Offer on Gromet's Plaza Archive

The Ultimate Challenge

Thu, 14 Nov 2019 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part one.

Part Two

Monday found us back in the training routine with Cathy and Mary. Listening to Mary and Cathy, it became obvious that their main aim was to build up our strength and stamina. It was exhausting but enjoyable, even if all we wanted to do at the end of the day, was eat then sleep. However, as the days progressed, the aches and pains disappeared and the work became easier, then one day, as we were being put back in our stalls, Lady Elizabeth appeared and asked how we were doing. It was Mary who replied.

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

Wed, 06 Nov 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Story continues from part 5

Part 6: Back to Reality

The next morning I awoke with a slight sore head due to all the alcohol I had consumed the day before. I wasn’t drunk but, I could feel him watching me. “Good morning master” I said sleepily.

“Good morning darling….we need to talk” I could sense something was in the wind.

“Well I am all ears master”

“What are the key principles of BDSM?”

Yeti Or Not

Mon, 26 Aug 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Rita stepped out of the trailer gingerly, slowly feeling her way down the short iron steps to the ground. Her costume was difficult to work with, and she wondered as her enlarged, fur-covered feet barely found traction on the steps if this wasn’t the wildest gig she’d ever taken.

An aspiring actress, Rita had been working in Vancouver for several years, determined to have her “big break”. What she’d found were a series of minor roles that catered to her height. At nearly six feet and with an athletic build, Rita was ideal as a college basketball player or Viking warrior. But these were all background roles, non-speaking parts where she was typed as “the tall one” of a group behind the stars. But she did get such parts regularly, to the point where she was getting noticed. Always she hoped that a casting agent who could think outside the box might offer her a role as the quirky neighbor on some cable sitcom, or the evil “heavy” in an episode of some spy drama. Anything to break the ice!

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

Sat, 24 Aug 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Story continues from part 4

Part 5: Positive Steps

It had been a month since our demonstration and a lot of things had or were about to change in that short amount of time. My master was away with a friend on a special trip, code for we are going to do a job that will take half a day and we will spend the rest of the time in a bar getting drunk! He thinks I button up the back however its almost adorable seeing him squirm as he makes up his excuses as to why this trip is going to take 4 days. Nothing really changes when he is away. I still wear only stockings, garter belt and heels around the house & I always wear my collar, cuffs and chains as if he were here, I just become my own master for a few days but, I do long for him and the mere thought of him makes my juices begin to flow uncontrollably.

Two Ladies Visited

Sat, 24 Aug 2019 00:00:00 +0000

It was the start of a cold, damp evening in a working class suburb where people from several walks of life lived. Not a place for a lone woman to out too late at night.

Lavinia Martine was hurrying home before it got completely dark. She was a firmly built woman in her late thirties. Fit, generally healthy with a reasonably attractive face framed by short dark hair. She was a cheerful person by nature, though she had seen little to cheer her of recent years. She wore an old suit and because for the worsening weather had put on an old fashioned, belted raincoat which rustled as she walked. She carried an umbrella and handbag.

First Date

Thu, 22 Aug 2019 00:00:00 +0000

It wasn’t the cool breeze off the ocean that was giving Nicole the shivers. She hadn’t seen Carla in nearly two years, not since they had graduated from the arts academy together. Carla had scored a job with some big production company that ate up all her time. Nicole, on the other hand, had a series of near-misses and also-rans that made her wonder if she was ever going to have more than the menial jobs she worked to barely made the rent. Between her hectic schedule and the hush-hush nature of Carla’s job they’d had little time for socializing and had drifted apart. So it was with no little amount of excitement that Nicole accepted when Carla called out of the blue and mentioned a “fun opportunity” she wanted to put to her old roomie. The idea of hooking up with her old friend for a bit of adventure caught her fancy.

His Wife is a Robot

Thu, 22 Aug 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Brian enjoys his life he has a fantastic job and a stunning wife it’s almost perfect almost but not quite, his problem is his gorgeous wife she is so aggressive most of the time that he is actually scared of her, he actually adores her but every day is a problem and it’s starting to affect his work, and he has no solution he won’t divorce her, so he has run out of ideas as to what to do.

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

Sat, 27 Jul 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Story continues from part three

Part 4: Its never too late

After taking a lovely warm & relaxing shower I dried myself and slipped on a red silk robe that covers me, but certainly doesn’t leave much to the imagination! I went downstairs into the open plan kitchen and prepared a platter of cheese sandwiches and 2 large glasses of fresh orange juice, without the bits! I got a strange feeling whilst waiting for mum. Today had been quiet a day of revelations for her and I had an idea that she would have some revelations of her own to share with me. Mum and I always had an extremely close bond and we shared everything with each other, well I had thought.

The Ultimate Challenge

Sat, 27 Jul 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Part One

Miss Kennedy,

I would like to offer you a position for which I believe you are eminently suited. However, the position would require you to live here on my estate for a period of approximately one year.

As I value privacy, you would be required to sign a Non Disclosure Agreement before terms and conditions are discussed. However, if you feel that you are unable or unwilling to continue when you have heard what I require, you may choose to leave with no hard feeling on my part.

A Water Illusion?

Sat, 20 Jul 2019 00:00:00 +0000

My life partner, Angie, pointed it out to me; I would have missed it, because it was in part of the paper I do not read. “What do you reckon to this?” she said as she handed the paper to me and tapped the page in the area she thought might be of interest. “You are always saying you a looking for a challenge.” I focused on the page I had been handed and quickly found the item Angie was bringing to my attention. The small ad read, ‘John Franklin challenges any aspiring escapologists to escape from the ‘Death Cage’ in under five minutes. Successful challengers will receive £1000.’ And a contact phone number. Naturally, I was intrigued, so I rang the number and left a message. That evening I received an email in response, which was odd as I had only left my name, phone number and the fact that I was interested in the ‘Death Cage’ challenge. I opened the attached documentation and discovered the nature of the challenge and the safety procedures that were being put in place. The final paragraph seemed a bit odd. It simply stated, ‘If you succeed you get £1000; if you fail you get to experience magic and what your companion has experienced throughout the challenge.’ I showed the pdf to Angie to ask what she reckoned. Her assessment was, “Handcuffs behind your back, 20 seconds, no 30 seconds, because you’ll need to release both hands; neck shackle, another twenty seconds; two sets of leg shackles, 40 seconds and the cage’s padlock another thirty seconds. I make that 2 minutes. Add that on again for being underwater makes 4 minutes; so five minutes sounds do-able. Admittedly, you can only hold your breath for 3 minutes, but they’ll be providing an air-hose, so that shouldn’t be a big deal. I reckon, if you can handle the pressure of doing this for a live audience and this John Franklin character, you should go for it.” Between us we agreed that it was worth taking this challenge to the next stage, which was emailing for further details and contracts. The next evening these details arrived, but I had spent most of the day in the tank in the summer house in the garden practicing getting out of handcuffs behind my back underwater. I had even improvised an arrangement so that it would be more like the planned arrangement for the ‘Death Cage’ The details confirmed the details of the escape and the safety arrangements and the contractual obligations on both me and the John Franklin’s people. Their obligations seemed to be to provide all the equipment required at the appointed time and place, to have all the safety arrangements in place and to provide the payment if I succeed or get me out if I fail. My obligations seemed to be to turn up at the appointed place and time (at their expense), try my best to succeed at the challenge and to bring a companion with me to see fair play. There were two things that gave me slight concern; the first was they said they would be offering more challenge on the day, for more reward; and the second was they insisted I name my companion and that they sign the contract with me. The contract made clear that the extra part to the challenge was entirely optional, I guessed this would allow them to add some element of drama into the stunt; not only would I succeed or not, but would I be up for the extra challenge? I assumed the bit about naming my companion was so that they could prepare the extra paperwork, but it turned out to be more than that. After careful consideration, we signed contracts and began negotiations about times and places. We even researched who John Franklin was; it turned out that he was a small-time magician who had landed himself a series of six half hour programs and hoped to use these as stepping stones in his magical career, but he was not being entirely selfish, because he was allocating a small amount of time on each show to a specialist performer to show their stuff. I was soon booked as the specialist performer, with Angie as my companion, for his first recording, which by this stage was six weeks away. Those six weeks were a blur; when I was not working my day job or sleeping, I was in the tank practicing with the specified hand-cuffs and padlocks. The practice was paying off, I had the handcuffs, neck-shackle and leg restraints off in under three and a half minutes and the padlock to the lid of the cage should be no trouble.

