Rescue

Halloween, Mystery, Oral, Succubus = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = W investigates a series of small town Halloween kidnappings. This extremely mild tale is almost non-erotic. A good friend of W’s passes on without ever solving The Jack O’Lantern Kidnappings. He leaves his files to W, and W decides to solve the case. This story is not overly-sexual, but very Halloween, and very Celtic myth and legend. ...

It was the fall of 69 Phebe was expecting a new script to be delivered at any time. The phone rings Hi, Phebe, it’s Purcilla, Oh hi, Pru what’s up? I’m bored with nothing to do. Why don’t come over I just got my new movie script, A Halloween Horror Film this time. Ok, I’ll be there soon. Wow! this script is scary Phebe.!! I know, but there is a problem. The location where do the producers find an old Mental Hospital. Why not suggest the old Mental Hospital in the next county. ...

50 million dollars, that’s what Daniell will inherit on her twenty-fifth birthday. Her Uncle left his estate to her if she could pass an endurance test. If she fails, then she will get a modest living expense and the rest will go to her Evil Aunt, Evil Aunt Jane is what Daniell called her when she was growing up, For the things she did to her Uncle so long ago. Something to do with Money and Fraud against her Uncle, and kidnapping and tormenting her Aunt for ransom. She went to jail for it. ...

