Plastic

Part 6: Charlotte With a start, Jill regained consciousness inside her cocoon. She could see nothing but the milky white of the super plastic wrapped around her head and could feel the breathing tube in her mouth like a tongue depressor. The paralytic drug the Arachno-Bot injected her with was only then starting to wear off, there was still a bit of a pins and needles sensation in her limbs. ...

Running a large company takes a lot of time and effort, having to control the day to day running is very tiring, especially when you never get the chance to take a break and enjoy some more personal time. I was looking for a way to have some time away from controlling everything, when I spoke to a friend who is in the same boat as me; she told me about a discrete personal service provided by a company to help alleviate the stress build-up that she had used. She said that the outfit provides whatever service the client needs, in her case, to be taken away and kept as a bound captive. ...

I stand in front of the coffee maker in a trance, waiting for it to produce the liquid energy I need so much this morning, my head still foggy from the late night I had shared with her. As I stand waiting for the dark brew to stop dripping into the cup, I hear the heels of the ballet boots I laced to her crotch two weeks ago clicking on the tile behind me. She is trying to sneak up on me, unaware of the noise her shoes make, mostly because she can’t hear very well with the ear plugs made into the thick rubber hood covering her head. ...

Part 5: Jill’s Gambit They were back at the warehouse. Jill, Fred, and several members of Fred’s team were gathered around as Robert was seated at a computer workstation plugged into the Arachno-bot CPU. His jaw hung low as he read dense, seemingly endless lines of code. He rubbed his eyes then turned to the others. “This is next level stuff,” Robert said. “It looks like the person behind all this wrote, not just programs, but their own custom programming language exclusively for these machines. I recognize a few things that might be conditionals, loops, and variables, but most of the rest of it is new to me. It’s a lot of code too, it could take me weeks or even months to get to the end of this.” ...

Part 4: New Leads The three of them stood on the beach next to the inactive Arachno-Bot, one of the new models with the turrets. Fred signaled a flatbed truck to back up close to the lifeless mechanical monster. He and the driver then worked quickly to lower the bed and hook it up to the wench. Jill and a member of Fred’s team, Robert, watched as the robot was loaded onto the large vehicle. He wore faded jeans, work boots, and a black Ghost In The Shell T-shirt. The sandy blond thirty-something stroked the bushy goatee on his chin and lamented, “You know, it’s a real shame.” ...

Part 3: The Next Wave They were sunbathing on the beach, each laying on a striped beach towel. Kathy, a 38-year-old with dirty blonde hair, lay on her stomach with her bikini top partial off. Monica, her 19-year-old daughter, looked much like she had at that age. She sat up and applied more sunscreen to her arms and belly before laying back down putting on her pink sunglasses. All around them, people played in the sand and waves. it could have easily been just another peaceful summer’s day if not for one thing. Actually several things. ...

Part 2: Investigation They were all gathered around a table in a modest sized meeting room. Some wore suits and ties, some wore military uniforms, and some were dressed in white lab coats. A large plasma screen on one wall of the room displayed an image of one of the now infamous Arachno-Bots, sprawled like a broken puppet on a warehouse floor with technicians and scientists scrupulously examining it. The unit’s “head” had a large caliber bullet hole through the front of it. A man in an Army general’s dress uniform sat at the head of the table and addressed the others. ...

Part 1: Angela Angela sat on the couch in her living room, dressed only in her nightgown and slippers, TV remote in hand. She twirled her curly, light brown hair with her finger as she watched the latest episode of The Voice. Right in the middle of one contestant’s tone-deaf rendition of Queen’s We are the Champions, the broadcast cut to the local news station. On screen, the anchorman adjusted his tie nervously and said. “We interrupt your regularly scheduled program with an urgent announcement…” “The hell?!” Angela said, putting the remote on the arm of the couch and sitting up. “We’ve received word tonight of a series of strange and disturbing abductions,” the anchorman continued, “all around the city, some kind of spider-like machines are attacking women, wrapping them in plastic cocoons, and absconding with them.” “You’ve got to be shitting me,” Angela snorted, “is this someone’s idea of a bad joke?” “No one knows yet who’s behind these abductions or where these ‘Arachno-Bots’, as they’re being called, came from.” The anchorman wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with a tissue. “Authorities are advising women to stay in their homes and lock their doors. It may be necessary to declare martial law and mobilize National Guard units against these mysterious machines.” Angela heard a noise outside her house and turned off the television. Brushing aside the curtains and glancing out her window, her eyes widened with shock. It hadn’t been a joke after all; there was an army of them on her front lawn and all over the neighborhood! Each of them was as big as a subcompact car, painted a matte black, walked on eight hydraulically-powered legs, and had a head with eight red eye lights and an array of sensors. Several of these Arachno-Bots were already carrying off cocooned women on their backs, wrapped head-to-toe in a white plastic that resembled the pallet wrap used in warehouses. Each cocoon had a breathing tube where the captive’s mouth would logically be. One of the ones not so encumbered turned and started moving towards her front door! “Oh shit!” Angela turned and instinctively ran for her kitchen. She rifled through her cutlery drawer for something to use as a weapon, but none of the knives in the drawer looked like it would do any good against the kind of armor those mechanical monstrosities had. She found herself wishing she hadn’t recently broken up with her boyfriend, Mark. Sure, her friends considered him a kook, but he and that arsenal of guns he so treasured might have come in handy right about now. There was a loud pounding on the front door accompanied by the sound of the metal hinges and other door hardware starting to give way. One of those things was trying to get into the house! She ran out to the garage, looking around desperately for something she could use to fend it off. The best she could find was a rusty sledgehammer among some old tools Mark had left behind when he moved out last week. She glanced up at the hatch in the garage ceiling, and the attic ladder. She thought, If that damned thing wants to get me so bad, make it work for it. Even carrying the sledgehammer in one hand, she practically flew up the ladder and into the attic at the sound of cracking wood and the loud crash as the front door fell to the living room floor. It was in the house now! She quickly closed the attic hatch and hit the light switch. She needed something heavy to move over it as a barricade. Judging by all the noises she could hear below, the Arachno-Bot was already tearing the house apart looking for her. She scanned all the cobweb- and dust-covered junk that was up there with her; the old China cabinet, her grandmother’s old Singer sewing machine, and a vast assortment of cardboard boxes and old luggage. She could only guess at how strong those machines were, but hopefully the combined weight of two or more of those items would slow the mechanized monster that invaded her home long enough for her to come up with an escape plan of some kind. Setting the sledgehammer down over by the boxes, she got behind the China cabinet and pushed it to the hatch with all the strength she could muster. She moved the sewing machine over with it and then piled as many of the old trunks and suitcases as she could on top of them. Other than the garage hatch she had just sealed off, the only other ways in or out of the attic were the roof access hatch over by the chimney and a window that overlooked the backyard. The window was too small for her to squeeze through, so the roof hatch was it, if it came to that. Sitting down on a box by where she put down her only weapon, she listened carefully for any more sounds out of the mechanical intruder downstairs. It was eerily quiet down there. She didn’t enjoy thinking about what damage it was doing to her home, or what it would do to her insurance premiums when it was all over. She’d left her iPhone downstairs in the bedroom, so there was no way to call for help, or even keep herself occupied with a game of Candy Crush. Then the pounding started again and the objects she barricaded the hatch with shook. She jumped to her feet and grabbed the sledgehammer. Damnit, she thought. It knows where I am now! Soon the Arachno-Bot was doing more than just pounding on the hatch, the floor all around it was getting ready to buckle. There was no choice, it was time to get out of there. She ran to the second ladder, climbing up to the roof hatch. She was on the roof next to the chimney. Most of the other Arachno-Bots had, thankfully, taken their prisoners and left the area. Aside from that really persistent intruder who had been bashing it’s way through her home to get at her, there were just two more one street over to the north. One was in someone’s backyard, smashing in a set of sliding glass doors into that house as a tiny Chihuahua in a pink collar barked and growled at it. The other was across the street, attempting to break into a two story McMansion via the stained glass and dark oak front doors. How the hell am I going to get down from here? Angela wondered. Jumping down from the roof of a house, even one only a single story tall, was a great way to get badly injured; it didn’t matter if you tried to land in something soft. But what was the alternative? Other than letting that thing have her? She didn’t have much longer to weigh her options as a massive, hydraulically-powered limb burst through the shingles and, not long after, her pursuer climbed out of the large hole and onto the roof! It glared at her with its eight red eyes and advanced menacingly towards her. It was a small wonder the house didn’t completely collapse from all the damage the bizarre contraption had done. Angela took as strong a stance as she could on the roof’s slope and readied the sledgehammer, resolved to take her best swing at the metal monster’s head as soon as it was in range. But to her dismay, the Arachno-Bot deftly caught the hammer with its front legs and yanked it out of her hands. There she was, disarmed and cornered by the giant spider-like robot with no escape that didn’t entail the risk of broken bones or worse. She was backed up against the bricks of the chimney as it came closer and seized her. As it grappled with her, a hypodermic needle extended out of the head and plunged itself into her thigh. Her body went numb and her limbs no longer obeyed her brain’s commands to move. The Arachno-Bot raised up on four of its legs as the others moved Angela into position beneath its chassis. She was helpless but to watch wide-eyed as a hatch opened and an arm bearing a thick roll of the white plastic extended out. She could see the machine had seven additional rolls onboard as reserves. As the Arachno-Bot’s limbs spun her dizzyingly, the plastic wrapped around her in a single layer from her feet to her shoulders. There was a brief pause as a second, smaller arm placed a breathing tube in her mouth and secured it with medical tape. As the spinning and wrapping resumed, Angela passed out long before the machine finished wrapping her in a grand total of ten head-to-toe layers of plastic. When it was finished with her, it placed her on its back and automatic restraints strapped her down tight. The Arachno-Bot climbed down from the house with its captive and joined the other two as they were leaving with their own captures.

