions beside the throne.  
Under the effects of a compulsion spell, the bronzed 
Amazon had been helplessly frigging her drooling 
pussy with a colossal dildo for the last hour.  The 
over-sexed figure nestled amongst the satin cushion 
shook as her pussy gripped the shaft in rhythmical 
spasms and another climax wracked her body.
        "Uhhh....please make it stop... 
...ohhhhhhhh... ...uh... more... ...uh... 
..oooooo... ...can't think... ...mmmmmm... ...uh... 
..not again..." she cried as she watched her own 
hands slide the dildo almost lovingly home again.
        "Here we are Melanie dear, your new costume is 
ready.  One more orgasm and you can stop your 
display for everyone here" said Zorelle gesturing at 
the silver tray.  "This the reason why the Sisters 
were measuring you so minutely yesterday.  Here, let 
me show it to you"
        Wearing her shoulder-length latex gloves and 
being careful not to touch it against her skin, 
Zorelle lifted the unusually crafted garment.  It 
was shaped like a body length tube, beginning with a 
high collar, tapering to a large fish's tail at the 
bottom.  The plasti-skin suit had scales all over 
it, and the mermaid's tail was connected where the 
feet would normally be.  Melanie's eyes widened but 
she did not even break her rhythm as her hungry hips 
demanded more upon more pleasure to feed the climax 
sweeping through her body yet again.  Smiling to 
herself, Zorelle halted the compulsion spell and had 
the guards hold the recuperating Melanie's arms at 
her sides and her feet together to a point.  With 
haste, Zorelle shrugged the narrow outfit up the 
girls' body until the Amazon was completely enclosed 
and quite helpless - her arms were ensconced in the 
internal sleeves of the membrane.  She sealed the 
neck and waited for the skin to set.  Melanie the 
armless Mermaid flopped pathetically around on the 
floor for some time in an attempt to escape before 
she was permanently altered, but she did not 
succeed.  Her arms had disappeared inside her scaly 
torso, and where her legs had been was now a big 
slithery tail.  Zorelle dragged her new mermaid over 
to a huge glass spa that she had had filled to near 
the brim with cool, sticky butter, which soon 
hardened.  With some help from the guards, she threw 
Melanie over the rim, and the modified girl lay flat 
on the surface of the butter.  Zorelle pushed her 
struggling form into the centre with scoops.

        "Now for some light sport!" she laughed to 
Linda, who watched with revulsion at her servant's 
plight.  "Watch my new little mermaid swim!"
        The butter began to melt from Melanie's body 
heat, and she started to sink into it.  She thrashed 
about and managed to get to some slightly harder 
butter, but the heat from her exertions just made it 
melt faster.  Soon the butter was melting faster 
than she could cope with, and her tail sank in up to 
her waist.  In a panic, she wriggled over to the 
edge of the glass tank and tried to flip her mermaid 
body over the two foot rim of the spa, but could 
not, since she no longer had any arms or legs.  By 
kicking with her tail, the terrified mermaid managed 
to slow but not stop altogether her downward 
movement.  Soon she had sunk to the point where all 
she could do was swim jerkily around in a small pool 
of her own melted butter, desperately trying to keep 
her head afloat.  She swallowed repeated mouthfuls 
of butter, and slowly her strength left her, until 
finally with a gurgling scream she sank below the 
surface and hung still - passing out from fear 
rather than lack of oxygen because Zorelle had cast 
a stasis spell on her long ago.  The evil sorceress 
had the mermaid fished out and revived for transport 
to her new home at the city aquarium, where Melanie 
spent many of her subsequent days gracing a display 
stand inside a small glass tank wearing a full body, 
neck-to-toefin corset that left just the tip of her 
tail fins free.