My life partner, Angie, pointed it out to me; I would have missed it, because it was in part of the paper I do not read. “What do you reckon to this?” she said as she handed the paper to me and tapped the page in the area she thought might be of interest. “You are always saying you a looking for a challenge.” I focused on the page I had been handed and quickly found the item Angie was bringing to my attention. The small ad read, ‘John Franklin challenges any aspiring escapologists to escape from the ‘Death Cage’ in under five minutes. Successful challengers will receive £1000.’ And a contact phone number. Naturally, I was intrigued, so I rang the number and left a message. That evening I received an email in response, which was odd as I had only left my name, phone number and the fact that I was interested in the ‘Death Cage’ challenge. I opened the attached documentation and discovered the nature of the challenge and the safety procedures that were being put in place. The final paragraph seemed a bit odd. It simply stated, ‘If you succeed you get £1000; if you fail you get to experience magic and what your companion has experienced throughout the challenge.’ I showed the pdf to Angie to ask what she reckoned. Her assessment was, “Handcuffs behind your back, 20 seconds, no 30 seconds, because you’ll need to release both hands; neck shackle, another twenty seconds; two sets of leg shackles, 40 seconds and the cage’s padlock another thirty seconds. I make that 2 minutes. Add that on again for being underwater makes 4 minutes; so five minutes sounds do-able. Admittedly, you can only hold your breath for 3 minutes, but they’ll be providing an air-hose, so that shouldn’t be a big deal. I reckon, if you can handle the pressure of doing this for a live audience and this John Franklin character, you should go for it.” Between us we agreed that it was worth taking this challenge to the next stage, which was emailing for further details and contracts. The next evening these details arrived, but I had spent most of the day in the tank in the summer house in the garden practicing getting out of handcuffs behind my back underwater. I had even improvised an arrangement so that it would be more like the planned arrangement for the ‘Death Cage’ The details confirmed the details of the escape and the safety arrangements and the contractual obligations on both me and the John Franklin’s people. Their obligations seemed to be to provide all the equipment required at the appointed time and place, to have all the safety arrangements in place and to provide the payment if I succeed or get me out if I fail. My obligations seemed to be to turn up at the appointed place and time (at their expense), try my best to succeed at the challenge and to bring a companion with me to see fair play. There were two things that gave me slight concern; the first was they said they would be offering more challenge on the day, for more reward; and the second was they insisted I name my companion and that they sign the contract with me. The contract made clear that the extra part to the challenge was entirely optional, I guessed this would allow them to add some element of drama into the stunt; not only would I succeed or not, but would I be up for the extra challenge? I assumed the bit about naming my companion was so that they could prepare the extra paperwork, but it turned out to be more than that. After careful consideration, we signed contracts and began negotiations about times and places. We even researched who John Franklin was; it turned out that he was a small-time magician who had landed himself a series of six half hour programs and hoped to use these as stepping stones in his magical career, but he was not being entirely selfish, because he was allocating a small amount of time on each show to a specialist performer to show their stuff. I was soon booked as the specialist performer, with Angie as my companion, for his first recording, which by this stage was six weeks away. Those six weeks were a blur; when I was not working my day job or sleeping, I was in the tank practicing with the specified hand-cuffs and padlocks. The practice was paying off, I had the handcuffs, neck-shackle and leg restraints off in under three and a half minutes and the padlock to the lid of the cage should be no trouble. The day of the challenge dawned and we travelled to the studios where the stunt was going to be recorded and got there mid-morning; the show was going to be recorded live that evening. The remainder of the morning was spent being introduced to the crew that would be supervising my escape and checking over the equipment. Then John Franklin took us out to lunch. Once the meal was ordered, he asked, “How do you envision this escape of yours going?” Naturally, I had expected some question along those lines, so I had an answer. “I’ve practiced so that I can do it in under four minutes, but as I can see the clock from inside the tank, I’ll add to the drama, by taking my time I can be out a few seconds before the five minutes is up.” “I thought you’d say something like that, which is why we added the extra challenge option to the contract. What we want is a genuine ‘Will they make it?’ situation, rather than a ‘Can they time it right?’ one.” “I, sort of, expected that was the reasoning, but if I don’t like the extra challenge aspect, I know I don’t have to accept.” “Exactly,” he confirmed. “The paperwork says that with extra challenge comes extra reward; so make your offer and we’ll consider it.” I deliberately included Angie, because she has a better idea of what I can and cannot do, especially on top of all I was already prepared for, and also because I know she worries and it makes her feel better to have her say. “Firstly, let me say you don’t have to make a decision immediately,” he began. “We’ll show you the extra equipment this afternoon and you announce what you decide at show time.” “That’s fair.” It would have been an instant ‘No!’ if I did not get to check the equipment or I was being pressed for an instant decision. “The extra challenge comes in three parts; part one is a lid on the tank, part two is your lovely companion, Angie,” he smiled at her, “shackled to the lid on the tank and part three would be withdrawal of the air hose partway through. Part one would gain you an extra thirty seconds of performance time. Part two would gain you an extra minute, because you’d need to release Angie before you could get out. And for item three we would have to work out when to remove the hose, but on the plus side, we would supply oxygen enriched air to compensate for you not being able to hyperventilate beforehand.” “So, those are the extra challenges. And the rewards?” “Well, if you accept any part of the extras we’ll pay you your original £1000 and £1000 per part you accept, plus another grand if you accept all three and we’ll double it if you succeed. So you could make as much as 10000.” “Ok, so the rewards are not insubstantial.” At this point, his mobile phone went off. He looked apologetic, but still checked it. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. A friend has arrived, late as usual, and I’ve got to teach her how to act when I pass the buzzsaw through her middle.” He rose from the table and we began to rise to follow him. “No, don’t worry, you don’t need to come; I’ll make sure your meal is paid for, while I get something to take away and I’ll get someone to send a taxi to get you back to the studio. Enjoy your meal and I’m sure you have lots to discuss.” Then he caught my eye and he said, “And remember if you fail, you’ll experience magic and what your lovely companion has experienced throughout the escape.” Immediately and without a backward glance he rushed to do what he had to do and was lost from sight. I was slightly stunned, by his last remark; I certainly was not planning on failing, possibly not succeeding in time, but not failing; and reminding one of the possibility is not what one professional does to another professional. The food arrived and we ate, but it did not get the attention it probably deserved, because we were talking about the extra challenges. To my surprise, Angie seemed in favour of the lid on the tank, because the extra time it would take was less than the extra time it gave. She even seemed to be neutral about the removal of the air hose, but most resistant to being attached to the lid of the tank, which I put down to her innate shyness, rather than any concern that I might not be able to release her in order to release myself. The entire result of our talk was we would have to inspect the extra stuff before we could make a decision. At the end of the meal we left and found a taxi waiting, which got us back to the studio about the same time the crew got back from their canteen lunch. They showed us the lid for the tank, which hinged and would be held down by three padlocks, with holes in so that the padlocks could be reached. Then they showed us how the air hose withdrawal would work; there was a remote release mechanism between the actual hose and the mouthpiece which with the addition of the pumped air would produce a dramatic flurry of extra bubbles when it broke free. And finally they showed us the bars mounted on the ends of the tank that Angie could be shackled to; she would be attached to the ends of the bars away from the access holes in the tank lid, but cuffs can easily be slid along bars allowing access through the access hole for the side padlocks (hence Houdini’s remark that sometimes the challenge is keeping the restraints on until the escape starts). When we had the privacy we agreed that the lid would be a great addition and the air hose thing would be OK, as it added drama, as long as they did not do it more than two minutes before the end. Angie was most resistant to being an extra obstacle in my release; eventually she admitted she worried when I was involved in an escape and she coped by not watching and having faith in my abilities, but this would force her to confront the process of me escaping, which she knew I delayed from suspense purposes. It took me a while, but I convinced her that being more involved was the worth the extra four thousand it would gain us; I even promised her a weekend away together with part of the extra money. Once we had decided, I went to find John Franklin to relay our decision to take on the entire extra challenge. I found him talking to a very shaken-looking woman about his age (mid-twenties), who judging by her mascara had been crying a lot. I was about to convey what we had decided, when he said, “Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know until the show, but let Ben know so he can make sure the gear is ready, then get to costume and make up so that you and Angie look the part.” It took me about ten minutes to find Ben, the floor manager, and let him know what equipment would be needed. He also gave me directions on how to get to the costume department. I went back to our dressing room and we went