The Bondage Perils of Supergirl V1.3
by Richard Marnet (fast_fist@hotmail.com)
bd/nc/mc/latex/magic/tech/statue/tg/encap
*** Copyright (c) 1997 - All Rights Reserved ***
* WARNING * WARNING * WARNING *
This is a work of pornographic fiction intended for
adults only. It describes sexual acts and behaviour in
explicit and graphic detail. Only read this story if you
have reached the age of sexual consent in your country.
DISCLAIMER:
This story is entirely fictional. The characters,
places and events depicted in this story are not intended to
represent or resemble any real persons, places, or events.
Any such resemblance is purely coincidental.
This story is a work of extremely explicit and graphic
sexual fantasy. This story may or may not include non-
consensual sexual activity, oral/vaginal sex, heterosexual
and homosexual acts, encapsulation, use of drugs and other
mind-altering substances on an unwilling or unknowing human
being, and degradation, humiliation, restructure/forced sex-
change or enslavement of a human being. The depiction of
any act in this story should not be construed to imply that
the author condones the performance of said act, either on
the author's part or on the part of anyone else. This is
not a story for narrow minded people or for people who
cannot distinguish between fantasy and reality. Leave now.
IF YOU ARE NOT OF LEGAL AGE IN YOUR PLACE OF RESIDENCE TO
READ AND VIEW PORNOGRAPHIC MATERIAL, OR THE PRESENCE OF ANY
OF THE ACTIONS LISTED IN THE SECOND PARAGRAPH, ABOVE, OFFEND
YOU, DO NOT READ THIS STORY. Note: This story is a work of
FICTION. The story, names, and events depicted in this text
are fantastical. No names are changed, as no one is
innocent or real in this story. IF YOU ARE NOT OF LEGAL AGE
TO READ SEXUALLY EXPLICIT ADULT CONTENT STORIES, DO NOT READ
FURTHER. Also, if you are offended by consensual adults
enriching their lives through harmless mental fantasies, or
if you have a religious / moral / anti-pornography agenda,
please go away. Many people who are worthy pillars of your
community enjoy complex and fulfilling fantasies that you
will never understand, so do not be so arrogant as to judge
them against your strait-laced existence. You have been
thoroughly warned. This is heavy stuff.
************************************************************
=============< An insight from the author >================
This fantasy started ten years ago as a collection of short
unrelated paragraphs. It is being pieced together and re-
edited in what can only be described as a long process. The
author is a very sane, kind hearted person who does not
believe anybody deserves the fantastical fates in this story
- if you haven't guessed already, in his fantasies he would
enjoy changing places with Linda or any of her friends.
===========================================================
Introduction.
Within days of the King's death and her coronation, the
ruling Princess of Steel heard rumours of Sorceress
Zorelle's return from forced exile. The Princess knew that
the evil Zorelle had been exiled for dabbling in the
forbidden magics; the cruel woman had used her time away
effectively, learning the full extent of her powers....no
one had followed the dark path and survived before.
Informants told the Princess that Zorelle was using her new
spells to create an army of mindless followers....completely
unstoppable. It was obvious that her aim was to seize total
control of the land and its people. One by one she was
capturing her enemies and dealing with them in a terrible
fashion. Only Zorelle's wicked mind was capable inflicting
such suffering on the land.
Dangerous battlefields
A very tired Princess Linda Danvers used her super
powers to hover in mid air and scan the massive enemy army
many miles below. 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 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 beneath their expanded gags, and even help to force
dress more conscripts. Half of the squeaking, suctioned
forms had once been in Linda's own army, but were now
"prisoners of war" in every sense. Zorelle had made some
of the conscripts into winged rubber scouts, imprisoning
their arms and legs together in a single tube of
frictionless black latex so that all but the round circle of
their faces was visible. She attached dragon-like rubbery
wings to their corseted backs and controlled them remotely
so that the stiffly encapsulated scouts flew obediently over
what had once been their own army. Everything these
flapping rubber targets in the sky saw, Zorelle saw through
her magic.
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 form she was holding seemed to
collapse into itself. It was a decoy. What she imagined
was Zorelle had evaporated into a harness of glowing green
straps....kryptonite! 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 expando-gag in her mouth. She fought
against it feebly with her rapidly draining strength to no
avail. The myriad of remaining straps on the harness
encircled her body like snakes and threaded themselves
through the buckles as Linda sank gasping to her knees.