The day of the challenge dawned and we travelled to the studios where the stunt was going to be recorded and got there mid-morning; the show was going to be recorded live that evening. The remainder of the morning was spent being introduced to the crew that would be supervising my escape and checking over the equipment. Then John Franklin took us out to lunch. Once the meal was ordered, he asked, “How do you envision this escape of yours going?” Naturally, I had expected some question along those lines, so I had an answer. “I’ve practiced so that I can do it in under four minutes, but as I can see the clock from inside the tank, I’ll add to the drama, by taking my time I can be out a few seconds before the five minutes is up.” “I thought you’d say something like that, which is why we added the extra challenge option to the contract. What we want is a genuine ‘Will they make it?’ situation, rather than a ‘Can they time it right?’ one.” “I, sort of, expected that was the reasoning, but if I don’t like the extra challenge aspect, I know I don’t have to accept.” “Exactly,” he confirmed. “The paperwork says that with extra challenge comes extra reward; so make your offer and we’ll consider it.” I deliberately included Angie, because she has a better idea of what I can and cannot do, especially on top of all I was already prepared for, and also because I know she worries and it makes her feel better to have her say. “Firstly, let me say you don’t have to make a decision immediately,” he began. “We’ll show you the extra equipment this afternoon and you announce what you decide at show time.” “That’s fair.” It would have been an instant ‘No!’ if I did not get to check the equipment or I was being pressed for an instant decision. “The extra challenge comes in three parts; part one is a lid on the tank, part two is your lovely companion, Angie,” he smiled at her, “shackled to the lid on the tank and part three would be withdrawal of the air hose partway through. Part one would gain you an extra thirty seconds of performance time. Part two would gain you an extra minute, because you’d need to release Angie before you could get out. And for item three we would have to work out when to remove the hose, but on the plus side, we would supply oxygen enriched air to compensate for you not being able to hyperventilate beforehand.” “So, those are the extra challenges. And the rewards?” “Well, if you accept any part of the extras we’ll pay you your original £1000 and £1000 per part you accept, plus another grand if you accept all three and we’ll double it if you succeed. So you could make as much as 10000.” “Ok, so the rewards are not insubstantial.” At this point, his mobile phone went off. He looked apologetic, but still checked it. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. A friend has arrived, late as usual, and I’ve got to teach her how to act when I pass the buzzsaw through her middle.” He rose from the table and we began to rise to follow him. “No, don’t worry, you don’t need to come; I’ll make sure your meal is paid for, while I get something to take away and I’ll get someone to send a taxi to get you back to the studio. Enjoy your meal and I’m sure you have lots to discuss.” Then he caught my eye and he said, “And remember if you fail, you’ll experience magic and what your lovely companion has experienced throughout the escape.” Immediately and without a backward glance he rushed to do what he had to do and was lost from sight. I was slightly stunned, by his last remark; I certainly was not planning on failing, possibly not succeeding in time, but not failing; and reminding one of the possibility is not what one professional does to another professional. The food arrived and we ate, but it did not get the attention it probably deserved, because we were talking about the extra challenges. To my surprise, Angie seemed in favour of the lid on the tank, because the extra time it would take was less than the extra time it gave. She even seemed to be neutral about the removal of the air hose, but most resistant to being attached to the lid of the tank, which I put down to her innate shyness, rather than any concern that I might not be able to release her in order to release myself. The entire result of our talk was we would have to inspect the extra stuff before we could make a decision. At the end of the meal we left and found a taxi waiting, which got us back to the studio about the same time the crew got back from their canteen lunch. They showed us the lid for the tank, which hinged and would be held down by three padlocks, with holes in so that the padlocks could be reached. Then they showed us how the air hose withdrawal would work; there was a remote release mechanism between the actual hose and the mouthpiece which with the addition of the pumped air would produce a dramatic flurry of extra bubbles when it broke free. And finally they showed us the bars mounted on the ends of the tank that Angie could be shackled to; she would be attached to the ends of the bars away from the access holes in the tank lid, but cuffs can easily be slid along bars allowing access through the access hole for the side padlocks (hence Houdini’s remark that sometimes the challenge is keeping the restraints on until the escape starts). When we had the privacy we agreed that the lid would be a great addition and the air hose thing would be OK, as it added drama, as long as they did not do it more than two minutes before the end. Angie was most resistant to being an extra obstacle in my release; eventually she admitted she worried when I was involved in an escape and she coped by not watching and having faith in my abilities, but this would force her to confront the process of me escaping, which she knew I delayed from suspense purposes. It took me a while, but I convinced her that being more involved was the worth the extra four thousand it would gain us; I even promised her a weekend away together with part of the extra money. Once we had decided, I went to find John Franklin to relay our decision to take on the entire extra challenge. I found him talking to a very shaken-looking woman about his age (mid-twenties), who judging by her mascara had been crying a lot. I was about to convey what we had decided, when he said, “Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know until the show, but let Ben know so he can make sure the gear is ready, then get to costume and make up so that you and Angie look the part.” It took me about ten minutes to find Ben, the floor manager, and let him know what equipment would be needed. He also gave me directions on how to get to the costume department. I went back to our dressing room and we went to costume. Costume for me was simple; a swim suit in an intense blue with a couple of black lines and a fluffy white bathrobe. Costuming Angie was not anywhere near as simple; they wanted a sexy damsel-in-distress look, but Angie’s natural modesty complicated this, along with the requirement that wrists and ankles should be free of clothes so that it was clear that she was restrained and not to get in the way of my efforts to release her. In the end, she was outfitted with a white calf-length dress with a deep neckline, short sleeves and a slit up to mid-thigh, under this was a tight body-suit, which did wonders for her waist and cleavage and finally a pair of white strappy mid-height heels. She was accessorised with a necklace of what looked like pearls and matching earrings. Then it was on to make-up, where the bare minimum was done with me; foundation, eyeliner and a whole can of hair-lacquer to hold my short hair in place. Angie got the works; her fingernails and toenails were painted, fake tan was applied to all visible areas of skin, her face was made-up to match the sexy damsel-in-distress image they seemed to have in mind for Angie, much emphasis on eyes and lips and then they added more curl to her already curly hair, primarily to make sure it did not end up with it in the way. As we were leaving for a light canteen snack before the show, the head make-up lady, told Angie not to cry, because her the eye make-up would instantly turn her into a panda. The period before the show was uneventful, although I did notice some admiring glances for Angie, which I did not mention, in case it would make her reconsider her part in the stunt. At the appointed time, we were called to the wings and watched John Franklin perform the buzzsaw illusion. The woman I had seen earlier was lain on the travelling table, on top of a piece of wood that had just been sawn to show the reality of the buzzsaw, and the table travelled under the saw with the blade splitting the wood under her and appearing to pass through her bared midriff. She seemed a lot less upset than earlier, but she still eyed the rotating blade with a nervousness, which I wondered whether showed how good an actor she was or embodied a genuine uncertainty as to the outcome of having it appear to pass through her. Naturally she survived her ordeal, but seemed awed by what had happened and relieved it was over. Now it was our turn. John Franklin introduced us as people he had known for a while (which was true if five minutes in a restaurant counted). We went on and he explained the basic concept of the escape. “We suggested some additions to this escape, did you decide to go with then?” he asked. Noting that he was being vague, I paused, to give the editors a chance to ramp up the tension, before being vague right back. “Yes, we decided that we’d go with all of them, but Angie isn’t particularly happy about her part.” “Quite understandable; being an obstacle in your partner’s escape would make anyone nervous,” he commented. Then we got down to the business at hand, while John Franklin provided commentary to cover what would be, to the observer, the dull part of the procedure. First I knelt on the grid that was the base of the cage and clamps were placed over my calves and ankles held in place with padlocks, then I bent down and a collar was put round my neck and padlocked to a short chain attached to the floor of the cage. The sides of the cage were folded up and pinned in place and the top of the cage slotted into place, hinged down and the padlock put in place. The final part of me being locked into the death cage was me putting my wrists near the lid and Ben closing the handcuffs round my wrists with the chain between over the central bar of the cage’s lid, thus holding my wrists up from my back and straining my shoulders a bit. In this cramped and uncomfortable position, I was fed the air hose while two bars were attached to the cage. Four large men took an end of a bar each and lifted the entire assembly and a young lady took charge of my air supply. As soon as I was over the tank I gave a thumbs up to indicate I was ok and ready to proceed. Carefully the men lowered me into the water, while the young lady stage hand clipped the hose into position on the hinge side of the tank. The water was icy cold, which was good, because the body’s natural reaction is to restrict blood supply to the peripheral parts of the body and so preserving more oxygen for fuelling the core bodily functions, effective lowering your metabolism; the downside being that your hands go numb before too long, which is not ideal if you require them to be dexterous and sensitive. As the air began to pump with the sweet tang of added oxygen I looked up to check I could still see the clock; I could, so I made another thumbs up gesture to show I was happy to continue. The final stages of the preparations I did not see, because my view was confined to looking through the cage and the clear Plexiglas walls of the tank at the studio floor and the legs of the crew doing their jobs. First came the rush of additional cold as they poured two buckets of additional water into the tank to convince