Message-ID: <15487eli$9809210806@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: woodsmok@gte.net (MC Woodsmoke) Subject: The Bondage Perils of Supergirl V1.7 (bd/nc/mc/latex/magic/tech/statue/tg/encap/plaster) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: fast_fist@hotmail.com X-Auth: C11ADC564A8CCBDA44C18491 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: <6u329a$1da$1@news-1.news.gte.net> This is a rather weird story, with many damsels in distress and LOTs of latex. I DID NOT write this story and DO NOT have any claim on it. If you wish to contact the author, an email address is supplied but it is indicated that all flames will be piped to /dev/null. Requests for latest versions will be ignored. The Bondage Perils of Supergirl V1.7 by Fast Fist (c/- fast_fist@hotmail.com) bd/nc/mc/latex/magic/tech/statue/tg/encap/plaster *** Copyright (c) 1998 - 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. If we determine you are not of legal age, the appropriate authorities will be notified. DISCLAIMER: 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 - 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. ===================================================== 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 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 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, marching them towards total dominance of the land and its people. One by one she was capturing her enemies and dealing with them in a terrible fashion. Only Zorelle's wicked mind was capable inflicting such suffering on the kingdom. Dangerous battlefields A very tired Princess Linda Danvers used her super powers to hover in mid air and scan the massive enemy army many miles below. The hostile force was made up mostly of forced conscripts, ordinary citizens who had been captured and clad in the glistening black leather bondage suits that all in Zorelle's enchanted army wore. The magical punishingly buckled and booted costumes took merely five minutes to convert a struggling captive into a docile obedient soldier who would follow the destructive woman's mental commands without question. Once controlled by the suit, they would walk happily into certain death for the evil spellstress, smiling anonymously beneath their tight hoods and expanded gags, and even help to force dress more conscripts. Half of the squeaking, suctioned forms had once been in Linda's own army, but were now "prisoners of war" in every sense. Zorelle had made some of the conscripts into winged rubber scouts, imprisoning their arms and legs together in a single tube of frictionless black latex so that all but the round circle of their faces was visible. She attached dragon-like rubbery wings to their corseted backs and controlled them remotely so that the stiffly encapsulated scouts flew obediently over what had once been their own army. These flapping rubber creatures observed much while arrows battered their dark wings. Zorelle used their vision as her own. From her vantage point in the clouds, Linda spied a figure in the Sorceress's colours of gold and silver standing in front of a very well-appointed tent. Borne by desperation and hoping to catch Zorelle by surprise, the Woman of Steel flew down in a split second and appeared beside her enemy. Knowing that she could not allow the witch to try an escape or attack spell, she enveloped Zorelle's mouth with hers, grasped the spell-weaving hands and then utilized her super-strength to crush them. There was a brilliant flash, and the strikingly clad woman she was holding seemed to both stretch and collapse into herself, looking terrified in the process. The woman was a decoy, no doubt crafted from one of Supergirl's own soldiers. The hapless gold and silver outfitted figure who she had imagined to be Zorelle shimmered into a harness of glowing green straps....kryptonite! How had Zorelle managed to find some? Her first thought was to flee, but the nightmare harness seemed stuck to her wrists and face already, neatly circling her forearms with wide cuffs and sliding between her lips to insert a glowing green gag in her mouth that expanded to fill every crevice. She fought against it feebly with her rapidly draining strength to no avail. The myriad of remaining straps on the harness encircled her body like snakes and threaded themselves through the buckles as Linda sank gasping to her knees. They tightened themselves mercilessly and Linda was soon neatly packaged, a powerless super-bundle. 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 now that Supergirl was her captive. The six inch metal heels of her glossy black rubber hip boots made sharp noises as they struck the marble flagstones, a novel flooring for a tent, but a luxury that she demanded and received at every new battleground. Against her skin she wore a spectacular metallic gold latex catsuit that hugged all of her sumptuous body, leaving just her smug face exposed. The all-in-one seamless garment had slim gloves joining the sleeves and a glossy attached hood with a ponytail tube in the top from which a waterfall of dark hair flowed over a firmly anchored golden crown. Connected to the taut latex at her erect nipples and flowing over her shoulders was a large silver cloak to complete the ensemble, which was kept polished to a mirror sheen by the latex dipped maids who hovered silently around her. "It looks very much like you chose the wrong side, young man" she laughed, pointing out the rubber baby costumed form of his former leader and princess sitting docily in the corner. In stark contrast to the way he remembered his strong commander a few hours ago, Supergirl was now strapped in a high chair and sucking purposefully on a magical pacifier. The all enclosing latex-kryptonite babysuit she was sheathed in was designed in attractive transparent green. Her hands and feet terminated in stiff frilled mittens and booties, and from the frills around her neck hung a sparkling rubber bib, as if ready to catch the slightest dribble. A tight airless hood with a mockery of a baby-face fashioned on it was stretched up to cover her head from the suit at her neck and crowned with a ludicrous little bonnet. It appeared she could not stop sucking the pacifier, which was unfortunate because it was connected to the large tank of brilliant green fluid strapped to the back of her high chair. Kryptonite laced water! The young man gave a stricken cry, and even managed to take a step towards his princess, struggling against the powerful spell holding him in place. "Don't bother.....there is nothing you can do to help her." Laughed Zorelle, fingering a small rubber purse on the table beside her as she settled her golden form comfortably in the throne. "She should think herself lucky - I was going to make a superheroine pussy purse out of her once she was rubberised. I would have enjoyed watching her pussy zip shut and her body collapse - quite distressingly! - into that lovely pouch shape, but I realised it would be much more fun to string out her punishment." She zipped open and fingered the tiny sample latex purse, watching the defenseless latex clitoris spring to life even though its owner had long since been turned into rubber lining. She waved it at the shaking man. "You would look very nice as one of these". A look of horror crossed his face as a zip sealed vagina appeared where his sex had been moments before. "But no, not today. I promised myself I'd only make clothing trophies for a while - I have a boxful of these darned purses already and they never wear out so consider yourself lucky. Soon you'll be just another doll to blend into my collection! Come! Join your friends". Zorelle waved her hand flippantly and in a process her staff had seen many times, the officer transformed painfully into an abundantly endowed nude female form. Uselessly straining for control of her limbs, the very feminine buxom trophy marched like a stiff marionette to a bench near the side of the tentroom and lay back on the shiny red vinyl surface. A mist formed around the officer's body as she arched in pain. A short cry escaped her lips, followed by a liquid hiss, then total silence. The air cleared to reveal her unaccustomed feminine curves coated completely in glossy black rubber. The sightless effigy wriggled in an effort to escape her new costume now that a spell wasn't controlling her movements but it was pointless. Not only did her rigidly boned vlatex (a special blend of vinyl and latex) layer keep her stretched out flat on the bench, but she could not bend her legs enough to even push herself off it with the towering heels that had been permanently bonded to her booted feet. Zorelle placed her hands on the black clad form and concentrated a little, casting the spell to shrink it into a tiny quivering doll in her fist. She bent down and pressed the hand-sized doll against the polished yet strangely lumpy smoothness of her right boot and the toy sank beneath the surface like it was being swallowed in a bog....its arms and feet sank first, followed by hips and shoulders. Soon just one knee of the doll and its face to the cheeks protruded from the raven-black layer along with the tip of a breast. Zorelle stopped pushing. Her latest boot addition stared somewhat beseechingly at the world, its expressionless vlatex face framed by the glistening sea of rubber that was to be its prison for all eternity. As if disturbed by the arrival of a new resident, the most recent of the other trapped forms in the dark Queen's boots rippled slightly as they sought escape from the magical coating that would hold them forever. The bulk of the "residents" merely lay still, for they had long ago worked out the futility of struggling. Indeed, some had struggled themselves beneath the surface because the enchantment worked in one direction only. The evil woman always enjoyed watching their tiny encapsulated bodies struggle as she pushed them into their new rubbery dimension as part of her footwear. Hmmmm....Zorelle thought to herself. When the enemy army surrendered soon, she would have enough unwilling victims to make a matching catsuit or two. It would be nice to arrange some of the figures as shoulder pads. She mused over making a half dozen different catsuit styles for a moment as she absently brushed her fingers around two slight cherry bumps protruding from the boot at her left thigh. She had long since forgotten who they belonged to, but they were the only remaining signs of a captured colonel. It was no longer possible to identify him much less rescue him - she had endowed him with massive basketball breasts before turning him into the doll and embedding him until only his nipples remained. His two female aides had been made into chesty little rubber Barbie dolls and set face-to-crotch inside a dildo shaped sheath that was currently a feature of the pussy-stimulation unit wriggling away tirelessly between Supergirl's babified legs. Linda squirmed weakly against the snugly buckled straps holding her in her highchair. Her Barbie-doll vibrator was awash with her own lubricant and the translucent rubber costume gripped every inch of her skin, causing undeniably erotic sensations. The spell she was under kept her sucking noisily on her pacifier and she was unable to stem the strength-sapping flow at all by squeezing her teeth or lips together. The spurting nipple of the oversized dummy between her teeth had expanded inside her mouth and could not be removed even if she was able to stop her compulsive suckling. She knew that her forced infantization was a deliberate reduction of her status for the benefit of her rebellious people but there was no way she could avoid being reduced to a mere toy when confronted by magic as powerful as this. Through the velvety, transparent latex mask she watched as the shape of another of her officers appeared and was swiftly coated. Was this their reward for being loyal to her? Somehow she would save them and exact her revenge, but it depended on her survival....right now the Kryptonite coursing through her veins ensured she could think of no plan at all. An out-of-focus Zorelle loomed in her green tinged vision to gloat over her prize catch. She adjusted Linda's stimulation unit so it sat deeper in her pussy and cupped the glossy breasts and stimulated her nipples until the princess came again with a slurp. "See snugglepot - trying to hold back makes no difference. Come on, say goo goo ga ga for Mommy. It's time to get you ready for the big parade". She unbuckled Linda from the chair and watched the girl slide like liquid to the floor. The feeding tube was still joined to Supergirl's mouth and it stretched taut, preventing her bonneted rubber head from squeaking against a recently created marble flagstone. The Sorceress unplugged the hose from the large tank and joined it to a smaller, softer, more portable latex bag full of the same liquid. The flaccid bag had an attached harness which enabled it to be strapped to the poor girl's back, forcing her to keep drinking. "I have a very special diaper for you to model today." said Zorelle as she produced a strange voluminous latex diaper and proceeded to glide its frilled mass up the captive's gleamingly sheathed legs. "It used to be one of your officers too - I'll bet he never thought he would be this close to your pussy!". The feminine diaper consisted of many puffed and stretched layers of glossy polished latex, crafted in the same iridescent blue colour her Supergirl costume had been, and it had her large `S` super logo stretched across the generous padded bottom. The cool rubber slid into place, covering her sex and enveloping her from thighs to hip in a strange tingling embrace. The tightening of an attached smooth latex buckle belt at the waist and two more around her upper thighs ensured that no leakages could occur from the sealed diaper. Zorelle attached a leash to Supergirl's posture collar and dragged her along an expensively carpeted part of the tent floor, forcing her to crawl along behind on all fours because she lacked the energy to stand. As they left the tent, Linda felt the tingle of the magic diaper again. She experienced a sudden stab of pressure on her bladder and her green-shrouded face reddened with shame as her muscles involuntarily released control. The warm fluid flowed from her groin for over a minute, and filled her squeaking diaper to bursting point. A faint sloshing sound could be heard as the babified rubber princess crawled behind her captor, who was marching her through the appreciative ranks of her evil army. In front of the massed forces were the huge city gates, already shattered and ready for the invasion of the city. All pockets of defenders had been flushed out or overrun days ago. Striding through the gates with her metal heels striking sparks on the cobblestones, the evil queen led the procession into the heart of the city, dragging her unwilling infantized display piece behind her with its bulging Supergirl logo gleaming across tautly stretched buttocks. The loyal citizens sobbed in fear when they recognized the super symbol and the identity of the adult rubber baby being paraded past their homes and down the streets to the castle. Supergirl's public humiliation had begun and the morale of her people was broken. A lithe figure ran from one pool of shadow to another in the corridor. Her star spangled uniform identified her as the Amazon super hero, Wonder Woman. Wondie knew that by finding Zorelle she would also find her friend Supergirl and perhaps rescue her. To her surprise, after subduing just two rubber soldiers who had been coated to the pointr of uselessness outside a room, she stumbled upon Supergirl. But she was not dressed as Diana expected. A large adult- sized playpen with gold rubber coated bars held the enthusiastically slurping baby that had been her friend. Dressed in her frilled rubber daiper and enveloped over that from the neck down in a shimmering transparent green baby's romper that included feet and hands, the rubber baby still suckled on her tank of kryptonite water, lacking the strength even to climb over the low golden barrier that fenced her in. Linda looked up through the green haze of her mask at the sign of movement and could just make out the distinctive costume on the figure approaching. It was her friend Wonder Woman, come to save her. The Amazon beauty was more than a little turned on by the fetish scene before her but hid her disappointment that she would have to release her friend instead of enjoying