They tightened themselves mercilessly and Linda was soon
neatly packaged, a powerless super-bundle. A layer of the
cuffs peeled away and rolled down over her hands, forming
slim D-ringed mittens, canceling any hopes she had of using
her fingers to undo a buckle or two. Likewise, her ankle
cuffs peeled down over her high-heeled blue feet forming
slippery D-ringed booties of deadly green. Not to be
outdone, the straps began unfolding rapidly, doubling in
width and joining each other until Supergirl was cocooned
seamlessly from the neck down in polished greeny black. She
rolled to the ground in a weakened, dizzy state as her
collar folded up to cover her chin, then covering her mouth,
nose, eyes with a clear layer which thickened rapidly. The
real Zorelle's black boots came into her dwindling field of
vision, and in her hallucination-affected vision, Linda
briefly imagined that she could see the forlorn blank faces
of her recently lost officers staring out at her from the
surface of the shiny black rubber boot leg....was that the
mound of a miniature coated breast?....the curve of a
torturously bent elbow she could see through the green haze?
No, she decided, trying to clear her swimming head....her
mind must be playing tricks. She lapsed into blissful
unconsciousness.
<snip!>
The victory tent
A captured male officer was marched to stand in front of the
Sorceress.
"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 stretched up to cover her head from the suit
at her neck, and was crowned with a ludicrous little bonnet.
It appeared she could not stop sucking the pacifier, which
was unfortunate because it was connected to the large tank
of brilliant green fluid strapped to the back of her high
chair. Kryptonite laced water!
The young man gave a stricken cry, and even managed to take
a step towards his queen, struggling against the powerful
spell holding him in place.
"Don't bother.....there is nothing you can do to help
her." Laughed Zorelle, fingering a small rubber purse on
the table beside her.
"She should think herself lucky - I was going to make
a superheroine pussy purse out of her once she was
rubberised. I would have enjoyed watching her pussy zip
shut and her body collapse - quite distressingly! - into
that lovely pouch shape, but I realised it would be much
more fun to string out her punishment."
She zipped open and fingered the tiny sample latex
purse, watching the defenseless latex clitoris spring to
life even though its owner had long since been turned into
rubber lining. She waved it at the shaking man.
"You would look very nice as one of these". A look
of horror crossed his face as a zip sealed vagina appeared
where his sex had been moments before.
"But no, not today. I promised myself I'd only make
clothing trophies on Wednesdays. Consider yourself lucky -
soon you'll be just another doll to blend into my
collection! Come! Join your friends".
Zorelle waved her hand flippantly and in a process her
staff had seen many times, the officer transformed painfully
into an abundantly endowed nude female form. Uselessly
straining for control of her limbs, the very feminine buxom
trophy marched like a stiff marionette to a bench near the
side of the room and lay back on the shiny red vinyl
surface. A mist formed around the officer's body as she
arched in pain. A short cry escaped her lips, followed by a
liquid hiss, then total silence. The air cleared to reveal
her unaccustomed feminine curves coated completely in glossy
black rubber. The sightless effigy wriggled in an effort to
escape her new costume now that a spell was not controlling
her movements but it was pointless. Not only did her
rigidly boned vlatex (a special blend of Vinyl and Latex)
layer keep her stretched out flat on the bench, but she
could not even push herself off the bench with the towering
heels permanently bonded to her booted feet. Zorelle placed
her hands on the black clad form and concentrated a little,
casting the spell to shrink it into a tiny quivering doll in
her fist. She bent down and pressed the little doll against
the polished yet strangely lumpy smoothness of her right
boot and the toy sank beneath the surface like it was being
swallowed in a bog....its arms and feet sank first, followed
by hips and shoulders. Soon just one knee of the doll and
its face to the cheeks protruded 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 rank 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 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 stretched taut, preventing her
bonneted rubber head from squeaking against a marble
flagstone. The Sorceress unplugged the hose from the large
tank and joined it to a smaller, soft latex bag full of the
same liquid. The flaccid bag had an attached harness which
enabled it to be strapped to the poor girl's back, forcing
her to keep drinking.