to costume. Costume for me was simple; a swim suit in an intense blue with a couple of black lines and a fluffy white bathrobe. Costuming Angie was not anywhere near as simple; they wanted a sexy damsel-in-distress look, but Angie’s natural modesty complicated this, along with the requirement that wrists and ankles should be free of clothes so that it was clear that she was restrained and not to get in the way of my efforts to release her. In the end, she was outfitted with a white calf-length dress with a deep neckline, short sleeves and a slit up to mid-thigh, under this was a tight body-suit, which did wonders for her waist and cleavage and finally a pair of white strappy mid-height heels. She was accessorised with a necklace of what looked like pearls and matching earrings. Then it was on to make-up, where the bare minimum was done with me; foundation, eyeliner and a whole can of hair-lacquer to hold my short hair in place. Angie got the works; her fingernails and toenails were painted, fake tan was applied to all visible areas of skin, her face was made-up to match the sexy damsel-in-distress image they seemed to have in mind for Angie, much emphasis on eyes and lips and then they added more curl to her already curly hair, primarily to make sure it did not end up with it in the way. As we were leaving for a light canteen snack before the show, the head make-up lady, told Angie not to cry, because her the eye make-up would instantly turn her into a panda. The period before the show was uneventful, although I did notice some admiring glances for Angie, which I did not mention, in case it would make her reconsider her part in the stunt. At the appointed time, we were called to the wings and watched John Franklin perform the buzzsaw illusion. The woman I had seen earlier was lain on the travelling table, on top of a piece of wood that had just been sawn to show the reality of the buzzsaw, and the table travelled under the saw with the blade splitting the wood under her and appearing to pass through her bared midriff. She seemed a lot less upset than earlier, but she still eyed the rotating blade with a nervousness, which I wondered whether showed how good an actor she was or embodied a genuine uncertainty as to the outcome of having it appear to pass through her. Naturally she survived her ordeal, but seemed awed by what had happened and relieved it was over. Now it was our turn. John Franklin introduced us as people he had known for a while (which was true if five minutes in a restaurant counted). We went on and he explained the basic concept of the escape. “We suggested some additions to this escape, did you decide to go with then?” he asked. Noting that he was being vague, I paused, to give the editors a chance to ramp up the tension, before being vague right back. “Yes, we decided that we’d go with all of them, but Angie isn’t particularly happy about her part.” “Quite understandable; being an obstacle in your partner’s escape would make anyone nervous,” he commented. Then we got down to the business at hand, while John Franklin provided commentary to cover what would be, to the observer, the dull part of the procedure. First I knelt on the grid that was the base of the cage and clamps were placed over my calves and ankles held in place with padlocks, then I bent down and a collar was put round my neck and padlocked to a short chain attached to the floor of the cage. The sides of the cage were folded up and pinned in place and the top of the cage slotted into place, hinged down and the padlock put in place. The final part of me being locked into the death cage was me putting my wrists near the lid and Ben closing the handcuffs round my wrists with the chain between over the central bar of the cage’s lid, thus holding my wrists up from my back and straining my shoulders a bit. In this cramped and uncomfortable position, I was fed the air hose while two bars were attached to the cage. Four large men took an end of a bar each and lifted the entire assembly and a young lady took charge of my air supply. As soon as I was over the tank I gave a thumbs up to indicate I was ok and ready to proceed. Carefully the men lowered me into the water, while the young lady stage hand clipped the hose into position on the hinge side of the tank. The water was icy cold, which was good, because the body’s natural reaction is to restrict blood supply to the peripheral parts of the body and so preserving more oxygen for fuelling the core bodily functions, effective lowering your metabolism; the downside being that your hands go numb before too long, which is not ideal if you require them to be dexterous and sensitive. As the air began to pump with the sweet tang of added oxygen I looked up to check I could still see the clock; I could, so I made another thumbs up gesture to show I was happy to continue. The final stages of the preparations I did not see, because my view was confined to looking through the cage and the clear Plexiglas walls of the tank at the studio floor and the legs of the crew doing their jobs. First came the rush of additional cold as they poured two buckets of additional water into the tank to convince the audience I was truly submerged, this was accompanied by some muted thuds as the other two crewmen fitted and closed the tank’s lid, then the air-hose lady attached the padlocks to hold it down. More water-muffled knocks and bangs followed telling me that Angie was being shackled to the bars on top of the tank. I spent this time to remember my planned sequence of escape and generally calm my nerves, by breathing deeply to increase the oxygen in my system. A tap on the end of the tank told me that all was ready and as I wanted to get on with it I made the agreed double thumbs up to show I was ready. I glimpsed Ben’s face and then his hand holding out three fingers; the countdown had begun and I was already moving my lockpicking tool from where I had it palmed to the tips of my fingers. One of Ben’s fingers folded away, then another and finally the entire hand was taken out of my sight; the escape had begun. To aid my concentration I closed my eyes and took a moment to concentrate on the planned sequence of the escape, then I began the dramatic thrashing about; given my constrained position it was not much, but is served to cover the fact I was using the pick to release the handcuffs. Ten seconds can seem like an eternity, but it took me that long to find the key hole in my cuff, partly because Ben had put the cuffs on my wrists so that the hole I was looking for was on the wrong side. A quick check confirmed it would be easier to transfer the pick and release the other wrist first so that’s what I did. With one cuff released, I opened my eyes to check the time on the clock, while I transferred the pick back to the now uncuffed hand; forty-three seconds; where has all that time gone, I am usually out of the first cuff in about twenty five seconds. I put it down to the minor problem with the orientation of the cuff and possibly nerves, and took another deep breathe from the air hose. I closed my eyes again and tackled the other cuff. With the picking hand free it is not to long before the second hand is free. Another time check, One minute nineteen seconds; I think I must have missed something, but I still had a little over five minutes for eight padlocks and four more sets of cuffs, but now I could work with both hands and the strain between my shoulder blades had eased. I moved to start on the neck shackle, but noticed a camera through the glass of the tank and paused to give a smile, which I hoped said, ‘I am doing ok, but not as ok as I had hoped,’ and a brief thumbs up, before continuing to release myself from the bottom of the cage. I grabbed the padlock holding the neck shackle to the chain in my left hand and fitted the pick into the keyhole. A few jiggles and it was open but I bumped my elbow on the side of the tank and accidentally snapped it back shut. Rats! A little more circumspectly, I released the neck padlock again. The original plan had been to remove the collar once it was released, despite this seeming to be unnecessary, but it would fill time to make the escape seem more life and death at the end without me floating about doing nothing. I decided with the two mistakes that had already been made that it would be a waste of time, so I just skooched back a bit to get easier access to the last four padlocks holding me to the cage. While I reached for the first of these I looked at the time again. Two minutes and thirteen seconds! I knew I had lost a bit of time but that seemed a lot. Was I missing something? Was there too much added oxygen? I’d heard that an excess of added oxygen can impair your faculties, like being drunk, but surely they would not do that. ‘Concentrate!’ I told myself. I went to work on the padlocks holding my legs to floor of the cage. I soon had both my calves free and the shackles open so I could sit back even further to make it easier to reach the ankle shackles. I decided on another time check in the hope that I could calm myself a bit by seeing that I had made back some of the time I had lost. As I looked up the clock ticked over to three minutes; good, but not great, I had not lost any further time, but not gained any either. As I leaned back and worked on my ankle restraints, I closed my eyes once more. Another bump of an elbow on the side of the cage reminded me that I should be more careful to avoid needing to pick these locks twice. The first padlock fell away, so onto the second, but where was it? A feel about told me that in my thrashing about it had changed position and was jammed under my buttock. I changed position and repositioned the lock so that I could pick it. Once I had it in my grasp it fell away with a few deft movements of the pick I still had in my hand. ‘Stay calm!’ only four locks on the lids and the cuffs restraining Angie to go. Another look at the time, which I was rapidly feeling was becoming the enemy. Three minutes fifty-two seconds! ‘Surely it can’t have taken that long.’ I felt the edge of panic, so I paused to just breathe the enriched air which I knew I would be losing in another minute. I turned on my side and felt the hinge of the neck shackle catch on one of the bars of the cage; maybe not removing it had been a bad idea after all. I looked towards the audience, feeling certain that they could see me; I could not see them, or even the cameras, because it seemed my movements had splashed water through the holes in the lid and water was running down the outside of the tank. I looked up and saw that the skirt of Angie’s dress was soaked and the added weight had pulled on the rest it opening up the slit to show more leg than she would be comfortable with. ‘I bet she looks good,’ I thought. ‘Don’t get distracted!’ I admonished myself, ‘Focus!’ My hand found the padlock securing the cage shut and it was soon open and removed to join the other five padlocks on the tank floor. Another change of position and I could reach through the access hole in the lid of the tank between Angie’s ankles. Reaching through, I snagged the lock and positioned it so I could quickly have it undone once I had changed hands. As I changed hands the neck shackle once again bumped against the cage’s bars, causing a small loss of precious momentum. Nonetheless, I reached through and the lock fell open at my touch and I unhooked it and tossed it away. I took another look at the timer to find out how soon I was going to lose my air supply; I did not want to be surprised by the sudden flurry of bubbles when the air hose broke away at the agreed time of five minutes and three seconds. The clock showed four minutes and fifty-five. While I reached for the second lid padlock I counted in my head to be ready; I had reached six when I felt the change in the texture of the water and shortly after a light thump on my back as the air-hose snaked its way out of the tank. I spat out the now useless mouth piece and grimaced for the camera I knew would be watching for a reaction. I had hoped to already be releasing Angie at this point. The second padlock was soon thrown away and I was reaching for the third; the one between Angie’s restrained wrists. This was positioned and unlocked in a matter of another ten seconds. Time was getting tight. I had just over a minute to release four cuffs and get out of the tank. I considered changing the plan again; the fine print said I had to release Angie’s wrists before her ankles, so she could not get off the tank lid and open it for me before she was properly released. I was thinking about unlocking her ankles first and taking whatever penalty was due, but Angie already had slid one wrist to where I could get to it. I decided that rather than cause Angie more concern by changing the plan, I would have to proceed as planned. Angie was shaking with nerves which made the fiddly job of releasing the first cuff a little trickier, but it was soon done and another wrist presented. While I was liberating Angie’s other wrist, I saw something happening out of the corner of my eye. Between us and the cameras John Franklin and Ben were holding up a deep red cloth. Even before I had finished the cuff I was working on I had a last glimpse of the timer; it showed six minute and two seconds. Then as the cuff opened, the cloth settled over the tank; I was now in darkness. I mentally cursed John Franklin and crew for cheating as I turned inside the cage to release Angie’s ankles which I knew she would have in position for me, despite the added distraction. I reached through and instantly found the cuff on her left ankle. I began to hear, muffled by the water the beeps that indicated the last ten seconds. Then I dropped my pick; the coldness of the water had taken its toll at last. As I heard the electronic beeps countdown the final seconds of the challenge, I was groping for the dropped picking-tool. I was resigned to failing the challenge, but there would be very little to do to rescue me, just finish releasing Angie’s legs and open the lids. I would have acquitted myself well and if it had not been for several avoidable mistakes I could well have succeeded. The final beep seemed so much louder than the previous nine. I realised my head had gone swimmy for a moment. Things were different from what they were a moment ago; I was out of the water, but still under the cloth. Instinct told me that I was now on the lid of the tank and that I should get off. I rolled off onto the floor in the direction of the audience; there was a hush that seemed to ask, ‘What is going to happen now?’ I struggled from the folds of the cloth to see what was going on. And was greeted with a small cheer, which suddenly stopped as they noticed something that I had not yet. I turned and looked at the tank, expecting to see both lids open, but they were both shut. How had I got out without opening the lids? Then I noticed the lids were once again padlocked. Then the key thing I had missed hit me; inside the cage in the tank full of water was Angie, shackled exactly as I had been. “Get her out of there!” I yelled, but the crew were already rushing toward the tank, with keys and lifting bars in hand. I felt the urge to rush forward and help, but realised that I would only be in the way; I felt so helpless. Angie was desperately trying to move to release herself, but all these constrained movements contrived to do was cause her hair and skirt to float about her. As the padlocks holding the lid of the tank were released, I was hoping Angie had not breathed in any water when she unexpectedly found herself underwater. I hoped she was not drowning while I watched totally impotent to help her in any way. Much to my relief, the lid slammed open and the four men who had lowered me into that tank of cold water, began to attach the bars to the lid of the cage. At this point I suddenly wished that the lid was locked, because if it was loose the whole cage would jam in the tank and delay the time when my Angie would be able to breathe again. I took half a step toward the tank, thinking I would check, but then John Franklin took hold of me and said, “There’s nothing you can do, rely on them to do their jobs and don’t interfere.” It took a huge effort of will to take that totally correct advice. When the men had hoisted the cage from the tank, I took what I realised was the first breathe since my yell, my head seemed to have a dull ache. As the cage touched the floor, John Franklin let go of my arm and I rushed to see that Angie was alright. She was breathing heavily with her hair plastered to her face and the skirt clinging to her legs. It took the crew nearly a minute to release Angie and she stumbled into my arms; during this time I took a little time to bless the foresight of the costume department for making Angie wear the body suit under the dress or she would have been rather more exposed than she thought. The air hose lady came up with two white fluffy dressing gowns and we were bustled off stage. Once in our dressing room, I had time to consider what had occurred. While I felt my failure to escape in the allotted time was my fault, Angie ending up lock and shackled in the cage underwater was entirely down to John Franklin and his team and all the worse for not let us know it was a possible scenario. I was becoming angry, but could not think what to do about it. Eventually, getting dry and changing into our own clothes became the priority. Finally I asked Angie, “What happened?” “I don’t quite know. I saw you drop the pick in the dim light under the cloth they flung over us as the beeping from the timer started, I was about to reach forward and put it in your hand, when just before the final beep, I took a very deep breath and was suddenly in the water with my neck and shins shackled to the base of the cage. I’ve never been so frightened. At least I had the presence of mind to hold my breath until they rescued me; I never realised it was so hard.” “Me?” I said, “I’ve never felt so helpless; wanting to help you, but being totally unable to, in fact if I had got any closer I would probably have delayed them getting you out, which feels doubly helpless.” “That’s kind of how I feel, every time you are doing any remotely dangerous escape. You know, trying to help would probably worse than standing back and hoping.” “I guess that’s what Franklin meant when he said something about me feeling what you feel while I escape. And if you believe in magic that swimmy feeling in my head when it happen must have been it. I guess we were kind of warned, but very obliquely. He’d better have a good explanation or I’ll not be answerable for my actions. Make that a very, verrrry good explanation.” We sat and wondered if we could get a cup of tea, while the adrenalin subsided. About ten minutes later. John Franklin knock on the door and entered. Before he could open his mouth, I said, “This had better be good, because we are not happy and if we don’t leave happy, we’ll be suing you for breach of contract for as much as we can get.” His smile faltered for maybe half a second, while considered what line would best keep him and his reputation from being dragging through the mud. “What a performance! You certainly earned your ten grand.” For a moment, I wondered what he was talking about, so I asked aggressively. “You were marvellous,” he said. “I auditioned some professionals, but they had nothing on you. They were too smooth to make the illusion look credible. But you with the couple of fumbles made it look truly death-defying and you were incredibly fast; if we hadn’t tweaked the timer to run fifty percent faster, you’d have been out long before the time limit and the magic couldn’t have happened.” For a moment part of my brain did the maths. I had got to the point I had got to in a few seconds over four minutes even with all the extra obstacles and recovering the pick and undoing the last of Angie’s shackles would not have taken the whole of the final minute of the original challenge. I was mentally patting myself on the back, when another part of my mind reminded me that my failure to finish in the allotted time was not my beef with Mr Franklin, but the fact he had tried to drown Angie. “Now I understand why you say I earned the money, but what about what happened next? Angie was completely unprepared for her dunking, possibly near drowning.” I looked at Angie for confirmation and support; she looked sheepish instead. “I wasn’t totally unprepared, but I had been warned I would end up in the water.” “When?” I challenged. “When I rang my cousin John to congratulate him on getting his TV deal. I wished him well and expressed some disappointment that I was failing to let you know how stressful your ‘hobby’ was for me. He suggested that he could help, if I was prepared to seem in danger and arrange that you get involved. He called the illusion ‘The Drowning Pool’; it took me some time to find it, ‘coz there’s a band called the same thing that gets the top hits when I searched on YouTube, but once I understood the concept it seemed like the only way to make you see how bad it makes me feel to be helpless while you escape.” “You’re right!” I admitted, “I’ve been selfish in not considering how you feel when I do my thing. I’ll give it up, if you ask me to.” “Before today I’d have said, ‘Yes, please give up escapology.’ But having been in the spotlight and properly the centre of attention, rather than just someone who came along with you. I have some idea of the buzz you get from it. I want to join you in escaping; you can train me. I’ll probably never be as good as you, but together we could be better than anyone.” John interjected, “You are the best amateur I have ever seen.” “Do you really mean that?” I asked looking at Angie, she nodded. “You know I love you?” She nodded again; she seemed almost at the point of tears. “Angie, will you marry me?” She closed the two paces between us, said, “Of course, I will, Brenda!” and we hugged until we were out of breath.