the audience I was truly submerged, this was accompanied by some muted thuds as the other two crewmen fitted and closed the tank’s lid, then the air-hose lady attached the padlocks to hold it down. More water-muffled knocks and bangs followed telling me that Angie was being shackled to the bars on top of the tank. I spent this time to remember my planned sequence of escape and generally calm my nerves, by breathing deeply to increase the oxygen in my system. A tap on the end of the tank told me that all was ready and as I wanted to get on with it I made the agreed double thumbs up to show I was ready. I glimpsed Ben’s face and then his hand holding out three fingers; the countdown had begun and I was already moving my lockpicking tool from where I had it palmed to the tips of my fingers. One of Ben’s fingers folded away, then another and finally the entire hand was taken out of my sight; the escape had begun. To aid my concentration I closed my eyes and took a moment to concentrate on the planned sequence of the escape, then I began the dramatic thrashing about; given my constrained position it was not much, but is served to cover the fact I was using the pick to release the handcuffs. Ten seconds can seem like an eternity, but it took me that long to find the key hole in my cuff, partly because Ben had put the cuffs on my wrists so that the hole I was looking for was on the wrong side. A quick check confirmed it would be easier to transfer the pick and release the other wrist first so that’s what I did. With one cuff released, I opened my eyes to check the time on the clock, while I transferred the pick back to the now uncuffed hand; forty-three seconds; where has all that time gone, I am usually out of the first cuff in about twenty five seconds. I put it down to the minor problem with the orientation of the cuff and possibly nerves, and took another deep breathe from the air hose. I closed my eyes again and tackled the other cuff. With the picking hand free it is not to long before the second hand is free. Another time check, One minute nineteen seconds; I think I must have missed something, but I still had a little over five minutes for eight padlocks and four more sets of cuffs, but now I could work with both hands and the strain between my shoulder blades had eased. I moved to start on the neck shackle, but noticed a camera through the glass of the tank and paused to give a smile, which I hoped said, ‘I am doing ok, but not as ok as I had hoped,’ and a brief thumbs up, before continuing to release myself from the bottom of the cage. I grabbed the padlock holding the neck shackle to the chain in my left hand and fitted the pick into the keyhole. A few jiggles and it was open but I bumped my elbow on the side of the tank and accidentally snapped it back shut. Rats! A little more circumspectly, I released the neck padlock again. The original plan had been to remove the collar once it was released, despite this seeming to be unnecessary, but it would fill time to make the escape seem more life and death at the end without me floating about doing nothing. I decided with the two mistakes that had already been made that it would be a waste of time, so I just skooched back a bit to get easier access to the last four padlocks holding me to the cage. While I reached for the first of these I looked at the time again. Two minutes and thirteen seconds! I knew I had lost a bit of time but that seemed a lot. Was I missing something? Was there too much added oxygen? I’d heard that an excess of added oxygen can impair your faculties, like being drunk, but surely they would not do that. ‘Concentrate!’ I told myself. I went to work on the padlocks holding my legs to floor of the cage. I soon had both my calves free and the shackles open so I could sit back even further to make it easier to reach the ankle shackles. I decided on another time check in the hope that I could calm myself a bit by seeing that I had made back some of the time I had lost. As I looked up the clock ticked over to three minutes; good, but not great, I had not lost any further time, but not gained any either. As I leaned back and worked on my ankle restraints, I closed my eyes once more. Another bump of an elbow on the side of the cage reminded me that I should be more careful to avoid needing to pick these locks twice. The first padlock fell away, so onto the second, but where was it? A feel about told me that in my thrashing about it had changed position and was jammed under my buttock. I changed position and repositioned the lock so that I could pick it. Once I had it in my grasp it fell away with a few deft movements of the pick I still had in my hand. ‘Stay calm!’ only four locks on the lids and the cuffs restraining Angie to go. Another look at the time, which I was rapidly feeling was becoming the enemy. Three minutes fifty-two seconds! ‘Surely it can’t have taken that long.’ I felt the edge of panic, so I paused to just breathe the enriched air which I knew I would be losing in another minute. I turned on my side and felt the hinge of the neck shackle catch on one of the bars of the cage; maybe not removing it had been a bad idea after all. I looked towards the audience, feeling certain that they could see me; I could not see them, or even the cameras, because it seemed my movements had splashed water through the holes in the lid and water was running down the outside of the tank. I looked up and saw that the skirt of Angie’s dress was soaked and the added weight had pulled on the rest it opening up the slit to show more leg than she would be comfortable with. ‘I bet she looks good,’ I thought. ‘Don’t get distracted!’ I admonished myself, ‘Focus!’ My hand found the padlock securing the cage shut and it was soon open and removed to join the other five padlocks on the tank floor. Another change of position and I could reach through the access hole in the lid of the tank between Angie’s ankles. Reaching through, I snagged the lock and positioned it so I could quickly have it undone once I had changed hands. As I changed hands the neck shackle once again bumped against the cage’s bars, causing a small loss of precious momentum. Nonetheless, I reached through and the lock fell open at my touch and I unhooked it and tossed it away. I took another look at the timer to find out how soon I was going to lose my air supply; I did not want to be surprised by the sudden flurry of bubbles when the air hose broke away at the agreed time of five minutes and three seconds. The clock showed four minutes and fifty-five. While I reached for the second lid padlock I counted in my head to be ready; I had reached six when I felt the change in the texture of the water and shortly after a light thump on my back as the air-hose snaked its way out of the tank. I spat out the now useless mouth piece and grimaced for the camera I knew would be watching for a reaction. I had hoped to already be releasing Angie at this point. The second padlock was soon thrown away and I was reaching for the third; the one between Angie’s restrained wrists. This was positioned and unlocked in a matter of another ten seconds. Time was getting tight. I had just over a minute to release four cuffs and get out of the tank. I considered changing the plan again; the fine print said I had to release Angie’s wrists before her ankles, so she could not get off the tank lid and open it for me before she was properly released. I was thinking about unlocking her ankles first and taking whatever penalty was due, but Angie already had slid one wrist to where I could get to it. I decided that rather than cause Angie more concern by changing the plan, I would have to proceed as planned. Angie was shaking with nerves which made the fiddly job of releasing the first cuff a little trickier, but it was soon done and another wrist presented. While I was liberating Angie’s other wrist, I saw something happening out of the corner of my eye. Between us and the cameras John Franklin and Ben were holding up a deep red cloth. Even before I had finished the cuff I was working on I had a last glimpse of the timer; it showed six minute and two seconds. Then as the cuff opened, the cloth settled over the tank; I was now in darkness. I mentally cursed John Franklin and crew for cheating as I turned inside the cage to release Angie’s ankles which I knew she would have in position for me, despite the added distraction. I reached through and instantly found the cuff on her left ankle. I began to hear, muffled by the water the beeps that indicated the last ten seconds. Then I dropped my pick; the coldness of the water had taken its toll at last. As I heard the electronic beeps countdown the final seconds of the challenge, I was groping for the dropped picking-tool. I was resigned to failing the challenge, but there would be very little to do to rescue me, just finish releasing Angie’s legs and open the lids. I would have acquitted myself well and if it had not been for several avoidable mistakes I could well have succeeded. The final beep seemed so much louder than the previous nine. I realised my head had gone swimmy for a moment. Things were different from what they were a moment ago; I was out of the water, but still under the cloth. Instinct told me that I was now on the lid of the tank and that I should get off. I rolled off onto the floor in the direction of the audience; there was a hush that seemed to ask, ‘What is going to happen now?’ I struggled from the folds of the cloth to see what was going on. And was greeted with a small cheer, which suddenly stopped as they noticed something that I had not yet. I turned and looked at the tank, expecting to see both lids open, but they were both shut. How had I got out without opening the lids? Then I noticed the lids were once again padlocked. Then the key thing I had missed hit me; inside the cage in the tank full of water was Angie, shackled exactly as I had been. “Get her out of there!” I yelled, but the crew were already rushing toward the tank, with keys and lifting bars in hand. I felt the urge to rush forward and help, but realised that I would only be in the way; I felt so helpless. Angie was desperately trying to move to release herself, but all these constrained movements contrived to do was cause her hair and skirt to float about her. As the padlocks holding the lid of the tank were released, I was hoping Angie had not breathed in any water when she unexpectedly found herself underwater. I hoped she was not drowning while I watched totally impotent to help her in any way. Much to my relief, the lid slammed open and the four men who had lowered me into that tank of cold water, began to attach the bars to the lid of the cage. At this point I suddenly wished that the lid was locked, because if it was loose the whole cage would jam in the tank and delay the time when my Angie would be able to breathe again. I took half a step toward the tank, thinking I would check, but then John Franklin took hold of me and said, “There’s nothing you can do, rely on them to do their jobs and don’t interfere.” It took a huge effort of will to take that totally correct advice. When the men had hoisted the cage from the tank, I took what I realised was the first breathe since my yell, my head seemed to have a dull ache. As the cage touched the floor, John Franklin let go of my arm and I rushed to see that Angie was alright. She was breathing heavily with her hair plastered to her face and the skirt clinging to her legs. It took the crew nearly a minute to release Angie and she stumbled into my arms; during this time I took a little time to bless the foresight of the costume department for making Angie wear the body suit under the dress or she would have been rather more exposed than she thought. The air hose lady came up with two white fluffy dressing gowns and we were bustled off stage.