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

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

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

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

        Linda was lifted from her recess in the floor 
and made to walk stiffly along behind Zorelle who 
held her leash and led her to a section of the 
castle under fresh construction since the takeover.  
Linda found that she had no energy in reserve at all 
due to the kryptonite embedded in her chest.  
Despite the difficulty of walking upright with the 
extra weight of her bosom pulling her down over her 
towering heels, she managed to walk perfectly all 
the way just to spite her captor.  Zorelle was quite 
angry at the show of defiance by the time they 
reached their destination, so she had her slave 
fitted with two huge vibrators that locked snugly 
into the Princess's leather costume.  An doubly-
layered rubber body bag followed that, once 
inflated, compressed Linda's body from the neck down 
in a neat tubular mass of ballooning red latex, a 
polished sheath that hid none of her new busty 
attributes due to its glistening transparency.  The 
super-captive was lifted to her air cushioned feet 
and buckled in a dozen places to a recently finished 
pillar so she could watch the progress of the royal 
builders.  These hard working staff were examining a 
set of plans to work out which prisoners were 
supposed to be installed where, and as which part of 
the building....perhaps as components for a door or 
a ceiling relief....Zorelle had drafted many plans 
since renovations had begun.  They builders were 
checking the numbers on the blueprints against the 
numbers on a rack of anonymous black rubber pods 
that hung in storage until they were needed for 
installation.  Zorelle commanded the worker's 

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


The sanatorium

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

Many years ago, when Zorelle had started her black 
magic quest, she was forcibly sent to the Asylum by 
the Guild of Magicians.  There she received some 
severe punishment before escaping.  Recently, as the 
vengeful ruler of the country, Zorelle decreed for 
her secret police to release every inmate and make 
them a staff member, and to imprison every nurse and 
warden and sign their lives away forever as new 
inmates.  In a single overnight raid, the staff 
became the inmates, and the inmates became the 
staff.  She provided all the new psychotic wardens 
with magical auto-do cubicles, which had the power 
to change a victim to any format or costume once 
sealed within.  Most of the new warders were quite 
insane to begin with, and one by one their recent 
human gifts paid terrible penalties for imagined 
transgressions.  Each former guard or nurse patient 
was heavily modified to make the idea of ever 
escaping their new home laughable.  Even the humble 
tea lady was now a half human, half machine trolley 
creature that pushed itself along the corridors with 
its leather hip-booted legs.

For example, the front half of former Nurse Jones 
spent the rest of her days as a warm metal statue 
protrusion from the rear inner wall of a locker in 
the wardens change rooms.  A once-patient of hers 
found it gratifying to hang his clothes on the hooks 
that now terminated her polished metal bosom.  In 
instead of nipples, her breasts followed a smooth 
curve to a point, then turned upwards to a hook, to 
finish her conversion into a utility device.  Months 
ago, sealed helplessly inside her warden's auto-do 
cubicle, Nurse Jones had shimmered through many 
different formats to conform with the images 
generated in the head of her new master, who sat 
comfortably in a chair nearby wearing the pickup 
headset and watching the display screen.  She was 
just thankful that she had retained her mind and not 
been made into a drooling and packaged vlatex 
vegetable like her two warden friends she had 
watched emerge before her.