Doreen struggled like a fish out of water. Because she was. Well she was and she wasn’t. Her fascination with mermaids was started at seven and never quit. Growing up in near New Orleans near the gulf. Swimming was her passion. Swimming as a mermaid . More so. Now in her early twenties she had really done it to herself. Her dad died when Katrina hit. She was just ten. Mom remarried about eighteen month later. An investment banker. But his wife died of cancer so she inherited a new dad and a brother. Dick. ...

It was Sunday evening, I sat on my couch watching Netflix and enjoying a frosty mug of beer. That’s when I heard a ringing from the kitchen counter. It was the cellphone I used for business, so I hopped up and answered on the double. “Jake’s Locksmithing and Security System Installation, Jake speaking.” “Hi Jake, it’s Bob.” It was my brother, who lived out in the suburbs. But why was he calling me on the work phone? ...

It was going to be the longest mile of Sally’s life yet she’d wanted to do it this way to prove devotion to her lover. A walk along a deserted beach dressed in a flowing white nightdress… …while restrained at the wrists in broad daylight! “You’ve gotta be joking!” she’d exclaimed when Judith Curran, her partner had told the girl about it earlier in the ferry queue. They’d had a marvellous time up in Orkney. Nobody seemed to care a jot at seeing two lovely girls holding hands. Possibly assuming they were sisters despite the fact Jude was six years older than Sally Marlow. Neither cared a jot what people might say and certainly they’d not been troubled while touring around. At least nobody knew about the box of bondage restraints that was sitting in the boot of Judith’s motorhome as she bounced it off the ferry at Loth, the southern most point on the island of Sanday. Both girls surprised at how many people were here as the boat was full up. A question to a ‘hunk’ in a tearoom at the Social Center and nearby school provided the answer. It was the Island’s Fair today so the Mayor was undergoing the Ice Bucket Challenge, and nearly everybody had turned up to witness this and attend the biggest event in the social calender. Also as it was a former popular singer who’d retired here then a few people wanted his autograph too. “There’s probably nobody left beyond Skeelbay ladies,” he said when Sally asked him was this all the population. The girls smiled at each other, nodded then bought another couple of food items to take north. Returning to the van, this time Sally was to be driving as she grabbed the keys off her buddy. “Guess I can trust you on roads this quiet!” Judith chuckled as they left the port behind them. It took ten minutes before they saw another car, this also heading for Loth and by the time Sally passed Northskaill the vehicle count was down to zero except a tractor. The place was indeed deserted and arriving at Whitemill Bay, an hour from the port she sighed with pleasure as the engine was switched off and the diesel rattle faded. A check of the map and they found another carpark at the far end. “That’ll be quieter even than this one. More sheltered too so I’ll go there” Sally said firing the wagon up again. A few bumpy minutes along the clifftop track they arrived back at sea level and now she knew it’d be safe here. Only the call of a few gulls broke the silence, a faint swish as waves broke across the deserted golden sand. But Sally knew this was only postponing her walk. “Right missy… time to get changed, girlie,” Judith said with a glint in her eyes and Sally Marlow grinned and nodded. Standing by the side of the van she still looked round before undressing! Her tanned skin glowing in the afternoon sunshine, blonde hair doing the same as she finished up and finally stood naked, hands almost shyly covering her midriff and breasts. Judith opened the case containing the frock then carefully handed the underwear over then the diaphanous gown last. The fact she’d made Sally change outside was just another cruel thing that would need to be avenged! Laughing at how quickly Sally got into it as the garments were whipped away in turn! Barely two minutes later she watched those burnished cheeks blushing with relief that nobody except Judith had seen her naked. The older girl reached behind Sally’s back and slooowly drew up the zip then secured it into the slot. “Thanks,” Sal murmured as they came for a kiss, Judith’s fingers stroking hips through the flimsy material. Under the sun you could clearly see her lacy bra and briefs but at least it ‘felt’ covered as she buttoned up the sleeve cuffs by her wrists. “You do look stunning wearing that honey,” Judith said and Sal blushed. This was her special dress, normally worn for their anniversary nights or birthdays, the first time it’d been used in a bondage scenario and she hoped it wouldn’t get damaged. Judith had bought it for her and given it to the lass on the celebration of their first year as a couple. “Box… now,” Judith ordered and Sally shuddered as she fetched the key from her handbag, surrendering it with another sigh as the container was positioned where it could be unpacked. Tomorrow this would be reversed when Miss Curran would take her turn in bondage again. The lock was undone and opened, the glint of steel shining as both girls looked down into it. Judith Curran smiled at her friend… and having remembered being forced yesterday to run naked round the moonlit Ring of Brodger this was payback time… “One of everything today…” she said and Sally’s heart froze as she knew this was in the rules. Whatever the ‘dom’ handed over, was to be worn, so this afternoon it appeared that she was to be bound… By a collar. By a belt. Her wrists cuffed together. Her ankles cuffed together and attached by a chain to the belt. Gagged. Veiled. ‘Well at least I’m gonna be barefoot, cannot walk in heels on sand,’ Sally thought as Judith lifted the belt out. Both girls had the same waist size and used their bondage equipement as slimming devices. If the belt seemed tight it was time to hit the gym harder! A quiet groan as Judith applied it, the click of the lock audible to both girls and they were smiling as the leg cuffs were undone. Sally felt those slid round her ankles, a finger stroking her leg as it traced northwards… but she was still smiling as they were secured. Jude putting the thin chain on the loop at the rear. Next it was the cuffs and she asked Sally did she want her bound arms free or these also connected to the belt by a snaplock. Sally grinned and nodded that yes she’d like them attached, but careful not to use one of her ten-word allowance while wearing restraints. Another of the conditions each had agreed since starting their relationship three years ago. Judith did her bidding, applied the collar and got the tiara and veils ready to adorn her head, as the penis gag would be the final piece of the bondage. Soon Sally stood trembling as Jude worked to weave the tiara into her long blonde locks. Leaving the veils up at the moment so she could apply the gag. Stepping back at the end she fetched the device from the box and returned to her bound lover. “OK sweetheart? Time to speak…if you want to.” Sally Marlow had thought and counted her words and got it right. Knowing that Judith would be impressed at her with this one. As she’d normally been a bit shy doing outdoor bondage it’d taken a while for her to get used to it. But today, with nobody except Miss Curran within miles… it’d be OK, wouldn’t it? “Judith, would you relock my wrists behind my back… please,” she said slowly. Counting each one and smiling at her partners’ surprised expression as she digested it. She too had silently totted up the number and knew Sally would not be able to say stop now. “Wow Sal. I am impressed love,” she said at last. Their fingers entwining as they had a long smooch. Breaking off Judith took the keys off Sally’s collar and unlocked her wrists again. This time an embrace followed, hands rubbing the others’ butts and the older girl could feel her lover shaking, possibly with nerves, or maybe excitement perhaps as those captivating eyes looked at her. “OK, as you wish, wrists behind you, now please,” Judith ordered and Sally froze, then slowly placed them at the small of her back. Jumping as the first was enclosed by steel, then repeated for the second and now she really was trembling. The keys were hung by a snaplock on Sal’s collar, another tease for the captive, as it’d mean she’d have to be careful. Snaplocks were designed to be safe but naturally with freedom… and one set of keys then no chances could be taken. But still she was determined to go through with this so obeyed the order to open up. Judith sliding the gag inside then buckling the straps around her head. Lastly the two veils were lowered and the outer one pinned into place both front and behind. This was enough that Sal could not turn her head or she’d rip the pins out. The inner silky layer was to flutter in the breeze against her nose to torment her. But a slightly surprised Sally saw how little vision she had. No wonder brides get escorted up the aisle! She thought as Judith closed the lid of the box. She grabbed the binoculars and checked the beach was still empty then returned. “Right sweetheart, there is no time limit and the tide is still going out. All you have to do is walk, from here to the other carpark where we were earlier, OK? I’ll be there waiting for you. I promise.” With that she led Sally onto the sand, patted her ass, pointed in the right direction then walked away leaving her lover bound and gagged… and loving the feeling of helplessness. This growing as Judith soon drove off and the gulls returned to squawking at each other rather than the van engine. Sal stood there sighing then turned to her left and began. Pacing slowly across the golden sand, her dress flicking round both legs, the clink of chain hiding the rustle of silk while the keyring jingled from the collar and Sally was smiling nervously. Already planning tomorrow’s session where Judith would be tied up naked somewhere and exposed to the elements! However Sally was still scared of being seen like this, surely there was… No. It was impossible she thought and wondered whether to bottle out. But she couldn’t lose face so a frustrated groan and carried on walking. The sand lovely and warm on her bare feet with no crabs or rocks to injure her toes. No bloody shelter either and before long Sally Marlow was heading for the cliff edge where the sand stopped. This meant if she saw someone coming the other way, it might be possible to find a cave and take cover. Trouble being it also meant Sally had to walk a lot further too. Whitemill Bay was on a curve and by hugging the cliffs rather than cutting directly across open sand it easily doubled the distance and surely Judith knew that… then realised of course she had, so that made it worse then! ‘I’m gonna make you squeal’ she muttered behind the gag… The distance seemed more than a mile and Sally mentally ’ticked off’ the craggy outcrops as she passed each in turn. No sign of the carpark yet, the sunshine now straight into her face making the veils almost opaque now and bloody hard to see through! Daydreaming she paced onwards, a real large rockfall to her right and nervously Sally headed away from the cliff and got round it then headed back into shel… and she stopped dead. There was a TENT in there barely fifty feet away! A single bloody tent and a horrified Sally saw a shadowy figure standing nearby. Though it appeared from his stance he was looking up the cliff face rather than out to sea. She dithered and was stepping backwards when she trod on a half-buried seashell… and the stumble made her fall over. She squealed in pain and despite the gag he must have heard. Sally nearly burst into tears as he came and stood over her prone body. Of course her bindings prevented any chance of running away and she lay there waiting… “What the hell…” he said trying to discerne what lay at his feet. A pretty girl all chained up… and crying now as the emotion got too much for her. He paused then lifted the struggling lass to her feet and stared into her face as she wept. Discovering to his amazement that she had something stuffed into her mouth as well! Now Wally Slimmon might be one of Scotlands leading geologists but he did have a normal if rather monastic lifestyle these days. Too much fieldwork and weeks away had led to divorce but at 46 he still cut a rakish figure. So now… no, but of course he was fascinated at what had stumbled into his camp. Sally stayed still as this guy stared at her, then flinched as his hands reached for the pins on her veil. “It’s alright missy, I’m not going to harm you. Just curious as to what you are doing here like this,” he said. A rich but oh so musical timbre in his voice and Sal was impressed. Miss Marlow worked in a theatre so was used to people with resonance in their speech and this man was the same. He freed her from the veils, lifting them carefully over to the back then reached for the gag, tapping the keys at the same time as he realised what they were for. “Oh, I see you’re one of that sort,” and now Wally was smiling as the girl blushed. “I’ve read a bit about… ladies who do self-bondage, never thought I’d see an example in real life and certainly never out here.” The gag slid out and Sally coughed and spluttered her thanks, asking for a drink if he had any spare. Wally surprised she wasn’t begging to be freed. She drank half the glass and said that was fine. “Guess I’d better explain then,” she grinned and sat down on a stool having been invited to rest her feet. The lass not minding as his hands had helped her down, both just brushing her breasts and it was his turn to glow as he apologised. “Yeah right,” she chuckled, “but you’re not the first either,” and then Sally told all. That she was in a happy lesbian relationship with Judith, though both girls were allowed ’to have some of the other’ as long as they confessed to the partner. Admitting that on at least one occasion they’d had the guy at the same time! “Really, I bet he thought all his luck had come at once!” Wally grinned and now Sally was comfortable enough to laugh as well. Pleased that he hadn’t come out with a ‘such a waste’ comment like so many others when telling someone that they ‘batted for the other side. The guy still amazed she was happy to be cuffed like this. Saying that Judith was the one who’d put her into this and that she would be waiting to free her once the walk was done. “She’ll be wondering where I am. But could you do me a favour… I’m busting for the loo…” Sally said jangling her wrists and looking pleadingly at him. Wally laughed and took the keys off her collar and went behind, unlocking Sally’s wrists and the girl groaned as she flexed both shoulders. Taking the keys back then reaching down and removing the leg restraints with the belt last. “Thanks, now where do I… go,” she asked, the guy saying that partway down the rockface was a portaloo that his team had dropped off for him two days ago. He was to be here a fortnight and “Hardly got time to walk a mile down to your car-park each time.” Such a blessing and it was a smiling Sally Marlow who returned minutes later saying what a relief and that she should have gone before starting the walk. Seeing Wally giving her the once over and she couldn’t help an extra sway, allowing her dress to ebb and flow. They had a chat about his work and though the finds here in the fall were disappointing so far he was determined to check what he could. “I get paid for working like this, you two have to spend money to come here… playing bondage games, yes?” Wally grinned, saying she was wearing a nice outfit, despite the current usage. “Yeah, does feel good,” she replied, running both hands over her hips again to tease him. The guy grinning at her starting to blush when he said, “Shame I cannot check for myself eh?” Sally did smile a little more warmly now as she relaxed, then amazed herself by saying he could! She was that thankful for him not attacking her when she’d been restrained that maybe she owed him. He paused as she stood there, the girl nodding then slowly reached for her as Sally walked forward. Those hands gently touching her waist then sliding round onto her butt and tenderly rubbing all over. She closed her eyes and puckered up to hopef… and almost swooned as their lips met. “It’s been a long while since I did anything like that,” he murmured while taking a breather moments later. She nodded and said the same. “Judith’s lovely and I couldn’t be without her, but there’s something a guy has… and I know she wouldn’t mind…” she began, then paused… “Be gentle with me… but I need… all of you… now,” she whispered. Sally’s heart was pounding as he removed her headdress then lowered the zip on her. The girl stepping elegantly out of it then coming closer to allow him to finish undressing her. The lacy bra freeing two lovely breasts then his hands went below and soon a naked girl was being led to his tent. “Sand gets everywhere and a blanket’ll be a damn sight more comfortable.” He stripped off and… wow… was all she could think of. It was a special as she’d hoped as Wally took her that afternoon. Though out of practice he made her feel special and the squeals proved it. “Not too loud or you’ll bring more rocks down,” he chuckled as she gasped and groaned away. A shriek of laughter at that and he commented that maybe she should have worn her gag. Sally grinned and once they’d finished with a sensual shared shower under the waterfall streaming from the cliff asked what the time was. Slightly concerned that she’d been here an hour! “Judith will squeal even louder,” Sally joked as she tossed over the towel used to dry her hair. Working the tiara and veils back onto her head then doing her underwear before applying the dress. Like a true gent he zipped her up, then turned Sally round for another rub and kiss. “Time to chain up I guess,” she said and did the belt and leg cuffs herself leaving the guy to do her wrists. “Feels OK?” he asked once they were secured and she blushed and nodded yes then allowed him to gag her. Once she was safely restrained he kissed her, then pinned the veils into the right place before telling Sally something… She stared at him for ages then nodded, turning away and shuffling off, being stopped and sent the right way as she’d started to head for the wrong carpark! Judith Curran was concerned as surely Sally should be in sight by now? A bright sunny afternoon and a white-clad lass… you can see miles here but the horizon was clear as she leaned over the railing to look down to the left… and finally smiled. “You little chicken…” she exclaimed, seeing her lover shuffling alongside the cliff face, dodging out of sight now and again and Jude realised what she was doing. Keeping close to cover and only exposing herself as briefly as possible. Least it explained why she’d been so long as the girl drew closer. Judith looked around and was pleased the carpark was still deserted, even the gulls had cleared off now. With Sally probably within earshot she called out, seeing her jump at first, pause then start to hurry… well with only a few inches of chain it was a fast shuffle and soon the girls were together. Jude hugging her tight and saying well done. She’d tease her later about not going straight across. A last check and she led the tired lass up to the carpark and safely into the motorhome. Sally was exhausted at her endevours and pleased to be inside. Judith unpinning the veils then reaching for… “Sal dear… where are your keys honey…?” she said at last, shocked that somehow the snaplock had failed. Then having seen Sally wasn’t concerned… the faintest of grins there… “OK Missy, what are you up to? How the… oh, better get the gag out and you’ll need a bloody good explanation young lady!” So Sally, refreshed after a drink told her lover that halfway back, she’d met a hunky geologist who waylaid her, let the lass use his toilet then given her one! Now he was waiting for the so-called friend who’d done this, to come and rescue her keys in person! Only problem being was that Judith was to walk there NAKED and bound! It was her turn to squeal “You’ve gotta be joking!” But the grin on Sally’s face meant that she wasn’t. “Yes, he’s promised that if you go tonight, as it’ll be dark in three hours anyway, then he’ll return them to you. Plus he’ll make sure you get back here safely. And Jude, he IS a bit dishy too…” Sally laughed, seeing Judith’s expression of… lust perhaps starting to emerge? ...