Once in our dressing room, I had time to consider what had occurred. While I felt my failure to escape in the allotted time was my fault, Angie ending up lock and shackled in the cage underwater was entirely down to John Franklin and his team and all the worse for not let us know it was a possible scenario. I was becoming angry, but could not think what to do about it. Eventually, getting dry and changing into our own clothes became the priority. Finally I asked Angie, “What happened?” “I don’t quite know. I saw you drop the pick in the dim light under the cloth they flung over us as the beeping from the timer started, I was about to reach forward and put it in your hand, when just before the final beep, I took a very deep breath and was suddenly in the water with my neck and shins shackled to the base of the cage. I’ve never been so frightened. At least I had the presence of mind to hold my breath until they rescued me; I never realised it was so hard.” “Me?” I said, “I’ve never felt so helpless; wanting to help you, but being totally unable to, in fact if I had got any closer I would probably have delayed them getting you out, which feels doubly helpless.” “That’s kind of how I feel, every time you are doing any remotely dangerous escape. You know, trying to help would probably worse than standing back and hoping.” “I guess that’s what Franklin meant when he said something about me feeling what you feel while I escape. And if you believe in magic that swimmy feeling in my head when it happen must have been it. I guess we were kind of warned, but very obliquely. He’d better have a good explanation or I’ll not be answerable for my actions. Make that a very, verrrry good explanation.” We sat and wondered if we could get a cup of tea, while the adrenalin subsided. About ten minutes later. John Franklin knock on the door and entered. Before he could open his mouth, I said, “This had better be good, because we are not happy and if we don’t leave happy, we’ll be suing you for breach of contract for as much as we can get.” His smile faltered for maybe half a second, while considered what line would best keep him and his reputation from being dragging through the mud. “What a performance! You certainly earned your ten grand.” For a moment, I wondered what he was talking about, so I asked aggressively. “You were marvellous,” he said. “I auditioned some professionals, but they had nothing on you. They were too smooth to make the illusion look credible. But you with the couple of fumbles made it look truly death-defying and you were incredibly fast; if we hadn’t tweaked the timer to run fifty percent faster, you’d have been out long before the time limit and the magic couldn’t have happened.” For a moment part of my brain did the maths. I had got to the point I had got to in a few seconds over four minutes even with all the extra obstacles and recovering the pick and undoing the last of Angie’s shackles would not have taken the whole of the final minute of the original challenge. I was mentally patting myself on the back, when another part of my mind reminded me that my failure to finish in the allotted time was not my beef with Mr Franklin, but the fact he had tried to drown Angie. “Now I understand why you say I earned the money, but what about what happened next? Angie was completely unprepared for her dunking, possibly near drowning.” I looked at Angie for confirmation and support; she looked sheepish instead. “I wasn’t totally unprepared, but I had been warned I would end up in the water.” “When?” I challenged. “When I rang my cousin John to congratulate him on getting his TV deal. I wished him well and expressed some disappointment that I was failing to let you know how stressful your ‘hobby’ was for me. He suggested that he could help, if I was prepared to seem in danger and arrange that you get involved. He called the illusion ‘The Drowning Pool’; it took me some time to find it, ‘coz there’s a band called the same thing that gets the top hits when I searched on YouTube, but once I understood the concept it seemed like the only way to make you see how bad it makes me feel to be helpless while you escape.” “You’re right!” I admitted, “I’ve been selfish in not considering how you feel when I do my thing. I’ll give it up, if you ask me to.” “Before today I’d have said, ‘Yes, please give up escapology.’ But having been in the spotlight and properly the centre of attention, rather than just someone who came along with you. I have some idea of the buzz you get from it. I want to join you in escaping; you can train me. I’ll probably never be as good as you, but together we could be better than anyone.” John interjected, “You are the best amateur I have ever seen.” “Do you really mean that?” I asked looking at Angie, she nodded. “You know I love you?” She nodded again; she seemed almost at the point of tears. “Angie, will you marry me?” She closed the two paces between us, said, “Of course, I will, Brenda!” and we hugged until we were out of breath.

