Message-ID: <4383eli$9709261255@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: woodsmok@gte.net (MC Woodsmoke) Subject: The Perils of Supergirl V1.0 by Richard Marnet (bd/nc/mc/latex/magic/tech/statue/tg/encap) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Auth: c1df088181df4b99c4560491 Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <60ger2$rdv$1@gte2.gte.net> The Perils of Supergirl V1.0 by Richard Marnet (c/- fast_fist@hotmail.com) bd/nc/mc/latex/magic/tech/statue/tg/encap *** Copyright (c) 1997 - All Rights Reserved *** * WARNING * WARNING * WARNING * This is a work of pornographic fiction intended for adults only. It describes sexual acts and behaviour in explicit and graphic detail. Only read this story if you have reached the age of sexual consent in your country. DISCLAIMER: This story is entirely fictional. The characters, places and events depicted in this story are not intended to represent or resemble any real persons, places, or events. Any such resemblance is purely coincidental. This story is a work of extremely explicit and graphic sexual fantasy. The depiction of any act in this story, including, but not limited to, non-consensual sexual activity, oral/vaginal sex, heterosexual and homosexual acts, encapsulation, use of drugs and other mind-altering substances on an unwilling or unknowing human being, and degradation, humiliation, restructure/forced sex-change or enslavement of a human being should not be construed to imply that the author condones the performance of said act, either on the author's part or on the part of anyone else. This is not a story for narrow minded people or for people who cannot distinguish between fantasy and reality. Leave now. IF YOU ARE NOT OF LEGAL AGE IN YOUR PLACE OF RESIDENCE TO READ AND VIEW PORNOGRAPHIC MATERIAL, OR THE PRESENCE OF ANY OF THE ACTIONS LISTED IN THE SECOND PARAGRAPH, ABOVE, OFFEND YOU, DO NOT READ THIS STORY. Note: This story is a work of FICTION. The story, names, and events depicted in this text are fantastical. No names are changed, as no one is innocent or real in this story. IF YOU ARE NOT OF LEGAL AGE TO READ SEXUALLY EXPLICIT ADULT CONTENT STORIES, DO NOT READ FURTHER. Also, if you are offended by consensual adults enriching their lives through harmless mental fantasies, or if you have a religious / moral / anti-pornography agenda, please go away. Many people who are worthy pillars of your community enjoy complex and fulfilling fantasies that you will never understand, so do not be so arrogant as to judge them against your strait-laced existence. You have been thoroughly warned. This is heavy stuff. ************************************************************ * Introduction. Within days of the King's death and her coronation, the ruling Princess of Steel heard rumours of Sorceress Zorelle's return from forced exile. The Princess knew that the evil Zorelle had been exiled for dabbling in the forbidden magics; the cruel woman had used her time away effectively, learning the full extent of her powers....no one had followed the dark path and survived before. Informants told the Princess that Zorelle was using her new spells to create an army of mindless followers....completely unstoppable. It was obvious that her aim was to seize total control of the land and its people. One by one she was capturing her enemies and dealing with them in a terrible fashion. Only Zorelle's wicked mind was capable inflicting such suffering on the land. Dangerous battlefields A very tired Princess Linda Danvers used her super powers to hover in mid air and scan the massive enemy army many miles below. It was made up mostly of forced conscripts, ordinary citizens who had been captured and clad in the glistening black leather bondage suits that all in the enchanted army wore. The magical punishingly buckled costumes took merely five minutes to convert a struggling captive into a docile obedient soldier who would follow Zorelle's mental commands without question. Once controlled by the suit, they would walk happily into certain death for the evil spellstress, smiling beneath their expanded gags, and even help to force dress more conscripts. Half of the squeaking, suctioned forms had once been in Linda's own army, but were now "prisoners of war" in every sense. Zorelle had made some of the conscripts into winged rubber scouts, imprisoning their arms and legs together in a single tube of frictionless black latex so that all but the round circle of their faces was visible. She attached dragon-like rubbery wings to their corseted backs and controlled them remotely so that the stiffly encapsulated scouts obediently flew over what had once been their own army. Everything these flapping rubber targets in the sky saw, Zorelle