Chapter 2 Steve and Jen had for a number of months been playing around with the machine that could transform them into anything they wished whilst retaining their own consciousness. Steve had recently modified the software that made this device work so that he could manipulate the scans taken of the things they wanted to turn into. It had taken a few months but finally not only could they scan something, they could change it too. Steve had a huge number of test scans he’d taken sneakily of everything from people to objects. A bit like computer aided design, he could take a scanned object and it would be represented on screen as a wireframe. He could click distinct parts of the scan and reshape, resize, or remove things. On a scan of Jen, his wife, he’d edited her body to make her breasts larger. There were so many scans and so many edits the machine was littered with different versions of the things he’d scanned. He intended to clear them out now he had it working but hadn’t gotten around to it. ...

“I’m sorry. I just don’t like you that way.” Matt had heard a variation of those words a few times in his life. As many as the times he tried to approach a girl. The girl looked at him awkwardly saddened as she said those words. They always did. He wasn’t that unattractive, just chubby. But he could never seem cool around girls and most nights ended up with him on the couch, watching anime and movies, or playing video-games. “All these stuck up sluts!” Matt thought to himself. He was fed up with women. Finally, they would pay for rejecting him. ...

There was a new villain plaguing Gotham City, a prankster called Sissyboy. People assumed that he was a protegé of the Joker, because whenever one of his pranks distracted people, the Joker and his henchclowns took advantage of the confusion to pull off one of their capers. It seemed as if Sissyboy could work a strange kind of magic. On one occasion the poles holding streetlights turned to rubber and sagged into the street, blocking traffic. On another occasion the walls of the shower rooms at the Gotham City Country Club turned to the clearest of glass. And during the consequent disruptions the Joker and his crew, cleverly disguised as ordinary people, performed a little magic of their own by making money and jewelry disappear. ...

In the story “Schauerkappe” the narrator described how, through a series of errors, he had become Marla Schauerkappe’s plastic prisoner, had been turned into an inflatable woman by Marla’s teenaged son Dale, and made pregnant with a raincoat, and then, after giving birth to the new raincoat and discovering that Marla and her husband Beaubeau had captured themselves a new pair of inflated plastic prisoners, was scheduled to be married to Dale. This is how the wedding went. ...

Part 1 Kelly and I had done all the preparations for the open house the signs had all been placed and we are open for business. We picked this house for its long driveway and tree line blocking the view of the attached garage which our van was conveniently backed up to the doors of. I walked into the kitchen to find Kelly setting out cookies and Coco as it was a cool day in Arizona. Kelly fully looked the part in her black dress, black stockings, black 6" closed toed platforms, and her black leather gloves. Kelly’s long blonde wig perfectly hid her long dark hair I love so much. She also wore several other false items to throw people off. Me black suit, black wig,black mustache. We quickly before anyone arrived went over the plan, we need 3 choice pieces of ass for our first Internet auction to our overseas friends. We need to be on the same page do as we practiced and get the hell out of here fast before the real realtor comes by. Kelly will show the guest around and open doors etc as she has the gloves on and we don’t want to leave fingerprints. ...

Whew! Jane stands gasping, the walk up the stairs was much more strenuous than she thought it would be. Holding onto the railing with her gloved hand she lets her head clear and gasps for air. Jane’s feet are already hurting from the six inch heels she strapped on this morning while she was feeling daring. Since the hard plastic of her “corset” won’t let her bend far enough to reach her feet and the tight skirt is keeping her knees so close together making it impossible to raise her legs high enough to reach them either. The skirt is under the corset keeping it firmly around her waist she so has no way of removing any of them, that had been the idea. Now Jane is starting to regret choosing these items since she won’t be able to remove them for the next twelve hours at least. Jane smiles as she thinks about being trapped in her clothes for the day and reminds herself that this is what she had wanted and turns and struts into the building with the tiny steps her long tight dress allowed. ...

It all started when I was on lunch break. I was sitting outside eating at a pub when a dark haired beauty walked by and glanced at me. I followed her with my eyes as she walked by. When she was out of sight I resumed eating.I looked down at my plate and took another bite of my food and when I looked up she was sitting in the chair on the other side of my table! “Oh! Hello, I didn’t see you sit down. Can I help you?” I asked, startled. “No, but I think I can help you though Cory.” She said cryptically. “Wha… Do I know you?” I asked. She chuckled darkly then said. “Not yet, but you soon will. More importantly I know what you want more than anything.” As she said this she touched my hand with a lingering touch. The skin where she touched me tingled. Flabbergasted , I pulled my hand back gripping it with my other hand. I looked down at my hand and stunned I saw something strange and amazing! The back of my hand where she touched it had taken on a rubbery shine. I touched the three inch patch and it felt just like rubber! My jaw dropped and I snapped my head back up ready ask her how she did that and she was gone again! I looked back down at my hand to make sure I wasn’t seeing things and the spot was still there. I looked at my phone and saw I needed to get back to work. Work was boring and I kept running a finger over the rubbery spot on my hand the remainder of my shift. I locked the door at closing time and went back to the office to take care of the closing checklist. When I got to the office the dark haired woman was sitting seductively at the desk! “How…How did you get in here?” I stammered. “The how isn’t as important as the why now is it?” She asked with an arch look as she stood up and sauntered to me. She looped her arm around me and traced her finger over the rubber patch on my hand and said. “You haven’t been able to stop thinking about this all day have you?” I shook my head ’no’. “It’s rare to find one like you. I could take control of your body and make you do anything I want but I don’t think I’ll have to, will I?” She asked. Without another word she tapped me on the tip of my nose with one of her long, painted nails and I saw a bright flash of light and it felt like I was falling! I landed softly and I could not move or see! I started panicking and failed around… or at least tried to. I could not move! What the heck happened? What was obscuring my vision? And, and why can’t I feel my limbs?? Whatever was obscuring my vision was lifted off of me and I saw the dark haired woman towering over me and she looked like she was hundreds of feet tall! She reached down and picked me up with her forefinger and thumb and raised me up to her face. As I was being lifted I was upside down like she was holding me by my feet. “Well, aren’t you just a cute little thing.” She said with a wicked grin. She then walked out of the office with me out to the stock room and went directly to a helium tank that we keep for blowing up balloons. She then grabbed me with her other hand and stretched me out and slid me onto the nozzle of the tank! I mentally shuddered. It felt good! She twisted the knob and helium rushed into me causing me to swell and inflate! As I kept swelling the pleasure kept building and just when I thought I could take no more she turned the valve off. She then tied my end in a knot and tied a string to me and let me go letting me float upward! I stopped floating up as I got to the end of the string and bobbed around in the air. She took me back to the office and pointed at my clothes and I watched them disappear. We them left the store and she got into a car with me and drove away. My skin felt stretched to the bursting point and I was disoriented with the bobbing and floating around in the car. Though the near-orgasmic haze I was worried at what was happening. This was one of my deepest fantasies coming to life but the woman, who knows my name and I still don’t know hers has not said another word to me since she transformed me into this balloon. She’s treating me like an object like I am instead of the person I just was. After a while she pulled into a driveway and parked the car in a garage. She grabbed me by my string and walked with me into the house. I spun around a couple of times as I bumped into the top of the doorway as she carried me in. The woman was then addressed by an impossibly proportioned, short nude woman that was standing demurely at the door. “Welcome home Mistress Vanessa. How was your day?” “Oh, Kristina. I see Amy is feeling sentimental again and re-animated you.” Vanessa said in a voice full of scorn. “Yes Mistress Vanessa. I live but to serve both you and Mistress Amy. May I take your coat Mistress?” She asked softly. “(Sigh…) Yes, slave hang my coat up and put this balloon in the bedroom. Amy and I will have fun with it later.” She said. The slave Kristina took me from Vanessa and carried me into a bed room, tied my string to a knob on the dresser and then left the room turning off the light as she went. All I could do is float there, helplessly waiting for someone to come in a do something with me. After some time had passed I was startled back to attention as the light came on and Vanessa came into the room arm and arm with a blonde woman that I assumed was Amy. They were followed by the slave who stood just inside the door and off to the side with the hands clasped in front of her and looking down at her feet. The two women talked softly with each other and then starting kissing each other passionately. After a while Amy broke free and said. “So, who’s the new addition?” “Just someone I ran across that has transformation fantasies.” Vanessa said as she got off the bed and walked over to me grabbing me by the string. “I think his reality will be much different from his fantasy!” She said with a sneer and pointed at me again. I was approximately a foot tall as a balloon and I started changing shape while sinking to the ground. I was stretching out length wise but shrinking in width. Once I got a couple of feet long I started twisting in on my self while I was sinking to the ground. My long body was being twisted more and more rapidly and by the time I touched the ground I was shaped into a balloon man! Once My new ‘feet’ touched the ground I could move again! I looked up with my featureless head and ran as best I could for the door. With an evil chuckle she kicked me up into the air towards Amy who smacked me back into the air to Vanessa. They were playing catch with me! As they kept bouncing me back and forth I kept flailing around trying to escape but my efforts were futile. “You know Vanessa this is fun and all BUT this isn’t why we came in here.” Amy said with an arch look. Vanessa replied in a throaty tone. “Quite right Amy. Let fix that.” And with a negligent flip of her hand I lose the ability to move again. Once again become completely inanimate. Vanessa says. “You too slave.” and in my peripheral vision I see Kristina freeze and take on the shine of plastic. It looked like she was turned into a mannequin! The two women went for what felt like hours on the bed. Eventually they lie still and Amy’s arm lifts lazily from the bed and with a flick of her wrist the lights turn off. Sitting still for a long period of time was boring but I apparently could not sleep in this form so I lay on the ground staring straight ahead all night out into the darkness. Amy got out of the bed in the morning and left the room. Vanessa slowly sat up in bed and stretched languidly and then looked at me. She lifted her arm and I started floating in the air towards her coming to rest in her hand. She then laid back down on her side with me in front of her and said. “What are you thinking in there? Is living out your fantasy living up to your expectations? Or are you scared out of mind and descended into madness now? Heh, want to know something? I don’t CARE what you think. There is absolutely NOTHING you can do to stop me. I could turn you into anything.” She pointed at me and I felt myself loosing shape, becoming cylindrical again. This time I felt more solid and compact, rigid even. She picked me up and walked over to the mirror and held me inf front of it. She turned me into a dildo! With another flick of her wrist I morphed into a bra. Then into an ashtray! With a final flick of her wrist I was a helium filled balloon again. “See, you can be anything I want but I will tell you what you won’t be. I will never turn you back to yourself let alone make you human again. Ever.” She said maliciously, drawing the word ever out evilly. With that she tied a loop into the end of my string slipped it onto the wrist of the slave turned mannequin and left the room. Days passed as both Amy and Vanessa came and went from the room. Neither one paid any attention to me at all. Amy would occasionally stare at the mannequin, affectionately stroke it’s cheek and then move on. Each day I lost a little bit of the helium that kept me afloat and eventually I was almost all the way deflated resting on the ground. With the lack of interaction with anyone I started withdrawing into my mind. I barely noticed the humans coming and going. I just knew that I ‘was’. I existed and that was about it. I barely noticed at first when I was picked up by somebody. I struggled to concentrate and saw a dark haired woman looking at me. What was her name again? ….I can’t…remember. “I think you will do nicely for the party tonight my little sad looking balloon.” She said as she pointed at me. I started gaining size and weight and was becoming some other material than rubber. I became more an more voluminous and eventually folded over on myself, draped across the woman’s arm. She then picked me up by my shoulders and spun me around. She disrobed and slipped her self into me and walked to the mirror. What I saw was beautiful! I was caressing her body as a blue, draped chiffon gown with a built in sash that had a blue fabric rose on the side. “Ah, you turned out well my little balloon! Now let’s go meet Amy at the New Years party! Maybe I can find more victims tonight!” She said with an evil laugh as she grabbed a small blue purse and strode out of the house. The party was long and her and Amy looked like they has a good time. The whole time I was draped over this beautiful woman who I finally remembered as Vanessa it felt like I was being stimulated sexually. The feeling built and built but I never was able to finish. It built so much that I eventually lost track of everything but the pleasure I was feeling. When I came back to my senses such as they were it felt like I was still being worn but in front of me I could see her and Amy sleeping in bed. I took a few minutes but I finally realized I was being ‘worn’ by the mannequin. In the morning the dark haired woman got out of bed and pulled me off the mannequin. While I was draped over her left arm she pointed at the mannequin and it floated up in to the air separating at it’s joint lines as it did. She then flicked her wrist and the pieces of the mannequin flew into the closet and clattered to the ground. She then pulled a hanger out of the closet and slipped it into my shoulders and hung me up in the closet with her other clothes. After the closet door shut I heard her say. “I know I keep asking Love, but don’t you think it’s past time to get rid of the slave?” “Hmm, I suppose you are right. She’s become boring to have around.” Amy replied. A couple of days passed and the closet opened again and I heard the mannequin being re-assembled. The slave sobbed, asking what she did wrong that made them want to get rid of her. They said it was just time to move on and then I only heard Amy and Vanessa talking after that. I heard plastic clunking around and then silence as they walked out of the room. Since then I have heard my owners come and go. I can’t remember their names anymore. They even get clothes out of the closet but they have yet to take me out. All I know now is that I am a beautiful, blue chiffon dress that yearns to be worn again. Yet all I do is hang on my hanger in the dark and wait.

Alice went to work for the company after graduating college as their CPA, as the company grew she became more interested in what they did there. Alice became familiar with all aspects of the company’s operations so she would be more aware of each departments needs to help control costs. When Alice was younger she had developed a fascination with bondage after being in an accident and having to wear a long arm and leg cast for several months she started yearning for prolonged encasement. Alice even tried fiberglass casting and started wearing leg and arm casts for weeks at a time, even to work explaining her previous health problems caused her to need to be casted often due to fragile bones. ...

Lori couldn’t believe it when she saw it in the back room of the metal fabrication shop. It was the full robot suit of fashion designer Thierry Mugler. Lori had been fascinated by the images she had seen of the beautiful models appearing to be sealed inside the shiny skin of steel and plastic since the first time she had ever seen one. Now she was standing in front of one of his creations fully assembled around a mannequin latched to a pedestal staring through the thick plastic that covered the face of the doll inside. ...

This is based on the wrong version of the story originally titled Aschenputtel. Charles Perrault, a member of one the most morally bankrupt institutions in history, the court of Louis XIV, took one of the best fairy tales ever and transformed into an obscene celebration of the values (if one could call them that) of a gang of too-rich, self-indulgent putzes. (If you want to see more on this topic, read “The Uses of Enchantment” by Bruno Bettelheim.) Unfortunately, that’s the version that Disney made into a movie. Charles, dear boy, if you want to fuck up a fairy tale, here’s how to do it right. ...

Linda Danvers sat in her room in the Alpha Lambda sorority house and tried to figure out what had happened earlier in the day. Several times while she had been walking around on the campus of Stanhope College she had felt weak and sick, the symptoms of exposure to kryptonitic radiation. She hoped that nobody had noticed, but puzzled over the fact that she was unable to trace the source of the radiation. But someone had noticed. ...

I am supposed to be Marla Schauerkappe’s plastic prisoner. And even that’s a mistake. I had originally been captured for the pleasure of Marla’s husband Beaubeau. It was a rainy day and I had to go out on some minor errand. I put on my raincoat and went on my way. That’s what got me in trouble. My raincoat is a woman’s raincoat made of soft, skin-smooth, semi-transparent light-blue plastic closed with thumbnail-sized patches of magnetized rubber, each surrounded by a quarter-inch aureole of welded plastic. To make matters worse, I needed a haircut: my hair puffed out the raincoat’s pixie-style hood. So it was kind of understandable that Beaubeau would mistake me for a woman. ...

Alice was waiting at her semi-detached house for a very kinky gift. She was walking back and forward in only her dressing gown as the clock kept ticking. Her house was right in the centre of Oxford and was hard to find. It was a maze of houses and other buildings. Alice was a sexy 23 year old and had curves in all the right places. Her long red hair was folded over left eye and dropped down her back. Her bright eyes were a beautiful blue colour and was surrounded by black mascara. She had a beautiful face and an amazing body. Her long legs and high heels made her look tall and sexy. Her ass was round and rock hard. Her pussy was tight and shaved. Alice was a sex bomb on legs with a long list of kinky fetishes. ...

Livi was having a great time on the dance floor of her local club in the heart of Luton. She called the large Bedfordshire town, home for over two years. She lived in student accommodation on Guildford street which was almost in the town centre. It would only been a short 5 minute walk back to her warm bed. She did the last couple of shots of the night and headed outside. It was a cold night and she was wearing very little clothing. She had gone out dressed like a right slut with a high heels, see through top, black bra and a leggings. ...

I gazed with longing at the slim figure that was arrayed in the most up-to-date, fashionable clothes, with the lovely hair that was so perfectly trimmed and cut, and the perfect face with it’s lovely pursed lips and wide open, innocent eyes. I turned my gaze away from the mannequin in the shop window and looked at my girlfriend who was in so many ways just as lovely, just as desirable, as the object in the window. More so in fact, for she was warm, living flesh, and the dummy was just cold, hard plastic. Unlike me Julia was simply interested in the fashions that the dummies disported. She looked straight past the dummies that were dressed in them, and of course she knew nothing of my most secret desires. ...

Tina loved all things plastic, all her furniture and everything she wore was plastic, she didn’t know why she had started as a child wearing plastic rain coats and progressed from there. Now 24 Tina only wore plastic, vinyl and PVC clothes and shoes, her favorites were all clear but she could only wear clear underwear outside her house with colored items on top but when she was home she almost always slipped into something clear or transparent that hugged her body making her feel wonderful as she walked around in her high heels. Tina had many cat suits and tried to wear one everyday loving the way they hugged her entire body and would get all foggy the longer she wore them. ...

This is a continuation of “Part 5: Departing Events,” which you’ll find posted here. This is a work of fiction of a sexual nature with mature themes. If that’s not your cup of tea (we’ll ignore the obvious question as to why you’re visiting this site), read something else. If you think this is you - it’s not because I don’t know anyone that’s ever had this happen to them. Copyright remains with me unless specifically released, although reposting to sites without any membership fees is permitted. ...

Kuro cautiously slipped his hand around the dirty brass handle of his bed-side drawer. Disturbed by a natural creaking, the squimish man retracted his hand and slipped under the covers of his king-sized bed, the drawer left half open. Once the man’s fear had vanished, he returned to his stealthy action only to be betrayed by the rickety brass handle. Kuro paused, brushed back his thick and untamed brown hair, and continued. The two floor house was as empty as a poor man’s garage. When he had decided the coast was clear, the drawer was pulled to succession, and in the dim light produced by his bedroom lamp, a rectangular box sat in the compartment of the open drawer. ...

Lit by the rays of the morning sun, the city’s flags and banners waved their defiance for the invading army assembled outside the gate. As if in response, the army’s own flags and pennants waved every bit as defiantly. The approaching observer smiled at the martial sight. As he approached, however, he began to realize that something wasn’t quite right. Other than the waving of flags, all was unusually still for the beginning of a battle. Frowning, he picked up his pace slightly. ...

Our story begins on a quiet Sunday afternoon. Sarah was doing a few things around her small apartment that she shared with her boyfriend, Jim. Nothing really important, just getting some odd jobs accomplished, while Jim meanwhile was down the street at the bar watching the game with his buddies. While Sarah was futzing around the apartment she decided that she was going to try to break her boyfriend’s computer password while he wasn’t home. It was a game that had been going on for as long as they were dating. Both of them had their own laptops and neither knew the others password, so whenever they had time and the other wasn’t around they tried to figure out the password that would unlock all of the secrets that they wanted to know. ...

(story continues from Away On Business 9: Bag To Bag) WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death. In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. Authors Note: Just as a background whenever I was away on business Diane used to send me horny emails, often I would read these during meetings etc. As you can imagine it was quite distracting to say the least. I have made them into this series of stories called ‘Away on Business’. I bet you wished your girlfriend sent you horny emails like this when you were away on business! ...

“Shit!” Murray played the traffic, found a gap and made a u-turn, headed back to the lab. He was supposed to send Syd a report and he had forgotten. Didn’t see the point, actually. But the Magnus 360 was making them rich and if the boss was a micromanager, well, so be it. Syd was supposed to be on vacation. Key word: supposed. Oh well. Murray pulled into the lot, let himself in the front door. There was no security to speak of other than a few locks. The industrial complex had guards, but they stayed outside. As he passed Syd’s office he glanced at the bank of monitors on the wall. The cameras weren’t for security, it was just Syd’s way of keeping an eye on things. Murray stopped. Someone was at Dick’s workstation - and it wasn’t Dick. ...

WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death Master Ian prepares his new little slave girl for her captivity. This play is going to be one of endurance and layered confinement. Combining all of her masters techniques both in breath play and bondage. Jenni’s body shivers in anticipation at what is to come. So many items laid out on the bed, she gulps at the mere thought of being encased in all that. ...

“Fuck!” Frank slammed his fist on the table. My, thankfully, empty foam cup bounced and hit the floor. I retrieved it. “She’s going to shut us down! The fucking bitch is going to shut us down!” “It’s not her.” “The fuck it ain’t. Yeah, I know, it’s Martin, but she’s his hatchet man. What the fuck does Sylvia see in him?” I shrugged. “She’s in love.” “With that scumbag? Doesn’t she have eyes? I mean come on!” ...

(story continues from Trip to the Carnival 4) Part Five I am here upon the final bidding stage. The presenter is talking about me like I am the hottest play toy on the planet. I am getting anxious and I hope my new owner treats me better than the hell training I went through over the past weeks. As I am being described there are videos being presented of my training including the previous tryout sessions. Then as the final video of me in the cage I was in earlier is played, a variety of bondage equipment is brought up onto the stage for me to be locked into. I then am walked over and I am locked onto a horse bench and my arms and legs are locked into place. I instinctively raise my head so there is total access to my awaiting mouth hole. The presenter expresses how obedient I am with anxiousness to have my face fucked. He calls upon the audience to see if there are anyone that would like a personal demonstration. This seemed out of the ordinary since the only testers before now have been current bidders. A group of young adults shout and holler for their friend to give me a try. This young man comes up onto the stage and is asked his name and age. I learn that it is his eighteenth birthday today and is also a virgin. This made the audience laugh a little. He is then asked if he wants to fuck my face or fuck my pussyhole. He gladly wants to fuck my awaiting face. He strips down and he gets erect extremely fast and you can see his precum just ready to drip. The announcer tells the young man to get his precum cleaned up by my tongue. He then walks over and sticks his medium sized cock into my face and I stick my tongue out and I cleaned the precum off like a champion. This I know made him even more excited as more precum came dripping out. After I had cleaned off the precum he was told to go ahead and fuck my face any way he liked and not to worry as I have been trained properly to breathe. He proceeded to fuck my face slow then fast for a minute and then I could tell he was about to blow his load. He shoved it in as hard as he could then I felt what seemed like a good ounce or so of cum shoot down my throat and as he pulled out of my throat he squirted even more into my mouth. He pulled out all the way and was getting ready to leak onto the stage. The announcer yelled at him to get me to finish the cum out of him. After I had sucked out the rest of the cum he asked the announcer where the bathroom was because he had to piss really bad now. Laughter came from the announcer and told the young man that if he wanted to he could use my pussyhole as a toilet for the next demonstration. I could see he was puzzled and walked behind me and tried to stick it in soft, which didn’t work too easily but he got it in me. A moment later I felt the warm stream of piss shoot into my bowels and started to moan instinctively and the microphone was put in front of me so the audience could hear my moans of pleasure, or actual misery. This made the entire audience cheer with pleasure. He pulled out and a butt plug was put inside my pussyhole so I would not leak any of it. I saw someone bring over the penis drinking unit that I had to drink from while I was in my cage earlier and I could only imagine what was next. How wrong I was. A pitcher was put behind me and the butt plug was pulled out and I was told to slowly release my piss enema. I did my best as I was told and I was able to fulfill the request. The penis drinking gag was put into my mouth and a clamp on the hose was clicked and I watched in horror when the piss enema I just received was being poured into the funnel. After the pitcher was empty the young man was asked to release it into my mouth.. It flowed slowly into my mouth and it was one of the vilest things I have ever had to endure, I would rather of had the bowl of cum on the one demonstration night. After I had finished of my drink, the final bidders were now able to give me one final test drive if they so chose to. The slave boys had fun fucking my face and fucking my pussyhole while their master whipped my back. You could hear the whipping noise throughout the entire hall and my moaning sounds of pain and pleasure where again being amplified by the microphone being shoved in my face. After they both came on command of their master they were told to clean up after each other. The one slave that was behind me moved in front of me and twice versa. My pussy hole was being cleansed by the slaves tongue; let me tell you this was the most enjoyment I had since I was allowed to eat that pussy a couple weeks back. The other slave started to help clean out cum that was in my mouth as well. This was the first time I could feel my trapped penis trying it’s best to get hard as this was very pleasurable. After they were done there was one last tester out and it was the girl slave that I hope and pray wins me. She wanted the penis add-on demonstrated. I was unlocked from the horse and this penis attachment was put on me, it was great to actually see a penis, even though it was fake, down where mine was trapped in plastic. She herself put a strap-on on herself and we were then positioned in a way the she could fuck my pussyhole and she would be fucked in the ass. She went to work on me like she had done this a thousand times before. Her screams of excitement overpowered my moans of pleasure. Her master wanted to get some action to while she was doing her work. He stuck his cock into my mouth and I did as I was taught to and sucked on it as he partially fucked my mouth. No sooner after he came into my mouth she came as well. He made her clean off his cock and the crowed murmured in disappointment as they wanted to see me the main attraction clean it off. After she had finished cleaning her master, I was made to clean her strap-on and clean her as well. I loved this and my excitement surely told everyone I loved it. I can’t believe I am almost happy about being this fuck and suck doll soon to be owned by someone in a dungeon or something else. After the cleaning was over I was to sit back down on the couch and the final bidding proceeded. The bidding went up to $225,000 and by $100 the slave girl won me. This made me have butterflies in my stomach and I was happy with joy that a girl would own me and not some guy. I also could not believe that bids would exceed $100,000 because not even Real Dolls cost anywhere near that much, but I am alive inside and they are not so I guess that’s what made the difference. After the auction was over I was taken into the backroom ready to be packaged up for delivery. A white flower dress was put on me, something similar to what you’d see at a wedding, and white tights and black shiny shoes were put on me. A practice feeding cock was strapped onto my mouth and I could tell the feeding cock was filled with cum, I was told it was from a majority of the attendees that were in the audience and I should have my fulfillment of protein. I was then made to stand against some cardboard and some straps came through attaching me to the cardboard. I then saw a box slightly bigger than me with my pictures and description of the fuck n suck doll all over it with a clear plastic window on the front. I was actually being packaged up like a real doll would at a toy store. My new owners soon arrived after my packaging was finished. A dolly was brought over to transport me to their truck so I could go home with them. I and my box were wheeled out to their truck and I was lifted up and was strapped to the bed of the truck standing up. A few straps were put into place so I would not fall over. As they drove off I could see everything from the back of the truck including all the traffic on the highway and everyone driving could see me inside the box. My cum feeding gag wasn’t emptying as fast as I had hoped, there must be at least a gallon of cum in that thing or something since it hasn’t been finished and we’ve been driving for over an hour. They pull off onto an exit and drive down some inner city streets then down a side street. They finally pull into a driveway and I believe they have reached their destination. I am then escorted into the house and brought to her room. I see many sex toys and other dungeon style equipment in here and I try to smile with glee but with the feeding gag in you can’t tell anyway. As the girl opens my box up her master brings in a round pedestal which looks like a big doll stand with a collar and hook in the middle. There is also a rod that goes up half way that comes from the center of the pedestal. I am then carried over to the pedestal and my feet are locked down to the base and the collar is locked onto my neck. The middle hook goes around my waist and is tightened up making me more or less immobile much like a doll would on a smaller display. The slave girl grabs a box for her master and opens it up and I see some dildos inside of it. She carries one over to her master and he goes behind me fiddling with the rod and to my surprise the dildo is hooked up to it and shoved into my pussyhole. The master walks around and looks at me in the face and tells me to blink once for slow and easy or 2 blinks for fast and hard. I blink once so I do not get abused like I have been over the past weeks. A switch is flipped and I am now being fucked by a machine and it goes in and out of me 4 times every minute. A plexiglass covering with holes on it is put around me so I am on display like a true collector’s doll. Before a door is closed on me my feeding cock gag is removed. The door closed and locked and a tiny little display light is turned on above my head. The girl talks to me through the plexiglass and says ‘Pleasant dreams and we will have more fun tomorrow like we did earlier today!’ And with that they both left the room and shut off the main light and I am left alone on display with many sex items in the shadows to look at and to ponder my new owned future.

‘Hi, Miss, I’d like to ship these packages. They’re all going to different addresses — I’m going …’ ‘Miss? You mean you honestly don’t recognize me?’ ‘Um…” I said, struggling to place her. She looked like the kind of girl a guy wouldn’t forget. Piercing, intelligent green eyes, a pretty face with a mischievous smile, framed by a stylish cut of red hair. A couple of years younger than me, probably right out of college. I wanted to meet her penetrating gaze, but I couldn’t stop glancing down at her hands, their perfect, elongated ovals painted an insistent emerald, to match her eyes. If she noticed the attention I paid them, she didn’t give any sign of it. Instead, she kept right on talking, enjoying her advantage. ...

The Doll Factory 7: Anatomically Incorrect AmyAmy F/f; M+/f; plastic; machines; bodymod; dollsuit; latex; leather; bond; cons/reluct; X continued from part 6 Part 7: Anatomically Incorrect Once again I’m sitting in the ADAM chair. It’s now the third day. Mercifully, I haven’t spoken with the Doctor for two whole days. I have just descended from another trip to heaven. Perhaps it will be my last. Lauren should have made her move by now. Something has gone wrong, I know it. I think that now it’s far too late for her to rescue me, but she could still do … something. ...

The Doll Factory 6: Only Myself to Blame AmyAmy F/f; M+/f; D/s; bond; bdsm; plastic; machines; chast; hum; mast; mc; bodymod; cons/reluct; X continued from part 5 Part 6: Only Myself to Blame Four weeks have passed. It seems something is holding up progress on the project. Jared is becoming increasingly tense. Every night without fail, for twenty-seven nights, the Doctor, or as I must call her outside of work, Mistress Alex, has come to my house. The routine is always the same: Mistress Alex arrives a short time after I cable myself spread-eagled on the bed, she removes my chastity belt and I sixty-nine with Susie – as I have grown accustomed to calling Susan the not-as-perfect-as-I-first-thought receptionist. ...

This is a story about a song we all know and have most likely sung in a drunken stupor at some karaoke bar. Hotel California, you can check out but you can never leave, to be exact. Set just outside of Vegas, this small 3 storey hotel was a beautiful sight. Although it was not as grand as the Luxor or the palace, it had its own appeal of being a nice quiet place to relax to or so our poor Eddie thought. ...

“Are we ready?” Trish looked at Amanda with a mixture of eagerness and trepidation. She’d never dreamed her blurted tale of fascination with bondage would lead to this. She had, after all, been at least partly drunk from the wine the two friends had been drinking. Trish still wasn’t sure how the conversation got onto the topic of bondage, but, her inhibitions dulled by the wine, she’d told Amanda all about her desire to experience the helplessness of being bound. ...

“I’m back!” BP felt butterflies jump in his stomach as he heard his wife, soon-to-be dominatrix, call to him from the door of their vacation cabin. As Cassie stood in the doorway, she locked eyes with BP, who was currently relaxing on the couch, trying to put out with his best pouty, puppy-dog face. “Oh no no, that won’t work now,” Cassie said firmly as she walked into their bedroom, “you’re mine now, you already had your naughty way with me… I know you haven’t forgotten already.” BP certainly had not forgotten. ...

One morning, Barbie woke up as—Barbie. Everything in her life had been normal up until then. She had played with Barbies as a little girl, and had badgered her parents into getting her the Barbie Dream Condo, the Barbie sports car, and the Barbie airplane. Then she had grown up, gone to college, gotten a predictably boring job, and had forgotten all about her doll collection. Until this morning, when she woke up in a very hard bed. Solid plastic, in fact. She stood up, and staggered about a little. Suddenly she realized that her body had been re-shaped. Now she had two big pointed breasts (with no nipples) and an absurdly narrow waist. Her legs were incredibly long—almost half her body height. Her skin was smooth and a uniform beige,. And her hair was thick, blonde, lustrous, and hung in waves well down the middle of her back. ...

Nick searched up and down the long isles of the Fetish Emporia and he still wasn’t sure if this was a sex shop or a practical joke store. The customers being the butt of the joke. Seriously, he thought as he picked up a box, do they expect me to believe this? Nick had decided to leave and somehow avoid that pushy and intimidating owner Ms. White. She had practically pounced on him the moment he came in, politely asking him if he needed help but giving him the heebies and the jeebies with her magnificent navy blue suit and piercing intelligent eyes. ...

“Shall we begin?” Nervously, she nodded. This had long been one of her greatest fantasies, and now, thanks to him, it was about to come true. Now, with growing excitement, she watched him prepare. She stood, as commanded, beside the bed, the air cool on her naked flesh. Also as commanded, she had attached clamps to her nipples, the chain moving gently as she breathed, the dull throb from her hardened buds only heightening an arousal already growing from the simple thought of what was to happen next. ...

‘I am disappointed in you, Paolo. Very disappointed.’ Paolo looked at his uncle without fear. He has seen grown men, strong men, shiver with fright facing Don Enrico, but not Paolo. He had been stupid of course. He should have made that drugs delivery last night as his uncle had told him to do; a delivery worth millions is not something to take lightly. Instead, he had become distracted by the blond bimbo, who had clung to him in the club. Like any hot blooded 21-year old Italian stud, he was easily distracted by his loins. His mind wandered over the events of the night before. How she had flirted with him on the dance floor, cupping his balls and leaving him in no doubt she was offering more. He had taken her back to his apartment, tied her to his bed and fucked her raw for so long that he couldn’t remember how often he had cum. In the beginning she had been more than willing, if slightly uneasy because of the bondage. He distinctly remembered how he had penetrated her every orifice with his manhood; a tool so big it could challenge a donkey’s. She had begged him not to when he had turned her over and lined up the big pole with her virgin arsehole, but he had just laughed and taken her roughly, ramming half his length into her with a single mighty push. ...

‘I am disappointed in you, Paolo. Very disappointed.’ Paolo looked at his uncle without fear. He has seen grown men, strong men, shiver with fright facing Don Enrico, but not Paolo. He had been stupid of course. He should have made that drugs delivery last night as his uncle had told him to do; a delivery worth millions is not something to take lightly. Instead, he had become distracted by the blonde bimbo, who had clung to him in the club. Like any hot blooded 21-year old Italian stud, he was easily distracted by his loins. His mind wandered over the events of the night before. How she had flirted with him on the dance floor, cupping his balls and leaving him in no doubt she was offering more. He had taken her back to his apartment, tied her to his bed and fucked her raw for so long that he couldn’t remember how often he had cum. In the beginning she had been more than willing, if slightly uneasy because of the bondage. He distinctly remembered how he had penetrated her every orifice with his manhood; a tool so big it could challenge a donkey’s. She had begged him not to when he had turned her over and lined up the big pole with her virgin arsehole, but he had just laughed and taken her roughly, ramming half his length into her with a single mighty push. ...

WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death. ‘I am disappointed in you, Paolo. Very disappointed.’ Paolo looked at his uncle without fear. He has seen grown men, strong men, shiver with fright facing Don Enrico, but not Paolo. He had been stupid of course. He should have made that drugs delivery last night as his uncle had told him to do; a delivery worth millions is not something to take lightly. Instead, he had become distracted by the blonde bimbo, who had clung to him in the club. Like any hot blooded 21-year old Italian stud, he was easily distracted by his loins. His mind wandered over the events of the night before. How she had flirted with him on the dance floor, cupping his balls and leaving him in no doubt she was offering more. He had taken her back to his apartment, tied her to his bed and fucked her raw for so long that he couldn’t remember how often he had cum. In the beginning she had been more than willing, if slightly uneasy because of the bondage. He distinctly remembered how he had penetrated her every orifice with his manhood; a tool so big it could challenge a donkey’s. She had begged him not to when he had turned her over and lined up the big pole with her virgin arsehole, but he had just laughed and taken her roughly, ramming half his length into her with a single mighty push. ...

also appears trashcan stories Times are tough. Perhaps that goes without saying, but for Delia and Jim, it was doubly true. They’d both just been laid off. They’d met quite a few years back at a local bondage club, and had hit it off immediately. Both Delia and Jim were switches, and their kinks overlapped in many different, wonderful ways, but like everyone, there were a few kinks they didn’t totally share. Both were totally into bondage, but Jim was into latex, and Delia didn’t really have a thing for it. Her kink of kinks was objectificaiton. She loved being turned into an object - furniture, art, or her deepest most secret kink, trash. ...

Times are tough. Perhaps that goes without saying, but for Delia and Jim, it was doubly true. They’d both just been laid off. They’d met quite a few years back at a local bondage club, and had hit it off immediately. Both Delia and Jim were switches, and their kinks overlapped in many different, wonderful ways, but like everyone, there were a few kinks they didn’t totally share. Both were totally into bondage, but Jim was into latex, and Delia didn’t really have a thing for it. Her kink of kinks was objectificaiton. She loved being turned into an object - furniture, art, or her deepest most secret kink, trash. ...

Times are tough. Perhaps that goes without saying, but for Delia and Jim, it was doubly true. They’d both just been laid off. They’d met quite a few years back at a local bondage club, and had hit it off immediately. Both Delia and Jim were switches, and their kinks overlapped in many different, wonderful ways, but like everyone, there were a few kinks they didn’t totally share. Both were totally into bondage, but Jim was into latex, and Delia didn’t really have a thing for it. Her kink of kinks was objectificaiton. She loved being turned into an object - furniture, art, or her deepest most secret kink, trash. ...

This is a continuation of “Part 3: Events Unfolding,” which you’ll find posted here. This is a work of fiction of a sexual nature with mature themes. If that’s not your cup of tea (we’ll ignore the obvious question as to why you’re visiting this site), read something else. If you think this is you - it’s not because I don’t know anyone that’s ever had this happen to them. Copyright remains with me unless specifically released, although reposting to sites without any membership fees is permitted. ...

This is a continuation of “Part 4: Another Turn of Events,” which you’ll find posted here. This is a work of fiction of a sexual nature with mature themes. If that’s not your cup of tea (we’ll ignore the obvious question as to why you’re visiting this site), read something else. If you think this is you - it’s not because I don’t know anyone that’s ever had this happen to them. Copyright remains with me unless specifically released, although reposting to sites without any membership fees is permitted. ...

(story continues from The Neighbor’s Secret) Chapter 2 - Spring Cleaning I was hot, and sweaty, and smelly, and sticky, and really really trapped. And I loved it. Shelly had caught me in her trashcan the night before, and said if I stayed until morning, I was stuck. She kept true to her word, and now I was locked in here and had a bunch of heavy bags on top of and around me. There was still a bit of room in her big can, but with the lid locked shut and my collar locked to the side of the can, there wasn’t very far for me to go anyway. I shifted about a bit. It had been a few hours since Shelly locked me in, and I was getting a little sore. I managed to shift over to my side and curl up fetal style and got quite comfortable again. Thankfully this trash was mostly soft and squishy. I was a mess. Drool had been running around my gag for ages, and I was covered in something slippery and wet. There were also some bodily functions that I’d had to take care of as well, but thankfully they were a bit out of sight and out of mind, buried as I was in the plastic bags, and I’d gotten quite used to the smell of old food and sweaty, gross boy in here with me. I imagined anyone who opened the lid at this point might have a different opinion. I laughed to myself that I’d created a “bog of eternal stench” all my own. Thank god I didn’t have any urge to go number two! The slippery sheen that covered me and the plastic that squeezed into me just keep getting me hard, and I was stroking myself languidly when I heard the screen door open and slam again. There was the sound of a key in the lock that kept me prisoner here. Well, one of the locks anyway, even with the lid open, I was still trapped by the chain at my collar, and the garbage itself was starting to pin me in pretty well. With a “whump!” I felt a heavy new weight on top of me, pretty much ensuring that even unlocked it would now be tricky to get out of here. “Spring cleaning, I’m finally getting rid of some of this old junk before company comes tonight” With that, the lid slammed shut, and I heard her press it down and lock it again. Company? She was having company? I don’t know about this - getting caught in here by someone who doesn’t get my kink is not exactly my idea of fun. I squirmed a bit and managed to get my hands up to my collar. I felt around it, tugged and pulled, but there was no getting out of it without something to cut it with. I was really stuck, and I didn’t want to be. As soon as that thought hit the reptile part of my brain, any desire to get unstuck was banished, and I was so caught up in getting myself off that I barely registered when the can opened again, this time to let in a huge bag that Shelly had to squish down with the lid to lock. I could barely move and when I came, I kicked and bucked and thrashed like a madman, but I think I only moved about a centimeter. Once again, the adrenaline of peaking meant a quick flood of “what the hell am I doing here.” This time, I’d slept enough, however, so instead of drifting into a happy, warm, trashy sleep, I began to really want out. My jaw was aching, and I it was really hard to move now, and my neck was tweaked a little. Shelly came back with yet another bag to pile on top, and I mewled a bit as she opened the lid. “Oh, is the trash getting tired of it’s game?” She asked. “Mmm hmm” I grunted. “Okay, let’s get some of that trash off you.” I heaved a sigh of relief, and as the top three bags were removed, I was able to flex and stretch muscles that sorely needed it. Suddenly, I heard a “bzz-ching-ching-ching” and before I realized what was happening, I felt my collar tug my head towards the side of the can, and I bumped my head. I went to sit up, but the chain held fast. My loose tether was now a strict lock to the side of the can. So much for moving and stretching. “You know, I was impressed until this point, but I should have known that trash can’t remember rules. I said if trash tries to get out before it’s time, I’ll have to make sure it’s nice and secure. Now you’ll stay just like that until I’m ready to let you out.” I was amazed. How the hell could I be this hard again already? Shelly looked into the can and grinned a toothy, dangerous grin at me. I must have looked a sight, sweaty and matted and half-covered in trashbags up to my chest, but she looked at me with a kinky lust plain in her eyes. “Now that you can’t turn your head away towards the airholes, we’ll have to make sure you’ve got some air in there.” She slammed the lid and disappeared momentarily. When she returned she had a black rubber full-head gasmask that she pulled on my head right over my gag. I’d worn this hood many times before and knew that it would definitely keep me in fresh air as long as it led outside the can. I also knew the thing was airtight. As if on queue, Shelly had gotten the airhose hooked into one of the bigger holes she’d drilled and promptly closed it off. I began to struggle for air and was now throbbing painfully. Bags rained down on top of me once more, this time pinning my back to the side of the can, and pressing the gasmask against my face even as I tried desperately to breathe air that wasn’t coming. I was really struggling now, and Shelly was packing that top garbage bag back on and clamping the lid shut. Only after I heard the thud of the lock did she open my airhose again, and I gasped through the hood. The next few hours were a blur, but I’d managed to resist the urge to go over the edge and out of subspace. Shelly came out a few times to pack yet more trash in and play with my breathing hose here and there. Finally, I felt her open the lid and heard her talk to me. “Well, this is a no-return point. Company will be here in 15 minutes, and there’s no way I can get you out, cleaned up and hidden or out of here before then, so you’re officially my trash for the rest of the night. You’d better not make a sound unless you want to be found out for the trash you really are.” She paused, and I could feel her pressing and bumping against the can. “oh… Oh… Okay, trash. Here’s..” She panted.. “Here’s my rules. You’re mine until garbage collection. I put the can out to the curb Sunday night, so I’ll let you out before then.” She panted again, and I felt the side of the can bump. “Oooh. Oh. I’ll let you out then if you’re good, that is.. Oooooh” Shelly continued to moan, and I felt the airhose go shut once more. “Trash breathes when I tell it it can” She moaned, and then moaned louder again until she came to a crescendo and I heard her clamp her hand over her mouth as she screamed in orgasm. She seemed to go on and on, and my air had long since run out. I was now thrashing trying to get my hands up, made trickier by the fact that I was also moments away from cuming myself, and couldn’t seem to get my hands to do anything more useful than what they were currently occupied doing. Finally, fresh air hissed into the hose and I drank it into my lungs in great heaves. Just then, the doorbell rang. “Shit. They’re early. Well, now you’re really stuck!” She said, and I felt the lid press down on me and the trash once more, locking in place. Squished in as I was, I couldn’t quite get enough movement to bring myself off, and frustrated, I played with myself idly as time went by. After a few hours, I heard someone say something like, “Be a doll and bring this down to the garbage can?” and then footsteps and the screen door again. “Huh, I wonder why she locks this?” I heard a male voice say. I sat motionless, terrified of being discovered. Little did I know that I was all but invisible, buried deep in trashbags. The only visible weirdness was the lock on the can and the air holes in the back, well obscured from casual view. “She said something about raccoons, and that it was really full.” a female voice said. I felt the lid open, and then something unexpected. The pressure all around me built up as if the trash was a balloon inflating, trapping me against the side of the can. The guy stuffing the trash in was pushing this new bag in and down wherever he could, and the trash in here with me already was now completely mashed into me. “Here, help me with this,” he said as he squeezed the lid down. Even more pressure built up, and then I heard that familiar “click thud” of the lock shutting. I couldn’t move at all. Thankfully, there was no more trash, although I did hear a few people walk through the garage in various states of drunkness and felt one bump into my can and play with the lock, dropping it against the can. It was a girl and a guy, and I could hear them flirting, as she leaned against the can and played with my lock. “So what’s with the locked trashcan? That thing’s huge!” “I don’t know. Maybe that’s where she keeps the bodies!” the guy said, and they both laughed. “Well, knowing Shelly, I wouldn’t put it past her.” they laughed again, and I felt a bump and then my can tilted a little. I think they were actually making out right there against the trash can I was in, with no idea. After a while they started talking again, and the conversation turned to sex, as it often does. Strangely enough, it soon turned to bondage and the girl admitted to enjoying being tied up or even put in a cage. “Well, I don’t know about a cage, but there’s this can here” “Ew gross, it’s probably all stinky in there!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! Here I was locked in the thing and they were talking about playing in it themselves! “Well, it does have a lock on it - who knows, there could be someone in there right now.” They laughed again at the absurdity of the thought. I just sat there thinking, “if they only knew!” Someone called to them and they disappeared, and I was left to my own devices. I drifted off a bit, but woke with a start as I needed to move badly now and everything was sore. It’s hard to tell time when you’re just part of the trash, but presumably a few hours later I felt my lid open, and then some of the pressure around me eased. “So, how’s it feel to be used as trash by strangers?” “Mmmm” I said. I was sore, but this had still been amazing More bags came out until I was once again half covered, and I felt the chain at my neck go slack, but not totally released. “So, I have a proposition for you,” Shelly said. I looked up at her through the lenses of the mask. “I can let you out tonight, and you can sneak home and clean yourself up, but that’s that for this weekend… But here’s the thing. I still can’t get over how sexy I find owning you as my trash, and I want you to stay. I’ll leave you with some room and comfy in there, and I promise I’ll reward you beyond your wildest dreams tomorrow if you stay as my trash tonight. What do you say?… One grunt to get out, two to stay.” I didn’t know what I wanted. I grunted once and looked up at her. She was expectant and starting to look crestfallen. Once again hearing Shelly talk about owning me and that I was her trash had turned on that wonderfully stupid part of my brain. I grunted a second time, and she squealed! “Ohh! I knew it you little trash-slut. You just can’t get enough, can you? You’re the best.” She reached in and pulled off the hood which had gotten stifling and hot. With her copy of my key, she undid the gag I’d been wearing for far too long with an admonition that trash doesn’t speak, “unless it wants to be packed in again for real”. After drinking a bunch of gatorade she offered, I stretched my jaw and curled up among the soft bags, and felt one big, warm squishy one land back on top of me. “Well, I’m going to go sleep off this party and dream of you being my trash down here. A girl could get used to this. Wait til’ you see what I’ve got cooked up for my trash tomorrow. I promise it’ll be worth it!” I didn’t dare speak to tell her that it already was. She closed the lid, pressed it down, and locked it for the last time that night. “g’night trash.” Did you like chapter 2? Let me know at [email protected], and let me know what you’d like in part 3. Here’s a rough outline of the rest of the story Chapter three - lazy sunday Possible Sequel: a weeks vacation ? ...

This is a continuation of “Part 2: Developing Events,” which you’ll find posted here. This is a work of fiction of a sexual nature with mature themes. If that’s not your cup of tea (we’ll ignore the obvious question as to why you’re visiting this site), read something else. If you think this is you - it’s not because I don’t know anyone that’s ever had this happen to them. Copyright remains with me unless specifically released, although reposting to sites without any membership fees is permitted. Part 3: Events Unfolding ...

I was amazed at last I had a decent job, for ages I had applied for every job in the local paper, but they always found one excuse after another for saying, “Sorry you are not suitable.” or “Oh so sorry the vacancy has just been filled.” I had applied at the North Wales Research Institute for Advanced Bionics for the position of security guard working nights, I was told at the interview the plant was mass producing and making simple machines to do simple jobs automatically for homes all around the world, it seemed ok to me. ...

I enjoy bondage, and if I can’t find someone to help out, it has to be self-bondage. Not always a good idea, especially when ‘The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft a gley’ (with apologies to Robert Burns). In other words, if something can go wrong, it will go wrong. I remember one occasion when it did just that, but with a not altogether unsatisfactory ending as it eventually turned out. ...

The e-mail came just two days after my first story (The Mummy’s Dream) appeared on Gromet’s Plaza. Gromet had warned me in his e-mail about the dangers of allowing my e-mail to be use with the story. Any body could get hold of it and there are some strange people out there in cyberspace. The e-mail didn’t seem strange. It was from a lady called Mary. The e-mail simply said she lived nearby and had similar interest in plastic and mummification. If I liked we could correspond by e-mail. ...

The e-mail came just two days after my first story (The Mummy’s Dream) appeared on Gromet’s Plaza. Gromet had warned me in his e-mail about the dangers of allowing my e-mail to be use with the story. Any body could get hold of it and there are some strange people out there in cyberspace. The e-mail didn’t seem strange. It was from a lady called Mary. The e-mail simply said she lived nearby and had similar interest in plastic and mummification. If I liked we could correspond by e-mail. ...

“Girls Gone Kinky” the radio announcer said. “Tomorrow night at the Johnson warehouse, ‘Girls gone Kinky’ will be shooting their Halloween edition. Free admission to girls in costumes. Door open at 6:00 Happy hour all night long. Cash awards to the lucky girls chosen to be in the video.” Sue turned off the car radio and thought about attending the out of season event. It was after all spring break weekend and she had not done anything wild all week or even semester. She felt it was time she cut loose. Halloween in March sounded like the perfect event and a shot at some money wouldn’t be all bad either. ...

2006 Shadowplay Imaging Mummification Story Contest Entrant This is the tale of being caught out during a self bondage session. My wife, Anne, will join in my games occasionally, but not as often as I would like, and is more playful as a sub in bondage, rather than enjoying my taste for rubber and bondage. Although she is quite understanding of my self bondage sessions; while she is out at work, she likes to know when I am up to my solo pleasures. ...

I have been into self-bondage for most of my life. I started off as a kid using the dog lead to tie myself up. When I got married I tried to get my wife to help me. Once or twice she has done but she makes it quite clear that she does not like bondage, get nothing from it and doesn’t like me doing it. She made me promise never to wrap myself up in cling film ever again since she read about a colleague who went fatally too far. So I don’t usually do it but sometimes…..Sometimes I can’t resist. I’m hooked. It’s like an addiction. So…….. ...

Kathryn was an impressive looking woman by any measure. The brown haired girl had recently turned 30 and was still very fit and proud of the body she worked hard to maintain. Standing 5’11 she had been a champion swimmer at high school but had given competitive swimming away when she was 16. To stay in shape she went to the gym and worked out several times a week and still played A Grade touch footy. Her interest in football a legacy of growing up with two older brothers and playing footy in the backyard with them, where she had learned to rough house and hold her own. ...

This story is obviously an extension, a sequel of sorts, to “The Machine 2A” which has it’s origin in “The Machine” and also a nod to Chryslermans now missing “Machine 2A part 2” It’s a quick story, stemmimg from an idea I had earlier this week.. I banged it out in an hour, so please forgive lapses in story, content, and character developement. Thanks.. Christy. It had been months since I last saw Marie. She’d returned to work, only briefly, to clear out her desk, and then clean up her life. She’d gone on to become the private secretary, and live in confidant of the Bracktons. Before she’d left however, she’d teased me with some stories about her weeks of captivity, being buried alive in a self imposed tomb. Later being found, and rescued by Mr. Brackton and heading off to become a mere toy for their pleasure. I must admit, I was envious… ...

This story is obviously an extension, a sequel of sorts, to “The Machine 2A” which has it’s origin in “The Machine” and also a nod to Chryslermans “Machine 2A part 2” It’s a quick story, stemmimg from an idea I had earlier this week.. I banged it out in an hour, so please forgive lapses in story, content, and character developement. Thanks.. Christy. It had been months since I last saw Marie. She’d returned to work, only briefly, to clear out her desk, and then clean up her life. She’d gone on to become the private secretary, and live-in confidant of the Bracktons. Before she’d left however, she’d teased me with some stories about her weeks of captivity, being buried alive in a self imposed tomb. Later being found, and rescued by Mr. Brackton and heading off to become a mere toy for their pleasure. I must admit, I was envious… ...

Note: Although I am a martial artist I am not sure of the customs of boy-girl match-ups in hojo-jitsu practice since I have never taken Jiu-Jitsu classes. What I know from Jiu-Jitsu is the fighting techniques, not the weapons (staffs, ropes, swords) techniques, mainly because my weapons training comes from a different discipline. Anyway, if the customs are slightly incorrect, forgive me and enjoy. Also, I wrote half the story before realizing I should have given character descriptions so I decided to leave it go. Just Imagine Meredith with sandy-blonde hair, normal complexion, about 5’ 9" or 10" and Alan with brown hair, tanned complexion, 5’ 11 1/2" ...

Clunk. Ears prick. Conscious struggles to return. It must be 6.00am. Languidly I stretch. I wait. Engine sounds. I’m alone! At last! A thrill shoots down my spine. No, wait. What if the car returns? Fifteen minutes more. Almost… Engine. Door. Pause. Clunk. Engine. Gone. My heart races. Two whole days to myself. I swing out of bed onto bare feet. I am alert to every sound. In my heightened sensitivity I relish the different textures underfoot as I pad softly around. Out comes my heavy bag. Now the kitchen scissors, where else? Heart thudding I pace. I mustn’t leave anything. Once begun there’s no stopping. I dither. Surely I’ve forgotten something. I wrench myself out of my indecisiveness. That’s it. I cannot dally anymore. ...

I had been working at 4th Plastics for about 2 weeks before I had my life changed forever by Alan. I had just recently moved to town and 4th Plastics was looking for a computer programmer to update their system. I took the job and started working a couple of days later. A few days after I started, when I was on break, a nice looking guy came into the break room. He was about 6-foot tall, blond hair and blue eyes. Since I was the only one in the room he sat down across the table from me. ...

Millie swallowed the water down that was offered to her. “Please let me go.” She whimpered staining against the chains that held her to cold marble slab. The woman dressed in white from head to toe took back the cup of water and stood at attention like some one just stuck a rod up her ass. Her bleach white hair had black tips that was cut short to just past the neck. ...

continued from part two Part 3: Retribution Mel clenched her eyes tight shut blocking out the sight of John’s satanic grin, but the memories of what had happened to Leanne and Mark seeped into the darkness. Tears flooded down her rosy cheeks and dropped, glinting as they passed through a beam of light passing through a window situated out of Mel’s sight and landed with a barely audible plop on the hard floor. John sauntered casually over to the terrified girl tied to the post. He had to step over the inert form of Emily lying on the floor. Only her eyes moved as she gazed up at the dirty soles of his feet as he strode over her as if she was a branch on the pavement of a street he was walking down. ...

The Piccadilly Circus Underground was packed. People thronged through the small tunnels in droves pushing and pulling each other in the rush to get home for the day. Friday was reaching its end and the weekend was just around the corner as Emily squeezed onto the already tightly packed train. The mass of stuffed bodies created a stench of sweat and smoke that got into every one of her pores. She felt tired and so dirty that she felt nauseous. This was a typical Friday and she was aching to slip into a warm bubble bath with a novel and relax. ...

continued from part one Part 2: The Discovery and Consequences Monday morning reared its ugly head and a disgruntled and tired workforce filed into the chilly warehouse to start the weeks work. Leanne, Melissa and Mark stood around their table boxing pallet wrap and duck tape to be wrapped and stored until it was ordered and delivered. They were all working as temps during the summer holiday and were all best friends after meeting at University at the beginning of their first year. The job was crap but the money they found was very good and they passed their shifts chatting and joking with each other. ...

Authors Note: fg_1977@hotmail created a story based on ‘The Machine’ by NaughtyLittleGirl. This story is a continuation of fg_1977’s story: The Machine: Model-2A. -=O=- When we left off, Marie had been lent her bosses (Mr. Brackton) private Mansion up in Maine for the summer. It was quiet and peaceful there. While there she found a strange machine in the basement, and decided to try it out, and would up entombed for life, buried on the property somewhere, with absolutely no one knowing what happened to her. ...

The Machine: Model-2A or Marie’s LONG STAY at the Boss’s Mansion Prologue: I read the story of “The Machine” written by NaughtyLittleGirl here on this website about a girl name Sharon that got a huge mysterious package from a Master X. Which turns out to be a device called the X-FANTASY-VII which to her surprise when she tries it out is a specialized self-mummification computerized unit that puts a person in total mummification for the submissive and sealing inside a metal casket for a week unable to move or do anything. I figured that there should be some more stories of this X-FANTASY-VII Unit and I sure there would be people that would order special modifications for their usage or whatever. This is a story of one that I created based on the original story of “The Machine” . ...

(story continues from Away On Business 8: In Mind Of Master’s Cock) WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death. In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. Authors Note: Just as a background whenever I was away on business Diane used to send me horny emails, often I would read these during meetings etc. As you can imagine it was quite distracting to say the least. I have made them into this series of stories called ‘Away on Business’. I bet you wished your girlfriend sent you horny emails like this when you were away on business! ...

An afternoon at the pool sounded great to Crystal. But the guys there made relaxing impossible with their rude comments. Picking up her towel she went in to call an elevator. Who cares what those boys say, she had worked hard to stay trim and firm. Maybe her bathing suit was the minimum allowed in public and barely held her gravity defying boobs. She did not intend to listen to their childish banter. ...

This is my first story and I’m not sure if I will write anymore unless this is a good one and gets good feedback. The E-mail: Part I You receive an email one day from someone you don’t even know telling you that they are interested in meeting you to fulfil your deepest fantasies. They have read your profile and see that you are in their general area. You decide to reply to ask more information about them and what they had in mind. ...

It wasn’t my fault! She’s got one of those nice, big bins, and the company I use gave me one of those dinky cans. I guess I made a little bit too much noise getting in, because I’d only been in there about 15 minutes when she came down into the garage and found me out. She startled a bit as she opened the lid, and then yelled at me. “What the hell! I thought you were a raccoon or something.” I would have answered, but I’d left the keys to my gag back in my garage next door. In my pants pocket. With the rest of my clothes. I held up my handcuffed hands and shrugged. Shelly looked at me sideways, her startle and anger fading. We’d played games before, and both loved plastic, enclosure, and objectification, but we’d never talked about trash play. I wasn’t sure if she’d be into it. That, and it was 1 AM on a Friday night. “Okay. First things first, I’ve got to clean up this mess you made.” She said, as she picked up the bags I’d left next to the can as I’d climbed in. She tossed them in without heed, and they bounced off me and into my lap as I protected my head with my hands. They piled up and were just about up to my face when she stopped. “Here’s the deal. I’m pooped. If you’re gone in the morning when I wake up, we’ll pretend this never happened, although you’re definitely going to owe me. If you’re still there in the morning, then you’re just a piece of trash I have to figure out what to do with.” She closed the lid, and I could hear her pad back to the door and go inside. It was a bit warm under that heavy, squishy plastic, and not everything smelled great, but nothing had gone rancid. Something was leaking on me, and was really slippery. My head was swimming from this turn of events, and I couldn’t help myself from finding my way to a huge orgasm there in the can. With the orgasm came a flood of “what am I doing” thoughts, but the trash was heavy and comfortable, and I must’ve nodded off. I awoke with a start, clammy and uncomfortable where my butt met the trashbin. I shifted around a bit and got a soft bag under me. As I squished and squeaked through the trash, my arousal came back, but this time I was able to hold of the urge, and decided to stay in my little home. I drifted back off to sleep and actually slept well for a bit. The next thing I heard was the sound of a screen door creaking open and slamming shut. I shifted in the bin again, and squinted at the light as Shelly flipped open the lid. “Wow. I wasn’t sure if you’d still be in there. You know, I’ve been thinking about this all night. I kept waking up and was having crazy trash dreams. I hope you cleared your weekend like a good boy, because at this point you’ve accepted the terms of my deal, you’re mine.” I nodded, and the plastic crinkled around me and stuck to my face a bit. I shifted and tried to sit up better. “Oh, don’t worry about getting too situated right now, I need you to move around a bit. Shift over to the other side.” I did as I was told as Shelly disappeared from my vision. Now that morning was here, I really needed to pee, but I couldn’t tell her that with this gag in. I was also quite a mess, I doubt she’d have let me in to her house, and even though it’s only a short run across the lawn, I didn’t relish the idea of running home in broad daylight like this. I might’ve gotten a little more than I bargained for here. I jumped as I heard a loud noise at the side of the bin where I’d been leaning. It turned into a roar, and then I saw the end of a drillbit poke through. There were a few more drillings, this time with the bit poking through closer to the lid. Presumably for airholes. Shelly stood up and leaned over my bin, smiling like a mad scientist, her hair in pigtails and pulled back by the safety goggles she’d just pulled up from her eyes. “I left the lid ajar last night to make sure you got enough air, but we can’t have that all the time, now can we? Besides, how am I supposed to lock the lid shut if I’ve got to leave it cracked open?” Shelly and I met eyes, and I felt myself stand to full, almost painful attention against the plastic bags. I pressed against them slightly as I looked into her eyes and realized she was serious, and loving this. I let out a small “Mmmm” around my gag. “Yup. You’re in for a while here, trashboy. You wanted to be in there, you got it. Truth is, I’m getting hot just thinking about you as my trash, there to use or throw away as I see fit. Trash shouldn’t be able to talk, and you already took care of that nicely for me” she said, stroking my face, and the leather of the gag. “But trash shouldn’t be able to just get up and walk away, so let’s take care of that, shall we?” She reached her other hand down into the can with me, and looped a collar around my neck quickly, and forcefully. It was comfortable, but she pulled it together and fastened it tightly shut with authority. I felt the ‘snick’ of a lock before I could even think about what was happening. I went to bring my hands up to my neck, but the handcuffs got stuck in the plastic of the bags they were under. I could get untangled, but not quickly. I heard a clinking, and realized Shelly had locked a chain to the end of my collar, and she was feeding it through the hole she’d drilled. “Lean back over to this side” she said. I hesitated a moment - this was getting serious quickly, and I was loving it, but was definitely a little scared. I felt a hard pull on my collar, as the chain rattled through the hole and out of the can. “I wasn’t asking.” She said, with a mischievous smile. I smiled back at her, harder than I’d ever been, and leaned towards the hole where the chain to my collar was rapidly disappearing. “I’ll leave you a little slack to move around if you’re a good boy.” she said. “Good boys know they’re trash and that trash doesn’t ask to get out before it’s time. You’re a good boy, right?” I nodded. “You’ve really got me worked up here. I swear, I’m tempted to weld this bolt to the chain and just keep you there. Maybe someday. For now I’ll just screw it down nice and tight.” I heard her working with a ratchet, and sure enough, my chain was now bolted to the outside of the bin - I could only pull it a foot or so away from the edge, and certainly couldn’t get out now. She looked back in at me and smiled. “Happy?” She asked? I smiled and nodded. This was incredible, and so far I was loving it. “Good. I’m glad my trash is happy. I even brought you some more friends.” With that, she disappeared, and I heard her make a heaving grunt sound. A huge black bag descended on top of me, and pressed down on me, sloshing around with it’s weight. It covered my body and the bags already on top of me completely and pressed up near my face. “I figured it’s time for a little spring cleaning here, so I emptied the fridge and freezer.” Whatever was in that bag, it was heavy and wet, and my plastic prison was now a lot less roomy, pressing against me on all sides. “Well, that should do it for now.” She said as she closed the lid. “See you in a while trash.” She walked away a few steps, but then paused. “Oops, almost forgot. Can’t have the raccoons getting in here and waking me up again, can I?” She said as she cracked the lid and peeked through. There was that mischievous smile again. She pressed the lid tight, and I heard the loud click of a big master lock, and then heard it thud against the side of the bin. That was that. I was naked, handcuffed and gagged, with a locked collar chained to the side of the bin, totally compressed in heavy, soft, squishy trashbags, and now I was locked in from the top as well. I shuddered with a pre-orgasm, and I hadn’t even touched myself yet. This weekend was going to be fun. Want to read more, let me know at [email protected], and give me some ideas! Here’s a rough outline of the rest of the story Chapter two - spring cleaning Chapter three - lazy sunday Part 2 - a weeks vacation ? Discuss this story or leave comments on Livejournal Trashbagging ...

Well I’m off to the Carnival that came into town everybody is talking about. I arrive and get a bunch of tickets to ride all the rides even double if I want. As I pay for the tickets the ticket person looks at me up and down and smiles a little, I don’t know why, as she hands me the tickets and asks for my wrist. I stick my arm through the window and she places this pink armband on me. I ask what it is for and she tells me since I bought so many tickets I get too ride the “Real Ride” at the back of the park which opens 5 minutes before the rest of the rides close. I thought wow cool a free ride. ...

(story continues from Trip to the Carnival)_ Part Two Here I lay in a crib sucking away on a cock gag that is giving me food. I gaze at my body and it frightens me how much I look like a freaky plastic doll. I can’t believe this stuff goes on or stuff like this plastic skin even exists. What makes me even more scared is the fact that there are auctions to purchase people like me turned into one of these dolls. ...

(story continues from Trip to the Carnival 2)_ Part Three I’m here laying down on a wooden horse starring at a monitor of a line of people ready to give my doll ass a fuck test. Suzie came in to sit and watch and record my reactions to my ass fucking. A microphone is put in front of me so the bidders outside can hear my screams, moans & heavy breathing from my enjoyment or torment. ...

(story continues from Trip to the Carnival 3)_ Part Four After a week of pure punishment, I don’t know how I will be able to make it once I am finally sold tomorrow. If the punishments, or teachings as my captors would rather call it, are anything I can expect by the winning bidder, I hope I die fast as that would not be a life to live at all. Being my last night before my final day up on the auction block, I am allowed to relax without anything inserted. I am also naked, with clear view of my fake privates that has sealed my cock away. I have lost feeling down there as well, I can no longer feel the pain I did when I my life first began as this sex doll. I wonder was it other drugs I was given, or natural body reaction. ...

I am assured the story below is basically true, I have written it as if I was a observer to the scene but much the pity it has been told to me by a new friend Wendy. Well as some of the readers to Gromet’s Plaza will remember my name appeared at the top of Gromet’s page saying I had taken over, well after that my E Mail went mad, one hundred and eighty on the first morning and it got worse! (Note: this was a special edition of the plaza). ...