We Always Get One

Tue, 18 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000

We always get one you know. This one stood at the back of the room looking across at me and had that distant look on her face. I meant to say that she was different from the others on the tour. But they always had the same sort of look. The place was atmospheric I agree; but you have to wonder.

The tour started at the reception. The big steel door closed with a loud echoing bang. The heels of their shoes clicked and snicked as they walked on the tiled floor to the first cell block. I began my patter surveying the crowd. This one was middle-aged and very attractive, on her own, and standing at the back.

Encounter in San Francisco

Sat, 01 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Chapter 1 - Boredom and Randomness It was beautiful and sunny Friday morning. Golden beams of light cascaded across the hardwood floor and slowly creped across until it worked up the frame of the bed and snaked into the eyelids of J. Grunting and bringing his hands from the blanket he reached up to his face and slowly wiped his eyes and coaxed a tired set of eyelids open. This was the first day of a well earned four day weekend, and J really needed the break from work and the stresses associated with it. The bed felt empty as he was newly single, and adjusting to this new life.

Pony Girl

Tue, 21 May 2019 00:00:00 +0000

My name is Linda Kennedy. I’m 22, blonde and with an attractive figure, even if I say so myself. I have no family, my parents having died the previous year in an accident. To help overcome my grief, I dived into my studies at university and had recently graduated with a degree in hospitality management. Oh yes, I discovered at an early age that I prefer my own sex to men. In fact, if it hadn’t been for someone walking their dog several years ago, I would have been raped. That experience has made me extremely nervous in any male company.

Living Doll

Sat, 02 Feb 2019 00:00:00 +0000

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Barbie drastically changes her life.

A young woman at the end of her rope is offered a way to begin a totally new life… as a sex doll.

I don’t usually write Doll Stories and this is slightly different than most of that genre. It is very mild sexually, and is more of a sci-fi story with sexual overtones and a standard Technician twist at the end.

The Beachfront Bar

Tue, 15 Jan 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Gay, Transgender, Non-consensual, Oral, Anal

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Tracey gets the job of his dreams.

Sometimes it takes a little push to help someone become what they always wished they had the guts to be. In this Gay fantasy, Tracey gets that push.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Handmade Basket

Fri, 11 Jan 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Trevor had been making wicker baskets for more than twenty years and had built up a thriving business exporting all over the world with his standard and bespoke lines, he prided himself on being able to make a basket to almost any design and had created some really amazing ones. He has several commissions to complete this week so time to get stuck in.

Before he could get going the door bell rings and who should it be but Lori, the last person he wanted to see, she hangs around the workshop regularly and is a bit of a pain, although she is a stunner, very small but with a stunning figure and a really beautiful face, but she is still a bloody nuisance always turning up when he’s really busy.

Trapping Rats

Thu, 20 Dec 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Chapter 1

The apartment was perfect! It was a nice upgraded one bedroom place in an older neighborhood near the Concord BART (Bay Area Transit System) stop. It made for an easy commute into the city. She could enjoy the fun and excitement of San Francisco without the super high cost housing. In fact this place was a great deal, under $1,000, which was next to impossible to find in the local market.

Dungeon Museum

Mon, 17 Dec 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Part 1

A week of chaperoning a class of high school kids around a bunch of museums and art gallery in Istanbul; what could be easier.

Especially with the fact that this was a History trip and I’m a PE teacher, so all I had to do was make sure we didn’t leave any kids behind.

So, for the past 3 days all I had been doing was counting to 24, after 3 other teachers had counted to 24. I was dying of boredom and to make matters worse we were staying in a Hotel in Arnavutkoy, miles away from the centre of Istanbul. So, my evenings were filled with unruly teenagers with nothing to do and the endless droning of the history / art faculty debating some pointless topic from the day’s events. All I could think was ‘Welcome to Hell’. 3 days down 4 to go.