saw through her magic. Linda spied a figure in the Sorceress's colours (gold and silver) standing in front of a very well-appointed tent. Borne by desperation and hoping to catch Zorelle by surprise, the Woman of Steel flew down like lightning and appeared beside her enemy. Knowing that she could not allow the witch to try an escape spell, she enveloped Zorelle's mouth with hers, grasped the spell-weaving hands and began to utilise her super-strength to crush them. There was a brilliant flash, and the form she was holding seemed to collapse into itself. It was a decoy. What she imagined was Zorelle had evaporated into a harness of glowing green straps....kryptonite! Her first thought was to flee, but the nightmare harness seemed stuck to her wrists and face already, neatly circling her forearms with wide cuffs and sliding between her lips to insert a glowing green expando- gag in her mouth. She fought against it feebly with her rapidly draining strength to no avail. The myriad of remaining straps on the harness encircled her body like snakes and threaded themselves through the buckles as Linda sank gasping to her knees. They tightened themselves mercilessly and Linda was soon neatly packaged, a powerless super-bundle. A layer of the cuffs peeled away and rolled down over her hands, forming slim D-ringed mittens, canceling any hopes she had of using her fingers to undo a buckle or two. Likewise, her ankle cuffs peeled down over her high-heeled blue feet forming slippery D-ringed booties of deadly green. Not to be outdone, the straps began unfolding rapidly, doubling in width and joining each time until eventually Supergirl was cocooned seamlessly from the neck down in polished greeny black. She rolled to the ground in a weakened, dizzy state as her collar folded up to cover her chin, then covering her mouth, nose, eyes with a clear layer which thickened rapidly. The real Zorelle's black boots came into her dwindling field of vision, and in her hallucination-affected vision, Linda briefly imagined that she could see the forlorn blank faces of her recently lost officers staring out at her from the surface of the shiny black rubber boot leg....was that the mound of a miniature coated breast?....the curve of a torturously bent elbow? No, she decided, trying to clear her swimming head....her mind must be playing tricks. She lapsed into blissful unconsciousness. The victory tent A captured male officer was marched to stand in front of the Sorceress. "It looks very much like you chose the wrong side, young man" she laughed, pointing out the rubber baby costumed form of his former leader and princess sitting docily in the corner. In stark contrast to the way he remembered his strong commander a few hours ago, Supergirl was now strapped in a high chair and sucking purposefully on a magical pacifier. The all enclosing latex-kryptonite babysuit she was sheathed in was designed in attractive transparent green. Her hands and feet terminated in stiff frilled mittens and booties, and from the frills around her neck hung a sparkling rubber bib ready to catch the slightest dribble. A tight airless hood with a mockery of a baby-face painted on it stretched up to cover her head from the suit at her neck, and was crowned with a ludicrous little bonnet. It appeared she could not stop sucking the pacifier, which was unfortunate because it was connected to the large tank of brilliant green fluid strapped to the back of her high chair. Kryptonite laced water! The young man gave a stricken cry, and even managed to take a step towards his queen, struggling against the powerful spell holding him in place. "Don't bother.....there is nothing you can do to help her." Laughed Zorelle, fingering a small rubber purse on the table beside her. "She should think herself lucky - I was going to make a superheroine pussy purse out of her once she was rubberised. I would have enjoyed watching her pussy zip shut and her body collapse - quite distressingly! - into that lovely pouch shape, but I realised it would be much more fun to string out her punishment." She zipped open and fingered the tiny sample purse, watching the defenseless clitoris spring to life even though its owner had long since been turned into rubber lining. She waved it at the shaking man. "You would look very nice as one of these". A look of horror crossed his face as a zip sealed vagina appeared where his sex had been moments before. "But no, not today. I promised myself I'd only make clothing trophies on Wednesdays. Consider yourself lucky - soon you'll be just another doll to blend into my collection! Come! Join your friends". Zorelle waved her hand flippantly and in a process her staff had seen many times, the officer transformed painfully