"I have a very special diaper for you to model
today." said Zorelle as she produced a strange voluminous
latex diaper and proceeded to glide its frilled mass up the
captive's gleamingly sheathed legs.
"It used to be one of your officers too - I'll bet he
never thought he would be this close to your pussy!".
The feminine diaper consisted of many puffed and
stretched layers of glossy polished latex, crafted in the
same iridescent blue colour her Supergirl costume had been,
and it had her large `<S>` super logo stretched across the
generous padded bottom. The cool rubber slid into place,
covering her sex and enveloping her from thighs to hip in a
strange tingling embrace. The tightening of an attached
smooth latex buckle belt at the waist and two more around
her upper thighs ensured that no leakages could occur from
the sealed diaper. Zorelle attached a leash to Supergirl's
posture collar and dragged her along the expensively
carpeted floor of the tent, 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 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 overrun days ago. Striding through the gates, her
metal heels striking sparks on the cobblestones, the evil
queen led the procession into the heart of the city,
dragging her unwilling infantized display piece behind her
with its bulging Supergirl logo gleaming across tautly
stretched buttocks. The loyal citizens sobbed in fear when
they recognized the super symbol and the identity of the
adult rubber baby being paraded past their homes and down
the streets to the castle. Supergirl's public humiliation
had begun and the morale of her people was broken.
<snip!>
Five days later....in the throne room of the royal castle a
shackled heroine, dressed once again in her Supergirl
costume, stands before a haughty sorceress queen:
At Zorelle's magical coercion, the heroine in distress
jerked like a puppet involuntarily forward with a jingle of
her chains. Thankfully Princess Linda no longer wore her
strength-sapping green babysuit; in another room an
unidentified rubber woman was being forced to keep that
discarded outfit warm in a high chair bolted to the bottom
of a large aquarium full of gradually hardening and
pressurised clear latex. Linda 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
days 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. The green mineral had
invaded every cell of the Princess's body and sapped her
strength disastrously, so she could do nothing but be a
fetish marionette for the moment. Zorelle clawed the air in
front of her and Supergirl's barely-worn 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 chrome
manacles at both her wrists and ankles. The skin-tight
outfit had oval holes for her pert breasts, which had always
defied the light gravity in a remarkable way, and a thin
slot between her legs which opened to a mass of blonde pubic
hair when she parted her legs. The suit glowed with minute
quantities of kryptonite powder, enough to render the girl
powerless against bonds that she would ordinarily laugh at,
and the boning from the corset-like waist of the catsuit
were made from a cage of Kryptonite fibres embedded between
the layers of leather. The evil queen was emphasising her
control. The suit did not have any zips or lacings, and
appeared to have been sprayed on....so even if she had a
little energy, Supergirl could not entertain the thought of
struggling free of the humiliating costume - she would
require cutting tools and help. She fell to her hands and
knees and a jeweled posture collar was slotted around her
throat along with a leash. Zorelle slid her fingers over
the taut costume of her deliciously helpless new pet.
"Maids! I want our captive to spend the night wrapped
in a krypton-plaster cast - over the top of her new finery,
of course! Oh! - make sure you leave her breasts free of
the plaster - I will be along later to connect her up to the
milking machine." She ruffled the hair of her captive
heroine and snibbed the end of Linda's leash to the single
D-ring at the back of a waiting transport maid. The maid
wore the standard stiff vlatex maids 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!".
The transport maid dragged her weakly resisting charge
away and the others 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 hay carpeted stalls, quietly feeding the
populace with their massively enhanced mammary glands. The
black and white, cow-patterned costumes stretched the maids
taut by the hands and feet and angled their bodies a foot
above the ground to an optimal forty-seven degrees for
milking. Once squeezed into the 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.
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.
