Bondage Perils Of Supergrrl: Page 1


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This is an adult story, with many damsels in distress and
LOTs of latex. Just for adults please.


The Bondage Perils of Supergrrl V1.13
Copyright (c) 2002, Fast Fist (fast_fist@hotmail.com)

bd/nc/mc/latex/magic/tech/statue/tg/encap/plaster

Introduction.

Within days of the King's death and her coronation,
the Princess of Steel heard rumours of Sorceress
Zorelle's return from forced exile. The evil witch 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 who were completely unstoppable. She was
marching them towards total dominance of the land and its
people, capturing her enemies one by one 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 huge enemy battalion
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 a few breaths 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 had been turned into prisoners of war that
actually fought for the enemy.

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 even as swathes of arrows lodged in their
battered 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. She knew that she could
not allow the witch to try an escape or attack spell, so
she enveloped Zorelle's mouth with her own, grasped the
spell-weaving hands and then utilised her super-strength
to crush the bones. 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 Supergrrl's own soldiers. The hapless gold
and silver outfitted figure that she had imagined to be
Zorelle shimmered into a living harness of glowing green
straps....kryptonite! How had Zorelle managed to find
some?



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, cancelling 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 Supergrrl 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, sliding easily over her mouth, nose
and then eyes with a clear layer which thickened rapidly.


black boots came into her dwindling field of vision and
in her hallucination-affected mind 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? Was it the curve of
a tortuously 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 Supergrrl 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,
Supergrrl had been strapped in a high chair, where she
suckled purposefully on a magical pacifier.

The all-enclosing latex-kryptonite babysuit she was
sheathed in was designed in attractive transparent green
and stretched from wrist to ankle. Her hands and feet
terminated in stiff frilled mittens and booties, a
sparkling rubber bib hanging beneath the frills around
her neck 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, fused
to the suit at the neck and crowned with a ludicrous
little sun 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. Water, laced
with Kryptonite!

The young man gave a stricken cry, and even managed to
take a struggling step towards his princess despite the
powerful spell holding him in place.

"Don't bother.....there is nothing you can do to
help her." Laughed Zorelle, toying with 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 super heroine 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 little pouch shape, but I believe it will be
much more fun to string out her punishment."

She zipped open and fingered the tiny latex purse that
she had used to illustrate her point, watching the
bright, defenceless clitoris spring to life even though
its owner had long since been turned into rubber lining.
It was not strictly a living creature anymore but deep
inside a voice still existed, struggling to find reasons
to dislike its reduction to a slippery fashion accessory,
a helpless labial body that could be confined easily by a
simple zipper and ring-pull key chain. Zorelle waved the
pussy purse at the shaking man so he could watch the tiny
vulnerable item orgasm around her finger, contracting
with almost self-destructive pleasure at her touch.

"You would look very nice as one of these", she
chuckled.

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 considering they'll never wear
out, I can only give so many away. You get to join your
friends so I hope you enjoy company.. You will become a
pretty little doll that I can blend into my collection!".

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 tent room and lay back on
the shiny red vinyl surface. A mist formed around the
officer's body as she arched in pain. A short cry
escaped her lips, followed by a liquid hiss, then total
silence. The air cleared to reveal her unaccustomed
feminine curves coated completely in glossy black rubber.
The sightless effigy wriggled in an effort to escape her
new costume now that a spell wasn't controlling her
movements but it was pointless. Not only did her rigidly
boned vlatex layer (Zorelle's magic blend of vinyl and
latex) 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 a spell that caused it to
shrink 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 until 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,
for their effort, some had found themselves totally
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.

"Hmmm..." 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 over breasted 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 whom 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 tits before
turning him into the doll and embedding him until only
his turgid 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
Supergrrl's babified legs. A wide slit in the Princess's
green suit at the crotch allowed easy access to her sex,
and the transparently sheathed dildo dolls inside had no
choice but to remain in their dark, soft vaginal prison,
gripped firmly by impenetrable walls of pussy flesh.
Thanks to the transparency of their cute dildo shaped
suit, the Barbies had observed their own insertion into
the "giant" pussy, and could only dwell on their
misfortune as their magic-induced licking and writhing
continued. The dildo doll nestled closest to the outside
world often had enough light to see Supergrrl's heavily
lubricated pussy flesh as it slid repeatedly up and down
over its face, sometimes even gliding far enough to catch
a glimpse of the outside world - mountainous labial lips
and a massive clitoris. The deeply rooted doll was less
lucky. Although her view was arguably less interesting,
Zorelle had made her widely stretched eyes super
sensitive to make sure she did not miss an inch of the
Princess's inner sanctum.

Linda squirmed weakly against the snugly buckled straps
holding her in her highchair. The Barbie-doll vibrator
was awash with her own lubricant and the translucent
rubber costume gripped every inch of skin, causing
undeniably erotic sensations. The spell she was under
kept her sucking noisily on the pacifier and she was
unable to stem the strength-sapping flow at all. She
tried squeezing her teeth and lips together but it was no
good - the spurting nipple of the oversized dummy between
her teeth had expanded inside her mouth. It could not be
removed even if she was somehow 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 kept as
a mere toy when confronted by magic as powerful as
Zorelle's. Through the velvety, transparent latex mask
she watched as the shape of another of her officers
appeared and was swiftly coated and made into clothing.
Was this their reward for being loyal to her? Somehow
she would save them and exact her revenge, but it
depended on her survival and the Kryptonite coursing
through her veins befuddled her mind and 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, cupped
the glossy breasts and aroused her nipples until the
princess came again with a slurp.
"See snuggle pot - trying to hold back makes no
difference. Come on, say goo goo ga ga for Mummy. It's
time to get you ready for the big parade". She unbuckled
Linda from the chair and watched the weakling girl slide
like liquid to the floor. The feeding tube was still
joined to Supergrrl'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
child restrainer-like 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 blue latex, crafted
in the same iridescent colour her Supergrrl costume had
been. 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 through the sealed ensemble.

Zorelle attached a leash to Supergrrl'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. Supergrrl was baby-marched
through the appreciative ranks of the Sorceress's evil
army for many hours before finally being led into the
conquered royal city through the huge, shattered bronze
gates.

Striding through the stone archway, 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 Supergrrl logo gleaming across tautly stretched
buttocks. All pockets of defenders had been flushed out
or overrun days ago, and the remaining loyal citizens
sobbed in fear when they recognised the super symbol and
the identity of the adult rubber baby being paraded past
their homes and up the streets to the castle.
Supergrrl's public humiliation had begun and the morale
of her people was broken.

-- Wonda Woman to the Rescue

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, Wonda Woman. Wondie knew that
by finding Zorelle she would also find her friend
Supergrrl and perhaps rescue her. To her surprise, after
subduing just two rubber soldiers who had been coated in
vlatex to the point of uselessness outside a room, she
stumbled upon Supergrrl. 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 diaper 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 Wonda Woman, come to
rescue 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 games she imagined and discarded would take 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 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
could not 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 soon became
heavy as she lay contentedly still with her friend,
slurping in a pitiful, eager fashion.

-- Wonda Woman goes walkies

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 Wonda 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 Supergrrl's nursemaid.
Ultimately the original Wonda 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 plasticised 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.
Wonda 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 Sorceress through the secret direct passage to
the throne room.

-- Wondie is planted in the floor

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. Wonda 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.


collar of her inflated latex babysuit were removed and
replaced with a circular latex seal emblazoned with her
bright stars and stripes logo where all could see. The
seal fit cosily against the base of her bare throat and
was zipped to the circular edge of her prison to close
her in completely. Under the Sorceress's watchful eye, a
conjured male demon went to work on Wonda Woman's
permanent enslavement. With blinding speed Wondie's
lasso was fashioned into a tightly woven golden collar
with no end, fused into a tight unbreakable loop around
her neck by the very masculine creature - a maleness
that, by Amazon rule, nullified all of her heroic
strength and resistance. When it was done, the demon
bowed goodbye and vanished moments before a television
crew arrived.

Cameras were wheeled in to focus on the plight of the
super maiden. Just before the lid was closed to envelop
her in darkness, Wonda saw the stencils on the cameras.
The masses of equipment were for the hit TV segment "Real
Rubber TV".

-- Fetishgirl meets Wondie on Real Rubber Television

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, tugging uselessly at the unfamiliar
black strands of the ponytail tube atop her head. She
picked up the long cock-spaed latex microphone and turned
to face the camera. This
was her last chance - her last opportunity to get back
into the media and save her name as a respected reporter.
After losing her conservative position as a pretty
newsreader she had been forced to take a career move she
despised, introducing porn for the lucrative but lowbrow
sex show "Real Rubber TV".

Fetishgirl looked down at the lid on the floor. She knew
who was beneath it. Earlier that day, when she heard
about the new high profile captive, she immediately
lobbied Her Majesty. She begged and pleaded to the point
of annoyance with Zorelle to get the interview, knowing
that it would give her that elusive contact with the big
stations, perhaps returning her to a better job.

Zorelle had baited her about it, asking what she would do
for fame, and she had half known where it would lead. An
off chance comment about needing a knockout outfit had
brought on an idle flip of Zorelle's languid hand. There
seemed no change. But when she got home that night her
skin had started transforming into canary yellow latex:
by the time the interview came near, just about every
visible inch of Fetishgirl had been replaced with bright
yellow gloss, her luscious black hair clumped at the
crown of her head and squeezed up a three inch yellow
latex tube. As she was being chauffeured to the palace
to tape the segment, the yellow crept over her cheeks and
lips, down her hands, closing over her navel to leave a
smooth, scarless stomach. Now, with the overloaded black
corset and teetering transparent lucite plastic ballet
boots sheathing her legs to the hips, she made as big an
entrance as she could manage. She couldn't afford to
mess it up now.

With one eye on the nearby, watching Zorelle, she pouted
her saffron-coloured lips at the lens and gave her
trademark kiss and smile as she lifted the chain on the
lid to reveal the
disembodied head of a prisoner within, a brunette, her
throat circled attractively by an inflated rubber
membrane that held her rigidly in position.

"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, Gorgeous, 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 dildo.

"I am Wonda Woman". Her golden lasso-collar was making
her tell the truth!

Fetishgirl smiled with a squeak of her pneumatic, canary
yellow rubber lips and breathed closer to Wondie's face
as the cameras zoomed in for a close-up.

"Bearing in mind that you are on national television,
tell me your darkest sexual fantasy"

The beautiful prisoner groaned at the loaded 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." Wonda
Woman's face turned beet red as she heard the words
tumble from her mouth to the world.

Fetishgirl squeaked with delight, thrusting her buttocks
back at the camera crew as she leaned up close to the
famous face. The interview continued as Fetishgirl
probed deeper and deeper into Wonda Woman's secret
desires. The inflated captive talked about everything:
dildo suits, tight bondage, helpless transformation and
forced sex with other creatures as her hidden self was
bared to the world. She spoke out loud that she wanted
to ask what would take to get glossy artificial skin like
the voluptuous presenter. Fetishgirl simpered, waving
the cock-mike before Wondie's lips.

"Interested, are we honey?" She ran her hands through
Wondie's trademark lush black locks, then on a nod from
Zorelle gripped with yellow latex hands and tugged. The
mild spell took hold and the Amazon's hair was pulled
away from her head, revealing a completely bald shiny
rubber scalp beneath, very tight. The Amazon's head was
sealed over with shiny skin tone vlatex. Instead of
falling apart, the hair stayed in perfect shape because a
latex cap had formed instantly beneath the follicles to
create a perfect, still living wig.

Wondie moaned in shock as Fetishgirl detached her own
yellow rubber gripped genie tail and modelled the new wig
for the camera. Little did the Amazon realise - she was
in the hands of a monster Sorceress, who would soon
remove all traces of her former personality - starting
with her body by replacing her lovely tanned skin with
something awful like the gleaming yellowed starlet in
front of her. The interview abruptly finished when the
sleek presenter unlaced her tight black vlatex corset
dress thing, crouched low and mashed her glistening new
yellow latex pussy into the mouth of her interviewee.
The millions of viewers could hear noisy slurping as the
folds of soft rubber that was her pussy were eaten out
thoroughly.

Fetishgirl looked hungrily around, up at her crew, then
over at the forbidding figure of Zorelle. Her own ecstasy
increased, licking hungrily and then sucking on the latex
microphone, her moans and slurps echoing amplified around
the room. One hand held Wondie's' sticky latex covered
skull tight against her sex, the other grasped the bell-
bottomed end of the dildo mike. God, she thought, am I
really doing this? Out of the corner of her eye she
could see Zorelle standing up, and for some reason this
redoubled her arousal. The mike slipped into her throat,
just as Wondie's helpless tongue flicked across
Fetishgirl's brand new, super stretchy yellow latex anus,
untouched by human tongue.

Climax was very near. She could feel her leg muscles
cramping. She could sense Zorelle standing right behind
her but did not care anymore. She was on the threshold
of the biggest orgasm of her life and as she came to the
crest of the wave she threw her head back screamed around
the microphone at the viewers. Her pupils dilated but
her eyes opened wide as she looked up to see Zorelle's
booted foot descending at her face, looming large in her
vision. The dildo mike was pushed all the way down her
throat, silencing her moans instantly with a sudden 'ulp'
and a single whoosh of breath forced out through her
nostrils. Quivering, shaking, she fell away from
Wondie's mouth and splayed out helpless on the floor to
finish her come without her precious air. Her oversexed
body would allow her to do nothing else but finish what
she started. It must have only been a few seconds, but
it was all on camera; she came around to focus on a
close-up view of Zorelle's boot.

Quickly, oblivious to the fact that she was not breathing
anymore, Fetishgirl staggered to her feet, trying to
produce some kind of passable 'parade rest' in front of
the sorceress.
She started to speak, completely forgetting the heavy
latex cock in her mouth. Zorelle held up a long-nailed
finger.

"Hush, my sweet canary girl" said the queen. "That's a
nice outfit you are there."

"Excuse me ma'am," said the TV director, "Don't you mean
'That's a nice outfit you *have* there?'"

Zorelle looked over her shoulder at him, her every move
watched by the nervous Fetishgirl. While the queen was
looking at the camera and smiling lop-sidedly over her
shoulder, her hand was tracing up Fetishgirl's arm, up
her neck, to the protruding end of the cock-mike.

"I know exactly what I mean, thankyou" said Zorelle, and
pulled out the small plug in the end of the microphone.

Fetishgirl looked down in shock as a high-pitched hiss
issued from the revealed hole. She felt dizzy - the room
was spinning- no, *she* was spinning. Falling to the
floor as the air left her transformed body, folds of
yellow latex curling up on one another, slipping out of
the black corset-dress, helpless hands flattening out as
Zorelle's final deal with the
TV station recorded her fate as just another costume -
albeit an exceptionally detailed one - for the Queen's
wardrobe.

After that finale Wonda 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 a replacement Fetishgirl was being
congratulated on her interview and prepared for her next
show, a tour of a milking factory.

A neat yellow costume was slid onto a hanger in Zorelle's
wardrobe.

-- Toy in the floor

Soon the less restrictingly bound staff of the castle
discovered she was trapped in the floor. Diana quickly
became the castle pussy-eater. Fully controlled by the
pleasuring spell Zorelle had put on her lips, Wonda Woman
was given no food other than pussy juice and the
occasional indulgent spurt of high-protein semen from a
lucky envoy.

Even a lowly Rubbermaid made use of her invitingly
presented food entrance. The glossy servant could not
bend her ballet booted legs and took some effort to get
into a spread out, somewhat rigid seated position on the
floor. Using her hands on the back of Wondie's head, the
maid guided the Amazon's hungry mouth so that she would
feed ravenously on the glisteningly presented rubber sex.
The maid's pussy already dribbled with what was to be the
ensconced heroine's liquid lunch, and the Rubbermaid sat
for an hour with her straight legs splayed wide and
Diana's face buried deep in her crotch. Wonda Woman
could not help but get an intimate, close-up view of the
smothering vlatex folds as her entire face was brought
into play, the maid rubbing with such strength against
her from chin to forehead and back again that the
engorged shiny pussy lips stayed parted, one sliding over
the left side of Linda's face and the other over the
right.

-- Wondie visits the Asylum

On her fifth day, just as she was getting used to the
taste of her feeding sessions, her imprisoning apparel
was deflated and she was released by two strangely
dressed nurses who were catsuited to the eyelids in white
and baby blue vinyl. They were from the Asylum, a state-
run mental facility recently brought under the control of
Zorelle. It was the first time Wonda 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 secretive complex.

Wonda Woman's time in the Asylum was awful. First her
breasts were naturally enlarged to grand proportions,
then artificially augmented 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 forever
run through her veins. Trapped in the stasis field of
the auto-do cubicle, her skin molecules turned completely
to impermeable rubber. Her skin was replaced with a new
permanent uniform, a head-to-toe stars and stripes
catsuit made from very tightly polished latex. 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 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 Wonda Woman was locked away in a section of her
mind where she could only feel and observe while the rest
of her was made as obedient as a lapdog.

-- Amazon Nursemaid

Gongs announced the arrival of the new slave for the
Queen's audience. Zorelle gazed lovingly over her very
own rubberised Amazon. The wide-eyed, surprised looking
creature squeaked as she approached because her muscly,
latex resurfaced curves were additionally squeezed into a
billowing vlatex ballroom dress, an impractical garment
the warrior would have refused to wear in the past. The
heavy gown had been designed in a Victorian style with a
full bustle except for two small circular buckled
openings at the bosom. Through these openings squeezed
Wondie's new matronly milkers, impressive in their girth.
Zorelle wanted the slave's freakish modifications
presented to the watching kingdom at all times, even if
it meant constant discomfort for the redesigned super
heroine. The shiny dress too had Diana's familiar stars
and stripes design all over it to ensure that everyone
knew whom the gorgeous wearer was. Zorelle cupped a
hefty breast in each hand and rubbed until the nipples
extended involuntarily 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 are the nursemaid from my wettest of wet
dreams. You exist only to control Superbaby now - your
special milk is going to be her downfall"

Wonda Woman inside recoiled in horror, realising she
would be instrumental in the destruction of her best
friend. Outwardly however, Wondertits showed no negative
emotions of any kind - her new body flushing with
helpless pleasure at the thought 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 weakening
charge as she forced the captive heroine towards total
helplessness.


softly as Wondertits 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 attenuated 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 Wonda Woman could only observe the
process as she tore impotently at her unbreakable mental
bondage. She had been fashioned into a new creature as
if reborn. She had become Linda's giant kryptonite wet-
nurse and would never have a will of her own again.
While her slurping charge was feeding, Wondertits gazed
down over her degrading body. Beneath the matchingly
designed and polished dress, 'Tits also had a rubber
stars and stripes skin, much like her original uniform
but covering her entire body. He artificial epidermis
sparkled with a pretty, shiny vlatex finish that was
evident in her protruding breasts, even exposed in the
unnatural light of the castle. It was almost as if she
was coated by a thin sheen of sweat, but she understood
she would never feel the luxury of perspiration 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.


made to me in the Asylum, Superbaby - these huge rubber
tits of mine are designed especially for feeding you! I
am now Zorelle's very own walking Tits and she says that
you are going to be my baby for a long time. It's so
exciting! She even fixed my mind to force me to like it,
and the funny thing is, I do! I am a total submissive,
which means you are merely a babified toy for a toy!"

Tits tapped her smooth rubber head meaningfully with her
paw-mitt.

"If you are 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 - impossibly - got free it
would take a million years for her to reverse the
programming done to me"

-- Stadium babification

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 of her face and inflated had kept
her surroundings hidden for the preparation of the show -
a show she would repeat all day every day for two weeks.
The public loved the spectacle, or at least pretended to
like it so that the secret police did not get them. With
each thwack of her nursemaid's gloved hand, Superbaby
wriggled her ruffled, vlatex-dipped feet as if she was
trying impossibly to slip the tight socks from her body -
but they were joined to the suit and crushingly snug.
Her frilled tootsies were as much in bondage as the rest
of her.

Often, while wearing a transparent full body diaper, a
puffy costume with frills in every conceivable place,
Supergrrl would be magically induced (on close-up camera)
to simultaneously suck her thumb and soil herself on
command. 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 used 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.

Towards the end of the first week, there were shocking
episodes where she caught herself frolicking in mental
baby land. By the final day, the disturbing lapses were
lasting an hour at a time during which she became a real
baby-woman, unable to switch her mind back for the entire
time.

-- Supergrrl is brought to the throne room

Months later....in the throne room of the royal castle a
shackled heroine dressed once again in her Supergrrl
costume stands before a haughty sorceress queen:

At Zorelle's magical coercion, the distressed heroine
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, in the name of art.

Linda had been fed enough green water to render her
harmless for an extended period, allowing her to be
safely handled by even the weakest Rubbermaids.

Supergrrl's domineering mistress Wondertits had been
relieved 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 pink
nipples were bound together in a cute little bow just as
she had begged them to be. Linda on the other hand had
been cleaned up and her old-style Supergrrl costume
gleamed uncharacteristically in the torchlight, for it
was not spandex 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 long sleeved
cheerleader-style dress, nipping her natural 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 that
had been delivered to 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 Supergrrl lay,
in her frilly, humiliatingly full baby costume, sucking
her thumbs at all times when her mouth was not stuffed
with her nurse's squeaky teat, surrounded by little pink
rubber dolls and inflated rubber toys that had been
specially crafted from soldiers of her defeated army.

There she stood in the throne room, with no energy
reserves left at all, drooping weakly in front of her
captor under powerful magic that directed her to be a
fetish marionette. Zorelle clawed the air in front of
her and invisible hands tore Supergrrl's barely-worn
vlatex super costume from her. 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 thick 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 for added safety, 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
alloy 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 to spare
from the task of breathing, Supergrrl 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 jewelled 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. Transport maids never regained the use of their
arms and were deemed fortunate to retain them at all.

"I have sooo many experiments for you to try my dangerous
little pet - I am sure I can relieve you permanently of
that super strength soon....I will find out how to
transfer it to my body!".

-- Dairy Factories

The transport maid dragged her weakly resisting charge
away and the other maids followed to begin wrapping
Supergrrl in her full body cast for the night. Zorelle
knew her staff would have had the newly installed castle
milking machine ready warming - a luckless individual had
been installed in it every night since its arrival. The
recently created machines were hardly different than
those used for cows, and were designed to be quite a
pleasurable experience - once the hormone-induced milk
started flowing, of course. But 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. They never made contact with
the hay in their stalls. The black and white cow-
patterned pod like costumes stretched the fully enclosed
milkmaids 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 cowbell provided an
attractive contrast against the crash-test dummy colours
of the amorphous hood that joined the costume.

Once squeezed into a tiny milkmaid 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 milkmaids
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 not only were their fat breasts
milked, but she had the mostly feminised creatures milked
between the legs as well to add to the feed of the female
cows 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 misbehaviour.
The worst would wait patiently until they sensed 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 given no second chances.
Disconnected from the hooks stretching their pods, they
would be unceremoniously fed 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 tits. 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 tensioned so
close together in the battery section that each rubbed
her armless latex shoulders against her neighbour.

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 favourite 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.

Some of the battery milkers were assigned calves. The
calves were freshly recruited women who were slightly
underweight and therefore not immediately suitable for
milking. The slim ladies were clad in the same tight
shiny cowsuits, but these simple black and white mottled
catsuits also had useless silver metal hooves at the
wrists and ankles to emphasize what they were going to
become. Soon they would be animals, both physically and
mentally. The striking feminine bovines fought the
irresistible compulsion to suckle the presented teats of
their food producers but such efforts did not last long.
Soon all of them were enthusiastically feeding on the
heady mix of human breast milk and narcotic growth
hormones that would turn them into real doe-eyed
milkmaids. Spells doubled the strength of their mouth
suction by copying the efficient lip and throat action of
a real calf.

-- 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 dictatress, her
cellar was huge, with hundreds of barrels of surprising,
exquisite liquor stretching away into the cool darkness.
The quantity was not 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 that could take hundreds of years.




The only visible remaining 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 curved front. 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 barrelling 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 barrelled 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.

-- Belle the wine expert

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, barrelled without his knowledge for
they had separated on bad terms. Eccles graciously
accepted the gifts and dutifully 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 centre 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
excellent 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,
trying 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 legs as she lifted her new sleek foot into her
field of vision. She knew exactly what it meant. 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 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 horse like snorts from her
nostrils.

Lord Eccles opened the door and looked down over the
shiny black vlatex creature. His latest spouse lay face
down on the bed making odd noises, and he noted how 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 he felt a twinge of regret, but
it was too late to abort the process so he pressed 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, marvelling 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, and 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 moment of truth - time for you to make
your dramatic departure from the real world, my dear." he
murmured, again 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 immediately she 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 and 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. 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
upright 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 labelled 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.

-- Zorelle selects a vintage

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 the barrel's
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 selection process and 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
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
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.
While this was a terrible loss to the victims themselves,
memories sometimes gave the Sorceress temporary feelings.
After one such drinking bout she cast a spell to remove
all disease and illness from the Kingdom. Nobody would
get sick again and could be assured of living to a ripe
old age unless they were "naturally selected" to be used
by the new queen as a toy.

-- Linda the spectator in the floor.

Queen Zorelle, leader of the victorious army ran her
sleek gloved hand over the hardened white plaster figure
of a completely encased Princess Linda, 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 dark stiffened shell Linda was
wondering if she would have to carry the huge breasts
around forever. Zorelle pointed at the white figure.

"Okay maids, 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
straightjacket 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 was beneath it.
Embedded in the suit at the groin were two dildos
pointing inward; one large one, which was slid, up her
sex, 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 section of the costume 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, the fan would dry their clothes.
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 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 blunt ended 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 the wide stare of a
frightened animal.





When Cynthia was immobilised, 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 flexible 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 Cynthia 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 that 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 unhappy
memories of her past life from her mind and roller
coasted 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.


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