Giga sat at their booth with her back to the door of a little Italian place near downtown. It was one of their favorite places to go and it seemed like the right place to have a nice civil discussion about things that were going on between them. Mistakes were made. By everyone. And it would take some work but they were going to get through it. They always did. ...

Inspired by TrashGirl The new Love Bot, recently released by tech magnate BotNet, had gotten quite a lot of attention. In addition to their usual products, such as their MaidBots, Operators, and ServiceBots, the Love Bots offered a new and exciting option for BotNet’s… more adult clientele. To say that the Love Bots were a hit would be an understatement. People couldn’t get enough of them, and it didn’t take long for more bizarre customer requests to pop up. Soon BotNet devoted an entire devision to keeping the adult side of the world happy. New and more interesting features began popping up, catering to every fetishists needs. ...

James watched. He could not help himself. He wanted to look away but what he saw pulled at him. Before him lay a woman. Spread eagled on a bed. Bound by ropes and chain. Blind folded and hardly moving. Wires running to her vagina and breast. He was not ignorant. Just that you hear about these things and sort of dismiss them. Not in my backyard sort of thing. A retired Navy man with over twenty-two years in the service. He thought had seen it all. ...

WHAM! Smash! Kapow! Both muggers fell to the pavement, clutching their aching heads and rattled ribs. “Oh… oh my god, thank you!” With a wheeze, the lanky victim they’d been terrorising staggered to his feet, gratefully accepting his rucksack from her hands. “You came just in time… I-I’m gonna call the police, but… thank you so much!” His saviour nodded, flashing him a trademark winning smile. Muscular limbs (though not brutish or bulky) and a confident stance announced her strength without having to say a word. Oh, and the fact that she’d just tossed a couple of burly men around without breaking a sweat. That was something of a giveaway too. “Anytime. Just watch where you wander late at night, okay?” “Y-yes ma’am…” She was very pretty, a charming wink accompanied by a vague wave at the two would-be thieves. “Hopefully these two will see the error of their ways in the back of a cop car. As for me…” She shrugged, her short gold-blonde hair swinging as she did. “I better be on my way. Stay safe!” Before the befuddled citizen can reply, she takes a running start and leaps into the air… several stories into the air, springing impossibly high into the night sky as her cape flutters. He just watched her go with utter bewilderment, halfway to pinching himself in case it was all a dream. “Mmh.” Her enormous strides slowed, having skimmed across several blocks and through a menagerie of neon and smoke. Few people would look up in time to see what the noise was, to catch a glimpse of her ludicrously quick traversal of the city. And even if they did… who’d believe them? “Yeah, I know… I’m exhausted too.” She thought aloud, coming to a heavy halt on an apartment rooftop. Her boots skidded on gravel, and she took a few moments to stand and catch her breath. “Ah… that took longer than expected, sorry.” Mumbling away to herself, she dusted off her form-fitting leotard and began wriggling both hands free from her gloves, pulling parts of her costume off before she’d even reached the stairway door. Retrieving a key from between her generous cleavage (where else?) she crept inside, taking care not to slam the door or make any unnecessary noise. She’d already had a close shave with the landlord last week, and noise complaints were the last thing she needed as a secret super alter-ego going about her business. Nobody lingering on the stairs, at least. No witnesses to see her shapely form squeezed into lycra and latex, muscles rippling as she scampered downstairs to her secret lair. Also known as her apartment, which was in dire need of some tidying up after this weekend. “Finally… phew…” With the door shut at last, her shoulders slumped and her eyes closed. “Easy-peasy. Nobody spotted us at all…” “Mmm…” A faint humming lingered in her throat, an apparent reply to her reassurances. In acknowledgement, she shuffled into the room and started kicking off her boots, unzipping her scandalously revealing one-piece suit and letting it loosen around her arms. With only a little wriggling, she pulled it over her broad hips and set about doing the same to the stretchy leggings that completed her superheroine ensemble. “Ahhhh…. I swear that thing rides up my ass so bad sometimes, we gotta see about trading it in for something less… unf, assertive.” Her remarks were accompanied by a yawn, and a glance down at her naked body in all its splendour. “Not that I mind seeing more of you, of course. Heh.” Those hands of hers wandered, stroking her thighs up and down, brushing her hair gently away from her eyes. “As much as I’d love to spend the night, I better not show up to work tomorrow looking like this… people will ask questions, get turned on, get jealous, you know how it is…” “Mmnnnnn…” an embarrassed squirm overtakes her for a moment, and her cheeks tinge with red even as she smiles. “Mmh…” “I know, I know… I don’t want to leave either, so you can quit squeezing me so tight in here, mmf… C’mon, I can snuggle with you if you lemme out~” “Mmnn.” Her fingers pinched at those cheeks, gently tugging at the reluctant skin stubbornly holding itself in place. “I’ll, ah, I’ll make you dinner… I’m starving, so I know you must be too. I won’t run off into the wilderness if you open up, I promise!” After a few more minutes of quiet humming and squeezing, her body relaxes at last. Tension eases from every muscle, like soft fabric going slack, and with a grimace she pinches her own tongue and begins to pull. It’s slow and awkward, but out comes her soft palate, her gums peeling away as her entire face begins to stretch. As the saliva-coated protrusion is tugged free from deep inside, her back begins to shift apart - like a pair of curtains drawing open, skin splits along a perfect seam and shifts forward, peeling away from a person hidden within. Arms, legs, her audacious chest all come loose and limp With one last lurch, she manages to untangle herself from the guy she’d been clinging to for the best part of an evening. She gulps down several breaths, laying beside him on the sofa, coils of skin slowly morphing itself into a person-shaped state. “Mmmmmnnhhh…. You’re a jerk…” Were the first words from her reformed mouth, lightly shoving against his shoulder once she could sit up enough to reach. “I’m gonna be coooold…. baaaaabe, mmnnnhhh…” “Mmpf, hey, I won’t be long…” He stretched, acclimatising to moving his own limbs unassisted at last. Spending so much time being subconsciously powered-up by his girlfriend left his arms and legs feeling like concrete, gravity suddenly such a harsh mistress. “Mmmalright. Stay here, wrap up warm, while I go make us dinner…” Her fingers slip away from their clutch around his arm, reluctantly allowing him to stagger to the kitchen. She was hungry, yes, but it was never a fantastic feeling when she gave up the warmth and closeness they enjoyed whilst sharing her body. Stretchy powers were fine on their own, but without a solid foundation beneath she fell afoul of that damn conservation of mass business. On her own she still pretty tough, flexing and ensnaring any wrongdoers trying to escape, but she often struggled against more brute-strength obstacles in her way. She’d come across a solution: Take her boyfriend with her. Use her powers in an unorthodox way to deform herself, shifting mass around in just the right way and hollowing out space to pull him inside, let him wear her like a suit. Truth was, it wasn’t just to bulk up and focus on being super-strong, but to keep him close as well. To feel him there, as close as they could ever be. To employ the metaphor of a ‘human shield’ in the most literal way she knew, and be an impenetrable barrier against any attack. He’d taken to it remarkably well, even better than the time she’d first revealed he was dating a weirdo with superpowers. At the time she’d been a nervous wreck, trying desperately to maintain the masquerade and avoid the horrible reality where he would find her secret and be repulsed, unable to reconcile with the two lives she lead. But as it turned out, he reacted to her tearful admission with an enormous hug and many reassurances that, no, he wasn’t mad or grossed out or upset, and that he wasn’t going to freak out about what she was. “That’s… awesome.” Once all their mushy feelings had finally settled (it took a lot of cuddling, after all) his response was one of utter amazement. She endured a mixture of embarrassment and relief at finally being able to flaunt her stretchy abilities around the apartment, demonstrating impossible feats of flexibility and crawling through ridiculously tight spaces - her preferred method of sneaking around places she shouldn’t be, of course. All of it he accepted and marvelled at, in particular her ability to pull him into a hug from across the room and wrap him up in her seemingly endless arms ’till she was satisfied. Indeed, she spent a lot of time hugging him, even more so after her big reveal. When she got home from work, when they were watching TV, when they went to bed… “Heyyyyyyyy…” Her voice muffled by the cushions, she stared at him longingly. Was it maybe worth reaching a snakelike hand over to the next room and reeling him in again? Ahh, too lazy. He’ll be back soon anyway. “Mmmmm…” Their present arrangement came about almost by accident. A particularly chilly night made her cling extra tightly as he slept, unconsciously spreading over him like a creeping vine desperate to have as much surface in contact with his warm body as it could. The next morning, he woke, crawled out of bed, and found his girlfriend stuck to him. Her drooling head still perched on his shoulder, her limbs all but completely wrapped around his. He let her snooze like that for several minutes, stroking her hair and smiling as her eyes fluttered at last - and promptly freaked out, not knowing how she got there, or why she couldn’t untangle her stretchy extremities… As it turns out, it’s awesomebeing a superheroine. After bringing up the idea to go all-in, he reassured her it wouldn’t be too weird that she liked the feeling of someone’s body wrapped up inside of her. He didn’t bat an eye being made to slip inside her stretchy form, gazing into the mirror once she’d closed up around him… so maybe stuffing things down his throat and into his orifices was a little discomforting at first, yeah, but the results were something to behold. All the mass she’d usually have to maintain inside could now be used to pad out generous curves and bulk up her arms and legs to a mighty strength. She looked *hot,*and they had acquired the outfit to emphasise as such… “Alright, it’s comin’…” After an eternity of waiting (like eight minutes at least) he returned, carrying with him two plates of scrambled eggs and toast. He couldn’t tell if her hungry gaze was fixated on the food or him, so he didn’t tarry setting it down and snuggling up beside her. “Here we go. Gah, if I’d known you were so hungry I would’ve wriggled out of you three muggings ago…” She shot him a frown, replying in-between mouthfuls. “Hey! We helped those people, justice is the only nourishment I need!” “Pff.” He watched her scarf down a huge gulp, smiling. “As I can see.” “And anyway… You did most of the work. I was just there to help, keep yousafe, and all…” He glanced at the superhero tights discarded across from them, their ‘uniform’. Surprisingly, she’d suggested it… perhaps it was intended to make him squirm, showing off that much of her curvy body once she’d engulfed him, but instead he revelled in the opportunity to flaunt such sex appeal andkick ass while doing it. That ass-kicking was very much a joint effort, their movements tightly coordinated and kept in rhythm to maximise their combined strength - though she was the one with powers, and she did most of the work. He rolled his eyes, sneaking an arm underneath her precious blanket and looping it around her waist. “Heyhy. You did waymore than just help. You know you do such amazing things, and I am but your humble sidekick, right? I do the talkin’, and you do the amazing feats of heroism!” “…Hm.” Not totally convinced, but all the same she reciprocated his squeeze and leaned against him, full up and drowsy. “I s’pose…” “That’s right. And even your mild-mannered alter ego is the most incredible, wonderful girl I could ever ask for….” Trailing his fingers through her blonde hair, he was never more cosy than when she was in his arms. Listening to her slow breaths, feeling her worries drain away as they lay entwined and sleepy. He needed these moments of blissful calm together as much as she did… “Mmrnnnhh..” Exhausted of words, she just buried her embarrassment against his chest and mumbled, a vague and muffled threat of wrapping him up inside again if he kept teasing. “Mm, it’s okay…” Best keep hugging her tightly, keep her warm and safe, lest he wake up stuck inside of her needy cocoon the next morning… Not that he’d mind awfully. What a terriblefate indeed, forced to take the day off work and spend it with his girlfriend, oh no. Horrifying. So much so he was considering doing it anyway just to let her sleep in tomorrow… she’s certainly earned it. “… Mmmh, promise me one thing?” Her voice rose from his torso. “No more puns, they’re so bad I wanted to punch myself just to hit you…” “Heh. I know some jokes just don’t suit the situation, or they’re some ridiculous stretch…”