But the quantity wasn't the surprising part. Each barrel
contained the armless and legless torso of a rubberised
woman, stasis-spelled and pressurised into complete
immobility. The entombed females were nursing the precious
fluid surrounding their warm vlatex bodies to maturity - a
process which could take hundreds of years. The only
visible part of these silent helpers was a rigid, glossy
rubber face protruding from the sealed rubber end of each
barrel, heads bent achingly back so they looked straight
ahead as the barrels lay naturally on their sides. The
barrel girl's eyes were permanently bonded into widely fixed
stares - the whites of their eyes contrasting dramatically
against their glossy black vlatex faces. Row after row of
beseeching eyes could be seen dotting the wall of neatly
stacked barrels that stretched away into the darkness. Some
of the older barrel girls had been lucky enough to retain
their own lips, albeit rubber coated and heavily gagged, for
they had a tap below the point where their chin would have
been from where the wine could be sampled. Zorelle had soon
tired of this, and found it more aesthetically pleasing to
have a tap protruding directly from the rubber lips and to
modify the internal plumbing. Having eyes fixed wide open
could be quite traumatic for newly converted barrel girls,
for over the months and years they saw many cellar rats
crawling between the barrels, and often had large spiders
making their webs over their rubber faces. Zorelle had been
collecting and barreling vintages since her first year of
exile, making up the contents with enemies and agents who
had been sent to keep an eye on her. Each spy had no choice
but to continue her watching job, but from the discomfort of
her own personal barrel now. Zorelle didn't care much who
she barreled these days, but she had added some fun to the
process. Often she would just seize the first person who
happened by, sheath and change him/her into a high-heeled,
armless vlatex doll, and make her stomp her own grapes
before 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. Eccles graciously accepted the gift and
placed them on stands in his entertaining room where they
could be the subjects of interest and humiliation by guests.
His current wife Belle took an instant dislike to the pretty
rubber faces with their darting eyes and gave such a tantrum
when she found out who the pink beribboned barrel contained
that Eccles finally gave in to her smug demands. He called
in a fem-service unit, and had it seal over the barrel
girl's faces with an extra flat layer of vlatex so as to
render them forever blind and smoothly expressionless.
Belle gloated on her control of her man as she slid her
fingers over the polished hard rubbery curves 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 a silly yet common
incident where she demanded that her Lord stop seeing his
brother because she was jealous of his wife's sense of
humour and the next day she found herself sheathed in
armless vlatex, tap-mouthed in readiness and walking her six
inch booted feet in a circle through the grapes she would
accompany in her barrel. As a barrel girl, Belle was
labeled clearly and given pride of place in the entertaining
room for a few weeks before her face was sealed over just as
she had ordered done to her compatriots beside her.
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 toyed with the idea of giving
the drink maids their arms back so she wouldn't have to do
the menial task of connecting the seals herself, but no, she
enjoyed the look of horror on the faces of both unwilling
participants too much. The drink maids always panicked when
their breasts expanded so much that they thought they would
burst or fall over - walking was difficult enough already on
their ballet booted rubber legs without litres of wine to
carry - and the barrel girls were horrified too, because
they all knew that the amount of retained humanity was
directly proportional to the amount of wine they nursed
inside their rubber forms, almost as if their intelligence
was stored in the wine itself. And so it was. With each
glass, the best of their thoughts and knowledge were being
transferred forever to Zorelle's ever expanding mind.
Empty or near-empty barrel girls watched the world with
vacant stares and no recollection of who they once had been.
Zorelle had all their memories, and even used this
information to seize and barrel whole groups of friends.
Linda the spectator.
Queen Zorelle, leader of the victorious army ran her
sleek gloved hand over the hardened plaster figure of
Princess Linda, now set on all fours with her enhanced,
heavy breasts swallowed by the vacuum milking cups of the
Auto-Milk machine. By casting a strong motherhood spell,
Zorelle had extracted hundreds of litres of super milk from
Linda's enchanted bust and quite enjoyed it on her breakfast
each morning. She pointed at the white figure.
"Okay, I want our princess to be able to see what's
going on again. Cut her out and put her in slave girl
restraint.....with the usual trimmings of course so she
can't move."
Linda was cut out of her plaster layer and concubine
catsuit with a diamond saw, and struggled into a similar
tight fitting leather jumpsuit-like outfit that had been
dampened in preparation for the dressing. The black one-
piece garment had ridiculously long straight jacket sleeves
and was so snug a fit that she could barely move. It had a
high, restrictive buckling collar and an attached kidskin
facial hood that was so tight that you could perhaps tell
who she was beneath it. Embedded in the suit at the groin
were two dildos pointing inward; one large one which was
slid up her cunt, and another smaller one which was pushed
up her rear. Both dildos were hollow, which allowed her to
answer the calls of nature when she needed to, but they
could also be unscrewed from their position and replaced
with any of the torture devices the evil 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 leather enclosed arms,
wrapped them snugly around her body so that she was tightly
hugging herself, and buckled them firmly in position against
her torso. Her buckled cradling arms lifted her compressed
bosom so that the suit clearly showed imprints of her
nipples in the fabric.