into an abundantly endowed nude female form. Uselessly straining for control of her limbs, the very feminine buxom trophy marched like a stiff marionette to a bench near the side of the room and lay back on the shiny red vinyl surface. A mist formed around the officer's body as she arched in pain. A short cry escaped her lips, followed by a liquid hiss, then total silence. The air cleared to reveal her unaccustomed feminine curves coated completely in glossy black rubber. The sightless effigy wriggled in an effort to escape her new costume now that a spell was not controlling her movements but it was pointless. Not only did her rigidly boned vlatex layer keep her stretched flat on the bench, but she could not even push herself off the bench with the towering heels permanently bonded to her booted feet. Zorelle placed her hands on the black clad form and concentrated a little, casting the spell to shrink it into a tiny quivering doll in her fist. She bent down and pressed the little doll against the polished yet strangely lumpy smoothness of her right boot and the toy sank beneath the surface like it was being swallowed in a bog....its arms and feet sank first, followed by hips and shoulders....soon just one knee of the doll and its face to the cheeks protruded along with the tip of a breast. Zorelle stopped pushing. Her latest boot addition stared somewhat beseechingly at the world, its expressionless vlatex face framed by the glistening sea of rubber that was its prison for all eternity. As if disturbed by the arrival of a new resident, the most recent of the other trapped forms in the dark Queen's boots rippled slightly as they sought escape from the magical coating that would hold them forever. The bulk of the "residents" merely lay still, for they had long ago worked out the futility of struggling. Indeed, some had struggled themselves beneath the surface because the enchantment worked in one direction only. The evil woman always enjoyed watching their tiny encapsulated bodies struggle as she pushed them into their new rubbery home in her footwear. Hmmmm....Zorelle thought to herself. When the enemy army surrendered soon, she would have enough unwilling victims to make a matching catsuit or two. It would be nice to arrange some of the figures as shoulder pads. She mused over making a half dozen different catsuit styles for a moment as she absently brushed her fingers around two slight cherry bumps protruding from the boot at her left thigh. She had long since forgotten who they belonged to, but they were the only remaining signs of a captured colonel. It was no longer possible to identify him much less rescue him - she had endowed him with massive breasts before turning him into the doll and embedding him until only his nipples remained. His two female aides had been made into chesty little rubber Barbie dolls and set face-to-crotch inside a dildo shaped sheath that was currently a feature of the pussy-stimulation unit wriggling away tirelessly between Supergirl's babified legs. Five days later....in the throne room of the royal castle a shackled heroine, dressed once again in her Supergirl costume, stands before a haughty sorceress queen: At Zorelle's magical coercion, the heroine in distress jerked like a puppet involuntarily forward with a jingle of her chains. Thankfully Princess Linda no longer wore her strength-sapping green babysuit; in another room an unidentified rubber woman was being forced to keep that discarded outfit warm in a high chair bolted to the bottom of a large aquarium full of gradually hardening and pressurised clear latex. Linda's new lycra Supergirl costume gleamed uncharacteristically in the torchlight, for it was not lycra at all - it had been changed into a parody of shiny red and blue buckled vlatex, notched to its tightest settings for good measure. In subtle ways the Sorceress was emphasising how much power she had over the woman of steel. The Kryptonite spiked water they had been making Linda drink for many days had sapped her strength disastrously, so she could do nothing but be a fetish marionette for the moment. Zorelle clawed the air in front of her and Supergirl's barely-worn costume was torn from her by invisible hands. The evil woman murmured a single word and the nude girl was instantly clothed again, this time as a military issue concubine. The full-length catsuit was made of black patent leather, doubly stitched for strength, joined to a tight chrome collar at the neck, and to closely fitting chrome manacles at both her wrists and ankles. The skin-tight outfit had openings for her pert breasts, which easily defied the light gravity, and a thin slot between her legs which opened to a mass of blonde pubic hair when she parted her