As always – enjoy the story, and do not try this sort of trash play at home. Stella’s biggest fantasy was to be treated like trash. Now, most girls, when they say that, they probably mean they want to be humiliated or talked down to… but she meant it literally. Her favorite thing in the world, especially after a long, exhausting session in bed with her boyfriend Ethan, was to have him tie her up, gag her, and then wrap her in a trash bag and treat her like literal trash. Like after he’d had his way with her, she was just some worthless thing to be disposed of. She couldn’t explain why it turned her on so much, but she couldn’t deny that getting “trashed” was one of the most pleasurable sensations she could feel. ...

“I’ll buy that one. Very pretty, I will have a lot of fun with her!” said the man. One card payment later, and the deal was done. The product in question was named “The Sexbot Buddie”. The Sexbots were part of the bigger “Buddie Range”, designed by a company that created state of the art robotic companions, to which these robots were incredibly lifelike. They had an appearence eerily similar to humans, and even more amazingly, had been coded to feel emotion. The robots had an excellent understanding of the world too. Some people hailed it as the greatest invention ever, others weren’t so pleased as they seen it as a way towards replacing humans, both in the workplace and at home. Some “Buddies” were primarily designed to do chores around the house, others were designed to give companionship to the elderly. But in this case, the Sexbot’s main function was (unsurprisingly) for sexual needs, a much more lifelike design than your average blow up doll. ...

story continued from part five Part 6: The Birthday Treat We drove for a while, my disorientation rendering time and distance as mere abstract concepts. Eventually the smooth road noise changed to a gravelly crunch for a while before the car drew to a stop. It was raining even heavier, quite torrential. I felt the heavy drops hitting my rubber shell as if I were stood beneath a particularly powerful shower. ...

David and Sharon have an unusual relationship, Sharon loves playing the pet, and she is good at it most weekends. Sharon is a dog taped up in a doggy style, but she would really like to go to the next level, and Dave wants that too. He gets home a bit later than normal. “Sharon, I have a surprise for you I think you will love it.” “Give me a minute, I need to go to the loo I will be with you shortly.” ...

Part 1: The Lost Mobile “It’s nearly one o’clock, we should head back to the lecture hall.” said Pauline. “Agreed.” responded Nicola. The two girls lifted up their food trays and emptied what was left on them into one of the canteen bins. They made their way to the lecture hall and took their seats. Within minutes they were taking notes, listening to the drony voice of their lecturer for the afternoon, the least exciting one they had during each week. Thursday afternoons were rubbish here. ...

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

The characters and situations in this story are a work of fiction. Permission to use the characters in this story has been given by their original creator, Andy Latex as noted in his blog Smooth Slick N Shiny. This story is meant as an ‘alternate reality’ of his fictional universe. continued from part 8 Part 9 Bulldyke sat back in the limo’s back seat. She caressed the rubber upholstery. It was soft and slick for it had recently been cleaned and polished. She looked at William and Andrew kneeling on the floor in front of her. She felt a little strange. Lady Quirt had rarely allowed her to assume the dominant role in all the years she had served her. It was going to take a little time to adjust, but she was looking forward to it. ...

For the third month running Gemma was short on her rent and in desperate need of some money. Her part time job at the supermarket wasn’t enough to cover the bills, so Gemma often found herself acting in porn films to gain some extra money. She had been involved in nine films in the past so this idea was nothing new to her. In fairness the films paid her well, and it looked like she was going to have to find film number ten to get through her bills for the next few months. ...