a little fun first. The lubricant from her own pussy would have been long but time was short. She stepped over the low fence and did not notice the universe shift around her as she passed through the magic trap that extended from the top of the barrier to the ceiling. She did however immediately notice her vision tinge to green and looked down over her body to find that she was now dressed identically to Linda. She had become a rubber infant too. A feeding tube snaked away from her mouth and try as she might, she couldn't dislodge it. The second baby in the pen struggled briefly as the first of powerful drugs pumped down her feeder into her mouth, but her limbs became heavy and soon she was laying still with her friend, slurping pitifully. The next day, Zorelle eyed the matchingly dressed women, beautiful latex babes that differed only in hair colour. She pulled the new dark haired one to its feet and out of the playpen, unlocking and disconnecting its feeder tube from the constantly suckling mouth flange. "So nice of you to join us Wonder Woman! I knew you would be along to play with your friend sooner or later but I never realised you wanted to live your life in the crib. You can't in fact - I have other plans for you. First of all you will become one hundred percent submissive, starting with your career as Supergirl's nursemaid. Ultimately the original Wonder Woman as you know yourself will cease to exist, but for now I have a rather special place for you in the throne room. Maids! Bring her along!" Zorelle pointed at an adult-sized circular child's training walker that was waiting to be used beside the crib. The large, rubber coated plastic toy had four castors underneath to allow a frictionless glide and looked moderately normal from the outside, albeit oversized. Wondie's gleaming legs were lowered through the internal harness of the donut-shaped unit and straps pulled tight beyond her reach to lock her in place. Looking down at the front of her humiliating vehicle near her hips, Diana noticed a rigid plasticized face of a woman staring unseeing up at her. She wondered who the artwork was modelled on and followed the curve of the toy around with her green-hazed eyes and found a hardened breast on the left and right - they were the comforting bumps on which she had been resting her slippery hands. Wonder woman reached behind and sure enough, she could feel the embossed folds of a stiffened plastic pussy. She was sitting in the middle of a horrifically modified victim! At first she refused to walk but a threat from Zorelle to totally babify her mind there and then and be done with her immediately changed Diana's attitude. On latex padded feet she rolled herself along, following the striding Sorcoress through the secret passage to the throne room. Maids lifted a round boiler cap that was hinged to the flagstones of the throne room to reveal a body-sized tube sunken deep into the floor. Wonder Woman's feet were fed into the opening and she found it deep enough to be able to stand and still see the proceedings in the room. An air compressor hose was attached to a concealed valve in the front of her new green playsuit and activated. The flow of air separated married sheets of latex all over her suit and began to fill the cavities within, expanding her form to occupy every inch of space in the hole. She was soon held prisoner by the layers of compressed air and rubber in her costume, trapped with just her head and neck exposed at floor level. The hood and the collar of her inflated latex babysuit were removed and replaced with a circular latex seal emlazoned with her bright stars and stripes logo where all could see. The seal fit cozily against the base of her bare throat and was zipped to the circular edge of her prison to close her in completely. Under the Sorcoress's watchful eye, a conjured male demon went to work on Wonder Woman's permanent enslavement. With blinding speeed Wondie's lasso was fashioned into a tightly woven golden collar with no end, fused into a tight unbreakable loop by the very masculine demon. When it was done, the demon bowed goodbye and vanished moments before a television crew arrived. Cameras were wheeled in to focus on her plight. Stencils on the cameras showed that it was for the hit TV segment "Real Rubber TV". The anonymous voiceover boomed. "Live from Her Majesty's throne room, today only, a special mystery guest who cannot lie - over to you, Fetishgirl!". Fetishgirl gave her black rubber corset dress a final spray of polish and turned to face the camera. She had jumped through hoops to get this television job, even to the point of getting her whole epidermal layer of skin stripped and replaced with bright yellow latex. She couldn't afford to stuff it up now. She pouted her saffron-coloured lips at the lens and gave her trademark kiss as she lifted the chain on the lid to reveal the disemodied head of a prisoner within. "I think most people ought to know already, given that design we can see on....what is that?....some kind of latex seal? For the viewers out there, Georgeous, tell us who you are." she purred, half at the camera, half at the struggling captive. The snared Amazon shut her lips tightly and resolved to say nothing but they sprang open of their own accord and she heard herself speaking clearly into the proffered microphone. "I am Wonder Woman". Her golden lasso-collar was making her tell the truth! Fetishgirl smiled with a squeak of her pneumatic rubber lips and breathed closer to Wondie's face as the cameras zoomed in for a closeup. "Bearing in mind that you are on national telivision, tell me your darkest sexual fantasy" The beautiful prisoner groaned at the question, for she knew she could do nothing but be honest. "I have always liked being bound and helpless during sex games with my lovers....I was secretly hoping to be captured on this mission so that I would have no choice other than to become Zorelle's rubber sex-pet as I have heard happens to others. I feel that I need it." The interview continued as Fetishgirl probed deeper and deeper into Wonder Woman's secret desires. The inflated captive talked about everything from dildo suits to forced sex with aliens as her hidden self was bared to the world. She spoke out loud that she wanted to ask how much it would cost to get glossy artificial skin like the voluptuous presenter. Little did she know - she was now in the hands of a monster, who would soon remove all traces of her former personality from her body, starting with her lovely tanned skin. The interview abruptly finished when the sleek presenter unlaced her suctioned dress, crouched down and mashed her glistening yellow latex pussy into the mouth of her interviewee. Noisy slurping could be heard by the millions of viewers as the folds of soft rubber that was her pussy were eaten out thoroughly. After the climax Wonder Woman's lid was lowered back into place and she was once again deprived of sight and sound as darkness enveloped her. Outside, the TV station played an ad break about some new life-sized sex dolls on the market and Fetishgirl was being congratulated on her interview and prepared for her next show, a tour of a milking factory. Soon the less restrictingly bound staff of the castle discovered she was trapped in the floor. Diana quickly became the castle pussy-eater. She was given no food other than pussy juice and the occasional luxury spurt of high- protein semen from a lucky envoy. On her fifth day, just as she was getting used to the taste of her feeding sessions, she was deflated and released by two strangely dressed nurses who were catsuited to the eyes in white vinyl. It was the first time Wonder Woman had seen the recently adopted travel uniform of the Asylum nurses and she marvelled at the lack of seams and impossible constriction of the heavy duty garments. The nurses strapped Diana tightly to a medical stretcher using an intricate network of interlaced leather straps and re-inflated her to ensure complete unity with the trolley. In this form she was transported without even the hint of a struggle to the Asylum. Wonder Woman's time in the Asylum was awful. First her breasts were artificialy enlarged by the insertion of huge kryptonite-silicone implants. Her eyes turned a bright glowing green almost immediately as the foreign substance permeated her body. Her fingernails and toenails turned the same artificial hue but the rest of her body showed no visible signs of the contaminant that would run through her veins forever. Trapped in the stasis field of the auto-do cubicle, her skin molecules turned completely to rubber. To an observer it appeared that she was wearing a head-to-toe stars and stripes catsuit made from very tightly polished latex, but it was actually her new permanent uniform. She would shower in it, sleep in it, wear ever more restrictive clothes over it - it would be with her for the rest of her life. Huge cow-udder teats as long as her hand protruded obscenely from her glistening bosom, and thanks to a tiny slow release hormone capsule injected invisibly into her neck, she was already dribbling a light green milk from each teat. Her fingers were blended seamlessly together to form single paddle hands and her feet were stiffened into painfully arched ballet boots that she would have to wear to bed for there was no way to take her own feet off! True to Zorelle's orders, parts of her brain were adjusted and remodelled to prepare her for her new life. The real Wonder Woman was locked away in a section of her mind where she could only feel and observe while she was made as obedient as a lapdog. Gongs announced the arrival of the new slave for the Queen's audience. Zorelle gazed lovingly over her very own rubberised Amazon. The surprised looking creature squeaked as she approached for her muscly, latex resurfaced curves were additionally squeezed into a billowing vlatex ballroom dress. The heavy garment had been designed in an old world style except for two small circular buckled openings at the bosom. Through these openings squeezed Wondie's impressively matronly milkers. Zorelle wanted the slave's freakish modifications presented to the watching kingdom at all times, even if it meant constant discomfort for the redesigned superheroine. The shiny dress too had Diana's familiar stars and stripes design all over it to ensure that everyone knew who the gorgeous wearer was. Zorelle cupped a hefty breast in each hand and rubbed until the nipples extended to their full length. "Welcome to my nursery Wondertits! There, give Mistress a smile - you should be very happy here now that you are my pet! You're going to be the wettest of all dream nurses for Superbaby - even if your special milk is her downfall" Wonder Woman inside recoiled in horror realising she would be instrumental in the destruction of her best friend. Outwardly Wondertits however showed no negative emotions of any kind - her new body flushed with helpless pleasure at the though of her nipples being suckled. Her time at the Asylum had been a success. She would not only willingly feed baby Linda, but she would design ever more humiliating costumes for her ever-weakening charge as she forced the captive heroine towards total helplessness. The folds of her gown rustled softly as she climbed the low fence of the playpen as she had done in a different form just a short time ago. She disconnected the feeding tube from the mouth-flange of the foetal adult baby and replaced it with the left udder from her magnificent star-spangled bosom. Superbaby resignedly accepted the nipple and fed on it with spell induced gusto, her strong suction stretching the coated flesh to twice its extraordinary length. Soon the udder had slipped through her tonsils to nestle deep down her throat, spraying the doubly potent strength-sapping milk almost directly into her stomach. In her mind, the real Wonder Woman watched and teared impotently at her unbreakable mental bondage. She was a new creature now - Linda's giant kryptonite wet-nurse - and could never have a will of her own again. While her subject was feeding, Wondertits gazed down over her body. Beneath the matchingly designed and polished dress she wore, `Tits had her rubber stars and stripes uniform-skin. She would always glisten like her protruding breasts did. It was almost as if she was coated by a thin sheen of sweat, but she knew she could never sweat again. She ran a useless hand around a bizarre latex teat on her glistening bosom to see yet again if it was real. She loved her remodelled titties. She hoped that Zorelle would someday make her udders long enough to tie together in a bow, albeit a slightly painful one. She cuddled her arms around Linda's frilled head and looked down into terrified eyes. "Look at the wonderful changes they made to me in the Asylum, Superbabe - these huge rubber tits are designed especially for feeding you! I am now Zorelle's very own sex-pet and she says that you are going to be mine for awhile.....delicious! They fixed my mind to make me like it! Now I am a complete submissive, although I can be a domina where required, especially for you. If you're looking for the old Diana, she's still in here somewhere but she will _never_ get out. Right now I have her wearing a stainless steel block from the neck down, but even if she somehow got free she couldn't come back to reverse my programming" Of course the public had a ringside seat as the former Amazon gave Superbabe a disciplinary spanking, strapped down over Wondie's lap on a chair, wearing adult sized frilled baby spanking pants that left the bottom covered by just a condom-thin yet impervious layer of latex. Linda actually cried when she saw the tiers of free public seating in the stadium - a latex bonnet, zipped closed down the front and inflated had kept her surroundings hidden for the preperation of the show - a show she would repeat all day every day for two weeks. Often, while wearing a transparent full body daiper, a costume with frills in every conceivable place, Supergirl would be magically induced on close-up camera to soil herself at which time her ever-attendant nurse would strap her to a puffed pink rubber table, clean the helpless heroine's bottom and give her a humiliating glossy bright blue diaper change. Copious kryptonite milk breast feeding was the climax of the show as Linda sat buckled in a papoose bag and high chair affair. Her pitifully brainwashed nurse was using a breastfeeding regime designed to enslave and Superbabe could feel herself succumbing ever so slowly to the physical and mental pressure of being reduced to an adult baby in front of the public who had once adored her. Months 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. Supergirl's domineering mistress Wondertits had been releived of her duties as wet nurse and was using her impervious skin to advantage as she crawled enthusiastically around with bright yellow Fetishgirl in a glass-walled playpen of thick semen for yet another segment of "real rubber TV". Her again-extended nipples were bound together in a cute little bow just as she had asked for. Linda on the other hand had been cleaned up and her new lycra Supergirl costume gleamed uncharacteristically in the torchlight, for it was not lycra at all - it had been changed into a parody of shiny red and blue vlatex. Dozens of bright silver buckles notched to their tightest settings were strategically placed in the garment, down the small of her back, at her wrists, between her thighs and at her neck. Her curves were accentuated by the the long sleeved cheerleader's dress, nipping her naturally hourglass waist into almost nothing. In new subtle ways the Sorceress was emphasising how much power she had over the woman of steel. Linda had spent the last few weeks wearing a full body version of her latex diaper which sealed at the throat, wrists and ankles. The gallons of Kryptonite spiked water they had been making her drink had soon filled it to bursting point as she lay in hospital restraints in her special adult crib in a huge glass display case in her old room at the castle. When the green mineral had invaded every cell of the Princess's body and sapped her strength to a level where she could be handled safely for a known period, it was possible to release her restraints and put her on public display in her crib. Tens of thousands of her previously loyal subjects filed silently through the castle for a look at the fate of their Princess. There Supergirl lay, in her frilly, humiliatingly full baby costume, surrounded