legs. The suit glowed with minute quantities of kryptonite powder, enough to render the girl powerless against bonds that she would ordinarily laugh at, and the boning from the corset-like waist of the catsuit were made from a cage of Kryptonite fibres embedded between the layers of leather. The evil queen was emphasising her control again. The suit did not have any zips or lacings, and appeared to have been sprayed on....so even if she had a little energy, Supergirl could not entertain the thought of struggling free of the humiliating costume - she would require cutting tools and help. She fell to her hands and knees and a jeweled posture collar was slotted around her throat along with a leash. Zorelle slid her fingers over the taut costume of her deliciously helpless new pet. "Maids! I want our captive to spend the night wrapped in a krypton-plaster cast - over the top of her new costume, of course! Oh! - make sure you leave her breasts free of the plaster - I will be along later to connect her up to the milking machine." She ruffled the hair of her leashed captive heroine. "I have sooo many experiments for you to try my dangerous little pet - I'm sure I can relieve you of that super strength when I've worked out how to transfer it to my body....soon!". The wine cellar The maids dragged their weakly resisting charge away to begin wrapping her in her full body cast for the night. Humming happily to herself, Zorelle headed down to her wine cellar to choose something fruity to go with the evening's meal. As expected of an evil dictatoress, her cellar was huge, with hundreds of barrels of surprising, exquisite liquor stretching away into the cool darkness. But the quantity wasn't the surprising part. Each barrel contained the armless and legless torso of a rubberised woman, stasis- spelled and pressurised into complete immobility. The entombed females were nursing the precious fluid surrounding their warm vlatex bodies to maturity - a process which could take hundreds of years. The only visible part of these silent helpers was a rigid, glossy rubber face protruding from the sealed rubber end of each barrel, heads bent achingly back so they looked straight ahead as the barrels lay naturally on their sides. The barrel girl's eyes were permanently bonded into widely fixed stares - the whites of their eyes contrasting dramatically against their glossy black vlatex faces. Row after row of beseeching eyes could be seen dotting the wall of neatly stacked barrels that stretched away into the darkness. Some of the older barrel girls had been lucky enough to retain their own lips, albeit rubber coated and heavily gagged, for they had a tap below the point where their chin would have been from where the wine could be sampled. Zorelle had soon tired of this, and found it more aesthetically pleasing to have a tap protruding directly from the rubber lips and to modify the internal plumbing. Having eyes fixed wide open could be quite traumatic for newly converted barrel girls, for over the months and years they saw many cellar rats crawling between the barrels, and often had large spiders making their webs over their rubber faces. Zorelle had been collecting and barreling vintages since her first year of exile, making up the contents with enemies and agents who had been sent to keep an eye on her. Each spy had no choice but to continue her watching job, but from the discomfort of her own personal barrel now. Zorelle didn't care much who she barreled these days, but she had added some fun to the process. Often she would just seize the first person who happened by, sheath and change him/her into a high-heeled, armless vlatex doll, and make her stomp her own grapes before converting her into a new addition to the cellar. Zorelle made a gift of five barrel girls to her new senior minister Lord Eccles, one of whom was his freshly tap- mouthed ex-wife. Eccles graciously accepted the gift and placed them on stands in his entertaining room where they could be the subjects of interest and humiliation by guests. His current wife Belle took an instant dislike to the pretty rubber faces with their darting eyes and gave such a tantrum when she found out who the pink beribboned barrel contained that Eccles finally gave in to her smug demands. He called in a fem-service unit, and had it seal over the barrel girl's faces with an extra flat layer of vlatex so as to render them forever blind and smoothly expressionless. Belle gloated on her control of her man as she slid her fingers over the polished hard rubbery curves of the face of the woman she had replaced a few years ago. She had won again. Little did she know, but in six months time she would give her last ever tantrum. It was a silly yet common incident