I Guess I Can Do That

Mon, 26 Nov 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Woman to Mannequin TF

Jenna’s long brown hair was pulled into a tight ponytail that fell down just past her shoulders as she walked the floor of San Diego Comic Con. This was her third year in attendance and as it was the second day of the convention she had already purchased all of her memorabilia and taken it back to her friend’s house before coming in for a day of panels and talking to other con goers. … well that and enjoying the people watching her walk by them and complimenting her on her cosplay. Last year she and a group of friends had spent the weekend dressed up as the Fantastic Four, but this year she was rolling solo as a classic. Lara Croft. Her heavy black boots clicked against the tiled ground as she walked towards the main show floor. She could practically feel the gaze of many male con-goers watching her green, booty short covered behind sway past them. Her navel was exposed due to the short top that hugged her curvy torso, leaving little to the imagination to what the green and gray fabric was covering. Two seperate holsters were buckled around each of her thighs that held replica pistols inside and several other little things were attached to her via other buckles and straps. The con was still setting up for its second day as the brunette entered the floor, watching as several booths were removing set pieces from the day prior and replacing them with newer items that would draw people back to view their products a second time. She admired the new look of one of the several Marvel booths - a large glass case holding costumes had replaced the previous day’s signing table. The thrift shop comic’s booth called to her and she spent the next several minutes chatting with one of the workers - a man probably just a little younger than her - about various items while things moved around them. When she finally left the booth - after promising to come back towards the end of the day to purchase something on her way out - she was pulled to the side by another man, this one clearly being older than her. Jenna nearly rounded on him for grabbing her, until she realized he had pulled her into the heart of the Square Enix booth. She had spent a good portion of her stay yesterday browsing the various item, displays, and other things this booth had to offer yesterday when she was not dressed up, but now it felt a little surreal. “Yes! Claire! I found someone who would be perfect for the job. Please come over quickly!” the man called back behind the counter before turning back to face her. “Oh, pardon me. My name is Hank. I am part of the events team at Square. I apologize for pulling you in here so suddenly, but my associate Claire will fill you in on why I did so. Talk to you later!” The now introduced Hank spoke at about a mile per minute and before she could even say “It’s fine” he dashed off behind the staff curtains and was replaced by a similarly aged woman with short blonde hair. “Wow, he was right. You fit the bill perfectly. What is your name dear? Mine of course is Claire.” Jenna took the extended hand with a tight smile. “My name is Jenna. Do you mind explaining to me why you brought me here? Oh! Not that I don’t want to be here… but…”

The New Spring Line

Mon, 26 Nov 2018 00:00:00 +0000

The characters and situations in this story are a work of fiction. Permission to use the characters in this story has been given by their original creator, Andy Latex as noted in his blog Smooth Slick N Shiny. This story is meant as an ‘alternate reality’ of his fictional universe.

continued from part 10

Part 11

Lady Quirt wiped her rubber gloved hand across the shelf of the display case and looked at her fingers. There was only a tiny amount of dust. The owner obviously had some pride in the condition of his office. As she looked at the various awards in the case, she noticed that some of these were from well-respected advertising organizations and trade associations, although some years old.

The File

Wed, 14 Nov 2018 00:00:00 +0000

The scene was a comfortable apartment on the first floor of a unit block in the inner city. The unit’s lounge room faced west and in the past had a reasonable view of the city’s inner western suburbs. But during the last year a convention centre had been built across the street below just thirty metres away. The lounge now faced directly into a large picture window of a big conference room containing a single long table. This was regularly used. Immaculately suited men and women sat facing each other across the table and were clearly engrossed in what they had to say to each other. None of them looked out the window at the residence across the way.

The New Spring Line

Mon, 29 Oct 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Disclaimer: All persons and businesses mentioned are fictional and are not intended to represent any actual existing person or enterprise. In short.. IT’S JUST A STORY!

continued from part 3

Part 4

After cleaning himself up, William dressed and left the house for Lady Jane’s home. Although it was not close by, he decided to walk there rather than take the bus. It would give him more time to think and reconsider accepting Lady Quirt’s offer. Lady Jane never gave any exact numbers, but if it meant his mum could live in relative security, the salary must be considerable. But what would he have to do in exchange? If what he did to Andy was any indication, what other kinky things would be expected?

The Ghost of Dixie Highway - A Halloween Story

Sun, 28 Oct 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Would you pick up a lonely female hitchhiker on Halloween?

Samuel Drake has an exciting Halloween night on a lonely highway in central Illinois known as “The Dixie Highway.” There’s sex, danger, and, of course, the supernatural in this relatively mild story– no VERY mild story– intended for Halloween.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was 1958. Route 66 was in its glory as the primary route from Chicago to Los Angeles. While still in Illinois, shortly after the road passed through Springfield, just outside the small town of McLean, you passed by what was the premier truck stop of its day, the Dixie Trucker’s Home, usually referred to as “The Dixie Truck Stop.” This nationally-known truck stop was open 24/7, 365 days of the year. The huge sign with the word “Dixie” emblazoned on what looked like pilot’s wings was visible for miles welcoming you in. Truckers and travelers stopped by at all hours for food for their bodies and fuel for their vehicles.

The Ghost of Dixie Highway - A Halloween Story

Thu, 25 Oct 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Would you pick up a lonely female hitchhiker on Halloween?

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The New Spring Line

Tue, 02 Oct 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Part 3

It was late when William finally returned home. Carefully he crept into the house and up the stairs to his room. He laid down on the bed, wanting to sleep. Above him was the poster of Andy and his latex catsuit. He wanted to tear down that and the other posters, but he was too exhausted after his experience at Boy!? After an hour he finally fell asleep.

Finally

Fri, 17 Aug 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Day in and day out I used to search the net for photographs and stories about people being transformed into sex robots, or turned into human mannequins, or basically anything that falls into the technofetish category. Usually the same web sites came up with a few new fantasy stories or pictures until one day it happened. I hit upon this web site which had no graphics, just text. It said:

Judicial Spanking

Tue, 14 Aug 2018 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part one

Part 2: The Jailbreak

In the morning the sheriff and the town’s mayor visited me in my cell, I having been provided a course wool blanket that I had kicked off after I discovered it’s rough texture and my abused backside didn’t get along well. The ferocity of my punishment made me feel quite warm anyway, like a sunburn, and I slept on my belly to try to find the maximum comfort all things considered. The sheriff had let me shower off in the jail’s open shower stall before putting me up for the night in my cell, and it was there that I removed the sadistic but wonderful little balls that I had been given as a consolation prize by my one time professor and temporary executioner.

Metal Maid

Thu, 14 Jun 2018 00:00:00 +0000

(The inspiration for this story comes from 2 sources, the first being Sue-Chan’s many Metal Maid type images and transformation, the second being a more ‘extreme’ design in a picture by someone called Chasti-Permalock which was sent to me a couple of years ago, or maybe even more, which has intrigued me with story potential ever since. The fact that said maid is so enclosed that chastity is a permanent state for her makes it impossible to use it literally for this story, so I’ve made it a slightly less chaste outfit, making it a sexually ‘usable’ outfit. )

The Detectives And The Dominatrix

Mon, 11 Jun 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Story continued from part two

Part 3: Is This Heaven?

Everything is black, but very calm, very quiet, there is no pain. He feels as if he’s floating. Who, what said that? Something wet is on his lips, he hears a voice, a familiar voice. Leave me alone, I’m comfortable like this. He feels a slap on his face, then another, really hard, and then a pump on his chest and then another, and air is pumped into him, sweet air. Stars are in front of his face, he coughs, wretches, coughs again, and rolls over on his side. Now the pain in his chest begins. He opens his eyes, where is he?