by little pink rubber dolls and inflated rubber toys that had been specially crafted from soldiers from her defeated army. There in the throne room, with no energy reserves at all, standing weakly in front of her captor, she could do nothing but be a fetish marionette for the moment. Zorelle clawed the air in front of her and Supergirl's barely-worn vlatex super costume was torn from her by invisible hands. Outfits could be created or destroyed in the blink of an eye; the new queen demonstrated this often unless she wanted to observe her victim being reduced to helplessness slowly. The evil woman murmured a single word and the nude princess was instantly clothed again, this time as a military issue concubine. The full-length catsuit was made of black patent leather, doubly stitched for strength, joined to a tight chrome collar at the neck, and to closely fitting metal manacles at both her wrists and ankles. The skin-tight outfit had oval holes for her attractive breasts, which had always defied the light gravity in a remarkable way, and a thin slot between her legs which opened to a mass of blonde pubic hair when she parted her legs. The suit glowed with minute quantities of kryptonite powder, enough to render the girl powerless against bonds that she would ordinarily laugh at, and the boning from the corset-like waist of the catsuit were made from a cage of Kryptonite fibres embedded between the layers of leather. The evil queen was emphasising her control. The suit did not have any zips or lacings, and appeared to have been sprayed 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 maid's costume, but her black rubber coated arms had been fused together behind her in a permanent arm binder. The snugly moulded addition mated her two limbs neatly into one, flowing in a smooth unbroken line from the shoulders to where her fingertips had been, terminating in a large ring designed for carting various trolleys and suitably helpless prisoners throughout the castle. "I have sooo many experiments for you to try my dangerous little pet - I'm sure I can relieve you of that super strength soon....I will find out how to transfer it to my body!". The transport maid dragged her weakly resisting charge away and the other maids followed to begin wrapping Supergirl in her full body cast for the night. Zorelle knew her staff would have had the newly installed castle milking machine warming already, for a luckless individual had been installed in it every night so far. The recently created machines were hardly different than those used for cows, but were designed to be quite a pleasurable experience - once the hormone-induced milk started flowing, of course. The slurping cups could be excruciatingly painful until the first droplets of product appeared. Zorelle had quite a taste for human milk and had wasted no time in starting a large dairy factory where row after row of rubber cocooned milk maids hung in tiny hay lined stalls, quietly feeding the populace with their massively enhanced mammary glands. The black and white cow-patterned podlike costumes stretched the fully enclosed maids taut by the hands and feet and angled their dappled bodies a foot above the ground to an optimal forty-seven degrees for milking. A polished brown leather collar with a large attached cow bell provided an attractive contrast against the crash-test dummy colours of the amorphous hood that joined the costume. Once squeezed into a tiny milk maid skin and incarcerated in the factory there was little chance of release, for Zorelle had decreed that the dairy be a one way trip. Unless there were other plans for them, the milk maids passed through an induction programme which removed their capacity to concentrate on anything but muscle control for milk production. Men did not escape their duties either, for it took just one extra day for the hormones to turn a man into a large breasted, fully functional milk producer. Zorelle soon discovered that the hapless males produced stronger milk than the females, so she had the half feminized creatures milked between the legs as well as the breasts to add to the feed of the ladies and pass on some of their potency. The brain re-arrangement of the producers did not seem to stop the milkmaids that were predisposed to misbehavior. The worst would wait patiently until they heard the muffled voices of the attendants nearby and kick wildly the moment they felt any of their connecting tubes being handled, sometimes even dislodging the milking cups from their constantly spurting nipples. These recalcitrant milkers were disconnected from the hooks stretching their pods and fed without further ado into a chute to the loosely named "Battery Section" of the factory. There they were given a dose of potion that retracted their arms and legs into their bodies while moving all of the extra body mass to their already enormous breasts. An appropriately smaller latex sheath became the new attire of the compact milkers, leaving no evidence of limbs that had once existed. They were lifted easily by machinery and hooked to their straining bars. The cows were strained so close together in the battery section that each rubbed her armless latex shoulders against her neighbor. Their distorted, efficient torsos shuddered from the strong vibrations of the continuous milking process, causing their super-stretched rubber coatings to squeak disagreeably. The Battery Milking section was always quite noisy and not a favorite of the dairy staff, even though its occupants were zero maintenance - completely controlled and enhanced by automatic machines from the moment they arrived in the 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 expressions were fixed for eternity, their eyes mostly bonded in widely fixed stares - the whites of their eyes contrasting dramatically against their glossy black vlatex faces. Row after row of beseeching eyes could be seen dotting the wall of neatly stacked barrels that stretched away into the darkness. Some of the older barrel girls had been lucky enough to retain their own lips, albeit rubber coated and heavily gagged, for they had a tap below the point where their chin would have been from where the wine could be sampled. Zorelle had soon tired of this wasted opportunity. She found it more aesthetically pleasing to have a tap protruding directly from the rubber lips and to modify the internal plumbing. Having eyes fixed wide open could be quite traumatic for newly converted barrel girls, for over the months and years they saw many cellar rats crawling between the barrels, and often had large spiders making their webs over their rubber faces. Zorelle had been collecting and barreling vintages since her first year of exile, making up the contents with enemies and agents who had been sent to keep an eye on her. Each spy had no choice but to continue her watching job, but from the discomfort of her own personal barrel. Zorelle didn't care much who she barreled these days, but she had added some fun to the process. Often she would just seize the first person who happened by, sheath and change him/her into a high- heeled, armless vlatex doll, and make the bizarre figure stomp her own grapes before conversion into a new addition to the cellar. Zorelle made a gift of five barrel girls to her new senior minister Lord Eccles, one of whom was his freshly tap-mouthed ex-wife, barreled without his knowledge for they had separated on bad terms. Eccles graciously accepted the gifts and placed them on stands in his entertaining room where they could be the subjects of interest and humiliation by guests. His current wife Belle took an instant dislike to the pretty rubber faces with their darting eyes and gave such a tantrum when she found out who the pink beribboned barrel contained that Eccles finally gave in to her smug demands. He called in a service unit, and had it seal over the barrel girl's faces with an extra flat layer of vlatex so as to render them forever blind and smoothly expressionless. Belle gloated on her control over her man as she slid her fingers over the polished hard rubbery curves that hid the face of the woman she had replaced a few years ago. She had won again. Little did she know, but in six months time she would give her last ever tantrum. It was to be a silly yet common incident where she demanded that her Lord stop seeing his brother because she was jealous of his wife's sense of humour. Sure enough, the next day she found herself sheathed in armless vlatex, tap-mouthed in readiness and walking her six inch booted feet in a circle through the grapes she would accompany in her barrel: Belle woke up in bed feeling very strange. Something was wrong with her eyes. She couldn't blink properly. Her skin was tingling with an unusual pressure from all directions. "Must be another hangover" she thought and tried to push herself to a sitting position and rub her eyes. Her arms positively refused to answer so she twisted her legs and rolled over onto her back near the edge of the bed. "I ought to remember not to sleep on my hands next time" Belle thought groggily. Ow! her neck was so stiff she couldn't turn her head. She gyrated to a seating position and caught her reflection in the mirror, gasping with horror - or she would have gasped if the tap wasn't where her mouth used to be. Her entire body had been coated - dipped in black vlatex, and her arms were *missing*, her glossy shoulders showing no evidence of where limbs had been attached just hours before. Ballet booted feet tapered endlessly away from her as she lifted her foot into her field of vision. She was going to be a barrel girl! What had she done to deserve this? She raced to the door of the bedroom, but it was solidly closed. Without hands, turning the round doorknob was an impossibility. She threw her latex self down on the pink satin sheets and sobbed - or tried to sob, but her mouth tap was in the "off" position and all that came out was a few sniffs from her nostrils. Lord Eccles opened the door and looked down over the shiny black vlatex creature that lay face down on the bed making funny noises. The ebony darkness of Belle's artificial skin was framed beautifully by the contrasting masses of pink satin sheets. The doll on the bed had been his wife just twelve hours earlier and it was too late to change her back. He must press on. He rolled her over and her tear reddened eyes immediately blazed with hatred. "Ah! Merciful silence! You look much better in this form dear wife - I'm almost tempted to keep you like this....but I cannot. The spell has more work to do on you and I have to decide what to fill you with. The grapes are good for an excellent Cabernet vintage this year. You look so stiff! Permit me to examine you with my hands - after all, you can do so no longer!" he laughed, skating his fingertips over every inch of her surprisingly sensitive frictionless body, marveling at the workmanship that Zorelle had described in her magic potion - the same potion that Belle had quaffed in her wine the evening before. Belle spent the whole of the day automatically walking around in circles in her grape crushing half-barrel, often stumbling into the rich red grape mash, coating her flawless waterproof rubber body in juice. When she had filled a large tank with her forced stomping, the juice had a fermenting culture added and it was again mixed. Lord Eccles reached over the edge of the stomping barrel and grasped hold of his soon to be ex-wife's mouth tap, pulling her to face him. "Now comes the time for you to make your dramatic departure from the real world, my dear." he murmured with a hint of sadness. "I hope that my next wife marries me for love instead of money or power. But I really didn't mind that so much. *You* had to be such a bitch on top of it all, didn't you? You'll have plenty of time to reflect on your foolishness Belle, at least while you still have your mind, that is! Such a waste of one of the sexiest women around too." He opened her mouth tap and she immediately felt a sensation of falling towards the ground, down towards the pool of unused juice about her ankles. Her beautiful legs were getting shorter! In seconds they were completely retracted such that just two vlatex ankle boots protruded from her hips where her legs had been. They quickly disappeared altogether. Unbalanced, Belle toppled flat onto her back in the ruby fluid. She had become a rubberised torso of herself, limbless and helpless as a newborn baby. A tube from the fermenting tank was connected to her facial tap and without further ado the tank's contents were hosed into Belle's mouth tap. As the fluid was pumped in, a second layer of the skin on her torso parted and expanded like a balloon, rounding into a barrel shape and forcing her head to arch back and become the front end of the container. They stood her new rigid vlatex form on its circular bottom and Belle could feel the cool liquid streaming down the front of her glossy internal breasts and the pressure building up. The tank filled and she could feel her thoughts blending with the young wine. Lady Belle had been turned into a barrel girl. As a barrel girl, she was labeled clearly and given pride of place in the entertaining room for a few weeks before her face was sealed over just as she had ordered done to her compatriots beside her. Brushing cobwebs aside to peer at labels, Queen Zorelle always found it difficult to choose a vintage, but settled on the barrel that contained the first boyfriend who had ever dumped her. She waved at a shapely drink-maid who scurried over and connected her rubber mouth flange to the end of the tap protruding from his feminine glossy pouting lips. There was a brief hiss of escaping air as the seal was made good and Zorelle turned the tap, allowing dark red wine to flow steadily into the drink maid's breast tanks, expanding her rubber bosom to massive proportions. The evil queen briefly toyed with the idea of giving the drink maids their arms back so she wouldn't have to do the menial task of connecting the seals herself, but no, she enjoyed the look of horror on the faces of both unwilling participants enormously. The drink maids always panicked when their breasts expanded so much that they thought they would burst or fall over - walking was difficult enough already on their ballet booted rubber legs without ten litres of wine to carry - and the barrel girls were horrified too, because they all knew that their amount of retained humanity was directly proportional to the amount of wine they nursed inside their rubber forms, almost as if their intelligence was stored in the wine itself. And so it was. With each glass, the best of their thoughts and knowledge were being transferred forever to Zorelle's ever expanding mind. Empty or near-empty barrel girls watched the world with vacant stares and no recollection of who they once had been. Zorelle had all their memories, and even used this information to seize and barrel whole groups of friends. Linda the spectator. Queen Zorelle, leader of the victorious army ran her sleek gloved hand over the hardened plaster figure of a completely encased Princess Linda, now set solid on all fours, her plaster knees and palms supporting her weight on the floor, with her enlarged heavy breasts hanging exposed below to be swallowed by the vacuum milking cups of the Auto-Milk machine. By casting a strong motherhood spell, Zorelle had extracted hundreds of litres of super milk from Linda's enchanted bust and quite enjoyed it on her breakfast each morning. The spell was only temporary and would return her bosom to normal size within a few days, but inside her stiffened shell Linda was wondering if she would have to carry the huge breasts around forever. Zorelle pointed at the white figure. "Okay, I want our princess to be able to see what's going on again. Cut her out and put her in slave girl restraint.....with the usual trimmings of course so she can't move." Linda was relieved of her plaster layer and inner concubine catsuit with a diamond saw, and struggled into a similar tight fitting leather jumpsuit-like outfit that had been dampened in preparation for the dressing. The black one-piece garment had ridiculously long straight jacket sleeves and was so snug a fit that she could barely move. It had a high, restrictive buckling collar and an attached kidskin facial hood that was so tight that you could perhaps tell who she was beneath it. Embedded in the suit at the groin were two dildos pointing inward; one large one which was slid