where she demanded that her Lord stop seeing his brother because she was jealous of his wife's sense of humour and the next day she found herself sheathed in armless vlatex, tap-mouthed in readiness and walking her six inch booted feet in a circle through the grapes she would accompany in her barrel. As a barrel girl, Belle was labeled clearly and given pride of place in the entertaining room for a few weeks before her face was sealed over just as she had ordered done to her compatriots nearby. Queen Zorelle always found it difficult to choose a vintage, but settled on the barrel that contained the first boyfriend who had dumped her. She waved at a shapely drink- maid who scurried over and connected her rubber mouth flange to the end of the tap protruding from his feminine glossy pouting lips. There was a brief hiss of escaping air as the seal was made good and Zorelle turned the tap, allowing dark red wine to flow steadily into the drink maid's breast tanks, expanding her rubber bosom to massive proportions. The evil queen toyed with the idea of giving the drink maids their arms back so she wouldn't have to do the menial task of connecting the seals herself, but no, she enjoyed the look of horror on the faces of both unwilling participants too much. The drink maids always panicked when their breasts expanded so much that they thought they would burst or fall over - walking was difficult enough already on their ballet booted rubber legs without litres of wine to carry - and the barrel girls were horrified too, because they all knew that the amount of retained humanity was directly proportional to the amount of wine they nursed inside their rubber forms, almost as if their intelligence was stored in the wine itself. And so it was. With each glass, the best of their thoughts and knowledge were being transferred forever to Zorelle's ever expanding mind. Empty or near- empty barrel girls watched the world with vacant stares and no recollection of who they once had been. Zorelle had all their memories, and even used this information to seize and barrel whole groups of friends. Linda the spectator. Queen Zorelle, leader of the victorious army ran her sleek gloved hand over the hardened plaster figure of Princess Linda, set on all fours with her enhanced, heavy breasts swallowed by the vacuum milking cups of the Auto- Milk machine. By casting a strong motherhood spell, Zorelle had extracted hundreds of litres of super milk from Linda's enchanted bust and quite enjoyed it on her breakfast each morning. She pointed at the white figure. "Okay, I want our princess to be able to see what's going on again. Cut her out and put her in slave girl restraint.....with the usual trimmings of course so she can't move." Linda was cut out of her plaster layer and concubine catsuit with a diamond saw, and struggled into a similar tight fitting leather jumpsuit-like outfit that had been dampened in preparation for the dressing. The black one- piece garment had ridiculously long straight jacket sleeves and was so snug a fit that she could barely move. It had a high, restrictive buckling collar and an attached kidskin facial hood that was so tight that you could perhaps tell who she was beneath it. Embedded in the suit at the groin were two dildos pointing inward; one large one which was slid up her cunt, and another smaller one which was pushed up her rear. Both dildos were hollow, which allowed her to answer the calls of nature when she needed to, but they could also be unscrewed from their position and replaced with any of the torture devices the evil sorcoress had developed for those openings. The moist straight jacket was securely laced up the back with steel wire from the small of her back to the top of her head by a specially designed binding machine and welded together, leaving poor Linda struggling for breath, her head hidden beneath the amorphous mask. Both of her hands were laced tightly into the mittened sleeves of the garment; one ended in a buckle, and the other, a strap. Two female guards took hold of her leather enclosed arms, wrapped them snugly around her body so that she was tightly hugging herself, and buckled them firmly in position against her torso. Her buckled cradling arms lifted her compressed bosom so that the suit clearly showed imprints of her nipples in the fabric. Next came a pair of wet, thigh length leather boots raised on six-inch stiletto heels. They were laced up so snugly that she could not bend her knees at all. "Lock her in the drying room" ordered Zorelle. The drying room was a large padded cell with a huge fan at one end blowing hot air through it. No matter where a person was in the room, their clothes would be dried by the fan. After a short while in there, Linda's