It was one year since the great war, and Maria had 
just finished her nursing degree.  She saw an 
advertisement in the newspaper for a job at the 
asylum and secured herself an immediate interview.  
The director of the institute seemed a little odd, 
given that she was dressed in a very severe white 
vinyl dress that stretched from her chin to her 
ankles, but she was pleasant enough, and Maria 
needed money desperately so she accepted the job.  
Fashions of late had been tending towards the 
restrictive anyway - Maria quite expected women to 
be wearing bondage harnesses in public soon if the 
tightly laced trend continued.  The guided tour 
showed many stiffly restrained and gagged inmates, 
some undergoing thought replacement therapies with 
coloured lights and computer generated tapes.  It 
was obviously the place for people with serious 
mental problems.  The one-piece uniform Maria had to 
wear was a purest white vinyl nurse's dress, in a 
style similar to the director's except for the 
hobble-skirt to her ankles and the long sleeves with 
attached sterile mittens.  A long zip up the front 
of the dress stretched the shiny material taut over 
her skin making it an effort to move, but every 
nurse working there wore that regulatory uniform and 
seemed used to it, so Maria soon forgot her initial 
annoyance with the dress code.  She worked long 
hours and found an uneasy feeling in the place she 
could not put her rubber-stiffened fingers on.  One 
day, her curiosity got the better of her and she 
briefly ungagged one of the struggling patients who 
was scheduled for her final round of thought 
replacement.  The panicking woman was hopelessly 
combination locked to the conveyor belt leading to 
the docilisation chamber, but before she was erased 
to total obedience she managed to share the full 
tale with Nurse Maria.  Maria acted like she didn't 
believe the story, but was very concerned and 
troubled as to what action to take.  Her uniform, 
with its mittened sleeves molding of the hands into 
spoon shapes, made it impossible to escape the 
complex during the day because the doors had hidden 
security latches that required fingers.  All cadet 
nurses like Maria wore a regulation sleeping corset 
to bed, which was laced from the tip of the toes to 
just above the mouth (so they couldn't chatter) and 
locked closed with special keys.  The durable white 
patent leather garment left just the arms bare, 
which were supposed to be clipped into 
automatically-locking comfort cuffs on the bed.  
Although her legs were married into a single boot, 
Maria knew she could hatch her escape on a little 
motorised trolley nearby, as long as no-one noticed 
her arms were not clipped in place properly.  Her 
idea was a success.  Her vehicle got her all the way 
out a service door, shuddering to a standstill right 
at the top of the steps down to the street.  She had 
to hop down each step to street level, and stood 
ready to hold out her thumb at any traffic on the 
quiet lane.  After ten anxious minutes, the lights 
of a red sports car bathed her glitteringly white 
sheathed form.  The passenger door opened and she 
heard a young man's voice.  "Mmmmmmm.....kinky!   
Hop in, gorgeous".  She breathed a sigh of relief 
that help was at hand.  Within minutes she would be 
at a police station narrating her story once they 
worked out how to cut her mouth free.  Maria tried 
awkwardly to climb into the low slung seat, but 
could not bend the corset enough.  He got out to 
help her, and there was a "Phhhht" as a tranquiliser 
dart appeared in his neck.  A confused look took his 
face as his legs collapsed and guards appeared from 
behind the bushes in a flurry of activity.  Maria 
and her luckless rescuer were quickly enveloped in 
straight jackets that swallowed their arms and in no 
time they found themselves as stiff parcels, 
strapped to trolleys and being led back inside the 
building.  The Directress had seen the entire 
exchange on a hidden video camera.

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

Pauline gets punished, while the Rubbermaids look 

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

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

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

Years ago, when Zorelle was a wanted criminal and 
the Rubbermaid was a free human woman named Lynette, 
Vice CEO Lynette had paid the sorceress to make her 
boss Minta "disappear" and pave her way to success.  
The `fee' was a mere 50% portion of the mega-company 
profits every month.

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

"Please select your desired format for your former 
boss Minta:

1) Rubberised Mannequin Maid - with or without arms
2) Vinyl Dolly
3) Marble Statue
4) Shop Mannequin
5) Blow up doll
6) Oak Statue - yes!  I can do that!
7) Household Robot - skin type gold, silver or 

Irresistible modifications will be made to her 
thought patterns to match your choice exactly"

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

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

  Once in the seat of power, Lynette realised she 
had the resources to hunt down the crooked lady 
herself and avoid the fee, so she whelped on a 
payment.  She too was converted into a Rubbermaid.

==========< A note from your author >==============
Are there any half decent artists out there who 
would like to try and create illustrations for this 
story?  Can anyone offer web space and time to look 
after the images?  I can add html refs. to the 

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There is a plan to release Supergirl in the end, but 
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...another 59% of the story to come.

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