Robo-Maid Alice

Wed, 16 May 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Expecting is a word best used to describe a person’s ability to perceive what might happen around them. So while sitting at my desk for another day working at Thomas’ Technology Firm I was not expecting to have my boss call me in and drop a bomb on me. “Look Catherine, I know this is a bit weird and pretty out of left field but our R&D department needs someone to model and motion capture for their new Robo-Maid project. Seeing as there are no girls on the team I am assigning you to help them.” Boss said flatly as I sat in front of his large desk. I looked at him rather shocked. Why was he assigning me to a group of random guys as basically a glorified test subject? This was not something I wanted to do. “In all fairness Boss, I would rather just stay…” I started before he raised a hand up, silencing my argument. “Now I know this isn’t fair to you in any sense of the word so I am offering you not only a promotion to my personal assistant but also double your current salary.” That stopped my argument in its tracks and I just nodded dumbly as I followed his directions to the R&D portion of the back factory while contemplating this new arrangement. I opened the large doors and was greeted with about six men running around with various metal parts and other various technology, all in lab coats talking about something.

A Spandex Story

Wed, 02 May 2018 00:00:00 +0000

My girlfriend of several years and I have always enjoyed an active and varied sex life; as well as “vanilla” sex, she indulges my passion for spandex and bondage every now and then, and we switch between dominant and submissive roles fairly freely.

On a whim, when I was in town I spotted an adult store that had opened recently, and dropped in to have a look. Most of our bondage gear came from online shopping or Anne Summers, so I’d never been into a “real” sex shop before, and to be honest I was a little curious. I looked around at the various vibrators, restraints and costumes, but nothing was really catching my eye.

A Weird Way to be Maid

Wed, 25 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Woman to Maid-bot TF

“Really? You need me for this?” the beautiful woman asked, raising an eyebrow at the boy she was standing with in a living area. “Yes I’m serious Clara. I was drunk with some of my coworkers last week and let it slip that I had a really sexy maid-bot back home. They believed me, and that alone wouldn’t be anything to worry about, but then they mentioned it when the boss was talking about renting one for the office. He came to me and offered me a crazy amount of money. I couldn’t say no!” The girl, now identified as Clara, stared back at him. Hand lowering to position on her curvy hip. “And instead of using some of the money to rent one yourself, you decide to call up your girlfriend and ask her to do it? Kinda lame Greg.” Greg smiled at her. “I know babe, but think of it like this. We get to keep the money we would have spent on the actual bot for ourselves, come on, I already bought the outfit…” he finished with a sheepish smile as he held the hangar up, making his girlfriend blush like a tomato. “What is that! That isn’t even a maid outfit! It’s more like a bikini.” She wasn’t wrong, as the hangar held a frilly hair piece with black bows to tie into her hair, a top that could barely be considered more than a bra with frilly white fringes and arm covers, a black, miniskirt that barely reached her midthigh with what looked like a frilly white apron running across her crotch, a pair of wrist bands with the same fringe as the rest of the outfit and a nice pair of black high heels on the floor next to it. “Apparently it is what all of the newer models of maid-bots are wearing. I went in with one of your dresses and had them use that to get them in your size. They also threw in this,” he reached over and placed a single shiny, metallic earing in her ear. “Apparently the new models don’t have those old control collars anymore. They gave me this and said all I had to do was have the app installed on my phone and synced to it to control the robot. You need to wear it to pass as one. So, are you in?” The busty woman ran a hand through her long auburn hair. The money would really be nice… and it would only be for a weekend to clean the office up… “Fine, give me the stupid outfit and get whatever else you need ready while I get changed.” She blushed and grabbed the flimsy clothes before storming out and into the bathroom. Not ten minutes later, she returned with the red face still present. Her breasts would bounce each time she took a step, the tight skirt forced her hips to sashay more than she was typically comfortable with and they were both lucky she frequently wore heels to work. Her long auburn hair tickled the middle of her back as she walked back into the room, smirking to her boyfriend who looked at her with an open mouth. “Unit reporting for duty master. Is there anything I can do for you~” the last bit was said in a very sultry tone as she pulled him into a very teasing kiss, her lips just barely touching his own. “Uh…” his only answer was the clear sign his brain was shutting down. She ignored his plight, giggling at a job well done and turned to what he had been working on before she walked in. In front of her was a large metal case. It was propped open, exposing a foam interior with a body cutout that looked ready to fit her at a moment’s notice. It had wheels on the bottom for easy transport and the logo for the popular robotics company ‘Make It Easy’ right on the front. “So I assume I am getting into this thing and you are going to deliver me to your work?” The man in the room nodded dumbly, just watching her move around and inspect her transport. She picked up a small metal tube and poked it. “What is this?” That was the cue for her boyfriend to stop drooling over her and get back to their job at hand. “Oh, that’s just the tool most people use to open the panels on the standard units. I am keeping it here so no one can try it.” She nodded and stretched her body out. “Well okay then. Let’s get this show on the road. I wanna start serving your company and get it over with. Any rules I should know before you pack me up and rent me out sweetie,” the last point was said with a teasing glare at him. “Ah… I suppose you should refer to me as your owner or master or something like that. Be polite… I don’t know babe, just act like that robot your mom has back at home. That is what they are looking for.” Oh yeah, she forgot that her mom’s maid was a robot. Should be easy enough to copy the woman who cleaned up after her since high school. “Understood master. Shall I shut down and prepare my cleaning protocols?” she asked, mimicking her family’s personal maid-bot, Fiona, as best she can. He grinned and poked her nose. “Yes Clara. I will not be there once you turn back on, you are to obey Mr. Ferguson and work for our company until further notice.” “Affirmative master.” With that said, she made an exaggerated motion of slackening her shoulders, closing her eyes and leaning her head forward slightly while still standing upright.

The Neighbour 7: Fantasy Becomes Reality

Wed, 25 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part six

Part 7: Fantasy Becomes Reality

As with all other direct and indirect meetings with my “neighbour” I was left deflated once the interaction was over. I yearned for his 24/7 rubber lifestyle and I became increasingly dissatisfied with my mundane life, after all I was in a job with no prospects, my marriage was broken, my social life was a virtually non-existent and I was about to lose my house.

Only the singer knows the meaning of the song

Mon, 16 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Storycodes:

S.,

I feel I owe you an explanation as to why I have not mentioned in my final report the existence of the enclosed journal. It’s undoubtedly his, as I’m sure you’ll agree when you see the hand-writing. As a professional private investigator I’m at a loss as to why I have not made reference to it in the report, which I know you intend to share with his family. Maybe that’s the reason.

Together Is Not An Option

Mon, 02 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Chapter One

Synopsis: Maeve Craine is a junior detective, involved in an affair with D.I. Paul Ridley. She goes to his house to break it off, but a hot and heavy rubber bondage session ensues instead.

Maeve stepped down from the bus, careful not to let her short skirt ride up and give the driver a view he didn’t deserve. She started walking.

After five minutes, she was drenched with sweat. It was still morning, but the heat was already intense. She silently cursed this freak heatwave. Since when were English summers like this? The sweat trickled down, getting in her eyes. She wiped it away, with her wrist, just as sweaty itself. She’d pushed the fringe of her short-bob of red hair back from her eyes with an elastic headband, and it was soaked too. Her loose white blouse, with its little cap-sleeves ought to have been cool, but walking was overheating her. Everything was sticky. She should have taken it slower.