Next came a pair of wet, thigh length leather boots
raised on six-inch stiletto heels. They were laced up so
snugly that she could not bend her knees at all.
"Lock her in the drying room" ordered Zorelle.
The drying room was a large padded cell with a huge fan at
one end blowing hot air through it. No matter where a
person was in the room, their clothes would be dried by the
fan. After a short while in there, Linda's garment began to
shrink and stiffen as it dried.
When the room was opened up the next morning. Linda
lay gasping for water, on the floor in her new rock hard
leather skin. She could now be left in the suit
indefinitely, and there was absolutely no possibility of
escape from it without help.
After giving her a great deal of water to drink, a
guard snapped a collar and leash around the leather coated
princess' throat and pulled her roughly to her feet.
Hobbling along as best as she was able in very tiny steps,
she was led back into the main anteroom where Queen Zorelle
sat. The captive princess' stiffened leather sheathed legs
were lowered down into two holes in the floor facing the
throne. Her feet were locked in place from beneath the
floor so that she remained fixed with her waist at floor
level. To an observer it would appear as though she had no
legs at all. Laces were released to expose her face, and a
harness of straps and hooks was placed over her head which
pulled apart her upper and lower jaws to keep her mouth open
wide, rendering intelligible speech impossible.
Zorelle clicked her fingers and Linda's friend Cynthia
was brought out. She had been stripped of her leather
hobble sheath gown they originally dressed her in and shaved
from scalp to toe. With her hands converted into useless
appendages by tight leather mittens, Cynthia had been
teetering from one mind-numbing punishment to another for
the last month. She stood struggling between two guards,
her lips protruding unnaturally over the large red ball gag
she had in her mouth, the straps for which dug deeply into
her cheeks. The gag and straps were part of a modified
horses bridle that she had strapped around her head, which
had the added effect of sealing her deeply packed ears from
the outside world. Another array of snug straps around her
hips and lower torso held a similar-sized red ball wedged up
her pussy.
The dark queen turned to Linda, "I am so used to having
her around, I have decided to make Cynthia a permanent
fixture, to serve me here as a piece of practical art. She
will become a living mannequin to join the others already
being used by my seamstresses in the bondage clothing
workshops. She could survive up to ten or fifteen years
once painted with our special lacquer. The meticulously
tested formula cannot be removed once applied - it's
permanent" laughed Zorelle. She picked up a large heavy tin
and a brush. "Let's begin shall we?"
Chains and metal cuffs were locked on Cynthia's hands
and feet. The chains pulled taut so that she was raised
upright above the ground in a spread-eagled position.
Stepping forward, Zorelle dipped her brush in the glutinous
liquid, and began liberally painting all over Cynthia's
trembling body, with the exception of her sex. The lacquer
dried very quickly, and Cynthia's struggles became less
effective as her skin began to harden and appear glassy.
Zorelle painted Cynthia's face and smooth hairless head too,
her buttock-length black hair many days gone. Even the poor
girl's eyelids were lacquered rigidly and permanently open,
her eyes magically modified as an afterthought to retain a
the wide stare of a frightened animal. When Cynthia was
immobillised, the shackles and harnessing straps had to be
removed so that the areas they covered could be painted
also. With sucking noises, the two red balls were extracted
from her, one from her puckered mouth and one from her
pussy. She stood there stiffly like a scarecrow, with her
legs and arms widely outstretched while the evil queen
painted her some more.
Linda watched from her position in the floor in
powerless horror as her friend became a glistening hardened
statue. Even though the coated girl was obviously never
going to move again, Zorelle continued to apply coats of
lacquer to her captive until the large tin was empty.
The dressmaker's dummy that was once Cynthia had an
open circular mouth through which a feeding tube of life
giving soft food and nutrients would be inserted once a day.