garment began to shrink and stiffen as it dried. When the room was opened up the next morning. Linda lay gasping for water, on the floor in her new rock hard leather skin. She could now be left in the suit indefinitely, and there was absolutely no possibility of escape from it without help. After giving her a great deal of water to drink, a guard snapped a collar and leash around the leather coated princess' throat and pulled her roughly to her feet. Hobbling along as best as she was able in very tiny steps, she was led back into the main anteroom where Queen Zorelle sat. The captive princess' stiffened leather sheathed legs were lowered down into two holes in the floor facing the throne. Her feet were locked in place from beneath the floor so that she remained fixed with her waist at floor level. To an observer it would appear as though she had no legs at all. Laces were released to expose her face, and a harness of straps and hooks was placed over her head which pulled apart her upper and lower jaws to keep her mouth open wide, rendering speech impossible. Zorelle clicked her fingers and Linda's friend Cynthia was brought out. She had been stripped of her leather hobble sheath gown they originally dressed her in and shaved from scalp to toe. With her hands converted into useless appendages by tight leather mittens, Cynthia had been teetering from one mind-numbing punishment to another for the last month. She stood struggling between two guards, her lips protruding unnaturally over the large red ball gag she had in her mouth, the straps for which dug deeply into her cheeks. The gag and straps were part of a modified horses bridle that she had strapped around her head, which had the added effect of sealing her deeply packed ears from the outside world. Another array of snug straps around her hips and lower torso held a similar-sized red ball wedged up her pussy. The dark queen turned to Linda, "I am so used to having her around, I have decided to make Cynthia a permanent fixture, to serve me here as a piece of practical art. She will become a living mannequin to join the others already being used by my seamstresses in the bondage clothing workshops. She could survive up to ten or fifteen years once painted with our special lacquer. The meticulously tested formula cannot be removed once applied - it's permanent" laughed Zorelle. She picked up a large heavy tin and a brush. "Let's begin shall we?" Chains and metal cuffs were locked on Cynthia's hands and feet. The chains pulled taut so that she was raised upright above the ground in a spread-eagled position. Stepping forward, Zorelle dipped her brush in the glutinous liquid, and began liberally painting all over Cynthia's trembling body, with the exception of her sex. The lacquer dried very quickly, and Cynthia's struggles became less effective as her skin began to harden and appear glassy. Zorelle painted Cynthia's face and smooth hairless head too, her buttock-length black hair many days gone. Even the poor girl's eyelids were lacquered rigidly and permanently open, her eyes magically modified as an afterthought to retain a the wide stare of a frightened animal. When Cynthia was immobillised, the shackles and harnessing straps had to be removed so that the areas they covered could be painted also. With sucking noises, the two red balls were extracted from her, one from her puckered mouth and one from her pussy. She stood there stiffly like a scarecrow, with her legs and arms widely outstretched while the evil queen painted her some more. Linda watched from her position in the floor in powerless horror as her friend became a glistening hardened statue. Even though the coated girl was obviously never going to move again, Zorelle continued to apply coats of lacquer to her captive until the large tin was empty. The dressmaker's dummy that was once Cynthia had an open circular mouth through which a feeding tube of life giving soft food and nutrients would be inserted once per day. She could not speak because her tongue and voice box had been swiftly removed when she was first captured, but her breathing was ragged as if she was trying to warn Linda of her fate in Zorelle's hands. Tubes could be inserted between Cynthia's legs to collect her waste products and could even be force fed back into her using small pumps if she had to be punished....not that she could possibly disobey anything now but Zorelle would think of something. The only movement possible in the lacquer doll was a pair of tearful eyes, forever open and moving and watching. She was propped up against a wall behind the throne with all tubes connected in place. "Oh, don't worry, Cynthia dear....after a few weeks as a mannequin you'll really start to believe you