Maid to Serve

Wed, 21 Mar 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Woman to Maid-bot TF

My name is Mari Chambers, a 21 year old college grad who is in bad need of some cash. I am 5’5 and my body is fairly impressive, with C-Cup breasts, nice curves and a plump butt I have been complemented quite a bit. I had been searching online for weeks trying to find a job that paid well, but the only openings I found were in fast food or retail. That is until today. When I got up this morning I once again began my search, this time however I was intrigued by one offer. A business man in San Francisco was looking to pay someone for the use of their android as long as they could act as a maid for the family. As soon as I saw the android part I deflated but I kept reading anyways. When I saw the pay for the job my jaw dropped and I knew I had to have the position, but I didn’t have an android nor could I afford to buy even the older models. How was I going to swing this? I began researching the models of androids and how they worked, the prices were way outside my price range but I did discover something that was a little crazy. During my research I stumbled into a forum that featured many stories of women, like myself, being turned into robots or androids. I spent the entire rest of that day reading these stories and piecing together an idea that should have been considered impossible. The more I read the more I began placing myself into these scenarios and then the end result would be me making bank working for that business man in San Fran. I didn’t sleep at all the next day as I came to my conclusion and began enacting my plan. First I picked up my phone and dialed the number on the ad. It rang a few times before a click and a deep masculine voice answered. “Hello, George Fournier speaking.” He said. He was the owner of a famous factory that made all different kind of steel products that were shipped all over the world. He was a multi-millionaire and I was looking forward to this. “Hello Mr. Fournier my name is Mari Chambers and I am calling about the android rental job.” I said as calm but chipper as possible. “OH! That is great Mari! Did you fill out all of the forms already? I would love to get his deal done ASAP!” the business guru sounded very happy now and it was contagious as I smiled widely in response. “I did indeed sir. All I need is for you to send the shipping information and I can complete the deal” I said fingering my mouse over the send button with all of the documents in an email. “Great! I will read over your information and then send you the form for shipping the bot, everything else will be taken care of! Thanks again!” he said before hanging up the phone. I kept grinning as I hit the send button and then leaned back, waiting for the form that I needed to fill out for shipping the just created android, myself, from Oregon to California. I heard the jingle and opened up the email to view the form. I was a little surprised to see the form was from the leading manufacturer of androids in the United States. I clicked the link and it brought me to a page that had around 20 boxes that needed to be filled out. The first few were just basic information like address and the like but I had to start researching the later information. The 8th question was about the type of android being sent in and I already prepared the answer, although it was embarrassing referring to myself in the way I was having to. I filled out the card saying that I was a newer model sex bot that was reprogrammed to not only do things in that category but also help with all household needs. I filled out the remaining basic information until I got to the last few boxes. They were in order asking if I wanted the bot to be reprogrammed, dressed, cleaned or redesigned. The dressed and cleaned options were greyed out with checks in the saying off to the side that it was mandatory for bots going out to other jobs so I just huffed and left the other two blank. The final box was what time I wanted my bot to be picked up, I promptly selected midnight tonight so no one would be asking questions. After I filled it out the form was submitted and it told me what to do in order to have a proper pick up. It was very direct, please place designated android outside of the address free from any clothing or accessories and in sleep mode. Our professional delivery trucks will come by and take it to the nearest factory to be prepared. All of this sounded scary and yet I was getting excited the more I thought about it, so I set about cleaning my home and throwing away all of my perishable items before watching movies into the late evening. As 12 approaches I grinned madly as I stripped myself and walked outside, I had a key outside of my home and I had let my family and friends know I was going out of town for who knows how long to sight see for a while with no contact available. It was 11:45 as I stood rigid on my front porch waiting for a truck to come by and pick up this lonely android. At what I assumed was a little past twelve a large truck backed into my drive way and slide open the back door allowing me to see a bigger man step out. I hastily shut my eyes and activated “sleep” mode.

Friends ex-girlfriend

Sat, 10 Mar 2018 00:00:00 +0000

I need to call my friend, Alex and see if he remembers that girls number or address. Nope, I’ll check his phone out Tomorrow at work. Maybe he’ll leave it on his desk for a minute and I’ll check it out. It’s been a while since they dated, but maybe he still has it. Rhonda was her name. He broke up with her because she became obsessed with Latex clothing and fetish stuff. Alex would come home and find Rhonda in a catsuit or maids outfit. Finally he came home to find her laying on the bed in a full enclosure Latex catsuit, one of the ones with anal, vaginal, and mouth condoms made in it. There was a note on the pillow that said “use Rubber Rhonda”. That was it. “That’s too much for me”, Alex told her. “I don’t mind a little of the shiny stuff, but you are too obsessed with this shit for me”. Alex had told me this story at some point while we were drinking beer. I was like, that’s a little strange. I mean, I like catwoman and stuff.

Mermaid

Sun, 03 Dec 2017 00:00:00 +0000

Antonia had grown up living near the ocean, she loved swimming and the feel of the water as she splashed and played in it. Her grandfather always told her stories of when he sailed the oceans but the ones she loved the most were about the mermaids he had seen. Going to college was a real eye opener for Antonia, of course she knew the stories of mermaids weren’t true but still enjoyed dreaming of them and becoming one herself. During her child hood she had become very adept at swimming like a mermaid often tying or taping her ankles and knees together for hours while she swam out further and further in the blue waters near her home. Antonia found out that on the night after finals the whole school went out to party and finally gave in and went with her friends. The hotel bar they went to was huge and was packed with college students making Antonia very uncomfortable. As she was about to slip away from her friends and go home she spotted her first real mermaid!

The Suit

Sat, 07 Oct 2017 00:00:00 +0000

Story Submitted By Flyer - flyer@lightspeed.net - Please e-mail any comments you may have to the author

“O.K., sign here, here, and here,” said the payroll clerk.

I signed my name to a stack of paperwork in front of me. As if I had a choice. I had been in the military for 3 years. I lived off post, so as to hide my fetish. I loved rubber. Even on my small military pay, I was able to mass a good size collection of masks, helmets, suits, and the like. However on an unannounced inspection of my off-base housing, I was found out. Even though I’m straight, I was on my way to a dishonorable discharge under the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy.

Blizzard

Sun, 02 Jul 2017 00:00:00 +0000

Non-consensual, Public Nudity, Public Spanking, Public Sex, Public Exhibition, Oral, Anal, Cabaret Setting = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

What is the cost of any port in a storm during a blizzard?

Winters in Northern Iowa can get pretty brutal when the wind is from the west and the moisture is coming in from the south. The resulting blizzards can shut down everything– except, as Mandy would soon discover, Big Jake’s Erotic Emporium. It is there that she finds herself the center of attention during a Midwest blizzard. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = * * * * * * * * * * * *

Best Deal I Ever Made

Sat, 29 Apr 2017 00:00:00 +0000

Cast: Dana Miller: MIT grad sub

Dana is a 24-year-old genus and sometimes call “Computer Goddess.” She graduated MIT at the age of 16 with a double Doctorates in computer security and programming. Despite being a “super nerd” she also spent time working out and staying in shape. In fact, under her nerdy behavior and glasses she was a very attractive well-proportioned woman. Between her long black hair, brown eyes and her C sized breast she was a sight when she dressed up. Despite the high paying job, she got right out of college she was not happy.

Betty's Travels