She could not speak because her tongue and voice box had
been swiftly removed when she was first captured, but her
breathing was ragged as if she was trying to warn Linda of
her fate in Zorelle's hands. The sorceress demonstrated how
tubes could be inserted between Cynthia's legs to collect
her waste products and even force fed back into her using
small pumps if she had to be punished....not that she could
possibly disobey anything now - but Zorelle would think of
something. The only movement possible in the lacquer doll
was a pair of tearful eyes, forever open and moving and
watching. She was propped up against a wall behind the
throne with all tubes connected in place.
"Oh, don't worry, Cynthia dear....after a few weeks as
a mannequin you'll really start to believe you are
one....and after a month or two you'll have trouble
remembering your own name.....most of my dummies can't even
remember they had names at all! Believe me, there is no
return from *that* state, my pretty one."
"I once lacquered a *very* pretty explosives
scientist, but after three months the lacquer broke down and
I thought she would need an immediate re-coat. Not so! She
was already long gone into mannequin-land. She really
thought she was one - didn't move, couldn't remember how to
talk properly or even think straight. I had to dip her in
flexy stiff vinyl to make her look and feel like a dolly
again just like she wanted. She actually begged me to!"
Since the cost of supplying feed to all 'tubed' captives
added up, Zorelle usually cast a stasis spell on them,
especially after the novelty of feeding them their own waste
products wore off. The Cynthia doll was so modified three
months later. This meant that she could not die from
starvation or any other ailment such as lack of oxygen as
long as she was being sustained magically. Much later, when
Zorelle grew tired of playing with her rigid life-sized
doll, she slid her down on the top of a short pole on an
ornate stand and fixed her in position. This made her into
a more conventional mannequin, raised with just the tips of
her toes touching her pedestal. Cynthia was used as an
experimental bondage mannequin for a few years until the
factory had a big cleanout, and she was moved into warehouse
storage along with a half-dozen other dolls who had shared
her original fate. The Cynthia doll disappeared unnoticed
one night, no doubt smuggled home by a lonely night watchman
to brighten up his decor. Not that she cared who owned her
anymore - she had long ago pushed the painfully happy
memories of her past life from her mind and rollercoasted
into a nicely maintainable empty-headed role. As long as
she was kept on her lovely stand, Cynthia was content.
Perhaps one day somebody would come to rescue her, but
perhaps if she made an effort to stare blankly at the wall
they would leave her be. Time would tell.
The next one of Linda's friends to be led out in front
of her was Joanna, also naked. Joanna prided herself on her
muscular physique and had been a runner for Supergirl's
messages during the war.
"Ah Joanna....put her in one of our new inflatable
rubber suits, ready to be pressurised" ordered Zorelle.
After a brief dressing struggle Joanna was wearing the
strange bulky black garment, enveloping her completely from
head to toe with all the sealing zips locked closed. Her
only links to the outside world were small breathing tubes
in her nostrils, and the much larger ones forced into her
mouth, cunt and rear. Once the enveloping costume was
inflated, these tubes were designed to keep her body
supplied with the minimum of life-giving essentials whilst
removing any wastes she produced. The wearer could be
enclosed indefinitely without need for removal.
Zorelle screwed a hose onto the valve at the very top
of Joanna's suit and with a little hiss of escaping gas,
connected the other end of it to a nozzle on the wall. She
turned on a tap and the pressure suit began to fill and
expand steadily. But not with air. The substance that was
inflating it was heavy, plainly a kind of paste. The
rubber-sheathed creature was dragged like a giant bloated
slug down onto the floor under the extra weight. Joanna's
arms were inexorably lifted out, away from her body as the
pressure of the swollen suit gradually overcame her
strength. Linda's worst suspicions were confirmed when a
helper moved revealing a label on the pipe reading "Q.D.P."
"Yes, that's right, Joanna is to become one of my
statues also, my dear" gloated Zorelle as she followed
Linda's gaze. "A plaster one this time though. Once the
suit has been completely inflated, Joanna will be compressed
and immobilised inside. This Quick Drying Plaster should
set in about ten minutes, and it will swell as it dries,
compressing her with the pressure. The plaster also
generates quite a lot of heat as it sets, which I am sure
will be unpleasant for Joanna with the hot tight rubber
against her skin."
When the suit had completely ballooned out, it become
so heavy that it took four guards to lift the swollen
captive to her feet and hold her in a standing position. By
the time the pressure in the drum-stretched suit had reached
90 PSI according to the pressure gauge on the pipe, all
movement from the girl within had ceased. The guards
wobbled the sides of the suit to consolidate any tiny air
bubbles and make them boil back up the filling tube, topped
it up one final time and screw-capped the valve closed.
Zorelle waited patiently for fifteen minutes while the
rubber and plaster encased girl hardened. She cut away the
outer rubber layer to reveal a bulbous white plaster statue
beneath. It had no features save several tubes that were
hanging from the face and groin. The guards were instructed
to carve a likeness of Joanna's face on the head of the new
plaster dummy and to dress it in fat rubber imitations of
the clothes that Joanna was wearing when she was captured,
including a rubber evening gown, rubber petticoat, rubber
corset, and high heeled rubber lace-up boots. The dummy's
shoed feet were set into a heavy plaster pedestal to prevent
it from toppling over and then the dummy containing Joanna
was slid over to rest beside the stiff lacquer mannequin and
had its tubes connected to the pumps.
Zorelle laughed as she ran her hand down the back of the
smooth white plaster head.
"Ooh! Your running legs are so much more attractive!
Got any messages for me now?". She put her ear to the
mouth region of the silent statue as if listening for a
voice. "Don't fret gorgeous, since you can't see, hear or
speak, you'll have even less time than the Cynthia mannequin
to enjoy your old identity. Your mind will automatically
adjust to the situation - trust me, it always happens that
way. In no time at all you'll believe you always were a
plaster and latex mannequin. The most joyous part of your
new life will be the feeding times, regardless of what we
decide to pump in. That's if I don't cast the stasis spell
on all of you statues to save myself the trouble."
Linda tried to find a weak spot in her confinement but
as she expected, there were none. Zorelle was neutralizing
her enemies as quickly as she could, and Supergirl was
unable to save any of them, at least not yet. The evil
sorceress had a complex about being overpowered in her sleep
because it was then that magi were most vulnerable. She
made an effort to ensure all non-believers were safely
packaged....even a sorceress liked a good night's sleep.
Another former messenger, Lisa, was brought in and
fastened to the vertical rack. She was freshly hairless,
and looked relieved at being released from months as a
stretched milk maid for the troops. Her relief did not last
long. 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
Lisa 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, Lisa 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 Lisa 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 wrapped body so narrow
that Linda imagined that her friend could not have fitted
inside it at all. Zorelle assured the captive princess that
her friend 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 it. 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 rack
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 her and
buffed and glossed according to the evil sorceress's
instructions. That evening Zorelle checked on what she
planned to call her "rubber statue corner". She found a
finely polished vlatex creature struggling fruitlessly
against her new rigid rubbery sheath. Rosemary's hands had
bonded to her 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 bronze
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 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 six
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
would do only her bidding - especially useful when medical
procedures were required.
Keeping Sister Josephine waiting 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 dildo for the last hour.
The figure nestled amongst the satin cushion shook as her
pussy gripped the shaft in rhythmical spasms and another
climax wracked her body.
"Uhhh....please make it
stop....ohhhhhhhh.....uh.....no
more....uh....oooooo....can't think....mmmmmm....uh......not
again..." she cried as she watched her own hands slide the
dildo almost lovingly home again.
"Here we are Melanie dear, your new costume is ready.
You can stop your display for everyone here soon" 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. Smiling to herself, Zorelle halted the
compulsion spell and had guards hold 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 for 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 in 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, 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. The rubbery
skins 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 skinsuit. Once the transformed girls
had squirmed fully into their frictionless outfits, there
was a hiss and all remaining air in them 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 smaller and smaller. When they
were a small proportion of their original size, the rubber
mermaids 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 soccer balls
quivering and bucking on the floor as if they had a life of
their own.
================< 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?
Intelligent comments and story ideas VERY welcome, but note
that Fast does not have time to email copies of stories to
people. Unsolicited Bulk Email and newsgroup spam must end!
Unsolicited Bulk Email is theft!
All feedback via fast_fist@hotmail.com
============================================================
I do plan to release Supergirl in the end, but there is a
lot to happen in the story before that!
...another 68% of the story to come.
Feedback please via fast_fist@hotmail.com