up her cunt, and another smaller one which was pushed up her rear. Both dildos were hollow, which allowed her to answer the calls of nature when she needed to, but they could also be unscrewed from their position and replaced with any of the torture devices the evil sorceress had developed for those openings. The moist straight jacket was securely laced up the back with steel wire from the small of her back to the top of her head by a specially designed binding machine and welded together, leaving poor Linda struggling for breath, her head hidden beneath the amorphous mask. Both of her hands were laced tightly into the mittened sleeves of the garment; one ended in a buckle, and the other, a strap. Two female guards took hold of her damp, leather enclosed arms, wrapped them snugly around her body so that she was tightly hugging herself, and buckled them firmly in position against her torso. Her buckled cradling arms lifted her compressed bosom so that the suit clearly showed imprints of her nipples in the fabric. Next came a pair of similarly wet thigh length leather boots raised on six-inch stiletto heels. They were laced up so snugly that she could not bend her knees at all. "Lock her in the drying room" ordered Zorelle. The drying room was a large padded cell with a huge fan at one end blowing hot air through it. No matter where a person was in the room, their clothes would be dried by the fan. After a short while in the room, Linda's garment began to shrink and stiffen as it dried. When the room was opened up the next morning. Linda lay gasping for water, on the floor in her new rock hard leather skin. She could now be left in the suit indefinitely, and there was absolutely no possibility of escape from it without help. After giving her a great deal of water to drink and attending to her toilet needs, a guard snapped a collar and leash around the leather coated princess' throat and pulled her roughly to her feet. Hobbling along as best as she was able in very tiny steps, she was led back into the main anteroom where Queen Zorelle sat. The captive princess' stiffened leather sheathed legs were lowered down into two fresh holes in the floor facing the throne. Her feet were locked in place from beneath the floor so that she remained fixed with her waist at floor level. To an observer it would appear as though she had no legs at all. Laces were released to expose her face, and a harness of straps and hooks was placed over her head which pulled apart her upper and lower jaws to keep her mouth open wide, rendering intelligible speech impossible. Zorelle clicked her fingers and Linda's friend Cynthia was brought out. She had been stripped of her leather hobble sheath gown they originally dressed her in and shaved from scalp to toe. With her hands converted into useless appendages by tight leather mittens, Cynthia had been teetering from one mind-numbing punishment to another for the last month. She stood struggling between two guards, her lips protruding unnaturally over the large red ball gag she had in her mouth, the straps for which dug deeply into her cheeks. The gag and straps were part of a modified horses bridle that she had strapped around her head, which had the added effect of sealing her deeply packed ears from the outside world. Another array of snug straps around her hips and lower torso held a similar-sized red ball wedged up her pussy. The dark queen turned to Linda, "I am so used to having her around to play with, I have decided to make Cynthia a permanent fixture, to serve me here as a piece of practical art. She will become a living mannequin, to join the others already being used by my seamstresses in the bondage clothing workshops. She could survive up to ten or fifteen years once painted with our special lacquer. The meticulously tested formula cannot be removed once applied - it's permanent" laughed Zorelle. She picked up a large heavy tin and a brush. "Let's begin shall we?" Chains and metal cuffs were locked on Cynthia's hands and feet. The chains pulled taut so that she was raised upright above the ground in a spread-eagled position. Stepping forward, Zorelle dipped her brush in the glutinous liquid, and began liberally painting all over Cynthia's trembling body, with the exception of her sex. The lacquer dried very quickly, and Cynthia's struggles became less effective as her skin began to harden and appear glassy. Zorelle painted Cynthia's face and smooth hairless head too, her buttock-length black hair many days gone. Even the poor girl's eyelids were lacquered rigidly and permanently open, her eyes magically modified as an afterthought to retain a the wide stare of a frightened animal. When Cynthia was immobillised, the shackles and harnessing straps had to be removed so that the areas they covered could be painted also. With sucking noises, the two red balls were extracted from her, one from her puckered mouth and one from her pussy. She stood there stiffly like a scarecrow, with her legs and arms widely outstretched while the evil queen painted her some more. Linda watched from her position in the floor in powerless horror as her friend became a glistening hardened statue. Even though the coated girl was obviously never going to move again, Zorelle continued to apply coats of lacquer to her captive until the large tin was empty. The dressmaker's dummy that was once Cynthia had an open circular mouth through which a feeding tube of life giving soft food and nutrients would be inserted once a day. She could not speak because her tongue and voice box had been swiftly removed when she was first captured, but her breathing was ragged as if she was trying to warn Linda of her fate in Zorelle's hands. The sorceress demonstrated how tubes could be inserted between Cynthia's legs to collect her waste products and even force fed back into her using small pumps if she had to be punished....not that she could possibly disobey anything now - but Zorelle would think of something. The only movement possible in the lacquer doll was a pair of tearful eyes, forever open and moving and watching. She was propped up against a wall behind the throne with all tubes connected in place. "Oh, don't worry, Cynthia dear....after a few weeks as a mannequin you'll really start to believe you are one....and after a month or two you'll have trouble remembering your own name.....most of my dummies can't even remember they had names at all! Believe me, there is no return from *that* state, my pretty one." "I once lacquered a *very* pretty explosives scientist, but after three months the lacquer broke down and I thought she would need an immediate re-coat. Not so! She was already long gone into mannequin-land. She really thought she was one - didn't move, couldn't remember how to talk properly or even think straight. I had to dip her in flexy stiff vinyl to make her look and feel like a dolly again just like she wanted. She actually begged me to!" Since the cost of supplying feed to all 'tubed' captives added up, Zorelle usually cast a stasis spell on them, especially after the novelty of feeding them their own waste products wore off. The Cynthia doll was so modified three months later. This meant that she could not die from starvation or any other ailment such as lack of oxygen as long as she was being sustained magically. Much later, when Zorelle grew tired of playing with her rigid life-sized doll, she slid her down on the top of a short pole on an ornate stand and fixed her in position. This made her into a more conventional mannequin, raised with just the tips of her toes touching her pedestal. Cynthia was used as an experimental bondage mannequin for a few years until the factory had a big cleanout, and she was moved into warehouse storage along with a half-dozen other dolls who had shared her original fate. The Cynthia doll disappeared unnoticed one night, no doubt smuggled home by a lonely night watchman to brighten up his decor. Not that she cared who owned her anymore - she had long ago pushed the painfully happy memories of her past life from her mind and rollercoasted into a nicely maintainable empty-headed role. As long as she was kept on her lovely stand, Cynthia was content. Perhaps one day somebody would come to rescue her, but perhaps if she made an effort to stare blankly at the wall they would leave her be. Time would tell. The next one of Linda's friends to be led out in front of her was Joanna, also naked. Joanna prided herself on her muscular physique and had been a runner for Supergirl's messages during the war. "Ah Joanna....put her in one of our new inflatable rubber suits, ready to be pressurised" ordered Zorelle. After a brief dressing struggle Joanna was wearing the strange bulky black garment, enveloping her completely from head to toe with all the sealing zips locked closed. Her only links to the outside world were small breathing tubes in her nostrils, and the much larger ones forced into her mouth, cunt and rear. Once the enveloping costume was inflated, these tubes were designed to keep her body supplied with the minimum of life-giving essentials whilst removing any wastes she produced. The wearer could be enclosed indefinitely without need for removal. Zorelle screwed a hose onto the valve at the very top of Joanna's suit and with a little hiss of escaping gas, connected the other end of it to a nozzle on the wall. She turned on a tap and the pressure suit began to fill and expand steadily. But not with air. The substance that was inflating it was heavy, plainly a kind of paste. The rubber-sheathed creature was dragged like a giant bloated slug down onto the floor under the extra weight. Joanna's arms were inexorably lifted out, away from her body as the pressure of the swollen suit gradually overcame her strength. Linda's worst suspicions were confirmed when a helper moved revealing a label on the pipe reading "Q.D.P." "Yes, that's right, Joanna is to become one of my statues also, my dear" gloated Zorelle as she followed Linda's gaze. "A plaster one this time though. Once the suit has been completely inflated, Joanna will be compressed and immobilised inside. This Quick Drying Plaster should set in about ten minutes, and it will swell as it dries, compressing her with the pressure. The plaster also generates quite a lot of heat as it sets, which I am sure will be unpleasant for Joanna with the hot tight rubber against her skin." When the suit had completely ballooned out, it become so heavy that it took four guards to lift the swollen captive to her feet and hold her in a standing position. By the time the pressure in the drum-stretched suit had reached 90 PSI according to the pressure gauge on the pipe, all movement from the girl within had ceased. The guards wobbled the sides of the suit to consolidate any tiny air bubbles and make them boil back up the filling tube, topped it up one final time and screw-capped the valve closed. Zorelle waited patiently for fifteen minutes while the rubber and plaster encased girl hardened. She cut away the outer rubber layer to reveal a bulbous white plaster statue beneath. It had no features save several tubes that were hanging from the face and groin. The guards were instructed to carve a likeness of Joanna's face on the head of the new plaster dummy and to dress it in fat rubber imitations of the clothes that Joanna was wearing when she was captured, including a rubber evening gown, rubber petticoat, rubber corset, and high heeled rubber lace-up boots. The dummy's shoed feet were set into a heavy plaster pedestal to prevent it from toppling over and then the dummy containing Joanna was slid over to rest beside the stiff lacquer mannequin and had its tubes connected to the pumps. Zorelle laughed as she ran her hand down the back of the smooth white plaster head. "Ooh! Your athlete's legs are so much more attractive now, messenger girl! Got any messages for me?". She put her ear to the mouth region of the silent statue as if listening for a voice. "Don't fret gorgeous, since you can't see, hear, or speak, you'll have even less time than the Cynthia mannequin to enjoy your old identity. Your mind will automatically adjust to the situation - trust me, it always happens that way. In no time at all you'll believe you always were a plaster and latex mannequin. The most joyous part of your new life will be the feeding times, regardless of what we decide to pump in. That's if I don't cast the stasis spell on all of you statues to save myself the trouble." Linda tried to find a weak spot in her confinement but as she expected, there were none. Zorelle was neutralizing her enemies as quickly as she could, and Supergirl was unable to save any of them, at least not yet. The evil sorceress had a complex about being overpowered in her sleep because it was then that magi were most vulnerable. She made an effort to ensure all non-believers were safely packaged....even a sorceress liked a good night's sleep. Another former messenger, Lisa, was brought in and fastened by wrists and ankles to the vertical rack. She was very pale, freshly hairless, and looked somewhat relieved at being released from months as a stretched milk maid for the troops. The mass of black and white latex that had been her cloying sheath during milk production lay discarded on the floor. What Lisa currently thought of as her name, "Daisy" could be read in small lettering amongst the folds of mottled shiny rubber, and would soon be stretched larger than life across the back of her replacement Daisy in the dairy. Daisy's relief did not last long. "I....I....Moooooooo!....oh....I....MoooOOOooo!" stammered Milkmaid Daisy, explaining that she would try to produce more milk next time. She looked around at her audience with big glazed brown eyes that had once been deep blue, and as she did so Supergirl noticed that her cowgirl friend now sported little button-sized horns that were starting to grow from her temples. The forced induction programme at the dairy had left Lisa with a new name, a room temperature IQ and matching single-syllable vocabulary. She had had few opportunities to exercise the latter from within her beautifully patterned kayak-shaped cocoon as she hung in her tiny cubicle at the dairy. The figure-hugging pod had always kept her perfectly silent, holding an expanded penis shaft down her throat that spurted slightly salty, liquid hormones into her stomach every hour, swiftly converting her into the huge-breasted human cow currently seen stretched out naked on Zorelle's vertical rack. In a flurry of activity, breathing tubes were placed in her nostrils, and a food tube sealed to her lips. Waste disposal tubes were inserted into her lower body in the same way the others had been. Once prepared, the guards proceeded to wrap every limb of her body tightly in rolls of slimy plaster impregnated gauze, the kind used to mend broken bones. But Daisy had no broken bones. Before long, she was encased from head to toe in a catsuit-like thin plaster body cast, which hampered any attempt at bending her limbs to any great degree. Her hands were balled into tight slimy white fists that were going to be of no use to her, wet or dry, and her spectacular milk-maid breasts were wrapped close to her chest by a criss-cross of plaster bandages, hampering her breathing. While the plaster was still saturated, Daisy was released from the rack, completely encased in seamless white. Her slippery form with the protruding tubes slithered helplessly to the floor, trying to crawl on her knuckles and knees, completely disoriented by being unable to see or hear. The poor girl could not even recall what she had done wrong, for that information had once been stored in a thinking part of her brain which had been neatly erased during cow training. Daisy had little more intelligence than a real cow at her disposal. Since the plaster was still freshly applied, she could still move in a limited fashion, but to no avail. This was not to be the extent of her confinement. The guards lifted Daisy to her feet again and held her already stiffening arms so that they crossed and cradled her generous bosom, pulling her legs together as though standing to attention. They attached the start of a large roll of the gauze to the back of her head and wrapped her from head to toe again, effectively mummifying her. Her static plaster form was laid down on its back and left to dry until completely hard. During that time, the movements from within became less and less as the stiff wrappings shrank considerably. This made her fully prepared