are one....and after a month or two you'll have trouble remembering your own name.....most of my dummies can't even remember they had names at all! Believe me, there is no return from *that* state, my pretty one." "I once lacquered a *very* pretty explosives scientist, but after three months the lacquer broke down and I thought she would need an immediate re-coat. Not so! She was already long gone into mannequin-land. She really thought she was one - didn't move, couldn't remember how to talk properly or even think straight. I had to dip her in flexy stiff vinyl to make her look and feel like a dolly again just like she wanted. She actually begged me to!" Since the cost of supplying feed to all 'tubed' captives added up, Zorelle usually cast a stasis spell on them, especially after the novelty of feeding them their own waste products wore off. The Cynthia doll was so modified three months later. This meant that she could not die from starvation as long as she was being sustained magically. Much later, when Zorelle grew tired of playing with her rigid life-sized doll, she slid her down on the top of a short pole and fixed her in position with glue. This made her into a more conventional mannequin, raised with her feet just off the ground. She was used as a bondage mannequin for a few years until the factory had a big cleanout, and she was put in a dark storage warehouse, quite forgotten about for as long as this history goes.... The next one of Linda's friends to be led out in front of her was Joanna, also naked. "Ah Joanna....put her in one of our new inflatable rubber suits, ready to be pressurised" ordered Zorelle. After a brief dressing struggle Joanna was wearing the strange bulky black garment, enveloping her completely from head to toe with all the sealing zips locked closed. Her only links to the outside world were small breathing tubes in her nostrils, and the much larger ones forced into her mouth, cunt and rear. These tubes were designed to keep her body supplied with the minimum of life-giving essentials whilst removing any wastes she produced, once the enveloping costume was inflated. Zorelle screwed a hose onto the valve at the very top of Joanna's suit and with a little hiss of escaping gas, connected the other end of it to a nozzle on the wall. She turned on a tap and the pressure suit began to fill and expand steadily. But not with air. The substance that was inflating it was heavy, plainly a kind of paste. The rubber-sheathed creature was dragged like a giant bloated slug down onto the floor under the extra weight. Joanna's arms were inexorably lifted out, away from her body as the pressure of the swollen suit gradually overcame her strength. Linda's worst suspicions were confirmed when a helper moved revealing a label on the pipe reading "Q.D.P." "Joanna is to become one of my statues also, my dear" gloated Zorelle when she saw the direction of Linda's attention. "A plaster one this time though. Once the suit has been completely inflated, Joanna will be compressed and immobilised inside. This quick drying plaster should set in about ten minutes, and it will swell as it dries, compressing her with the pressure. The plaster also generates quite a lot of heat as it sets, which I am sure will be unpleasant for Joanna with the hot tight rubber against her skin." When the suit had completely ballooned out, it had become so heavy that it took four guards to lift the swollen captive to her feet and hold her in a standing position. By the time the pressure in the drum-stretched suit had reached 90 PSI according to the pressure gauge on the pipe, all movement from the girl within had ceased. The guards wobbled the sides of the suit to consolidate any tiny air bubbles and make them boil back up the filling tube, and topped up and screw-capped the valve closed. Zorelle waited patiently for fifteen minutes while the rubber and plaster encased girl hardened. She cut away the outer rubber layer to reveal a bulbous white plaster statue beneath. It had no features save several tubes that were hanging from the face and groin. The guards were instructed to paste a blown up photograph of Joanna's face over the "face" of the new plaster dummy and to dress it in fat rubber imitations of the clothes that Joanna was wearing when she was captured, including a rubber evening gown, rubber petticoat, rubber corset, and high heeled rubber lace-up boots. The dummy's shoed feet were set into a heavy plaster pedestal to prevent it from toppling over and then the dummy containing Joanna was slid over to rest beside the stiff lacquer mannequin and had its tubes connected to the pumps. ...another 80% of the story to come. Feedback please! -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /