/tags/bodysuit/Recent content in Bodysuit on Gromet's Plaza ArchiveHugoen-usSat, 30 May 2026 20:13:47 +0000/stories/2020/10/28/ghosts-of-the-hotel/Wed, 28 Oct 2020 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2020/10/28/ghosts-of-the-hotel/<p>Hannah felt her heel sink into the soft ground, glanced down at her shoes. She wasn’t dressed for hiking through the woods. Jonathan was forging ahead, leaving her behind, alone, in the dark.</p> <p>She called out to him. “Hey wait up.”</p> <p>He stopped and turned to her. “Hold on.” He came back for her, and took her arm, helping her over the rough ground.</p> <p>“Thanks,” she said, forcing a smile.</p>/stories/2019/08/24/youre-their-fantasy/Sat, 24 Aug 2019 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2019/08/24/youre-their-fantasy/<p>Up until now the adrenaline and excitement of pursuing your fantasy have clouded your judgment. You&rsquo;ve been so desperate to experience true helplessness that you didn&rsquo;t stop to consider what it really meant.</p> <p>Only now, as you watch each of your petite limbs slowly drawn towards each corner of the bed and securely fastened does the reality of this begin to dawn on you. You&rsquo;re now a helpless captive, at the total mercy of this young couple you just met only a few hours before.</p>/stories/2019/03/01/the-attic/Fri, 01 Mar 2019 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2019/03/01/the-attic/<p><em>Hi DPGSM here, After some thought, I&rsquo;ve decided to try to write another story</em></p> <p>Story / old Victorian mansion attic, Aunt, mischievous Niece and BFF.</p> <p>Premise / Aunt has to go out of town on business asks Niece to house sit for a long weekend, Niece asks to bring BFF with her Niece to keep company. Niece tells BFF about the old Mansion and her Aunt and Uncle and the summers she spent with  them at the house.</p>/stories/2018/11/14/mr.-williams-impersonates-harry-houdini/Wed, 14 Nov 2018 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2018/11/14/mr.-williams-impersonates-harry-houdini/<p>“I’d like to try another Houdini escape while taking a stroll in Central Park but this time restrained under normal street clothes.”</p> <p>Mrs. Williams rolled her eyes and waited for the umpteenth installment of Escape 101, secretly wishing someday to abandon Harry Houdini to his own devises.</p> <p>A ½ hour later his wife sat stunned as her husband returned total enclosed in a shiny black latex body suit from neck to foot with a small bon4 black transparent silicone penis cage peeking through the opening in his crotch.</p>/stories/2018/11/05/blue-gloss/Mon, 05 Nov 2018 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2018/11/05/blue-gloss/<p>He hadn&rsquo;t known that Gloss was a doll where they&rsquo;d first met, of course. He&rsquo;d posted on the forums for Dark Planet Legend 2 about how much trouble he was having beating the third Lord-Knight Verann encounter on hard mode, and she&rsquo;d replied with a few promising strategies for the second form. She even teamed up with him for a co-op session, in which they came together to thoroughly trounce the troublesome boss. They were firm friends after that.</p>/stories/2018/04/11/androids-r-us/Wed, 11 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2018/04/11/androids-r-us/<p><em>(This is another story that started out as an Expo piece, with the concept of being different to your normal style of writing. Well correct me if I’m wrong but I dont think ‘Stephanie’ has been the robotiser before, think she has always been the robotised one. And also I’ve given her a bit of a nasty streak which is certainly not me! Hope you like.)</em></p> <p>It was proving a long night at ‘Androids R Us’ in the maintenance lab, she didn&rsquo;t know whether it was the latest batch of software they had been sent, or simply bad luck, but of late too many Androids were being returned with ‘minor faults’ and due to ‘rationalisations’ Stephanie Williams, head of maintenance was feeling stressed and overworked.</p>/stories/2018/01/05/unwilling-victim/Fri, 05 Jan 2018 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2018/01/05/unwilling-victim/<p>“mmmmmmpppppppppyyyyhhhhhhhhh”</p> <p>The scream was filled with panic and fear as the subject started to woke up. Another lung burning scream followed the first and the nightmare he was in become more clear. Jess was watching the action unfold in real time on her smart phone and could listen in as well. She needed to wear headphones, otherwise everyone on the train would hear her new play thing. She started thinking back to when she had met him.</p>/stories/2017/10/19/another-day-of-filming.../Thu, 19 Oct 2017 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2017/10/19/another-day-of-filming.../<p><em>(As far as I know there is no adult channel that goes as far as having its actresses giving blow jobs during a programme. So that part at least is pure fantasy, but I just felt it would work for the story. I hope no one minds.)</em></p> <p>Stephanie Willis climbed out of her car, having arrived for her last days work at the studio as ‘Robot Girl’ in the adult TV series of the same name. She’d played the role now for almost 4 years and had reached the point where she was afraid of being typecast, so she’d handed in her notice, and ‘hinted’ through the media that she’d like to try something different.</p>/stories/2017/10/19/another-day-of-filming.../Thu, 19 Oct 2017 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2017/10/19/another-day-of-filming.../<p>(As far as I know there is no adult channel that goes as far as having its actresses giving blow jobs during a programme. So that part at least is pure fantasy, but I just felt it would work for the story. I hope no one minds.)</p> <p>Stephanie Willis climbed out of her car, having arrived for her last days work at the studio as ‘Robot Girl’ in the adult TV series of the same name. She’d played the role now for almost 4 years and had reached the point where she was afraid of being typecast, so she’d handed in her notice, and ‘hinted’ through the media that she’d like to try something different.</p>/stories/2017/09/23/a-living-doll/Sat, 23 Sep 2017 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2017/09/23/a-living-doll/<p>&ldquo;Ouch! Hey&hellip;w&hellip; What was that?&rdquo;</p> <p>A sharp stinging sensation on his left bicep brought him from sleep to a state of confused wakefulness. And then&hellip; Was that the bedroom door softly closing ? He sat up, rubbing his eyes blearily, turning in the bed to where he expected to see Lori, his Lori, asleep beside him. The covers on her side were thrown back. The red numerals of the bedside clock glowed. 3 am. His mouth felt dry. Damn, he wished he&rsquo;d had some water before coming to bed. Another night at the Husymans Club had left him exhausted, and more than a little drunk. Dehydrating by the time he&rsquo;d got back to the small apartment no more than&hellip;What was it&hellip;? Just over an hour ago? But surely Lori, trusting little Lori had already been in bed, asleep, when he&rsquo;d crept with exaggerated alcoholic care between the sheets beside her. So where the hell was she now ? And what, the thought intruded into his still fuddled brain, <strong>had</strong> happened to his arm ? He rubbed it with his right hand, feeling&hellip;Absolutely nothing, he realised, with just a twinge of alarm. Nothing save for a cool, distant tingling.</p>/stories/2017/09/23/how-may-i-serve-you/Sat, 23 Sep 2017 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2017/09/23/how-may-i-serve-you/<p>Man ! She was fuming, she threw her mask at me and just went upstairs, I had to sleep on the couch !&quot; Steve said, twisting his glass.</p> <p>&ldquo;Watch out when she&rsquo;s angry Steve, she&rsquo;s a real fire-breather when she&rsquo;s pissed.&rdquo; Arnie said, looking at Steves&rsquo; sour face.</p> <p>&ldquo;Look I just thought she liked playing Slave-Bot.&rdquo; He said defensively.</p> <p>&ldquo;Not every waking hour of the day, Steve.&rdquo; Arnie just chuckled. &ldquo;Would you like that yourself ?&rdquo;</p>/stories/2017/09/23/how-may-i-serve-you/Sat, 23 Sep 2017 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2017/09/23/how-may-i-serve-you/<p>Man ! She was fuming, she threw her mask at me and just went upstairs, I had to sleep on the couch !&quot; Steve said, twisting his glass.</p> <p>&ldquo;Watch out when she&rsquo;s angry Steve, she&rsquo;s a real fire-breather when she&rsquo;s pissed.&rdquo; Arnie said, looking at Steves&rsquo; sour face.</p> <p>&ldquo;Look I just thought she liked playing Slave-Bot.&rdquo; He said defensively.</p> <p>&ldquo;Not every waking hour of the day, Steve.&rdquo; Arnie just chuckled. &ldquo;Would you like that yourself ?&rdquo;</p>/stories/2017/09/23/slave-bot/Sat, 23 Sep 2017 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2017/09/23/slave-bot/<p>Woman to Robot TF</p> <p>Sihaya awoke with the dawn and rose from her simple futon. She opened the window of her simple room and let the morning sun shine through the bars. She inhaled deeply, as if she were filling her lungs with the sunlight as well as the fresh air. She let the bright day wash over her naked breasts and warm her. A few more deep breaths, and she turned away to face the room. She quickly folded up her simple futon and rolled it into the corner. Clearing the floor, she began her morning excercises. Bend and stretch, &ldquo;reach for the stars&hellip;&rdquo; she sang to herself, still remembering the song from her childhood. She worked herself into a happy sweat, warming up her lean muscles and invigorating her soul. She patted herself off with a nearby towel and turned towards the door. She opened the small viewport and looked into the hall. Two faces looked back at her. She smiled.</p>/stories/2017/09/23/slave-bot/Sat, 23 Sep 2017 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2017/09/23/slave-bot/<p>Woman to Robot TF</p> <p>Sihaya awoke with the dawn and rose from her simple futon. She opened the window of her simple room and let the morning sun shine through the bars. She inhaled deeply, as if she were filling her lungs with the sunlight as well as the fresh air. She let the bright day wash over her naked breasts and warm her. A few more deep breaths, and she turned away to face the room. She quickly folded up her simple futon and rolled it into the corner. Clearing the floor, she began her morning excercises. Bend and stretch, &ldquo;reach for the stars&hellip;&rdquo; she sang to herself, still remembering the song from her childhood. She worked herself into a happy sweat, warming up her lean muscles and invigorating her soul. She patted herself off with a nearby towel and turned towards the door. She opened the small viewport and looked into the hall. Two faces looked back at her. She smiled.</p>/stories/2017/03/01/the-old-house/Wed, 01 Mar 2017 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2017/03/01/the-old-house/<p><strong>Part One</strong></p> <p>I push open the heavy front door with some effort&hellip; the hinges hadn&rsquo;t been oiled for a while and the door had little use for the last year. Once in the front the hall, I dropped my bags and pushed door shut, I&rsquo;d finish unloading the car later. The hall was clean, with just a little dust and you could see a few patches on the walls where furniture and pictures had been. It was a large old house, on expansive grounds, well back for the road. It had been owned by the parents of my friends, Jennifer, who had passed away the year before. Jennifer was travelling overseas and I had volunteered to help with the house, making sure the few remaining items of furniture were picked up and removed and the house was clean and ready for sale.</p>/stories/2017/02/23/return-to-the-doll-house/Thu, 23 Feb 2017 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2017/02/23/return-to-the-doll-house/<p>Copyright © 2015, 2016 AmyAmy and all that stuff. All rights reserved. This work may not be reproduced for profit or without this attribution. The following story contains fantastical elements, and may not make a lot of sense unless you’ve read my earlier story <a href="../storiesad/doll_hotel01.html">The Doll Hotel</a><a href="../storiesad/doll_hotel01.html">.</a></p> <p>Part One</p> <p>Number Twenty sighed, breath hissing through the nostrils of her mask. There was no opening for her mouth and the air that came through the nose-holes was restricted. A little extra leaked through the eyes, as long as she wasn’t blindfolded. There was no jaw-stretching gag or head-crushing pressure, so by maid standards, it wasn’t a difficult mask, just day-to-day wear.</p>/stories/2016/09/03/saras-mannequin-suit-1-a-clever-bet/Sat, 03 Sep 2016 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2016/09/03/saras-mannequin-suit-1-a-clever-bet/<p><strong>Chapter 1: A Clever Bet</strong></p> <p>The room was filled with a soft light shadowing the faces of the couple facing each other across the dining room table. Two glasses half full of wine rested next to two piles of discarded playing cards. The woman idly flipped through the fan of cards in her hand while rubbing her opponent’s leg with her dark nylon encased toes.</p> <p>“Are you trying to distract me, Sara?” A baritone voice said while considering carefully his next move.</p>/stories/2016/09/03/saras-mannequin-suit-2-the-nosy-neighbor/Sat, 03 Sep 2016 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2016/09/03/saras-mannequin-suit-2-the-nosy-neighbor/<p><a href="sarasmannequinsuit.html">story continues from part one</a></p> <p><strong>Chapter 2: The Nosy Neighbor</strong></p> <p>Gavin awoke to the sight of his wife’s face. “Wake up kitty, I’ve got to go run a few errands.” Sara had changed out of her sexy outfit into a more comfortable velvet sweat suit.</p> <p>Gavin stood up and nearly fell having forgotten about his imprisoned feet.</p> <p>“I’m going to have to keep you safe while I’m gone, I can’t have an untrained cat alone in the house. Follow me.”</p>/stories/2016/09/03/saras-mannequin-suit-4-kitties-redux/Sat, 03 Sep 2016 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2016/09/03/saras-mannequin-suit-4-kitties-redux/<p><a href="sarasmannequinsuit3.html">story continues from part three</a></p> <p><strong>Chapter 4: Kitties Redux</strong></p> <p>Gavin sat in front of the computer bored to death, it had been two hours since he and his wife returned from the shop.  His beautiful blond wife, Sara, had been on the phone nearly the entire time working on lining up staff and materials for her new business unit at work.  Gavin finished his work and was bored of playing games.  Looking down over his body unable to see past his protruding chest made him sigh loudly.</p>/stories/2015/06/30/the-cocoon/Tue, 30 Jun 2015 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2015/06/30/the-cocoon/<p>It was the beginning of summer, and Ilia was watching through her window, anxiously waiting for her package to arrive. It had all started about 6 months ago, you see, Ilia had a Bondage fetish, she loved everything about being wrapped up in leather, latex or even just bound by ropes, sadly she had yet to find someone that shared her entusiasm for it, so she lived alone in the house her parents left to her before they passed away. It was a nice house in the suburbs, the neighbors were really quiet and never actually made contact with her, she thought maybe they had something against her, since she worked as an ´entertainer´ at a club downtown, since she looked amazing, (having blonde hair and DD cups, accompanied by a very well endowed ass) and the people in the suburbs don´t really find those acts very&hellip; elegant.</p>/stories/2013/09/24/the-encompassed-custodian/Tue, 24 Sep 2013 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2013/09/24/the-encompassed-custodian/<p>It hung in the air, its supporting base invisible in the soft light. It was a globe, as though filled with moonlight and hung before them in a net of frosted stars; its hundreds of facets each shone individually. The temple&rsquo;s dust had not marred it, the sand and sun&rsquo;s only effect the reflection of more and more light onto its sparkling frame.</p> <p>***</p> <p>Sir Corbeau tried to keep that gem in his mind. It had been three days of agonizing waiting; three days of pacing; three days of torment. The thought of the gem - the very thing that had brought him here - was infuriating. He was jealous of it. It was not cursed, as the suspicious provincials had said. Attempting to retrieve it had been a curse for him all the same.</p>/stories/2013/08/15/hostile-takeover/Thu, 15 Aug 2013 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2013/08/15/hostile-takeover/<p>Patricia Beeman was smiling as she entered the Nanfinity Industries main offices. As well she might. Finally, after years of fighting, her goal was at last within reach.</p> <p>Anyone watching her as she walked through the lobby would have seen an attractive woman in her mid-30’s. With her long blonde hair, blue eyes, and curves only hinted at beneath her smart business suit, Patricia would have seemed quite at home on any swimsuit or Playboy pictorial. Few would have guessed that she was actually head of the Beeman Corporation, a huge conglomerate specializing in cutting edge weapon design.</p>/stories/2013/04/04/the-sphere/Thu, 04 Apr 2013 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2013/04/04/the-sphere/<p>Another Saturday night, and Sandy was bored. It had been nearly a year since Paul had gone from her life, leaving her alone in their remote Vermont farmhouse. It had been what she wanted; he didn&rsquo;t contest her terms for their divorce. But after a year of loneliness and boredom, with little more than the television to distract her, she was getting a little antsy. They had both worked for a big computer company near Boston, where they first met and fell in love. Luck was with them, and they cashed out right at the crest of the dot-com fiasco before it all went bust. Flush with cash, they decided to &ldquo;get away from it all&rdquo; and buy a place in rural Vermont, far away from the hustle and hype. They found a cozy house on an old farm that was an hour&rsquo;s drive from the nearest town. Perfect! They said farewell to their friends in Boston, packed everything up and headed north. And that&rsquo;s where the trouble began. Alone with only one another for company, the flaws and mismatches in their relationship began to surface. At first they set it all aside, throwing themselves into modernizing the house with vigor. But once they had finished they had nothing else to do and began a slow decline. Within a year they realized the mistake they had made and divorced by mutual consent. As far as divorces go, it was relatively civil and drama-free. Paul had taken his half of things and moved back to Boston. Sandy decided to hang onto the house and land and make a home for herself.  Not wanting to go to seed, she kept her figure trim with daily walks in the woods or on the treadmill in the basement. And she filled her time with small projects in and around the house. But the months passed slowly in her mostly-empty house and no one made the trek to her remote hideaway to see her. She was starting to regret her decision and in desperate need of a change. Her choices were few. She could make the effort to visit either Boston or Montreal for a while. But that meant a long drive and spending cash. She didn&rsquo;t mind the drive; she was always the type who enjoyed long, rambling excursions to new and exciting places. Money was another issue; finances were getting tight, and jobs were few in this part of the woods. So that left her with the other, all too familiar option of a weekend with her television. She had just settled down in front of the tube with a bowl of microwave popcorn when a sound like a derailing freight train came crashing out of the nearby woods. Startled from her torpor, Sandy jumped to her feet and ran to the window. The sound was echoing off through the woods, and in the distance she could see a bright bluish glow, intense at first but fading as she watched. Thinking that an airplane may have crash-landed, she grabbed her coat and a flashlight and ran out the door. Dashing across the field towards the wood&rsquo;s edge, Sandy saw the silhouette of a person stumbling towards her through the trees. &ldquo;Hang on, I&rsquo;m coming!&rdquo; she shouted as she ran, hoping the dazed person was not badly injured. Medical services were a long, long drive away. When she reached the wood, Sandy saw that the person before her was a petite woman of her size, an unmistakable fact despite her full-face helmet, considering the skintight flight suit she was wearing. Sandy got to her just as the pilot collapsed. Catching her as she fell, she supported her as best she could and began moving back towards the house. &ldquo;Are you all right? Was there anyone else on the plane? Don&rsquo;t worry, we&rsquo;ll call for help when we get inside.&rdquo; The pilot attempted a reply, but seemed to speak in gibberish. The opaque, full-coverage flight helmet didn&rsquo;t help matters. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s out of it&rdquo;, thought Sandy. &ldquo;I hope she doesn&rsquo;t have a concussion!&rdquo; They made it back to the house in a few minutes. Sandy brought her into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sandy couldn&rsquo;t help but notice the attractive shape of her charge&rsquo;s body, or the way her flight suit added to her attractiveness. But such thoughts would have to wait; the pilot was in obvious distress, holding her gloved hands on her lower torso and moaning in pain. &ldquo;Hang on, let me help you&rdquo;, said Sandy as she reached to remove her helmet. This seemed to add to the pilot&rsquo;s distress but Sandy was having none of it. This was the most unusual helmet Sandy had ever seen; it was a blank, featureless oval of shiny black, and covered her entire head and neck, apparently made of two pieces of some hard substance that fit together seamlessly. Feeling around for a latch, she found two small buttons protruding on either side of the neck. Pressing both in at once split the helmet apart. Sandy lifted the front of the helmet and nearly jumped out of her skin at what she saw. It was a woman&rsquo;s face, with an elegant shape and high cheekbones. But her skin was ashen, almost a reflective silver; her eyes large, almond shaped and entirely black; her nose unusually thin, as were her lips; and her head entirely without hair. It didn&rsquo;t take a rocket scientist to realize that the crash was a UFO, and this woman its alien pilot. &ldquo;D&rsquo;ghosh phangla?&rdquo; the pilot said in between gasps of breath. &ldquo;I-I-I-&rdquo; was all Sandy could manage. Seeing the problem, the pilot raised her hand and rested her fingertips on Sandy&rsquo;s forehead. There was a brief flash, and the pilot lowered her hand and spoke again. &ldquo;Do you understand me now?&rdquo; &ldquo;&hellip;yes. Yes! Omigod, how did you do that?&rdquo; &ldquo;A talent. Where am I? What planet is this?&rdquo; &ldquo;You&rsquo;re an alien! You&rsquo;re from outer space! I don&rsquo;t believe this!&rdquo; Sandy&rsquo;s excitement was tempered a bit when she saw the pain return to the pilot&rsquo;s face, and she tried to compose herself. &ldquo;This is Earth. Third planet from the sun. You landed in the woods near my house, which is in Vermont, which is in the United States of America. Close to Canada!&rdquo; &ldquo;I see. And you are&hellip;?&rdquo; &ldquo;Sandy! Sandy Bright. I live here. Obviously. Oh, never mind! Who are you!?&rdquo; &ldquo;I am called Penque. I was scouting for mineral deposits in this system when something went wrong and my ship&rsquo;s systems began to fail. This appeared to be the only inhabited planet in the area, so I tried to land and effect repairs. But something happened when I entered your atmosphere; the ship experienced a system-wide failure. The landing was less than perfect.&rdquo; &ldquo;Wow! Was anyone else on your ship?&rdquo; &ldquo;No, it is a small scout vessel. I usually have a co-pilot, but this was meant to be an easy assignment.&rdquo; This brought a smile to Penque&rsquo;s lips, but it was quickly replaced by a spasm of pain.  Sandy got worried. &ldquo;Hey, you&rsquo;re hurt pretty badly. I should call a doctor.&rdquo; &ldquo;No! You must not alert anyone to my presence! I am in this system without the proper authority. To do so could jeopardize my mission, not to mention my life!&rdquo; Penque reached up as she said this, inviting another round of grimacing and spasms. &ldquo;But you&rsquo;re hurt! You might die!&rdquo; &ldquo;My injuries are not as severe as you imagine. The flight suit I am wearing has already diagnosed my condition and is affecting repairs. I should be out of danger in a few strohms.&rdquo; &ldquo;Your&hellip;suit?&rdquo; Sandy&rsquo;s eyes again drifted down to the glossy black covering Penque&rsquo;s entire body.  &ldquo;Yes, the suit and helmet are an integrated unit. They monitor my condition at all times, and work to protect me from injury or infection. It is essential to one in my profession.&rdquo; Penque looked at her quizzically. &ldquo;I take it your planet has not yet developed such technology?&rdquo; Sandy was a bit distracted by the sight of Penque&rsquo;s suit-encased chest rising and falling. &ldquo;Not that I know of.&rdquo; &ldquo;Mm. I see.&rdquo; Penque paused, thinking. &ldquo;If it is all right with you, I should rest for a while. Would you mind closing my helmet for me? It needs to be worn correctly for everything to function properly.&rdquo; &ldquo;Sure, okay. Do you want me to bring you anything? Some water?&rdquo; &ldquo;Thank you, perhaps later. For now, I need to rest. Promise me you will not tell anyone of my presence here? Please?&rdquo; She reached out and took Sandy&rsquo;s hand in hers; the warm, smooth feel of it sent a strange excitement through Sandy&rsquo;s body. &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t tell a soul, I promise. If you need me, I&rsquo;ll be in the other room.&rdquo; &ldquo;Thank you. Now, if you would&hellip;&rdquo; Penque made a slight motion towards the top of her helmet. &ldquo;Yeah, sure.&rdquo; Sandy reached up and gently pressed down the front of the helmet, her eyes never leaving those of her guest until the smooth oval obscured them from view. With a soft click, the helmet was back in place, and Penque seemed to relax and breath a bit deeper.  Sandy stood up and went to the bedroom door, turning off the light as she turned in the doorway to linger upon the glistening, sensual form stretched out on her bed, still visible as it reflected the moonlight from the window. With a bit of effort, she tore herself away and shut the door.</p>/stories/2012/06/29/pony-up/Fri, 29 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2012/06/29/pony-up/<p>There were always little rituals to be observed and even the smallest of goals to be achieved in the space of a day. They were the routines and the mental talismans that kept Hannah’s overactive brain in check and allowed her to manage the obsessive nature of her thoughts from one hour to the next without spinning out of control. Deprived of their comfort and familiar nature she was often scared to imagine what might happen to the complicated interior world that was her own mind.</p>/stories/2012/06/08/sex-in-a-cold-climate/Fri, 08 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2012/06/08/sex-in-a-cold-climate/<p>The sound made by the hydraulics of a standard maintenance hatch as it split into two halves and opened should have been something so common to him that it passed without notice. Jack had been on Gagarin 1 for such an extended period of time that the unique sound was as commonplace to him as birdsong to those who lived planetside. But then the sound was not usually accompanied by so much anticipation or the same fear of discovery as it was on that particular night.</p>/stories/2012/06/06/suiting-danielle-part-2/Wed, 06 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2012/06/06/suiting-danielle-part-2/<p>(story continues from <a href="suitingdanielle.html"><strong>Suiting Danielle</strong></a>)</p> <p>Continued from <a href="suitingdanielle.html">Suiting Danielle, Part 1</a></p> <p><strong>Part 2</strong></p> <p>Danielle Kasimir floated in her tube, an unhappy, androgynous, nearly featureless plastic mannikin, alone in the large subterranean room where she was created in her new form, a room she had walked in as a normal woman some unknown number of hours ago.</p> <p>She was unsure of the passage of time: everything was so bizarre to her now, immersed in her new un-breathing, un-eating, un-blinking existence, that she had difficulty marshaling her thoughts for more than a few minutes at a time.</p>/stories/2012/05/26/bodysuit-selfbondage/Sat, 26 May 2012 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2012/05/26/bodysuit-selfbondage/<p>I am a 35 year old male and this is a true bondage story.</p> <p>I was really bored and horney and decided to do some self bondage. I had a really good idea. I got out my sexy black bodysuit my handcuffs and ankle cuffs.</p> <p>I had a nice hot bath and shaved my balls and crouch. I took the keys to the cuffs wrapped them in a bit of toilet paper and slipped them into the nice deep crouch pocket of the bodysuit. I then put on the bodysuit, it fitted nice and snug on my body.</p>/stories/2012/04/28/deflowered/Sat, 28 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2012/04/28/deflowered/<p><strong>Part One</strong></p> <p>On the rare occasion that she was able to stop and take stock of the events that had taken place in her life over the past two years, it seemed odd to Gwen that there were still things that managed to take her by surprise and cause her to wonder if it would all turn out in the end to have been a crazy dream. She almost laughed out loud when she realised that it had once been as likely for a girl from her estate back home to see the inside of a limousine without a gaggle of other women on a raucous hen night as it would have been for her to step foot on the surface of the moon.</p>/stories/2012/04/28/deflowered-2/Sat, 28 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2012/04/28/deflowered-2/<p>continued from <a href="deflowered.html">part one</a></p> <p><strong>Part Two</strong></p> <p>At first, Gwen could not be sure whether the light that filled her vision was blinding her because she had opened her own eyes or not. Her mind was fogged, as though she were waking up with a terrible hangover and it was hard to make sense of her surroundings. While it seemed to follow that she must have been inundated with the light because she had just opened her eyes, there was the inescapable feeling that they had already been looking into some kind of impenetrable darkness when something else changed and admitted the relentless beams.</p>/stories/2012/03/27/maid-to-serve/Tue, 27 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2012/03/27/maid-to-serve/<p><strong>Part 1: Walk in the Park</strong></p> <p>The rain had eased off enough for it not to matter that she had forgotten her umbrella. As usual the path that wound down through the small wood was deserted in the middle of the afternoon as people with proper lives were busy doing whatever it was they did on a weekday. There were a few quiet little things in life that kept Eleanor walking on the right side of sane, and being able to come here and be alone with her thoughts was one of the most important.</p>/stories/2012/03/27/maid-to-serve-2-maid-to-vacuum/Tue, 27 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2012/03/27/maid-to-serve-2-maid-to-vacuum/<p>continued from <a href="maidtoserve.html">part one</a></p> <p><strong>Part 2: Maid to Vacuum</strong></p> <p>At first Eleanor thought it was the light streaming in through the narrow window that had woken her, but the awful feeling of discomfort that seemed to be spread out across the whole of her body soon made her realise that it had been responsible instead. The light, she realised had been in the background of her perception for some time and the more unpleasant sensations were only now coming to the fore.</p>/stories/2012/03/27/maid-to-serve-3-mermaids/Tue, 27 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2012/03/27/maid-to-serve-3-mermaids/<p>continued from <a href="maidtoserve2.html">part two</a></p> <p><strong>Part 3: Mermaids</strong></p> <p>It had been two or three days since Eleanor had woken alone on the narrow bed and in the room in the rafters of the house. She had no memory of how she had arrived there after falling into a state of exhausted torpor, drained by her ordeal within the vacbed. More worryingly she was genuinely unable to count the days that had passed since then, the monotony and isolation of her enforced duties as a housemaid occupying her physically and draining her mentally until the hours simply ran into one another and became lost to her memory.</p>/stories/2011/11/17/the-spandex-rehabilitation-machine-2/Thu, 17 Nov 2011 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2011/11/17/the-spandex-rehabilitation-machine-2/<p>(story continues from <a href="spandexrehabilitationmachine.html"><strong>The Spandex Rehabilitation Machine</strong></a>)</p> <p><strong>Part Two</strong></p> <p>Dr. Plank was fully set up in his new facility, and the mindless but beautiful Jessica was back with him now and wearing a sensor/ transmitter rig built into her sexy blond wig. What he thought would be the perfect toy, his sexy Jessica willing to do ANYTHING that he could think of just by suggesting it to her, got tiring after a while. For a week straight he had her only wearing a short lab coat and high heels while bent over his desk, but even that got boring even though she enthusiastically thrusted back at him each time. The sensor rig she wore made his suggestions, with electrical stimuli, into her fondest desires and was only possible because the machine had so completely broken her in the two days it had her! In no time at all Jessica became just another piece of test equipment to Dr. Plank, but still one he liked to play with on occasion.</p>/stories/2011/10/07/junes-self-bondage-mistake-7/Fri, 07 Oct 2011 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2011/10/07/junes-self-bondage-mistake-7/<p>continued from <a href="junessbmistake6.html">part 6</a></p> <p><strong>Part Seven</strong></p> <p>After a satisfying meal and more satisfying conversation, June drove Darcy home. Hugging one final time, the girls said their good-byes and Darcy got out of June&rsquo;s car. Walking slowly, and looking back several times at June, Darcy put her best sultry walk skills to work making June desire her even more. Looking back one last time, Darcy entered the apartment complex and was gone from June&rsquo;s view.</p>/stories/2011/07/26/sally-the-latex-doll/Tue, 26 Jul 2011 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2011/07/26/sally-the-latex-doll/<p>Sally was the typical blond girl that would become the dream for every man that would get to see her.</p> <p>Long slender legs, tall and thin as a swan, a wonderful body with big breasts and thin waist, as she was able to be corseted as Rossella O’Hara in “Gone with the wind”, an angel face with big blue eyes and a cascade of curly blonde hairs reaching the shoulders and free to move and enchant the university boys and not only.</p>/stories/2009/08/12/to-make-a-doll/Wed, 12 Aug 2009 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2009/08/12/to-make-a-doll/<p>I laid out all the supplies on my bed. There was a gallon of flesh-colored thick liquid latex, a sprayer, and a stocking thin nude lycra catsuit. I spread a plastic sheet on the floor and waited. My partners in my little fantasy, Kelli and April, returned from their little outing laden with bags from Victoria&rsquo;s Secret.</p> <p>&ldquo;Matt, you have no idea how much fun we are going to have!&rdquo;, Kelli exclaimed. I did indeed know how much fun I was going to have. It was my fantasy&hellip;&hellip; to become a living doll for my two best friends. But not just any doll&hellip;&hellip; I was to be perfected&hellip;.. I wanted to be a beautiful female doll.</p>/stories/2009/08/09/sru-bodystocking/Sun, 09 Aug 2009 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2009/08/09/sru-bodystocking/<p>As Lesley sat down at her computer to get back to the book she was writing, she stared at a blank monitor. She needed to give her publisher a progress report at the end of the week, but her writer&rsquo;s block had gotten her stumped. All day she watched television, did laundry, vacuumed, picked up dishes and anything else she could think of to avoid the computer. Since it was too early for her room mate, Bob, to come home from work she couldn&rsquo;t use cooking as an excuse.</p>/stories/2009/05/17/twenty-days-part-2/Sun, 17 May 2009 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2009/05/17/twenty-days-part-2/<p>continued from <a href="twenty_days.html">part one</a></p> <p><strong>Part Two</strong></p> <p>Eight days&hellip; The best I could do so far. Being wrapped such a tight mummification, unable to move for so many hours, and then having to endure it again for two hours during the day was just too much. I might be able to handle it better if I could see, or even roll around a bit more. So twice now I&rsquo;ve made it to eight days, then gave in and added more scenarios. Resetting the program for another twenty days, but allowing me the chance to spend a full night in a less stringent position. The more I add to the interface the more random my nightly bondage becomes.</p>/stories/2009/03/24/twenty-days/Tue, 24 Mar 2009 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2009/03/24/twenty-days/<p>I&rsquo;m not sure where to begin telling this story, so I&rsquo;ll just jump right into it. I&rsquo;m not much of a writer so you&rsquo;ll have to excuse me.</p> <p>For the past few months I&rsquo;ve been a prisoner in my own home. Dad left me the building in his will. It&rsquo;s worth a decent amount of money I suppose, but there isn&rsquo;t much to see from the outside. It&rsquo;s just a brick office building with three stories and so old it doesn&rsquo;t have an elevator. The neighborhood is pretty quiet, a couple of tenements of about the same age, an abandoned church, some newer offices and one of those U-store-it places on the same block. I moved in when I started my business, prefering to be close to my work. Years ago someone had leased part of the basement for storage and they made Dad install a backup generator in a shed on the back of the building. It still worked, I had a guy service it every few months, some of my equipment needed to stay powered up, or bad things could happen.</p>/stories/2008/12/22/coreys-ancient-tomb/Mon, 22 Dec 2008 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2008/12/22/coreys-ancient-tomb/<p>Take it from me, and how I learned it the hard way. Never time travel. Oh sure, it&rsquo;s billed as the greatest thing you&rsquo;ll ever experience, but believe me, it&rsquo;s a bitch. Nothing quite like going back in time to an ancient civilization to see how things are run, only to suddenly fall into the hands of ancient barbarians who don&rsquo;t take kindly to visitors from other times. You see, they always, without fail, think people from the future are demons, evil spirits, or all manner of foul things. Utter and complete nonsense of course, but they never listen, are never open to reason. What&rsquo;s that? You want to hear an example of what can go wrong on one of these trips? Well, it&rsquo;s not pretty, I assure you. There have been many people who go back in time, only to never return for one reason or another. Most of the time we never find out what happened to them, but occasionally some of their fates are documented. They&rsquo;re never pretty. What? You still want to know what happens? Well, all right. Since you&rsquo;re so inquisitive, I&rsquo;ll tell you the story of Corey. Out of all our customers, his fate is pretty tame compared to some of our other clients. Certainly better then being swallowed whole by a T-Rex, I&rsquo;ll tell you that. Anyway, it began way in the future. Actually, the present day for him. Here is he, Corey, a man looking for a bit of excitement and fun in his life, seeking that next big thrill to propel him out of the ordinary and into the extraordinary, into the small group of privileged guys who have done the impossible… they&rsquo;ve traveled through time and come back to brag about it to their friends. Like any other hot-blooded male, he feels challenged by this and wants to show that he&rsquo;s done it too. Don&rsquo;t know why, but why is it that males always want to impress each other with these stupid stunts? Ah, never mind. And as it just so happens, Corey&rsquo;s saved up just enough money to take a trip through time. Sight seeing of course, not to alter it. Corey&rsquo;s not that stupid. So the day comes when he walks off sniggering at his buddies and heads into the time travel building and applies for a time travel visa. He&rsquo;s given all these forms to sign, including the one that says if a traveler causes damage to the time space continuum, he&rsquo;s on his own (with all his money non-refundable of course, and freeing the time travel company from any liability). Anyway, he&rsquo;s all pissed off at all these damn forms, but slugs through them anyway, gives all the necessary permissions and pays the money. With that done, the guys in charge take him back into the briefing rooms, where he undergoes a day long class on proper time travel procedures and how to act and behave in the past. No interacting with the locals, no letting them know you&rsquo;re even there, yatta yatta yatta. Real standard boring shit. But to Corey&rsquo;s credit, he watches and learns, taking lots of notes and pouring over every word. When the day&rsquo;s classes are done, he&rsquo;s actually very knowledgeable about time travel procedure and how to do it. Never thought a hot blooded man like him would have it in him if you ask me. Come the next day, they get him ready. Corey&rsquo;s issued a tight fitting body glove that covers him head to toe, covering every square inch of his body. Because I know you&rsquo;re curious, these suits are made of a very tight, thick rubbery material that clings to the body. When first put on it&rsquo;s easy to feel a bit sensual, but it can also be quite frightening if you&rsquo;re claustrophobic. Yeah… that isn&rsquo;t very fun. Anyway, not that it mattered to Corey anyway. He did fine, even seemed to enjoy the experience as the suit was put on. If you looked at his eyes through the eyepieces, he seemed to be very excited at what was going on, in more ways then one. His tour guide (all travelers get one) comes in, meets him, and then she&rsquo;s suited up. But it doesn&rsquo;t take long before his suit suddenly changed colors from default black to a near transparency of the surrounding room. You see, that&rsquo;s the real treat about these suits… they&rsquo;re designed to act as active camouflage, constantly bending and refracting light to make the wearer almost completely invisible. That&rsquo;s why it has to cover your entire body, to make sure that all of you is kept out of sight. It was quite a thing for him to see how he was almost completely invisible. Even seemed to get a kick out of moving his limbs around and barely being able to see them. But his guide was impatient and eager to get going. For she wasn&rsquo;t one who liked being sealed up in the suits for long periods of time… she was a bit claustrophobic (remember this, it&rsquo;s important). When all was said and done, there was little left to do except take the time travel controllers. Each device, when activated, would allow Corey and his guide to travel back in time, but with a catch. After each use, the device had to be recharged for a minimum of half an hour before it could be used again. Not exactly safe, I know, but that&rsquo;s as far as we&rsquo;ve gotten with this kind of technology, especially since it takes a long time for the time space continuum to close up after each warp. With controllers in hand, the two mounted a small hover platform, which they would ride while in the past, so as not to leave footprints or any trace that they had ever been there. And like their suits, it was also made out of invisibility technology. Every conceivable precaution to ensure the two wouldn&rsquo;t be seen, every precaution taken to ensure safety and no disruption of the time space continuum. Can you guess how long it took for things to go horribly wrong? Corey had one destination in mind when he had signed up for the expedition. Out of all the times in history to explore, he had chosen to go to… surprise, surprise… ancient Egypt. Land of the pharaohs. Why so many people are obsessed with that era I have no idea, but Corey was the latest to go back in time for a visit. And with two presses of a button, he and his guide were off. One quick and somewhat nauseating trip though time and worm holes later, and they emerged into the desert near the pyramids, still pristine and shiny in the hot afternoon sun. It only took a few seconds for their suits and the platform to sense and adjust their transparency accordingly, rendering them nearly invisible amongst the sand and heat. &lsquo;Almost&rsquo; being the key word. For as luck, or maybe fate, I don&rsquo;t know, would have it, the two land in the path of a chariot out for an afternoon drive. While they had faded into invisibility before being spotted, Corey had failed to hover far enough into the air to avoid a collision with the horses. And as you can guess, there&rsquo;s a big collision. Horses tumble, rider gets knocked off the chariot and Corey and his guide get thrown into the sand, loosing their grips on the time travel controllers, which go flying into the sand. But with the sudden shock of being hit, the active camouflage in their suits quickly fizzle out, leaving both of them standing in the hot desert sealed in black rubber suits. Then, to make things even worse, ancient bodyguards come running over the ridge at that moment, spears, swords and shields raised. &ldquo;Did we hit someone important?&rdquo; Corey asks. &ldquo;Apparently so.&rdquo; His guide says, realizing that they&rsquo;re in deep shit. Turns out she&rsquo;s right. Corey and his guide try to flee, but it&rsquo;s too late. Besides, running in black rubber in temperatures over 100 degrees is bound to tire out people fast. Doubly fast if they&rsquo;re in black rubber. It&rsquo;s only a few seconds before they&rsquo;re tackled. Corey and his guide aren&rsquo;t killed, but they are forced into the sand, where their hands are forced behind their backs and tied up in thick rope, the same happening to their ankles. &ldquo;Hey, wait! I can explain!&rdquo; Corey shouts in fear as his ankles are tied together. But of course, these guys don&rsquo;t understand English. Only a few seconds pass before the high tech travelers from the future are bound and helpless. So much for high technology, eh? I mean, they&rsquo;re tied up with ropes and are suddenly helpless! If anything, I think that set a new record for the shortest accident free trip in the history of the company. So what happens next you say? Well, the two are carried and put onto chariots and driven back to the royal palace, struggling all the way, but aware of one very important fact… their time travel controllers are gone, lost somewhere in the sand. They&rsquo;re also aware of the fact that finding them again is very, very unlikely. You getting an idea on how this is going? Well, anyway, the convoy goes just slow enough so that they arrive at the capital at nightfall. (I&rsquo;m not sure, but apparently the court officials didn&rsquo;t want the public to see the two rubber aliens in their midst). It&rsquo;s here that irony plays it&rsquo;s hand, for while he&rsquo;s a prisoner, Corey&rsquo;s original goal in this trip is fulfilled. He gets to see the capital city of ancient Egypt up close and personal while being wheeled towards what is very likely going to be an unpleasant fate. His guide almost asks how he likes Egypt… but she holds off. After all, she&rsquo;s in the same situation too, and doesn&rsquo;t think that now is the time for sightseeing. Once reaching the palace, the two are unloaded off the chariots, forced onto the ground and untied, only to have steel shackles locked around their ankles and wrists. Even more so then the ropes, these make sure the two aren&rsquo;t going anywhere in a hurry. And as if that wasn&rsquo;t enough, heavy iron collars go around their necks. Both are panicking, but Corey seems to hold up better then his guide, who&rsquo;s fighting and thrashing against her restraints. Even as the iron collar is locked tightly around his throat, he manages to stay on his feet, something his guide can&rsquo;t manage. She was having a complete nervous breakdown. Apparently, the Egyptians didn&rsquo;t know what to think of these two strange intruders, but they weren’t taking any chances whatsoever. The next few days are quite stressful for the two of them, but I&rsquo;ll spare you the details. It&rsquo;s just a lot of being chained up in the dungeons, being looked over by the officials and being given angry glares by pretty much everybody. At first neither Corey or his guide know why, but they do talk about it over the radio when they have a few moments alone. Most likely to do with the person they hit in the chariot, they eventually decide. It won&rsquo;t be long before they find out that they&rsquo;re right. During that time, Corey&rsquo;s guide tries to get a connection back to the modern day to get help. But unfortunately, that attempt doesn&rsquo;t work. Either the transmitter can&rsquo;t get through the continuum, maybe the receivers aren&rsquo;t working, or even more sinister, perhaps the corporation won&rsquo;t answer, doesn&rsquo;t want to get any evidence on it&rsquo;s hands that it knew customers were in trouble and that it failed to rescue them. Plausible deniability perhaps, but who knows? With big corporations, anything can and does happen. Not a happy thought. Well, the next few days are a blur, with both being led around to various court officials, examined like cattle. Humiliating and degrading, but there&rsquo;s not a whole lot Corey and the guide can do about it. They&rsquo;re restrained at all times and trailed by guards with spears. Bored guards as well, seeing as how they seemed to be itching for a chance to use the two for target practice. One night the two are in the dungeons, talking with each other over the radios. &ldquo;You doing okay?&rdquo; Corey asks. &ldquo;Not really.&rdquo; &ldquo;You afraid we&rsquo;re going to die?&rdquo; &ldquo;Yes. But my skin is getting itchy in this suit.&rdquo; She tries to rub her body against the concrete wall. &ldquo;I need a shower.&rdquo; Corey rubs against the wall as well, trying to get of the irritating itch on his back, and his buttocks as well. Though the travel suits are high tech and can allow their wearers to remain inside for days at a time, it&rsquo;s not designed so that they can stay inside forever. And going to the bathroom? Well, let&rsquo;s not talk about that. &ldquo;You been able to get through back to our time?&rdquo; Corey asks. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been trying, but no luck yet. But they should answer us eventually… I don&rsquo;t know why they haven&rsquo;t yet.&rdquo; Silence at that. Though it&rsquo;s not spoken, both are keenly aware that they&rsquo;ve altered time and history. Hitting somebody is one thing, but no records have ever been found regarding strange black suited figures in ancient Egypt. Their simple presence here after being discovered has no doubt altered the fabric of history. Who knows what the consequences could be? At that, the doors open up and about twelve guards walk in, along with several priests, one of whom pulls out a scroll and starts to talk. &ldquo;You have any idea what he&rsquo;s saying?&rdquo; Corey asks. &ldquo;Not a clue.&rdquo; His guide replies. That surprises him. &ldquo;I thought you were a tour guide!&rdquo; &ldquo;Yeah, but I&rsquo;m just to make sure that clients don&rsquo;t screw around and mess things up! I&rsquo;m not supposed to go back in time and get captured by ancient dead people!&rdquo; Groaning in frustration, Corey listens closely to the priest&rsquo;s babbling. One thing is clear. Whatever he&rsquo;s talking about, it&rsquo;s clearly not good. That would explain the angry look on his face and the angry tone in his voice. After the priest stops talking, the two are unlocked from the dungeon wall, dragged outside the palace and thrown into chariots, which then take off into the night. &ldquo;Well, this can&rsquo;t be good.&rdquo; Corey says through the radio. His guide isn&rsquo;t amused. &ldquo;Oh shut up! Of course it&rsquo;s not good! We&rsquo;re probably going to be taken somewhere to be executed!&rdquo; Oh, what tangled words are weaved in such irony! Anyway, to continue… They get driven out into the desert for about an hour, until the small convoy reaches a small mountain range, where the chariots drive into the clefts, heading deep into the mountains before arriving at a small, hidden doorway carved into the mountains, and quite recently judging by all the sculptors and buildings bustling around it like bees. As the two are unloaded from the chariots and dragged towards the door, both of them have that deep gut feeling that this can&rsquo;t possibly be good. Not at all. They&rsquo;re taken down the stairs and through the door, heading down a long tunnel until they reach a large and elaborate room being filled with all manner of treasures and riches beyond anyone&rsquo;s wildest dreams, gold upon gold, gilded chairs and elaborate statues. It&rsquo;s a room fit for a king… but with that large sarcophagus being built, it&rsquo;s clear that this room is a tomb. &ldquo;Wait a minute…&rdquo; Corey says fearfully. &ldquo;I know this place.&rdquo; &ldquo;You do? Have you come through here before?&rdquo; His guide says sarcastically, trying to cover up her own insecurities. As it turns out, she recognizes this place too. They both recognize the ornaments, the gold, the sarcophagus, even the layout of the place. This is none other then the tomb of King Tut, the boy king. It doesn&rsquo;t take long for the two to realize that that was the person they had hit upon arriving here in Egypt. And the only reason they&rsquo;re building a tomb is because he died. Yeah… things are that bad. Tut&rsquo;s tomb isn&rsquo;t destined to be found in thousands of years. But during that time, it turns out that Tut won&rsquo;t go to his grave alone, for there&rsquo;s another room in the very back of the tomb, just recently carved out of the rock at great haste. This is a side grave, very small, just big enough for two coffins. You know all those stories of people being buried alive throughout history? You ever notice how frequently those stories seem to center around ancient Egypt? As it turns out, court officials seem to love doing this to those who displease them… and especially to those who kill their kings. It only takes Corey and his guide a few moments to realize what this is what their fate is going to be, especially when lots of guards come inside carrying boxes upon boxes of funeral bandages. And you can probably guess what happens next. They&rsquo;re forced onto the ground, shackles unlocked, and guards grabbing their limbs and stretching them out. Panicked scream and shouting fill the air as Corey and his guide are mummified alive, wrapped head to toe in those funeral bandages, rubber suits and all (the guards try cutting them off, but when that fails they just wrap over them). There&rsquo;s no ripping the brains out or removing the organs, but that doesn&rsquo;t mean it&rsquo;s any less painful… the guards make sure that the two are going to be real sore, taking care to wrap their legs and arms excruciatingly tightly, going so far as to force arms behind their backs in an armbar position and wrapping them there. Despite the hopelessness of their situation (there&rsquo;s really no chance to escape with all the guards around), Corey and his guide still fight, fighting for everything their worth, knowing that if they get wrapped, it means death. It&rsquo;s a defiant gesture, but ultimately helpless one, but then again, one&rsquo;s instincts override reason in times of stress. For Corey, the process is especially horrifying. Here he was, a guy who had gone back in time to impress his friends, and now here he was, being mummified alive. The bandages come over and over again, sealing him inside his cocoon, each layer of wrappings making it harder and harder to struggle and fight. He can&rsquo;t feel the bandages through the rubber bodysuit, but he feels the restriction, the binding, the force that slowly but surely immobilizes him, ensuring that each successive struggle gets weaker and weaker. It doesn&rsquo;t help that while the two are being wrapped, two coffins are being made right next to them. Occasionally the coffin makers will come over and observe the bodies of the two captives, make a note or two, then go over and make the necessary corrections on the coffins. Can&rsquo;t make them too big, after all. As if to further add to the horror, Corey and his guide can still talk with their radios. But there are no words this time, no sarcasm, no words of support. They just hear each other struggling, but Corey is especially scared to her his guide panicking utterly. She&rsquo;s fighting and squirming to try and escape the bandages that are imprisoning her, so consumed by her own fear that she doesn&rsquo;t even seem to notice anyone else, much less Corey. Despite the two fighting and struggling, the outcome of this execution is all but inevitable. After half an hour the layers of bandages are so thick that movement is now all but impossible. Both Corey and his guide&rsquo;s faces have long since been covered over, sealing them in darkness, possibly forever. At that point, there is no way that Corey or his guide can get out on their own. And with each passing second, escape seems less and less of a reality and more of a desperate fantasy. Sealed inside his double cocoon of rubber and bandages, Corey can&rsquo;t move, can&rsquo;t hear anything but the sound of his own labored breathing, his frantically pounding heart, and his frantic gasps as he struggles not to completely loose his mind at the thought of being entombed alive forever in the Egyptian desert, never to escape. He can also hear the sound of his guide, now sobbing and weeping, rocking back and forth inside her wrappings as she&rsquo;s picked up and carried over towards one of the coffins. Remember what I said earlier about her being claustrophobic? Well, that made her mummification almost unbearable, but being sealed into a coffin just pushes her over the edge into insanity. And then Corey feels himself being picked up too, carried to his own coffin, squirming helplessly. The touch of wood against his wrappings is bone chilling as he&rsquo;s lowered inside. Inside the coffin, feeling the wooden surfaces surrounding him, Corey tries once more to fight his way free, but it&rsquo;s a futile effort. He knows it&rsquo;s useless, but at this point he can&rsquo;t just lie back helplessly and surrender to fate. Even if he&rsquo;s going to never escape, he can at least go out fighting. But amongst all the struggling, he can hear something outside of his cocoon… the sound of a wooden lid being lowered onto his coffin, and then the sound of nails being hammered into the wood hard and fast, locking his body inside this tiny prison from which there may never be any escape. The words drive themselves into his brain with each beat of the hammer… no escape… no release… Ever. When the nailing is complete, the two coffins, containing the two living mummies, are lifted and carried one after the other into the room and stacked on top of one another. And when that&rsquo;s done, it&rsquo;s on to the inevitable, final, and irreversible step. Within their tiny worlds, neither of the tomb&rsquo;s occupants can see as the guards leave the room and extinguish the torches, nor can they see as bricks and mortar are carried over and began to be put in place, slowly walling up the room one by one, stone by stone, by single stone. But they can feel it. Through the ground they can feel as each massive brick is put into place and then sealed in place. And with that comes the horrible realization that this is really happening… that this is their tomb, where they will spend eternity, forever sealed within these boxes, ending their lives centuries before they were even born, forever King Tut&rsquo;s prisoners, sealed inside this crypt. Perhaps in thousands of years, when King Tut&rsquo;s tomb is discovered, this small grave off to the side will be discovered as well. They&rsquo;ll break away that thick wall, find these two coffins inside and open them to discover bandage wrapped rubber bodies inside. Or they may never find them… for after all, Tut&rsquo;s tomb had been found and excavated for years, and the small room had never been found. But even if it&rsquo;s found then, it&rsquo;s going to be too late. In fact, the two might not even be in there. Heck, the room may not even exist. If we&rsquo;re lucky, the company will discover that something&rsquo;s wrong and will come and rescue us. I certainly hope so… I know I&rsquo;m loosing my mind… I might have even lost it already! I mean, we accidentally killed Tut and now we&rsquo;ve been buried alive! So that&rsquo;s my story… I&rsquo;m sending this message out into time and space in the hopes that it lands on something… a computer maybe, so that somebody can find out what happened to us and then send help. I know this all sounds nuts, but you have to believe me, being buried alive can do a lot to your mind! I can hear Corey&rsquo;s mummy sobbing in his coffin, no doubt from realizing that this is quite possibly where we end our journey and I don&rsquo;t blame him. After all, he&rsquo;s just another guy who wanted to impress his buddies… but if I ever get out of here, I swear I&rsquo;m never going to be time travel tour guide again!</p>/stories/2008/12/02/installation-2-mermaid/Tue, 02 Dec 2008 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2008/12/02/installation-2-mermaid/<p><strong>Installation 2: Mermaid</strong></p> <p>&ldquo;Roll up, roll up. See the only genuine, real, live, Mermaid in existence.&rdquo; droned on the American accent from the speaker for the umpteenth time.</p> <p>Above the speaker was a sign saying, &ldquo;Amazing exhibit, Mermaid filmed off the coast of California.&rdquo; in bright red and yellow lettering.</p> <p>Below these two the small wooden booth had a pair of red velvet curtains, which the brown haired woman pulled open to find that there was only room for a wooden seat and a television screen. She sat down but nothing happened.</p>/stories/2008/10/28/train-journey/Tue, 28 Oct 2008 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2008/10/28/train-journey/<p>It was going to be a dull, lonely journey back to London after the fun of the now recently departed weekend. A cold, empty flat and cold empty fridge were the only things beckoning me back home. It was late, very late and thus dark when I boarded the last train for Euston at windy Crewe station. No matter if it had been a hot sunny day there would always be a cold wind blowing through the station. That must be due to some kind of giant wind tunnel effect was my guess. As there were some weekend first stickers on the window of first class as it slowly slid past whilst I was waiting for the train to come to a halt, I decided to saunter towards the first class carriage. I couldn&rsquo;t see any one in there so I jumped aboard and sat behind a small table with only single seats facing each other. Just before the train departed a woman entered the carriage from the carriage ahead of mine and took a seat diagonally opposite mine on the double seats, the full price first class seats.</p>/stories/2007/08/24/if-things-could-go-this-way/Fri, 24 Aug 2007 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2007/08/24/if-things-could-go-this-way/<p>This is the first story I ever wrote. Hope you like it, as much as I wish I could have lived it!</p> <p>Let me start with a small history. I grew up in a very religious household, and knew by the time I was 14 or 15 that I was different. I knew I liked being in various bondage positions and knew that I liked men, and had a slightly feminine side. I had a friend that I met when I turned 15, she was 4 years older than me, and had graduated the year before. Our parents were friends and we got along as really good friends too. As I grew up, she and I could spend time together without there being any sexual tension, so it was inevitable that we got together and got married. It was expected of me to marry and since I was still hiding my true feelings, it felt right that I do as expected. My wife and I started going out and one night I proposed to her. We were married 6 months later. We had 3 kids, and my wife had 2 miscarriages as well. I tried, but never could get up enough courage to tell her of my &rsquo;need&rsquo; for bondage. I certainly couldn&rsquo;t tell her about my orientation, although I thought she might guess at times, because we would sometimes go for 30-60 days without doing anything (always because of me – She wanted something almost daily). After 12 ½ years of marriage, and my career taking me to 3 different states during our marriage, our kids being constantly yanked out of schools, they have some behavioral problems, I couldn&rsquo;t take it anymore! I was in a job, that for the first time, put me in close proximity with a bunch of guys, many of which were very well built and good looking. I had problems controlling erections and was having Anxiety Attacks, and couldn&rsquo;t handle the feelings of being stuck. I had a Massive Anxiety Attack at work, and was sent by the Plant Physician to get further medical help and counseling. During this time I started looking more closely at things on the net, and learning more about my feelings. I started talking to people on the net and met a few as well. Ones that were into Bondage that is. I met someone going to college that was into Mummification, which I love, and met him a few times for mummification sessions. I also met someone whom I get along with fantastically. He&rsquo;s older, but we both like a lot of the same things. He&rsquo;s a top and I&rsquo;m a natural bondage bottom. We look enough alike that people think we&rsquo;re related. Brothers, Father-Son, cousin&hellip; You name it. He lived out of state though. I had since broke up with my wife, and he asked me to move down with him. I accepted, and really liked it. But soon, problems that my wife was having, and guilt on my part, I started having to drive 7 hrs each way at least weekly dealing with things here and where she was. Finally, on a trip back to my home, I snapped! I had a Massive Anxiety Attack on the highway, and I couldn&rsquo;t deal with everything anymore. I spent 2 weeks trying to piece my life together and trying to deal with everything. I sent letters after the first week to both of them saying that I would be going back to my wife&rsquo;s in 1 week to talk, and then I&rsquo;d be going to my home to talk to my friend there. Hopefully I&rsquo;d have some semblance of a life. When I got to my wife&rsquo;s home, My friend was there too! They had got together, and seemed to like each other as friends, and were deeply concerned about me. They gave me an option that I thought of myself. So that the family could stay together, and me still be around, my whole family would move down too, and all of us stay in the house together. She would care for his elderly mother who also lived in the house, and we&rsquo;d have some semblance of a normal life (As quirky as it could be with all of us together!) She had been told of my feelings (bondage, orientation, etc) and she was ok with it. It certainly made things easier! She got into putting me into various bondage positions and also bringing him into things too (Not sexually though). We had really started to get along as a big family. Things were ok, but I kept feeling trapped inside. So, I started to hint at things I&rsquo;d like to progress into. Enforced Chastity, being kept in some form of bondage during the day, mannequin-ism, etc. One thing I had hinted at, but was quickly told she would have absolutely nothing to deal with was feminization. She said she married a man, and that’s all she wanted! So, I gave up on at least that point. So, as time progressed and conditions allowed I was made into different forms of bondage. Mummified for the day, sealed in rubber during the day, put in a leather sleepsack and locked into a coffin-sized box, and so on. As things progressed more, and I was spending longer and longer times in these positions. I was getting to be able to spend more and more time this way, and I was loving every minute of it. Once, I was wrapped totally in about 6 layers of saran wrap, only leaving a hose in my mouth to breathe through and then wrapped to a table and left for the day. I was loving it. Then one day, I was told I was going to be put into some long term confinement. I was given an enema, and had my legs, arms and chest shaved. Then I had a Texas Catheter put on and had a breathing tube installed in my mouth, nose and ears plugged and then put into a tight lycra catsuit, with the catheter hose pulled through the bottom at the ankle. I was then put into a tight thick 1 piece rubber catsuit style wetsuit. A tight thick latex hood with eyeholes was put on me, and then a molded heavy foam-rubber bodysuit was put on which was molded to look like a well built male mannequin, totally covering my entire body, including my face, with a small hidden hole for my breathing tube and lenses over my eyes. I could see out, but no one could see in. I couldn&rsquo;t utter a sound I was so restricted! Couldn&rsquo;t move, nothing! What a rush! I was then dressed in really nice clubbing clothes and carried up stairs to the Living Room, where I saw they installed a pedestal with attachments coming from the wall. A spot light shone down on it. I was moved into position and the attachments from the wall were hooked to me, ankles, waist, upper shoulders and hooked to the hat that was put on me. The attachments were well hidden and from the pictures I was shown, could not be seen. I couldn&rsquo;t move or fall down that’s for sure. That’s when I was told that the kids would be home soon, and the whole family was going for a boat ride. I was left there as a mannequin the rest of the day, and I was able to get some sleep. The next day things went normally in the house with me still in the corner, my wife did come up to me, smile and reached down to the pedestal and unhooked the catheter bag and installed a new one in the pedestal for me. She brought over a bottle that had a special end on it that matched the hidden tube coming from my mouth and I sucked down a full quart of something like Gatorade. It tasted wonderful going down, and helped quench my thirst. I continued to be kept there for the rest of the day. That night, after the kids and his mother had gone to bed, (They had been told I had to go visit my parents for awhile) My wife and My friend came over and sat down in front of me. They informed me that he had to go to Indianapolis for a company meeting tomorrow and that my wife and the kids and his mother where going to my Brother-In-Laws while he was gone. They decided what to do with me. I found myself being carried back down stairs and stood against the wall. I had my clothes changed to a Football Uniform. I now had the kind of build for it in my Foam-Latex body suit. I had the Jock and cup put on, the pants with all the pads, the shoulder pads and jersey. Then the helmet. The catheter hose was pulled through the back of my sock. I was able to see myself in a mirror! I was in a very nice looking uniform from a local college. Apparently, they either purchased or borrowed one for a mannequin display. I have a football fetish, so this was like heaven! I was then led back upstairs, the catheter tube was reattached, and I was reattached to the wall. The only attachment points showing were at my ankles above the cleats. They were able to attach the helmet to the hat attachment. The rest were hidden by the uniform. I felt great! But, what about their leaving? I was locked into a display stand, in a form of bondage that was so restrictive that I couldn&rsquo;t move anyway even if I wasn&rsquo;t locked into something. What was going on? They then looked at me, and smiled and left to go to bed. I had a hard time going to sleep. I woke up to the sounds of the kids and my wife getting something to eat and taking things out to the van. After everyone was out, my wife came over, blew a kiss to me and walked out the door. Soon, my friend came out and told me that I was going to be hooked up to a machine that would occasionally give me 2 oz.s of Gatorade that has additional proteins and enzymes in it to keep me healthy. It would be attached to my breathing tube in a way that I could still breathe fine, but would be able to pour into my mouth at the required times. It was on a timer to let me sleep uninterrupted during the night. A radio would be left on, at low volume to keep me company, and that I should enjoy the next few days they were gone. I had a mannequin fetish, so I should be able to enjoy it. He hooked everything up, checked the times on the timer and made sure the machine had plenty of the liquid in it. He then walked back, got his bags, and left locking the door behind him. I was in heaven, but at the same time, I was scared to death. It was so hard spending that much time there in one position, and not being able to talk, move, etc. Finally on the 3rd day, I heard the phone ring and the answering machine kick on. It was my wife! She said that they decided to stay 2 more days and for him to make sure the &lsquo;Object&rsquo; was cared for. Oh great! I hope he&rsquo;s getting home soon. Later on I heard the answering machine pick up the phone and I heard a strange beep. The messages were playing! Someone was getting the messages remotely. After it was done, the phone rang again. It was him! He stated on the machine, knowing I could hear, that he was stuck for another day and half because of the weather. He couldn&rsquo;t get a flight out, but there should be enough fluid for me until someone came home. Then he said &ldquo;Have Fun&hellip; I know you are!&rdquo; and he hung up. Oh Shit! I wanted out. This might be more fun if I had been worked up to this, but this was different than anything else I had been in since I had been on my feet for 5 days now. Several hours later, a friend that is also into the bondage scene and goes to college, and has come for some mutual bondage play with us, unlocked the door and came in. He saw me in the corner and came over. &ldquo;How are you doing in there?&rdquo; he asked. I was in no way able to answer him but wishing I could scream at the top of my lungs; ‘Get me out of here!’ He stated that Jim called him with the location of our extra key for lockout purposes and told to check on me. So he drove 5 hours to help! He said he was to change the catheter bag, and give me more of the fluid in the machine. He checked my airway and that I was ok. Then he said he was there for more too. My friend wanted him to check on me then, get into a bondage position himself tomorrow morning. He spent the day watching TV and talking to me. That night, he went to bed on the couch and fell asleep. The next morning, he woke up and checked up on me, then told me that he was to go down to the &ldquo;dungeon&rdquo; and lock the chastity belt on himself, put the hood with the inflatable gag and breathing tube on, then cuff his ankles and wrists to the chains attached to the wall, and wait for him to come home. He went down stairs and left me standing there, waiting. Then a couple of hours later, I heard a car pull up. It was him! I would be free soon. He came in, carried his stuff to his room, and came in and looked at the machine, said Hi to me, and that he&rsquo;d get me tomorrow when my wife was home. I was in tears. I wanted out. I spent the night there. That morning he came in and checked on me. He disconnected the machine and put it away. Later that morning, I heard everyone come home. The guys came up and helped everyone in and get settled. They were all tired and went to there rooms to take a nap. The guys and my wife then unhooked me, and quickly took me downstairs and started taking me out of my strict bondage. It was slow going, and I was so sore, but I was helped into the shower and given a nice thorough shower. Afterwards, It felt so good being out, and I was so sore and stiff. But, I loved my time like that, even though I wasn&rsquo;t used to it, and after giving everyone a hug, I had to ask, &ldquo;When are we going to do that again?&rdquo;</p>/stories/2007/06/04/tupperware-girl/Mon, 04 Jun 2007 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2007/06/04/tupperware-girl/<p>Ian undressed his little slave girl ready for her pre-bondage bath. He liked to pamper her beforehand to give her that sense of belonging; not merely one of his possessions. Kissing her passionately as he slowly bathed her eager body. Every nerve jingling at the impending games. He then wrapped Diane in a large fluffy towel and led her to the bedroom. She felt like she was the most loved sex slave in the whole world as her Master sat her down on the edge of the bed and held her tightly in his strong arms. He kissed her again and told her he loved her. She looked longingly into his passionate eyes, before surveying the equipment for tonight’s play on the bed. Her eyes then drifted towards the open plastic storage container at the foot of the bed. A shiver went down her spine as she saw it gleaming in the light. Her thoughts turned to of how she would possibly fit inside that small space, making her pussy twitch slightly. Her Master had particularly made the point of telling her its dimensions to further enhance the effect. Thirty-two inches long, seventeen inches wide and a mere fifteen inches deep. It seemed almost impossible that her little body could squeeze into such a space.</p>/stories/2006/01/21/ian/Sat, 21 Jan 2006 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2006/01/21/ian/<p>This is how it felt to be Ian. ** You were in the prime of life, as fit and trim as you were ever going to be. All of life was open to you, its riches and abundance yours for the taking. Yet life was empty. Yes, you had a college degree. You had a nice apartment in the suburbs, a steady job, and a nice little world all to yourself. Yet… you felt empty. What was the point of life and its riches if you had nobody to share it with? Then, in your mid-twenties, you were searching for a mate, a wife, a friend, to share it all with. But nobody came. Nobody was Mrs. Right. Night after night, you went to clubs, bars, restaurants, in hopes of finding the right person for you. But nobody ever came. Nobody came your way. &ldquo;Why can&rsquo;t I find anyone?&rdquo; You wondered. &ldquo;Why will nobody come forward, accept my offer of a drink, and say I&rsquo;m cute?&rdquo; Dejected, you always went back to your apartment, crushed and with your hope gone just a little bit more. A year went by, and still nobody came. Your books, your games, and your movies were your only companions at home. But they were poor substitutes for the warm flesh of a living person. Then… she came. It was quite unexpected. You were in the local steak house, slowly sipping a glass of root beer. A woman walked up and asked if she could sit next to you. Without looking up, you said yes. Something, that little feeling in your chest, told you to look at her. And you did. She was perfect. She was not a professional model, nor was her body one that other women were envious of. Yet… she was perfect, just as she was. It was as if the two of you were linked to each other. You could tell that she sensed it too. When she looked at you, looked into your eyes, she was looking into your very soul. You offered her a sip of your root beer. She accepted. And both of you smiled. The next six months were a blur that passed you by in a wave of peace and happiness. This woman had a wonderful power. When she was near you, you felt up, oh so up and so happy. She could wash away your fears, your terrors, your worries, simply by standing next to you. And she told you how you did the same to her. How you were a source of magic and wonder to her, how your presence was a soothing balm to her soul. You were convinced that the two of you were soul mates. It was as if when you met, you said &ldquo;Oh, there you are. Where have you been?&rdquo; There were occasional problems of course. There were some arguments, some disagreements. But both of you stuck it out. You hung in there, refusing to give up. And the two of you overcame every problem that came your way. Finally, a year after the two of you met, you decided to be married. The families on both sides were overjoyed at the idea. &ldquo;You two are so right for each other!&rdquo; They said. Both of you smiled. You didn’t need to be told that. The wedding was a small, simple affair. No need for a huge guest list, no need for a gigantic church. For the fun of it, both of you and the families drove out to Vegas and were married by an Elvis impersonator. The two of you shared a kiss upon the words &ldquo;You may now kiss the bride.&rdquo; Though the families and guests stood and clapped, and though the band of Elvis impersonators burst into song, both of you didn’t hear it. You were bound together in that timeless, magical moment, for when your lips met, everything was absolutely perfect, without flaw, without imperfection. For one brief moment, the two of you were one. For the honeymoon, the two of you rented a beach house near the ocean. Next to the endless blue, the green palm trees and the warm sun, the two of you made love and passion as never before. It was here that you made a surprising discovery about your love. She was a controller. In her normal, non sexual personality she loved you enough to let you live how you want. But when she was aroused, she loved controlling you, binding you and taking care of you. You spent two days bound as a mummy while she tended to your every need, while she held and stroked you. Both of you were in heaven. Pure, loving, heaven. A month later, your fortunes hit a new high. Your loved one somehow managed to win the lottery. You were now rich. You had money beyond your wildest dreams. You could get anything you want. The two of you bought a nice, comfortable home in the suburbs. You also bought lots of sex toys, ranging from cuffs and manacles, to straightjackets and body bags. But your wife bought one item that she refused to let you see. She told you, with a devilish grin, that it was being saved for a special occasion. Though you were incredibly turned on at the statement, she still refused to let you see it. &ldquo;Patience my love.&rdquo; She said. &ldquo;You will see it soon enough.&rdquo; She made her move two years later. By that time, the two of you had everything your hearts desired. You had a house, bondage toys, and enough money to last for life. It was a calm, ordinary day when she came to you. She said she wanted to talk about an idea she had, one that would serve both of you. Putting down your book, you listened to her proposal. She had gotten the idea in her head, and she couldn&rsquo;t get rid of it. You talked quietly and supportively, encouraging her to come out with what she wanted. Finally, she told you. She wanted you to become her slave. She told you how much she fantasized about keeping you restrained, how she would have to take care of you, tend to your every need, and how she would hold and caress you, how she would take care of you for the rest of your life. To her delight, you said that you loved the idea. The plans were made. Though you would be allowed to move while restrained, you would spend much of your time in a special device that your wife had purchased. But still, she refused to let you see it, keeping it in a locked box. The plans went on. You would mostly stay in the house, always kept restrained by at least a pair of hand and ankle cuffs. Whenever your wife felt like it, you would be cocooned like a mummy. The two of you agreed on the plan for your new lives. How she would be the loving and caring master, and how you would be the kind and loving slave. Of course, it was not permanent. If you wanted, either of you could stop at any time, and resume your lives. The day soon arrived, when your freedom would be gone. When you would essentially be confined to house arrest for life. There were just a few things you needed to get from your old apartment. Your wife went with you, and she helped you move the items out of the dwelling and into the car. When the last box was put in the trunk, and when everything was gone, you sighed, looking your old house over for the last time. There was the clink of metal behind your back. You turned and saw your wife holding two items in her hands. The sight of them sent shivers of excitement down your spine. She was smiling, waiting patiently for your approval. You smiled and put your wrists forward, offering them, and your freedom, to her. She went forward and gently placed the rigid cuffs onto your wrists. The silver cuffs were lined with a thin layer of leather, which felt so good as your wife worked the device into position. The cuffs felt so right, so good, as you allowed your wife to lock them down, to take away your freedom, possibly forever. When the lock was in place, and when the key was withdrawn, you looked at the restraint locked around your wrists. It was heavy, but not uncomfortably so. It kept your wrists in place, so that you could not move them out of its grip. While you pondered your restraint, your wife bent down and pulled out the leg manacles. The silver cuffs were old fashioned, with a large cuff, rather then the thin kind found in modern handcuffs. She placed the cuffs around your ankles, over your white socks. The cuffs were closed, the clasp put into place, and the keys were placed in and turned. When she stood up again, your ankles were now locked into the old fashioned restraints. And it felt so good, so right, so perfect. These restraints, these devices, were your friends. They cared for you, kept you safe by taking away your freedom of movement. You were happy to have them safely on you, and they were happy to be locked to you. Your wife, your mistress, smiled. &ldquo;Come on honey slave.&rdquo; She said soothingly. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s take you home.&rdquo; Like the good slave you were, you followed her obediently, shuffling along as fast as your friendly ankle cuffs would allow. It was night outside, so you didn’t worry about anyone seeing you. You followed your mistress to the car, where she opened the door and assisted you inside. You let her put the seat belt around you, and you watched as she started the car and drove away. And so you left your old life, and began your new one. You arrived at the house. By now you were more turned on then you ever had been in your life. You wanted nothing more then to grab your mistress and make hard and fast love to her. When she saw your face, she smiled as she realized your desires. &ldquo;There will be time for that later.&rdquo; She said. &ldquo;Now we&rsquo;ve got to get you inside where you can be tussled up.&rdquo; Your excitement grew. After helping you out of the car, your mistress gently lead you to the house. You walked as fast as you could, though your ankle cuffs gently scolded you for being in a hurry. Inside the house, your wife walked you over to the living room, where she sat you down in a chair. &ldquo;Wait here my love.&rdquo; She said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll be back with your new outfit.&rdquo; Grinning madly, you nodded your head eagerly. As she went upstairs, your mind raced. What device did she have for you? How long would you be kept in it? Finally, she entered the room carrying the package in her arms. Your eyes were bulging as she opened it, and pulled out its contents. It was a large white suit, with long sleeves and long legs. It was built out of heavy cotton, and had belts and straps sewn into the suit itself. There were mitts for the hands, and built in socks. A person zipped into the suit would only have his or her head showing. &ldquo;This is your new outfit my darling.&rdquo; She said. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll be wearing this for the rest of your life from now on. It&rsquo;s a special exo-suit that allows me to restrain you in almost any way I can think of. Now, let&rsquo;s get it on you.&rdquo; Eager to please her, you stood up immediately. She smiled as she came over and unlocked your cuffs, allowing them to drop to the floor. You whimpered slightly at having your friends come off you. You felt so naked and vulnerable. &ldquo;Not to worry my love.&rdquo; Your master said. &ldquo;You will be safe again soon.&rdquo; She picked out a white spandex bodysuit. &ldquo;Put this on.&rdquo; She said. &ldquo;It will be your underlayer.&rdquo; You put it on immediately, relishing in the feel of the spandex all over. After pulling the zipper up, you stand ready for your next assignment. She held up the suit, and undid the zipper in the back. Holding it up, she motioned for you to walk up and to enter it. Excited beyond words, you walked forwards towards this wonderful device that promised safety and security. You entered it slowly, putting your arms into the sleeves, and then stepping into the legs. It was a surprising fit. The suit fit like a glove. While you stood in the suit, relishing in its feel, your wife walked behind you and pulled the zipper up. When it was fully fastened, she took a small zip tie and locked the zipper shut, ensuring that you couldn&rsquo;t get out even if you wanted to. You shivered again, realizing that you were sealed into this suit. &ldquo;How do you feel slave?&rdquo; She asked you. &ldquo;Wonderful mistress.&rdquo; You said in a doped up voice. &ldquo;So wonderful.&rdquo; The suit fit like a glove, hugging you all over. It was thick and firm, warm and snug. You felt so safe, so secure in it. Your wife made the next move. She placed your arms by your sides and began to thread the straps around them, around your body. Surprised, you nonetheless allowed your wife to continue strapping you up. The built-in straps were applied all over your body, from the neck to the ankles. When your mistress was finished, you were completely immobilized from head to toe. Your arms were strapped to your side, your legs bound together. You wiggled playfully, testing out how it felt. The feeling of being bound was wonderful. You felt so secure, so safe. You were protected. Nothing could reach you or harm you. This suit was your protector. Smiling, your wife went up and gave you a hug, squeezing you to her. You so desperately wanted to squeeze her back, but the friendly suit politely told you that you were not going to do that. The hug of the straps confirmed its message. &ldquo;You look so beautiful.&rdquo; She told you. &ldquo;So white and beautiful.&rdquo; She leaned in close and whispered into your ear, &ldquo;But I have one more thing to add.&rdquo; You gave an involuntary giggle of excitement. Gently laying you down on the ground, she went to the box and pulled out one more item. It was a bodybag, built of heavy duty white cotton. It too, had straps built in, so that when a person was locked inside, he or she would be further restrained and unable to escape. Your wife gently worked your bound body into the bag, gently and tenderly closing the zipper and tightening the lacing. You closed your eyes and drifted in ecstasy as the straps were applied, each strap saying &ldquo;hello&rdquo;, each strap greeting you with a hug. When the buckles on the straps were done, and when the thick collar was finished, your wife and master gave a sigh of satisfaction. She held up a small mirror so that you could know what you looked like. You looked so wonderful. You were sealed into a bag, held in place by straps. Your head was the only part of your body showing, the rest of it locked and sealed away under the heavy cotton. With your body now fully immobilized, your wife managed to lift you up and carry you upstairs to the bed. There she lay you on its soft surface. You relaxed and allowed your wife to put a soft and supportive pillow beneath your head, and several pillows around your body, creating a nest for the two of you. She went downstairs and locked the house for the night. You ached for her return. Though you felt safe and protected, you longed for your master to be with you. She came back, and quickly got into the small next. Taking the comforter, she wrapped herself in blankets. She snuggled next to you, taking you into her arms and hugging you to her. &ldquo;You are so beautiful.&rdquo; She whispered. &ldquo;So precious to me.&rdquo; She kissed you, giving you her love, her care and affection for you. &ldquo;And I love you mistress.&rdquo; You whispered back. You wiggled in sheer ecstasy inside your cocoon. The lights were turned out, and your wife held you close as she slowly drifted off to sleep. You closed your eyes and did your best to snuggle closer to her. As sleep came to you, you gave a sigh of pure relaxation and peacefulness. &ldquo;This is going to be a wonderful life.&rdquo; You thought. *** This is how it feels to be Ian. *** An average day for you begins with wakefulness. You open your eyes and look around. You are bound in the suit, and in the bag, as you have been for the past two years. You yawn and wait. Mistress will come along and release you soon. She appears a few minutes later. She greets you and releases you from your body bag. She rolls it off of you and undoes the straps holding your arms and to your side, allowing you to move in your exo-suit. &ldquo;Well honey bum.&rdquo; She says. &ldquo;Today I want you to vacuum downstairs and fold the clothes from the laundry.&rdquo; &ldquo;Yes mistress.&rdquo; You say. &ldquo;I will do what you want.&rdquo; &ldquo;Good! But before I go, I have to retrain your arms.&rdquo; You giggle with excitement. &ldquo;Yes master! Please restrain me!&rdquo; You eagerly hold out your arms. The beloved manacles are clasped to your cotton covered wrists. You squeal in delight as the locks are tightened and fastened, locking them in place. The process is repeated for your ankles. It feels so good, this blessed tightness. There have been blessedly few moments where you are without restraints. You are released for family events, and the occasional vacation, but thankfully you spend the rest of the time bound. One of the best times is when you are cuffed, spread-eagle, to the bed while your restrictive clothing is washed. You love those moments. Your wife loves to come in and &ldquo;have fun&rdquo; with you while you are helpless to stop her. You sigh, fondly remembering the last time that happened. &ldquo;Slave!&rdquo; Your master says cheerfully. &ldquo;Remember, you have chores to do!&rdquo; &ldquo;Oh yes mistress. Sorry!&rdquo; Your wife smiles. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s okay.&rdquo; She leans over and gives you a big kiss on the cheek. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll be back this afternoon after work. You have a good day now.&rdquo; You kiss her back. &ldquo;Sure thing honeybun.&rdquo; Smiling, she walks out of the door and off to work. You sigh happily, allowing yourself a brief moment to enjoy the tightness of the cuffs that you wear. Then duty calls. Your mistress has given you a task, and you need to complete it. Luxuriating in the warmth of the suit, the tightness of your cuffs, and the wonderful life you live, you walk off to the vacuum. This is how it feels to be Ian. Forever.</p>/stories/2006/01/21/ian/Sat, 21 Jan 2006 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2006/01/21/ian/<p>This is how it felt to be Ian. ** You were in the prime of life, as fit and trim as you were ever going to be. All of life was open to you, its riches and abundance yours for the taking. Yet life was empty. Yes, you had a college degree. You had a nice apartment in the suburbs, a steady job, and a nice little world all to yourself. Yet…you felt empty. What was the point of life and its riches if you had nobody to share it with? Then, in your mid-twenties, you were searching for a mate, a wife, a friend, to share it all with. But nobody came. Nobody was Mrs. Right. Night after night, you went to clubs, bars, restaurants, in hopes of finding the right person for you. But nobody ever came. Nobody came your way. &ldquo;Why can&rsquo;t I find anyone?&rdquo; You wondered. &ldquo;Why will nobody come forward, accept my offer of a drink, and say I&rsquo;m cute?&rdquo; Dejected, you always went back to your apartment, crushed and with your hope gone just a little bit more. A year went by, and still nobody came. Your books, your games, and your movies were your only companions at home. But they were poor substitutes for the warm flesh of a living person. Then…she came. It was quite unexpected. You were in the local steak house, slowly sipping a glass of root beer. A woman walked up and asked if she could sit next to you. Without looking up, you said yes. Something, that little feeling in your chest, told you to look at her. And you did. She was perfect. She was not a professional model, nor was her body one that other women were envious of. Yet…she was perfect, just as she was. It was as if the two of you were linked to each other. You could tell that she sensed it too. When she looked at you, looked into your eyes, she was looking into your very soul. You offered her a sip of your root beer. She accepted. And both of you smiled. The next six months were a blur that passed you by in a wave of peace and happiness. This woman had a wonderful power. When she was near you, you felt up, oh so up and so happy. She could wash away your fears, your terrors, your worries, simply by standing next to you. And she told you how you did the same to her. How you were a source of magic and wonder to her, how your presence was a soothing balm to her soul. You were convinced that the two of you were soul mates. It was as if when you met, you said &ldquo;Oh, there you are. Where have you been?&rdquo; There were occasional problems of course. There were some arguments, some disagreements. But both of you stuck it out. You hung in there, refusing to give up. And the two of you overcame every problem that came your way.</p>/stories/2002/12/20/m.e.r.g.e/Fri, 20 Dec 2002 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2002/12/20/m.e.r.g.e/<p>Joint UN/DEA Merge Task Force. Victim debriefing transcript.</p> <p>Autotranscriber 44, Milton Keynes, 4/7/2050.  Is this thing working?  Err, Hi. My name&hellip; uh, I guess that doesn&rsquo;t matter. I&rsquo;m 29, and you might have seen me in a couple of porno holos from the late 40&rsquo;s&hellip; Anyway, you want to know how I got like this.</p> <p>[sighs. some rustling noises]</p> <p>The thing is, right, I had a baby, eighteen months ago. Like a lot of girls I just put on weight like a rocket after that, and my tits got kind of saggy and my bum and thighs went right out of shape&hellip; I wanted to get back to the old me, the one in the holos. I could run them, you see, and stand beside &lsquo;me&rsquo; at eighteen, and see the differences. Anyway this really affected my relationship with my boyfriend. After three or four months of this, he left, taking Jo with him. Although I wasn&rsquo;t short of money, and didn&rsquo;t need to find a job, I started feeling kind of.. ugly, you know? Nothing I did looked right. I kept trying different hairstyles, and never really settled down. Exercise was boring, too, and my sex drive was like, really low&hellip; I didn&rsquo;t know what to do with myself.</p>/stories/2002/10/07/the-ultimate-lovedoll/Mon, 07 Oct 2002 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2002/10/07/the-ultimate-lovedoll/<p>The doors to the Chief’s private office slammed open with a force hard enough to rattle the hinges. Lydia Dunn, Chief of the Commission of Sex Crimes, stopped her dictation in mid-sentence. Her icy stare did nothing to intimidate the Deputy Commissioner, Christina Hilshire, who had burst so expectedly into the Chief’s private domain. “Yes, Christina?” Lydia Dunn asked, without a loss of her legendary self-control. “I don’t recall us having an appointment.”</p>/stories/2002/10/07/the-ultimate-lovedoll/Mon, 07 Oct 2002 00:00:00 +0000/stories/2002/10/07/the-ultimate-lovedoll/<p>The doors to the Chief’s private office slammed open with a force hard enough to rattle the hinges. Lydia Dunn, Chief of the Commission of Sex Crimes, stopped her dictation in mid-sentence. Her icy stare did nothing to intimidate the Deputy Commissioner, Christina Hilshire, who had burst so expectedly into the Chief’s private domain. “Yes, Christina?” Lydia Dunn asked, without a loss of her legendary self-control. “I don’t recall us having an appointment.”</p>/stories/1/01/01/a-new-beginning/Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000/stories/1/01/01/a-new-beginning/<p>I’ve been reading the accounts of many of you and decided to tell you one of my experiences. I have two fictional stories which were published on this group but the story I am about to tell is true.</p> <p>I was alone on Saturday afternoon and decided that after reading a lot of stories it was time for a first selfbondage experience. I had never gone to the point were I was stuck until the release mechanism gave me access to the key.</p>/stories/1/01/01/self-bondage-sisters/Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000/stories/1/01/01/self-bondage-sisters/<p><strong>The Beginning</strong></p> <p>I was at an early age when I first saw experience bondage. My sisters would come up on me when I was asleep and start tying me up. First, they would tape my mouth with duct tape so I couldn&rsquo;t scream, then as one would hold my wrists from behind the other would use some clothes line and wrap it around my wrist and cinch it tight. Next they would both tie my ankles and knees together. I would try to scream, but the tape gag silenced me.</p>/stories/1/01/01/suiting-danielle/Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000/stories/1/01/01/suiting-danielle/<p><strong>Part 1</strong></p> <p>It was not Danielle Kasimir&rsquo;s habit to answer strange-looking ads on Craigslist, but the one she was considering was one of the oddest&ndash; and most lucrative-looking&ndash; she had seen in a while.</p> <p><strong>MODEL WANTED (NO EXPERIENCE) – Coachella Valley</strong></p> <p><strong>Looking for woman, 18-30, to fit-model unique costumes. Must not be claustrophobic, not have allergies to latex or polyvinyls, be able to devote a whole weekend. No nudity or photography, must sign confidentiality doc. Pay $3K. Respond with picture.</strong></p>/stories/1/01/01/the-secrets-of-shackleton-grange-13-and-so-to-sleep/Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000/stories/1/01/01/the-secrets-of-shackleton-grange-13-and-so-to-sleep/<p>(story continues from <a href="secretsofshackletongrange12.html"><strong>The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 12: The Training Room</strong></a>)</p> <p><strong>Chapter 13: And So to Sleep</strong></p> <p>Cathy looked across to the doorway and her heart sank. Time seemed to freeze. If fear had been a marketable commodity, she could have made a fortune in the interminable seconds that followed.</p> <p>For blocking the only exit was the last person in the world that Cathy would have been hoping to see at that moment. Dolores was standing in a slightly more stooped posture than her usual upright stance, and her left hand was held against her stomach. As she moved further into the room, Cathy noticed her wince with pain, and realised that this had to be a consequence of Bethany’s delaying tactics. Her hair, previously immaculately styled, was now tangled and dishevelled, and her face was red; although whether the latter was due to rage or pain it was hard to gauge. Probably a mixture of both, Cathy decided.</p>/stories/1/01/01/the-spandex-rehabilitation-machine/Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000/stories/1/01/01/the-spandex-rehabilitation-machine/<p>The machine started out as a medical device and was still in the developmental stage, but had so far exceeded the expectations of the two doctors in charge of the project. Dr. Samson was in charge of the human aspect part of the of the project, and her focus was neurology. She was one of the only women in her graduating class, and by far the most attractive.</p> <p>Her part of the project was a sensor group that could be made to interface with a large main frame computer and give the wearer the ability to move, and feel a previously inactive appendage. Not all would be able to use this breakthrough, but for the the ones that could it would hold great promise. The problem was in set up of the sensors and muscle stimulator&rsquo;s on able bodied test subjects, usually college students. Their placement had to be perfect and was not ever in the same precise spot one subject to another. The sensors on the head and neck were easier to place, but for this expensive research project to bear fruit, in other words become a deployable product, it had to be easy enough to use for the average patient.</p>