body so narrow that Linda imagined that her friend could not have fitted inside it at all. Zorelle assured the captive princess that Daisy was still quite alive by amplifying the sounds of her labored breathing for a moment. The plaster mummy was painted in an exquisite Egyptian style and placed under glass in the Royal Museum along with the rest of the historical Egyptian exhibit. Her feed tubes were connected out of sight of the patrons who would shuffle by day after day, remarking on the timeless beauty of the rigid painted mummy with the oversize breasts. Back in the throne room, a serving girl teetered over to Zorelle with the queen's afternoon coffee on a tray. The girl wore a completely clear plastic ballet boot costume that was laced from her toes to her nose, and the ensemble had special additions that ensured she kept her tightly stretched clothing on. Through the clear plastic covering the servant's mouth it could be seen that her lips and artificially lengthened tongue had surgical eyelets added to them and were laced neatly together, sealing them closed both against and through the clear plastic. She wasn't planning to speak out of place anytime soon. A little ribbon with "Tammy" written on it hung from each plastic sheathed nipple. In a disastrous attempt to please her new employer the girl hurried a little, catching her heel on the edge of a rug and spilling a single drop of hot coffee on Zorelle. The evil queen exploded with rage and grabbed the clumsy girl's hobbling chain and anchored it to the floor. Zorelle produced a little vial marked "plasticiser" from her potions bag and dipped a tiny pin in it. The serving maid's eyes widened and she trembled visibly with fear. "Hold still dear.....this won't hurt a bit" she said as she pricked the tethered serving girl on the cheek, ending a half-hearted attempt to avoid the poison. The most immediate change was that Tammy stopped moving the instant she was jabbed. After a moment a shine crept down the girl's cheek as her skin and flesh became translucent, changing into some kind of artificial substance...seemingly a kind of plastic. Her head went misty and in moments had turned completely clear as the effect travelled down her neck. Her lithe shoulders and breasts hardened and became clear too as the change worked more rapidly. All Tammy could do was stand there as the plastic grew downwards, flowing down her flat stomach like water and making her legs crystal clear. Just as the plastic reached her toes Tammy felt a rush of panic and then nothing, as all thoughts left her forever. Zorelle quickly pressed the statue's palms together in front of her as though in prayer and pushed it to a crouch. It had taken just a few seconds to transform clumsy serving girl Tammy into erotic plastic towel rail Tammy. Zorelle ordered the new furniture to be placed in the servant's showers. Of course, plastic Tammy had a trainer, Rosemary, who was ultimately responsible for the actions of her serving girls. Rosemary soon found herself naked, with the soles of her feet epoxied to the marble floor in the corner of the throne room. But nobody was ever naked long in Zorelle's kingdom. Nozzles and melting tanks were set up around her at all angles and she was sprayed with a continuous fine mist of bronze vlatex. She tried to scrape it off but it cured almost the instant it touched her skin. The sticky film could not be avoided no matter which way she twisted. For many hours, coat after rubber coat was applied to Rosemary, buffed and glossed to mirror perfection each time as the evil sorceress had requested. That evening Zorelle checked on what she planned to call her "rubber statue corner". She found a finely polished bronze vlatex creature struggling fruitlessly against her new rigid rubbery sheath. Rosemary's bronze hands had bonded to her bronze hips where she first tried to brush off the coating and they had stuck instantly. The vlatex-coated floor that blended seamlessly with her feet was now her pedestal. If she hadn't had a stasis spell cast on her she would long since have suffocated because her nose, mouth and head had been sealed over completely. "Since you can't train your own staff how to serve properly, perhaps you can teach yourself how to do this correctly - be my rubber statue" snarled Zorelle, giving the quivering statue an exploratory push. As expected, the feminine rubber form toppled backwards a little before juddering upright again. This captive wasn't going anywhere soon either. The glistening bronze lips seemed to be trying to mouth words, but not a sound emerged from the airless voice box. The spray had hit so fast that even Rosemary's eyeballs had been coated while her eyelids were wide open in shock. Her sightless stare would probably outlast the flagstones she was mounted on. Something Fishy Going On. Plasti-skin was a recent medical breakthrough used mostly for plastic surgery. Once it was pressed against its recipient's body, it would become permanent and alive if not removed within five minutes. Despite the skin's capacity for good, Zorelle had found evil ways to make use of it. A few men who had been captured alive in the battle were shaved and forced to don anatomically-correct female plasti- skins that transformed their bodies completely on the outside. They were tortured and brainwashed until they had become submissive slave girls. The girls, often seen wearing heavily laced Edwardian gowns made from transparent plastic, were a relaxation for Zorelle when the stresses of her long days suppressing the kingdom got to her. The next of Linda's friends to be punished was a proud Amazonian called Melanie, who had been the princesses' chamber-maid and protector. Zorelle barked an order and a white vinyl nurse-nun, Sister Josephine from the Sisters of No Mercy bowed into the room with a swathe of shimmering garments made from plasti-skin on a silver tray. The sister no longer wore her traditional black and white cloth medical habit, for it had been replaced with a tightly buckled white vinyl catsuit that hugged her curves leaving nothing to the imagination. The red cross of the catsuit was bright between her glistening snowy breasts, and her vow of silence was guaranteed by the attached skintight hood that left just the demure eyes and nose uncovered. Bulging plastic cheeks betrayed the huge expando-gag Sister Josephine wore beneath her enclosing regulation head gear, and the only sound she made was the rustle of her outfit and the click of her ten inch heels as her booted feet touched the stone floor with each dainty step. The fabric between her thighs was so tight that it bisected her pussy into twin mounds, no doubt a punishment in itself when walking any distance. The Sisters of No Mercy had once been a charitable religious order before Zorelle had done an "inspection". With the help of a few choice spells she added a "No" to the name plate on the front of the convent and converted the whole order into one that would worship her alone. The plastic nuns were compelled to do only her bidding - especially useful when medical procedures were required. The ridiculous heels were very difficult to balance on, so the sister's hardened feet were always clamped to the floor before a delicate operation. Keeping Sister Josephine teetering patiently, the evil sorceress turned to look at Melanie who was laying nude on the cushions beside the throne. Under the effects of a compulsion spell, the bronzed Amazon had been helplessly frigging her drooling pussy with a colossal dildo for the last hour. The over-sexed figure nestled amongst the satin cushion shook as her pussy gripped the shaft in rhythmical spasms and another climax wracked her body. "Uhhh....please make it stop... ....ohhhhhhhh... ..uh... ...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. 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 half fish half woman creatures tested the strength of their warm slippery homes by thrashing joyously around inside. The latex walls that enclosed them gave ground initially with each push, then sprang neatly back into place. The jiggling globes were rolled over to where Linda watched powerlessly from her embedded floor position, still wearing her tightly stretched leather slave girl restraint. She struggled to free her arms from the stiffened leather sleeves of the straight jacket that cradled her leather covered bosom but the material was like sheet steel. The part of the costume covering her breasts shimmered and disappeared, exposing her naked skin to the air of the room - air that seemed refreshingly cool due to the hot confines of the suit. Zorelle carefully lifted the large wobbling rubber creations in her hands and, kneeling down, squashed them against Supergirl's comparatively miniature breasts. "Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have breasts this big, Princess? No? Well, how about you try it for a while....perhaps forever?" The sorceress's eyes glowed and her hands became difficult to see clearly, but it seemed apparent that she was slowly sinking her fists and the implants into Linda's chest. The princess of steel almost passed out at the sight of Zorelle's wrists protruding from her presented bosom, watching in dismay as the evil queen slid her fists deeper, as if Linda's super-flesh was made out of soft wax. The princess could feel Zorelle maneuvering the implants into position inside her breasts and after what seemed like hours the invading hands withdrew, minus the load they had been carrying. The result: Supergirl with gravity defying size EE breasts! The evil queen had developed this bizarre method of control for Linda because the kryptonite vlatex that encased the mermaids inside the Princess's new breast inserts would prevent her from mustering any of her super strength until they were removed - and there was not a scalpel in all the land that could cut Supergirl's flesh. In fact, Linda would not need restraining at all unless she found out a way to remove the implants. Having a "live" bust caused the princess much distress - her two captives kicked and struggled night and day, jiggling her heavy breasts even as she slept....or tried to sleep. Zorelle squeezed two tautly stretched nipples between her fingers. "Your plastiskin'd bosom buddies are there to stay Princess. I hope you'll enjoy getting to know them - they are certainly enjoying their new format, courtesy of our little `beg to be bound' helmets here". She cupped the huge mammaries and felt their ponderous weight. "My! These will be heavy!", Zorelle chuckled, half to herself. "Don't worry Supertits! - I have plenty of costumes with stiffened backs to lace you into! Hmmmmm.....I wonder if I can add boning and laces to a plastiskin garment - perhaps you could end up as my super mermaid?...we'll see!" In the past, Zorelle had also used the skin to get her revenge on a serving maid called Lillian who had tried to poison her. Zorelle drugged the girl's food, and whilst she was asleep, she rolled Lillian tightly from the neck down in a large sheet of plasti-skin. Before pressing the skin smooth all over, she cut two small holes for access to the drugged girl's lower openings, front and rear, and two more through which her breasts could protrude. Long after the five minute setting time had passed, Lillian awoke to find that she could not get up. She could not seem to get her arms or legs to move at all. They had disappeared, and apart from her head, breasts and sex, she looked like a rather curvaceous human worm, destined for one of the queen's brothels. Lillian's accomplice Charlotte was revenged upon in a similar but worse way. She simply had her usual plastic prison bedsheets and pillows replaced with identical plasti-skin ones. She awoke the next morning to find that she had been permanently fused into her bed. Linda was lifted from her recess in the floor to balance weakly on her boot sheathed legs. Zorelle grasped her leash and dragged her away from the throne room at a brisk pace, each stiffened step bouncing and jiggling her new bosom. Linda found that she had no energy in reserve at all due to the kryptonite embedded in her chest, but despite the difficulty of walking upright with the extra weight of her bosom pulling her down over her towering heels, she managed to walk perfectly all the way. She would spite her captor if it killed her. They reached their destination; a section of the castle had been under construction since the takeover and the sorceress was also the architect. Zorelle was quite angry at the show of defiance, so she had her slave fitted with two huge vibrators that locked snugly into the Princess's leather costume. A doubly layered rubber body bag followed her cruelly buckled inserts, and once inflated, it compressed Linda's body from the neck down in a neat tubular mass of ballooning clear-red latex, a polished sheath that hid none of her busty attributes due to its glistening transparency. The super-captive was lifted to her air cushioned feet and buckled in a dozen places to a recently finished pillar so she could watch the progress of the royal builders. These hard working staff were examining a set of plans to work out which prisoners were supposed to be installed where, and as which part of the building....perhaps as components for a door or a ceiling relief. Zorelle had drafted many plans since renovations had begun. The builders were checking the numbers on the blueprints against the numbers on a rack of anonymous black rubber pods that hung in storage until they were needed for installation. Zorelle commanded the worker's attention. "Release pod sixty two - that annoying wench who was captain of the guard. We'll do the support pillar now.", she said. Linda's loyal subject Valeria slid, well lubricated, from the breached seal at the base of her pod. After a brief cleaning ritual a punishment and feeder helmet with the standard air and food hoses attached was laced over her head, leaving her without sight or voice. Valeria was dragged to a huge perspex cylinder about two metres in diameter that ran vertically from floor to ceiling. At the queen's command, her head, arms, and legs were pulled back as far as they could go into adjustable round openings in the cylinder. The guards entered the pillar via a door in the base and shackled the silent girls' limbs rigidly inside it to rings, so that only her naked torso remained outside, leaving her anonymous vagina and breasts arched achingly to the world. The food and air tubes protruding from her face were connected to two remaining holes in the cylinder which were just above her head. "Welcome to your new home, number sixty two. This concrete pillar will be it for a very very long time!" announced Zorelle, chuckling at the sight of the struggling, but firmly secured woman. "When the pressurised concrete sets, only your naked torso from the throat to hips will be on the outside of the pillar....then you'll feel what I felt in your dungeon so many years ago - despair! I suspect your loss of freedom won't be as temporary as mine was!". The builders made fast work of the concrete pipe assembly that would be feeding into the top of the pillar because they did not want to fall victims of their mistress's feared temper. Once it was all done, Zorelle took hold of the control lever, but hesitated with a sudden malicious 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 handmaiden. "Feed this little cutie down the mouth of the tube we just made" she said. "But surely my mistress doesn't want to kill her now" cried the girl, horrified that she had been told to take part in the proceedings. "What did you say wench? I'll teach you to disobey a direct order! Plastiskin her!" shouted the angry queen at two reluctant guardswomen. Wanting to make an example of her, she raised her fist at the petrified girl. "Seal her into one of the plastiskin body stockings." The guards pounced on the handmaiden and stripped her. One of them held open a pearl-coloured skinsuit, careful not to handle any part of it for too long, while the other forced the girl into it. The featureless skin adjusted itself to the maiden's proportions and covered her smoothly from head to toe, with the exception of two small nostril holes for air. The frightened convertee was held down while the plastiskin set on her. After five minutes, the guards released their grip and she had changed to the unrecognisable state that the dark queen had ordered. Even though she could still breathe through the two nostril holes, her mouth and all other openings were now sealed over, so that she would not be able to eat and would eventually starve. The pale, ghostlike figure was mouthless, could not see or hear, and her groin area was now a smooth sexless region. The pitiful, smooth-headed creature was dog collared and chained to the throne as an example to all. She flopped pathetically around the floor in her new condition scrabbling where her mouth and eyes had once been with smooth awkward paws. "Now for the snake." ordered Zorelle heartlessly "You do it!" she said, pointing to another handmaiden. Unwilling to share the fate of her featureless comrade, the frightened girl fed the snake down the mouth of the tube. The reptile entered willingly, since it sensed a source of heat ahead to burrow into and lay its eggs in. It slid quickly down the tube until it was halfway in when it paused slightly. Faint gagging noises could be heard and then the snake continued its progress, burrowing down the throat and into the warm body of the still living stasis-spelled woman who would incubate and provide food for its babies. The sanatorium It was usually warm and sunny in the little country village of Greenhaven. The place was barely a dot on the map, known only for its hosting of the State Asylum for Women, a complex large enough to house a thousand inmates. The residents of these heavily secured white buildings remained there for the protection of both themselves and the public - since Zorelle had seized power, no news of events within escaped its imposing walls. Many years ago, when Zorelle had begun her quest for black magic, she was forcibly sent to the Asylum by the Guild of Magicians. There she received some severe punishment before escaping. Recently, as the vengeful ruler of the country, Zorelle decreed that her secret police should release every inmate and make them a staff member, and imprison every nurse and warden and sign their lives away forever as new inmates. In a single overnight raid, the staff became the inmates, and the inmates became the staff. She provided all the new psychotic wardens with magical auto-do cubicles, which had the power to change a victim to any format or costume once sealed within. Most of the new wardens were quite insane to begin with, and one by one their recent human gifts paid terrible penalties for imagined transgressions. Each former guard or nurse patient was heavily modified to make the idea of ever escaping their new home laughable. Even the humble tea lady was now a half human, half machine trolley creature that pushed itself along the corridors with its leather hip-booted legs. The front half of former Nurse Jones spent the rest of her days as a warm metal statue protrusion from the rear inner wall of a locker in the wardens change rooms. A once-patient of hers found it gratifying to hang his clothes on the hooks that now terminated her polished metal bosom. Instead of nipples, her breasts followed a smooth curve to a point, then turned upwards to a hook. She had been converted into solid metal furniture. Months ago, sealed helplessly inside her warden's auto-do cubicle, Nurse Jones had shimmered through many different formats to conform with the images generated in the crazy head of her new master, who sat comfortably in a chair nearby wearing the pickup headset and watching the display screen. She was just thankful that she had retained her mind and not been made into a drooling and packaged vlatex vegetable like her two ex-warden friends she had watched emerge before her. It was one year since the great war, and Maria had just finished her nursing degree. She saw an advertisement in the newspaper for a job at the asylum and secured herself an immediate interview. The director of the institute seemed a little odd, given that she was dressed in a very severe white vinyl dress that stretched from her chin to her ankles, but she was pleasant enough, and Maria needed money desperately so she accepted the job. Fashions of late had been tending towards the restrictive anyway - Maria quite expected women to be wearing bondage harnesses in public soon if the tightly laced trends on the catwalks continued. The guided tour showed many stiffly restrained and gagged inmates, some undergoing thought replacement therapies with coloured lights and computer generated tapes. It was obviously the place for people with serious mental problems. The one-piece uniform Maria had to wear was a purest white vinyl nurse's dress, in a style similar to the director's except for the hobble-skirt to her ankles and the long sleeves with attached sterile mittens. A long zip up the front of the dress stretched the shiny material taut over her skin making it an effort to move, but every nurse working there wore that regulatory uniform and seemed used to it, so Maria soon forgot her initial annoyance with the dress code. She worked long hours and found an uneasy feeling in the place she could not put her rubber-stiffened fingers on. One day, her curiosity got the better of her and she briefly ungagged one of the struggling patients who was scheduled for her final round of thought replacement. The panicking woman was hopelessly combination locked to the conveyor belt leading to the docilisation chamber, but before she was erased to total obedience she managed to share the full tale with Nurse Maria. Maria acted like she didn't believe the story, and fussed over her recently created feminine automation as she walked it back to its room. It struck her as unusual that the chamber had chosen to sew the woman's lips together, in addition to erasing her brain and spraying her from head to toe in an airtight layer of black rubber. The cloying latex effectively rendered the processed inmate blind and deaf, and kept her arms locked in a painful back prayer....mmmm - no...a closer inspection revealed that the woman's hands and fingers had also been sewn together beneath the tight coating. Somebody had made sure that even as a vegetable the woman could never communicate. Maria was very concerned and troubled as to what action to take. Her uniform, with its mittened sleeves molding of the hands into spoon shapes, made it impossible to escape the complex during the day because the doors had hidden security latches that required fingers. All cadet nurses like Maria wore a regulation sleeping corset to bed, which was laced from the tip of the toes to just above the mouth (so they couldn't chatter) and locked closed with special keys. The durable white patent leather garment left just the arms bare, which were supposed to be clipped into automatically-locking comfort cuffs on the bed. Although her legs were married into a single boot, Maria knew she could hatch her escape on a little motorised trolley nearby, as long as no-one noticed her arms were not clipped in place properly. Her idea was a success. Her vehicle got her all the way out a service door, shuddering to a standstill right at the top of the steps down to the street. She had to hop down each step to street level, and stood ready to hold out her thumb at any traffic on the quiet lane. After ten anxious minutes, the lights of a red sports car bathed her glitteringly white sheathed form. The passenger door opened and she heard a young man's voice. "Mmmmmmm.....kinky! Hop in, gorgeous". She breathed a sigh of relief that help was at hand. Within minutes she would be at a police station narrating her story once they worked out how to cut her mouth free. Maria tried awkwardly to climb into the low slung seat, but could not bend the corset enough. He got out to help her, and there was a "Phhhht" as a tranquiliser dart appeared in his neck. A confused look took his face as his legs collapsed and guards appeared from behind the bushes in a flurry of activity. Maria and her luckless rescuer were quickly enveloped in straight jackets - they found themselves neatly packaged, strapped to trolleys and being led back inside the building. The Directress had seen the entire exchange on a hidden video 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 patent leather nipples that topped her huge restrained breasts. Indeed, for the rest of their useful days, the flashing balls were the only method of telling the twins apart. The Directress reached across to a special bra harness of buckles and straps beside the bed and threaded them through the loops in her catsuit and the loops attached to the smooth heads of her suckling ones. In no time they were both securely squashed to her nipples by the bra cups that hid their heads in a taut shiny plastic layer. Now, even if she rolled over in her sleep during the night, her bra bound twins would not stop their tireless work. The peacefully relaxing woman mused that she would have to have another set of twins made to service the two holes between her legs. There would no longer be a need for the ensuite immediately in the morning! Pauline gets punished, while the Rubbermaids look on. Pauline, a former interior minister, was led to stand before the new queen. She had once called Zorelle a mongrel because the queen's mother was from one kingdom and her father from another - mixed races. The minister had always been quite an ugly woman and Zorelle disliked ugliness, so she had immediately given her the expressionless face of a Barbie doll. Pauline's conservative business suit had been replaced with a long, sexy black plastic dress, thigh high boots with eight inch heels that had been moulded in stiff black platex about her legs to the hip and made her teeter as she walked. Her hands were mittened in more of the rubbery black plastic to the shoulder, curling her wrists as though perpetually holding a shaft. Her now hairless head was tightly ensconced in the amorphous layer of vlatex she had been dipped in, which held a cruelly pressurised expando-gag in her oral cavity. Her hugely distended cheeks appeared as black billiard balls from the sheer pressure of her inner packing. The unbroken ring of her strange new shiny metal collar enhanced Pauline's look of captivity, but even with her vacant-looking Barbie face she showed contempt by refusing to bow to her mistress. At a word from Zorelle, her head was instantly enveloped from the collar upwards in a seamless golden metal egg, through which no sound penetrated.....yet another form of the mind programming device.....her body stiffened as she clutched impotently with curled plastic hands at the impervious surface of her encased head, sinking to her knees in submission while the powerful device programmed her mind....her thoughts blended into a fog...oooh such interesting new thoughts coming in....and when the fog cleared, she was an adoring submissive....existing only to serve her mistress....begging her mistress to bind her....while in a small corner of her enslaved mind, a proud woman screamed.. Zorelle clicked her fingers and Lynette, her personal rubber mannequin-maid came to life from the corner where she had stood for the past ten days. If her rubber lips had not been fixed permanently in a glossy, frozen pout, she might have said "your wish Madame?", but instead she teetered over to the throne in her rubber ballet boots, squeaked her shiny rubber body down towards the floor and curtsied as she had been trained to do so naturally. "Rubbermaid, find my new submissive a wardrobe to suit her recently installed thought patterns...all doubly stiffened platex and plastic if you will....and have her fitted for her shiny dog costume - she'll adore being the mongrel now. Make it the best selection for punishment you've ever imagined or I'll reduce you to a strength II. I want that dog costume so tight that she can't breathe at all - her stasis collar will keep her alive". Even with her limited perception the Rubbermaid could understand the threat of being changed from her current status as a strength III Rubbermaid into a strength II or even (rubber forbid!) a strength I Rubbermaid. She knew that as a strength II, with her latex arms bonded to her sides to the wrist and her squeaking legs hobbled with a sheath to the ankles, she could not possibly continue to perform her required daily duties satisfactorily, and in no time at all she would be punished and reduced to a mindless strength I. A strength I Rubbermaid is merely a strength II with her entire body sealed in a full inch cocoon of clear latex. A whole corridor leading to the maid "re- education" wards was lined with stiffly wobbling strength I's as a warning to all who have the honour of being trained as strength IIII's and III's. Inside each strength I pod was a screaming rubbermaiden creature (they did not remember they had once been women), but no sound ever penetrated the serene polished black faces and their inches of clear coating. Occasionally, one of the strength I Rubbermaids would lose balance and topple, and would drop into a disposal shaft as final punishment for their disobedience. The shaft dropped them into a steaming vat of warm rubber cement and they were melted and blended with the glutinous black liquid by the vat mixers. When the count of Rubbermaids in the vat reached fifty, it would be veritably bulging with limbs trying to find an escape from the surface tension of their stretchy rubber prison. The whole vat would be then poured into a mould for yet another of the hundreds of black rubber pillars in the castle extension wing. Occasionally there would be inconsistencies in the mix and tiny sections of the pillar would take longer to set than others, and after the mould was removed a shiny black hand or foot or elbow or buttock or breast or embossed face would protrude from the pillar before it set for good....a stark, slightly moving stiffened reminder forever of what it was filled with. When the pillars were finished, Zorelle planned to use any further "raw material" to make furniture such as rubber sofas and mattresses. The attentive Rubbermaid remembered little of her past life as a high powered senior executive in a law firm. She could not know that at that very moment her former boss Minta graced stand 23 as a mindless type I......soon to slide gently into the Vat. Years ago, when Zorelle was a wanted criminal and the Rubbermaid was a free human woman named Lynette, Vice CEO Lynette had paid the sorceress to make her boss Minta "disappear" and pave her way to success. The `fee' was a mere fifty percent of the mega-company profits every month. The police arrived at the office asking questions, and she acted tearful at Minta's disappearance, even though she was now president. That evening she arrived home and found a letter under her door. It read: "Please select your desired format for your former boss: 1) Rubberised Mannequin Maid - with or without arms 2) Vinyl Dolly - she will sit patiently on your bed. 3) Marble Statue. Nice for the garden. 4) Shop Mannequin. Rental income potential. 5) Blow up doll. Yes, easily deflatable for storage. 6) Oak Statue - 100% solid. 7) Household Robot - skin type gold, silver or plastic Irresistible modifications will be made to Minta's thought patterns to match your choice exactly" Lynette thought briefly. It would be fun to humiliate her ex-supervisor by making her work around the house as her helpless servant forever, so she chose the Mannequin Maid option. The following evening a crate was delivered. Minta had been dipped completely in black rubber to anonymise her, and lay quivering slightly in her box as if trying to escape her permanent mental reprogramming. The mannequin maid did not like the fleeting images in her head of a proud woman behind a desk, but she was thankful that they were fading away by the hour. Thank goodness, for she had important work to do serving her mistress. The taut black and white vlatex parody of a maid's dress stretched over her glossy black bosom, nipped in her now forever suctioned and invisibly corseted waist, and sheathed her generous hips and buttocks with its fabric. Maid Minta's new feet were crushingly moulded into ballet boots with eight-inch stiletto heels. She made quiet "plik" noises on the floor as she walked, or stilted, since her knees could bend only very slightly. Every movement was accompanied by a tortured squeak from her new skin. Oh, she loved being a maid so much! Following the successful neutralization of Minta, Lynette also had two of her staunch opponents punished by converting them into legless and armless vlatex dolls. Zorelle, working her magic in person those days, had thrown the two frightened naked women a shimmering black outfit each to put on. They could not find sleeves or leg holes in the costume and said as much, at which point the magical sheaths in their hands flapped open wide and enveloped them. Sealed completely inside their own personalised suctioned plastic skins, the two figures writhed in the powerful magic. Their limbs shrank away and the plastic sheathing their glossy heads creaked as it shrank, compressing their plastic faces into blank dolly smiles. Each doll had her former name emblazoned in white across her back and her new name "Cindy" or "Barbie" on her forehead. The two were returned to their offices as a warning, where they rocked ever so slightly in their office chairs for many years before being moved to a display case in the boardroom. After a few years in the seat of power, Lynette realised she had the resources to hunt down and kill the crooked lady herself and avoid the fee. She stopped paying and sent dozens of contract killers to do the job. All failed. Lynette soon found herself with shiny Rubbermaid skin, dressed in a distinctive pink and white outfit and unaware of her swift career change. She served Zorelle personally. To make a Type V Once again the weak Linda Danvers was dressed as an adult baby and strapped in her wheeled high chair. One of the Rubbermaids was assigned to pull the hermetically sealed baby Linda along in her high chair - quite a painful exercise when the maid's ringed clitoris was doing the pulling. It was a smooth ride through to one of the newly built extensions of the castle. Before they reached their destination, an armless messenger clad in patent leather scurried up to them with an envelope wedged in the stiffened pocket between her breasts. Zorelle fished out the note and scanned it briefly with an annoyed look on her face. "What? Another envoy? Stay here - I shall be back shortly. STORE!" Having activated the maid's storage mode, she strode hurriedly off. The Rubbermaid's perpetually wide eyes instantly dimmed to opaque black and her arms flew behind her into a crushing back-prayer as she was forced by unseen hands into a tight kneeling position against the floor. Her slippery rubber skin became liquid for an instant and then hardened again, leaving a featureless, airtight latex package behind, unable to even twitch, with the same little chain as before joining its now-sealed clitoris and rear end to Supergirl's chair. Linda heard voices coming through an open door to her right and tried to twist her mobile chair around so she could see what was going on. After a few attempts and a few silent shudders from the parcel on the floor when the chain was inadvertently pulled taut, she managed it. A figure in a latex body stocking lay writhing on the plastic-sheeted bed. It was evident the figure was female, though it had no flesh exposed. The captive's rubber encapsulated face was featureless, with only two holes under her nose for breathing. Her arms were one with her body, with only mittened gloves that balled into fists where her hands should be. It soon became evident that she was in some distress. Another woman, dressed in a white leather ball gown and towering white boots, stood over the bed and helped tighten the straps holding the victim down. Linda recognized the dominatrix as her former ally Samantha, now much changed. Samantha now had a ridiculously overdone sexy body, huge EE breasts and a waist in inches that had obviously had some ribs removed to allow severe corseting. The tormentor's glossy red pouting lips had been expanded to a point that she could just barely open her mouth to speak. Her once black hair was now bleach blonde and she wore a strange glazed, hungry expression as her oversized, grotesque lips strove to pronounce words correctly. "Don' sthwuggle my pwetty wum.....er.....Don't struggle my pretty one.....I know you have mind ants sealed in your lovely slippery suit with you and I know they can be quite pesky when they inject you with their poisons - but look on the bright side! - soon your fleeting little personality will be gone, washed away like the tide, and you'll be ready to be made into something more useful like me! It's so exciting being Bambi - you'll see!". She straddled her prone captive and kissed it where the lips would have been. "I know you're angry now but you won't hate me when I've finished you. It doesn't make any difference to the process if you were a man before - it's my job to change the people that Mistress Zorelle gives me into Bambi like myself. That's all I do, but it's so much fun. You'll be my twin soon!" She spied Linda watching and tottered over on her pointed toes to swung the door closed. `She didn't even recognise me!' thought Linda to herself in horror. What terrible fate had befallen her friend? She wondered if it would be possible to restore Samantha's mind. Her thought was interrupted as Zorelle reappeared looking much happier. The cocooned maid was released and they continued on until Linda found herself unchained from her helper in a very large suite. The well appointed room had been extensively decorated since her capture, for every surface was now padded white vinyl. The automatically sensing entrance sported a large padded white vinyl door whose luxurious width encapsulated the shiny puffed effigies of two hapless vinyl women. Linda's new version of her rubber baby costume was steadily increasing the levels of Kryptonite in her body. She noticed four type V Rubbermaids standing silently in the corner awaiting commands as their costumes told them to do. A type V Rubbermaid had a luxury that type IV Rubbermaids did not; they were not converted permanently into rubber (although most ended up that way when they became type IV's). Their clear latex maid costumes were one piece, covering almost every inch of their bodies from head to toe. The only skin showing was through a dark-frilled circular portion above the breasts advertising cleavage - but not real skin however, for they wore latex leotards beneath, that had perfectly moulded, realistic breast cups. Each puff-shouldered outfit was like a full body catsuit with an overlaid and attached clear maids dress stretching up from mid thigh. A frilly black apron and high ruffled collar and bonnet matched dainty scalloping at the upper arm where the puffed sleeves terminated. A rack of at least two score empty costumes stood against a far wall, ready for new converts, and a strange machine sat nearby. "Wasn't that a fun little ride, my yummy baby?" Zorelle cooed tauntingly. "As you may have guessed, this is the room where we make our privileged type V's Rubbermaids. The enchanted material controls all thoughts as long as its special side is touching the skin somewhere - and as you can see, it is impossible to take it off with only that small breast opening." The sorceress turned as the effigy door squeaked slowly open as fast as its silently working occupants could tiptoe forward. A black-hooded captive stiffly entered, led by two Rubbermaids, her sensorily deprived head covered in glistening buckles that flowed down her back and front to make a buckled corset, then down her legs where laces continued to the toes, converting her legs into rods of leather. The four maids came to life and detached the rest of the costume from the hood, letting her lower casings drop away to leave her nude from the neck down. The bodysuit that made up the latex maid's chemise was zipped onto her torso. The moment it hit her skin, the captive even began helping in her own conversion. A type V suit was pulled from the rack and the breast opening stretched wide by the machine, revealing its reason for being there. The captive swung her feet obediently into the opening and allowed the fussing, silent maids to shrug her into it. The hood was removed to allow the head to be covered and then the catsuit opening was closed to reveal a brand new type V Rubbermaid. Linda gasped to realise it was her royal cousin Natasha who had just been pressed into permanent servitude. Natasha marched to the evil sorceress and curtsied happily to her shiny Mistress. The maids were dismissed and Zorelle returned to her throne room. Cow's milk, for sale. As it turned out, the interrupting envoy had arrived with beautifully designed and rare gifts that Zorelle had never seen before. He asked for a favour in return which she immediately granted - permission to pass laws enabling special treatment of recalcitrant wives. Months later, using the new laws, the envoy started a trend. As punishment for a harmless flirt with the milkman, his wife was forced to don a specially designed snug black rubber catsuit cocoon, with no openings in it save an adhesive seal up small of the back to the base of the neck where it joined a tight seamless hood. There were valves at her sex and anus, nipples, mouth and nostrils, and no other openings in the black material at all. (the suits soon became so popular and cheap that even convenience stores were selling them). Every day, she was coated with more back rubber, but the valves were kept clear to allow her air and food. She quickly became an unidentifiable rubber creature. Once a day her two lower valves were released, spurting her waste products out under strong pressure. The erect valves protruding from her black rubber breasts were screwed onto the ends of milking machine suction hoses which flowed with milk from the hormones she was being fed. The suit was so stiff that if required, she could be held up by her nipples only. The husband took her and her attached milking machine home and stood her gently in the corner of his bedroom, where she spent the rest of her days as a helpless rubber cow. Eventually the envoy remarried, and Keiko, his new cruel wife took an immediate unhealthy interest in the silent cow-ette in the corner. She ordered it set in a block of featureless black rubber with only the softly humming milking machine tubes attached to it. Since the Keiko was only in the marriage for money, soon her husband occupied the space beside the featureless rubber block. He had been mammarily modified and crushingly latex-dipped as the new cow "maiden"....his heavy breasts vibrating impotently with feminine rage at being converted to such a helpless animal for the sole purpose of milking. He never managed to escape his new imprisoning form. The envoy's new wife did not stop there - each future husband eventually joined her private dairy against their will, as did a number of female acquaintances. Keiko sold the milk and made a large profit - enough to expand her cottage industry and seize a full sector of the beverages market. Keiko industries became a household name. A young woman tourist saw the distinctive Keiko vending machine standing in the quiet street. She was thirsty, and the machine, shaped attractively like an ebony statue of a woman, beckoned her taste buds. For no real reason other than habit, she checked to make sure that the self-cleaning nozzle at each nipple was sparklingly scrubbed before inserting her credit card in the slot between the glossy legs of the unit, marked by a large yellow arrow. As milk flowed from the tap into her mouth, the arms of the machine moved in a preprogrammed way to comfortingly hug the customer to its bosom. The woman loved this part, and drank hungrily, wondering briefly how big the internal tanks of the unit were. Suddenly, everything went wrong. Her arms and legs were sucked into and held firmly by the rubber coated limbs of the machine. Automatic panels opened and hooks tore off her jumpsuit and underwear with millimetres to spare. Two conical suction cups enveloped her breasts and a knob entered her mouth as others were screwed into her sex and rear. Out of the corner of his eye, a distant pedestrian saw a tiny flash of white steam as the machine sealed her completely in an inch of hard black plastic. He squinted and saw the two Keiko machines standing there, one latex, one plastic. He dismissed the thought. "Must have been a malfunction of the second machine" he thought to himself and moved on. The tourist had been made into a matching glossy black statuette vending machine on a pedestal, with taps protruding from the tip of each breast - plastic this time not latex. When either tap was turned on she knew that lovely sweet human milk would flow from her breast - the hormones were already working. The new milk machine for the Keiko corporation stood silently beside the original for a month, automatically beckoning and serving customers, before maintenance crews arrived and took it away. The unit was sold by Keiko to a family to keep in their house as a fresh milk supply. To get the nutrients to make her milk, food scraps and often even her own waste were fed into the mouth valve with a small pump, where they were converted into a paste for her to swallow. As head of the corporation, Keiko had a bevvy of reluctant milkers at her disposal from which she selected the most shapely for display at business functions as walking milkers. Each of these mobile milk machines was sealed from head to toe in a shiny black rubber jumpsuit with the customary taps at each nipple and locked valves at the groin and rear to release waste under pressure. The rubber was so thick and strong, that it took great effort to bend limbs at all from a straight out position. The milkers were almost stiff as a board but could just hobble along in small stilted steps. Their mittened hands and feet looked like smooth flippers of glossy rubber that showed not even a ripple to indicate the fingers and toes trapped inside. Whenever a guest required a drink they simply held out a cup to a proffered breast and turned on a tap. A tightly stretched parody of a milkmaids costume, this time a black and white mottled catsuit with white rubber frills around the collar turned the entertainment staff into stunning visions of beauty. Supergirl's kryptonite implants were enough to keep her helpless, but she also wore her studded kryptonite collar and impregnated jumpsuit to ensure her complete regulation. Zorelle heaved the weakened blonde unceremoniously into an auto-do cubicle of the most recent windowed, spherical design and bolted the door from the outside. The captive hardly resisted as the fields of the unit took control of her limbs and she heard the voice of the Sorcoress as she spoke into her console outside. "Supergirl, I have decided that punishing just one of you will never be enough for me, so I am about to make as many duplicates of you as I need" Intense light suffused Linda's prison for an instant, and then the chamber was empty. The computer connected to the machine spat out all that remained of the lady of steel; a storage cube of information regarding the location and alignment of every atom in her body. A tiny winking green light at the top of the cube indicated that the data was valid, and Zorelle kissed it happily. Her captive could be instantly re-created by the machine at a later date, exactly as she was when she had been recorded. She could also be modified by computer before re-creation to make her an ordinary human being. Multiple copies were possible, if Zorelle wished to try out a number of different torments on her victim. Zorelle chose to make a perfect copy to start with, and soon Supergirl re-appeared, still helpless in her jeweled suit. The limiting jeweled collar was left on her, but the jumpsuit was unlaced from the girl. Then, over a stiff kryptonite corset, the dark queen dressed Linda in heavy duty leather catsuit, covering her from head to toe. The creation had hundreds of buckles and straps all over it, leaving her arms buckled permanently at her sides and her legs buckled together. She was then laid out in front of the throne for Zorelle to rest her booted feet on - that duplicate would never leave that spot again. Zorelle made copy after copy of the un-caped crusader, each one thinking that she was the one and only Supergirl. Linda had been a powder-pink rubber bunny for a week now. Wearing the pink costume had been a spot of freedom to move her limbs but the bizarrely full bosom of the bunny that she saw in the mirror every morning was a stark reminder of how hopeless her predicament was at the moment. The tight pink rubber catsuit that stretched around her body had seamlessly attached gloves, boots and hood - yes, the pink rubber clad creature in the mirror was very obviously a woman. Two separately added narrow slits in the garment from the base of her throat to just below her breasts allowed her enormously enlarged bosom to spill forth, cupped and enclosed entirely from the point where they squeezed out of the costume to the hard nipples. Her breasts were enclosed in huge pink latex pouches that had been added with customary vacuum tightness to the humiliating design of the costume. With a little squeak of rubber against rubber Linda lifted and rearranged her painfully rounded globes with shiny pink paws as she had every morning, trying in vain to find a less uncomfortable position for her breasts. She could feel the constant draining power of the Kryptonite implant twins in her bosom, and Zorelle had made sure that her boobs were presented in a way that constantly reminded her of them. Running fingerless hands down her waist that was narrowed terribly by the inbuilt corset of the bunnysuit, she turned sideways and hopelessly examined her enlarged ass yet again for any seams in the impervious fabric. There were none - not even where the cute white rubber bunny tail protruded at her coccyx. Supergirl wondered again why she had bothered. In her heart she knew the outfit would require unlocking spells for removal. The legs of the suit felt like they were extremely tightly laced boots, very stiff and difficult to bend, but again there were no laces evident on the shiny bunny in the mirror. The baby pink latex enclosed her legs to the toes, where they were arched into a numbing ballet point, making it impossible to flatten her heel-less feet to the ground. Linda's entire head was covered in a tautly strained hood of airtight pink rubber fashioned into a womanly bunny face and topped with large erect ears. The bunny of old fairy tales had been recreated as the bunny of a fetish wet dream. Hugely pouting red lipsticked lips curved up to a cutely whiskered white button nose framed by large frightened animal eyes, albeit a pretty blue. The only non-pink attributes of the costume were her red and blue Super logos that graced her lustrous pink breasts. She knew that sooner or later she would be scheduled for brainwashing and wasn't looking forward to it at all. "Sister, I'll give you full access to the asylum to process this doll." she said, pointing at a prone Supergirl strapped into a tight rubber sheath on a stretcher. "No need to panic - her super strength is gone. All duplicates like this one have the kryptonite breast implants of the original. Supergirl is no stronger than an ordinary person now". It was true - the thin clinging latex held Linda in position easily. "I want her skin to be changed into light brown plastic, soft to the touch, and give her big blue doll eyes that never close. That blonde hair must go - make sure she is once and for all hairless from head to toe. I think she may look better bald but we can always add plastic hair if we want to". "Oh, and take care of her vocal cords - dolls do not speak." Supergirl woke with a silent scream at the recurring nightmare, writhing in the moisture and sweat of the neck- to-toe latex sheath that had been her costume for weeks. With no gag, she would normally have tried to make more noise, but her vocal chords had been permanently removed three days ago and the part of her brain that translated words into commands for her vocal chords, tongue, and mouth had been erased. She lay there in perfect silence, trying in vain to remember how to make some kind of noise other than the sound of her laboured breathing as she was rolled swiftly into the auto-do chamber for processing. She knew that soon she would be just another brainless doll unless she could manage to escape her inescapable bondage. "No....please help me!" she pleaded with her eyes to the Sister who sat at the command console outside the sphere but it was pointless. The Sister had a spell that controlled her, and could no more remove her seamless glossy costume than disobey a direct order from Zorelle. There was no real need to have the console fixed in position outside the sphere but quite a few dominatrixes had given in to the desire to be inside the chamber watching and listening to the tortured conversion of their slaves - and unwittingly altered themselves in the same way. The trolley shimmered and disappearred, leaving a latex larvae suspended in space without visible means of support. Linda could see a reflection of herself in the silvery walls of her prison. The sheath binding her limbs turned to liquid briefly and hardened again, leaving her in a perfect bronze plastic catsuit. The hovering form rotated to her feet and pirouetted as the Sister toyed with her. Instantly Linda found herself being forced up onto her toes, as high as she could go. As soon as she was on tiptoe, she felt her feet and legs to the hip being encased in something stiffer. The Sister's latest addition to Linda's fetish wardrobe was a set of ballet boots, with eight inch stiletto heels. The plastic of the boots was stiff enough to keep her ankles from bending at all. The stiffness continued up her body as the plastic hardened, acquiring the silky, artificial sheen of fine polished plastex. She could not close her eyes and felt her breasts harden out to her nipples. The coating rushed down her arms and up her neck, smoothing a layer over her proud facial features and flowing up to join at the very top of her smooth, bald skull. She wiggled her fingers one last time before it suddenly became a tremendous effort to do so. The Sister, dressed in her customary terribly restrictive white catsuit, expertly guided the auto-do cubicle to complete Supergirl's conversion to an attractive doll with a full, voluptuous body and an empty head. First Linda's memories had to be erased from her brain, followed by her ability to tell good from bad. Then all dominant feelings were removed and replaced with utter submission. The doll would be happy only under complete control and reduction to sex toy status. With her memories and personality gone, she could never be more than an automation, schooled by the machine to be skilled in the art of providing sexual pleasure. Using atomic particles from trapped women, her breasts were expanded to the size of bean bags. Five terrified women stood in soundproof perspex inlet cylinders attached to the rear of the machine away from scrutiny, clawing and screaming at the impervious wall of their prisons as their bodies provided the raw materials for Supergirl's transformation, as their particles became Linda's new breasts. It took a lot of matter to turn somebody into a living pillow doll, and the auto-do cubicle was indiscriminate in its selection of parts for absorbtion and re-use. Not that the machine was overly cruel in its operation - absorption was a pleasurable experience once pain receptors were nullified on entry to the cylinder and the remaining parts of each victim were restructured to keep her alive and unscarred regardless of how radicaly the absorption was. In some cases the fuel cells were even added to if arms or excess fat were removed. But not in this case. Fuel cell one bashed her fists impotently against the strong plastic wall that kept her trapped. Her breasts had gone first, shimmering away in a mist of particles, leaving two smooth concave areas of skin on her chest where they had been. As she struck the wall again her arms desintegrated into billions of shining silver particles and were swept into the vent above her head, leaving smoothly rounded shoulders. She looked across at the woman in cell two who was faring worse. Fuel cell two's occupant was sitting on the floor gazing at the neat, petite stumps of her wrists and ankles with stupification. Her lips had gone too, completely smoothed over where her mouth had been. Fuel cell five felt much lighter than she ever had before, because almost all of her internal organs and ribs had been removed. She still had all her limbs, but now sported an impossibly narrow waist. She swallowed nervously as she prodded where her ribs had been and saliva immediately trickled from her pussy. She felt around between her ass cheeks and realised that her anus had gone too. Her digestive tract was now a direct channel from her mouth to her sex. In stark contrast to her neighbour in cylinder four, who had not been touched, fuel cell three was almost completely depleted. She was a limbless, breastless torso with a smooth expanse of skin where her mouth, eyes and ears had been. A single nostril served her breathing purposes as she flopped about her cell while a single lung and heart, themselves reduced in capacity, kept her alive. A light above the chamber glowed green and, preceded by extraordinarily huge bean bag breasts, out stepped a new plastic doll, enveloped in a new bronze polymer skin that was alone enough to keep its prisoner trapped let alone any further bondage. The impervious material hugged every curve and angle of her body with sprayed-on precision, from the top of her cueball smooth head to the bottoms of her painfully arched feet - boots that were an integral part of the costume. Painful as it seemed, not a sound emerged from the mouth of the creature. Supergirl's doll suit had a cool sleekness, shiny and reflective. Most unusual was the fact that it had no seams at all - as if she were dipped in liquid plastic and allowed to harden. Indeed she had been, for the auto-do cubicle could make changes on a molecular level. So singular was the suit that it came up over her face as well, giving her bronze plastic lips, nose, and even eyelids! Her small ears were barely-discernible ripples on either side of the flawless hood. If it were not for Linda's tearful blue eyes, she would have been indistinguishable from an actual doll of solid plastic. Her new skin was blemish free. Her unbelievable breasts and tight, muscly rear were smooth, frictionless globes glowing in freshly dipped and polished plastic, elegant and sensual in its simplicity. Weeks later, as Zorelle curled up her body to nestle comfortably in the breasts of her new bean bag doll, what was left of Supergirl could only flush with pleasure as her nerves told her brain to feel wonderful. Her memories had been taken away for many weeks now and she had never once sensed the loss. In fact, the doll was deliriously happy. Zorelle had informed her that her arms were going to be altered; extended and joined together into a simple plastic push-up bra to support her stupendous bosom. The thought of losing her arms in that way made Lindadoll very wet in her plastic pussy, buffeted by waves of ecstatic joy from the new submissive pleasure centre installed in her brain. Little did she know (or care!) but during the transformation of her arms into living clothing her own ability to feel sensation would go as well. Why should a living pillow doll get pleasure all the time when you touch it? Her role was to provide pleasure, not obtain it herself. The doll would soon feel nothing at all. "Lindadoll doesn't need feelings, does she?" asked Zorelle as she zipped closed the armless creature's new unique brassiere that had been fashioned from its own limbs. Lindadoll shook her head enthusiastically. "You certainly don't seem to miss them now that they're gone, my cute little dolly!" Supergirl the hooker could not remember the changes that had been forced upon her mind to introduce her new vocation, but she loved her job. She wore a Supergirl blue, heavily boned leather corset. It dipped in front, cupping the underside of her large breasts to the nipples. Large red tassels emblazoned with the customary symbol were threaded through her pierced nipples. The midriff of the highly polished corset was breathlessly laced to squeeze her waist down to only 15 inches. The item was designed so that it didn't obscure any part of her breasts or pussy. A red leather G-string that barely contained her sex met the bottom of the blue corset and formed a nice contrast. Linda couldn't remember what the symbol meant anymore, but she had been conditioned to need it on every bit of her clothing somewhere. The corset squeezed her waist down to an impossibly small diameter, holding her back quite straight in the process. The back support was beneficial because above the corset, Supergirl's enormous breasts jutted out, looking impossibly firm. She enjoyed her job tremendously, even during the humiliation and depravity that some clientele required. She had amassed a huge wardrobe of sex costumes for the trade, many more than she actually needed to earn her keep. Starting in leather, she had graduated to PVC and then latex, until every square inch of space in her apartment held a rack of vlatex clothing. Even on the days she worked the streets in rubber, she would sleep in a more restrictive latex costume that night. She was committed to her career and didn't want to scare her more conservative customers off. She saved up enough money for a procedure to have every one of her beautiful teeth removed to allow her to give the best oral sex. Nobody knew her choppers had gone because she had a false set made that looked every bit as good as the original. Removing Super teeth was not easy, but Kryptonite was becoming more readily available, and buying enough to fashion a pair of tooth pliers and nipple piercers was easy. With so much competition nowadays, a girl had to do what a girl had to do to earn her keep. Linda had even considered other body modifications and limb removals to enter the lucrative amputee market - but no, that would come later. She could not guess that she was becoming more submissive as the months rolled on. Joe was an amateur scientist. He sat at his desk doing calculations and pondering over what appeared to be mammogram images as he absently ran his fingers through the long blonde hair of the Woman of Steel who was playing enthusiastic lip service to his manhood. Slurping with surprising ferocity and simultaneously exploring his penis with her tongue, Supergirl was an expert in the trade. She knelt happily beneath the desk with Joe's shaft anchored in the depths of her throat. She hoped he would come soon, because she was getting hungry again. The less money she spent on food, the more she could spend on rubber gear. "Supe, I'd like you to stay the night - we're going to play doctors and nurses - but the nurse will be in bondage too - okay?" Supergirl nodded silently without even changing her rhythm and a thrill went through her. She loved bondage games. Later that night Linda found herself strapped to a vertical operating table, her bosom directly in the path of an ominous looking laser. Joe delicately added a tube of green kryptonite gas to the machine and fired the laser neatly across her left breast. "Finally I get to find our what it is hidden in your bosom, my girl". Don't worry - I'll stitch you back up again!" Her right breast had split cleanly with strangely no blood and Joe had no difficulty prising the two halves apart to expose the rounded globe and its trapped aquatic occupant. The moment he touched the globe there was a flash of lightning as Zorelle's protection spell activated. His body shimmered and was replaced with the form of a rubberised mermaid, complete with a matching airless latex sheath. The newly created creature was pulled helplessly through the surface of the implant, not through an opening, but rather absorbed into it. Supergirl awoke the next morning, still tightly bound and wearing her squeaking nurse's outfit. She looked down at her exposed bosom and noticed with horror that although whole and unscarred again, her left breast was twice the size of her right! She would have to buy a whole new wardrobe of fetish garments now! Q. Does anybody actually read (and like) this stuff? I don't get much feedback at all so I'm thinking of quitting. fast_fist@hotmail.com ==========< A note from your author >============== Are there any half decent artists out there who would like to try and create illustrations for this story? Can anyone offer web space and time to look after the images? I can add html refs. to the story. Unsolicited Bulk Email and newsgroup spam must end! Unsolicited Bulk Email is theft! All feedback via fast_fist@hotmail.com ================================================= There is a plan to release Supergirl in the end, but lots must happen in the story before that! ...another 50% of the original story to come. ** Fast does not have time to email copies of stories to people, so do NOT ask! Read a.s.s.m or do a search for the "perils of Supergirl". This is the Author's only story. Intelligent comments/reviews/punishment ideas VERY welcome! Feedback please via fast_fist@hotmail.com -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----