She should have known better really. Her memories were her own and she had suppressed them for so long now. It all started on a trip the Imperial War Museum in London. Grandchildren are such a blessing and she loved then dearly. The youngest, Julie, was doing a big project about the blitz on London that happened during the Second World War. Her woman through the ages project for her O levels was coming along well and granny was the perfect subject coming from an age where women had moved out of their homes and become factory workers and pilots and all the myriad of men’s jobs they now had to cover to let the men go off to fight the Nazis. ...

Story continued from Part 12 Chapter 13: Easy Answers By AmyAmy, based on an idea by John Hynden Maeve glared at Patty. “What have you done?” she said. “Can’t you see? You’ll destroy yourself with that poison.” “Fuck you. You can’t do a thing. It’s made me stronger than you. Craine… You think that it’s just another ero-drug? You never were that smart for a detective, were you?” “What is it then Patty? Why don’t you tell me?” Maeve glanced behind her. Flora was still there, embedded in the goo. ...

Story continued from Part 11 Chapter 12: Close Together and Far Apart By AmyAmy, based on an idea by John Hynden Maeve searched the crypt. Stuck amidst the webbing, there was a phone, obviously left for her to find. A trap? She ripped it free. It came alive at her touch, no lock code. There were text messages waiting. She thumbed through them. “Did you think I’d be here? No such luck, thief.” ...

Part 1: Dumping Jennifer Jennifer had just finished clearing up the mess from last night’s party. It had been a good night, plenty of friends over, lots of music, some drunken games and a lovely finish involving her boyfriend Mike, who was at his best in bed last night. Mike had gone out early this morning though, leaving Jennifer to tidy up the house. Clear up done, Jennifer proceeded to straighten her blonde hair, apply a little bit of makeup and change her clothes. Eventually her phone rang. It was Mike. ...

Chapter 1 - Gina Bondage was not something in her playbook. Nor was it anything she had every even toyed with. She had never given it a second thought but now, though not under the best of circumstances, she was learning about it firsthand. Gina Dominelli, a gorgeous green-eyed raven-haired beauty of Italian descent was about to hit the jackpot. Now nearly 32 years old, she realized that all her hard work was about to pay off big time. She worked at her job as tirelessly and aggressively as she did on her own body. Countless hours at the gym had paid off with a magnificent body. Her five foot, five inch frame was complimented by just beyond shoulder length wavy black hair and a 36-23-25 figure. She had what many would call a perfect body with beautifully shaped legs, just the right amount of muscle tone and facial features you would see on a magazine cover. Besides the hypnotic eyes, flawless complexion and perfect lips that begged to be kissed, she also had those oh so sexy arched eyebrows that are so seductive to men. ...

story continues from part one Part 2: A Change of Plans. The sun had been up for nearly an hour when Toni neared home. She knew already that this would not be the safe house she had intended. A news program on the radio was talking about a police raid on a house and that the FBI was on the scene. “It’s horrifying that something like this should be happening here in our town”, the female news reporter said. “Several young women kidnapped and sold as sex slaves, and the home base is suspected to be this house in one of our most affluent neighbourhoods”. ...

Sarah gets stuck in a virtual reality game where she is a four-legged ponygirl. Sarah Brightman knocked on the door, then pushed it open and entered a spacious college suite, Two college boys, Duane and Joshua, greeted her, a little too casually. They were both sitting at their laptops, and didn’t completely stop working. “Come on in,” Duane said. Sarah knew the boys only slightly, from electrical engineering classes. The connection had been made through her friend Harmony - who just at that moment breezed into the suite from an entrance on the other side of the room. The girls greeted each other warmly. ...

I am walking quickly through the large hallways of a state run mental facility surrounded by surly interns who are very unhappy people made even unhappier by the confusion and determination my presence has caused. The ordeal started two months ago when I was told my dear friend and fellow bondage enthusiast Lori had been committed by the state into the mental facility. After an extensive search I found her location and bluffed my way to be told the particulars of her incarceration. I knew Lori well and her deep seated desire to experience the most stringent bondage she could. She had worked for several years as a nurse at two different mental facilities until she was found wearing a tight straight jacket and leg binder locked in a “quiet” room. ...

Lucy was about to go for her daily run, she loved wearing the tight spandex shorts and sports bra that showed how well she kept her body firm. She also liked how all the guys stopped to stare and even whistled sometimes making her feel sexy. As she went to get her running shoes she spotted her favorite high heels, these were her special time shoes she only wore them when she was alone and stringently bound. She loved the super high heels that forced her to walk on the balls of her feet and the thick platforms that made her not feel quite so short. Lucy was five foot tall and had been wearing high heels since she was old enough to ask for them. As she stared at the ridiculously high heels she changed her mind deciding to restrain herself and get her work out that way instead of running. ...

Good evening and welcome to our little tree-house of fear, Tonight, for your entertainment and terror we bring you.. (by the way, I am now affecting my best Vincent price voice)… a tale ofAliens from far off worlds, of beautiful damsels in distress and of abduction and transformation. This tale is not intended to shock or repulse, but merely to inform and worn of the terrors that exist beyond our every day experiences. For where the tales of the T light zone (to avoid copywright issues) are pure fantasy, the tale you are about to be told is all true……. ...

(story continues from Homecoming 6: Silent Witness) Authors note: This is a standalone story featuring characters from Homecoming Part 7: Arietta’s Turn “Mother, do I have to?” Isolda sighed softly. How can it be, she thought, that I can rule and entire kingdom, yet I can’t seem to get through to my own daughter? Maybe the old ways really are best. “Etta,” she said softly, “it’s not like I’m asking you to do anything difficult.” ...

This story continues Cassie’s life as a Cyborg from Cassandra Cyborg’s Vacation by PoseMe Cassie has been enjoying life again like never before. Getting back from the “vacation” was a hassle, but it worked out. Going back to work each day has been fine, and really, kind of enjoyable: she has a purpose now. Life with Allie is fun and always a trip, especially living with a very rich and eccentric teenager (technically, she is not a teenager but you could not tell that by her actions and outfits). So when Cassie gets a call from her dad about business, it seems odd but not strange. “So, you need me to do what?” Cassie asks to the view screen in front of her. Her dad is dressed in his lab coat with a robotics lab in the background. His glasses are pushed up onto this head, forcing his thinning yet wild hair to sit down at least a little bit. He gestures to something off screen as he replies, “Our newest model was just damaged in a test and we have a public demo tomorrow. I was hoping you could come down here tonight and get fitted for the demo tomorrow… that is if your not too busy.” Cassie knows she has time tomorrow and tonight might be a problem, but she really can’t say no to her dad. “No prob, bob,” she says in jest, “I’ll do it.” His dad smiles broadly and says, “Be here by 8 tonight, while I’m still here, or you will have to let the tech tomorrow do it. I would prefer me.” Cassie nods and closes the screen with, “See you tonight!” Cassie finishes her chores and asks to be relieved a little early tonight. The chef cyborg makes some comment in German, then switches Cassie off in her programmed anger. During the rush of dinner, Cassie’s stiff body is bumped by a server and doused in the spaghetti sauce that was to be part of dinner. She cannot scream, but she can feel the really warm, thick sauce slowly running down her back and legs. Great, she curses, that will ruin this outfit. Eventually, Veronica sees her and reactivates her. Cassie has to finish cleaning the pots and pans before she is released to the basement maintenance area. Trying not to think how bad she must look, Cassie does as ordered and heads down stairs for her usual post-work cleaning. Due to the mess and staining of the sauce, she is slowed in the process. After twice as long as usual, she is out the back door, perfectly buffed to a gorgeous sheen. Her cyborg body looks amazing in the moon light, reflecting the light just so. “Moonlight?” Cassie says outloud in a panic, “I gotta hurry.” Throwing on her clothes for public use, she says goodbye to Allie and with a quick hug and peck on the cheek, she rushes out the door. The cyborg driver wastes no time in leaving the mansion grounds. Since that cyborg registers Cassie as one and the same, he does not access his small talk protocols. Cassie is totally fine with that, as it seems strange to small talk with an object. She has to chuckle at that thought, like me? Getting to her dad’s company is relatively short and she is eager to get out of the car, but then she stops. Looking at the building, she is reminded of that day when she “woke up.” How weird it felt to be alive, but not breathing. How strange her body felt, familiar yet alien. All those memories come back, just as if she was human still. She moves to step inside when her phone buzzes. She has a voicemail from her dad. Wait, dad? “Hey, girl. Figured you would be late or not show up tonight (sorry, but I’m a realist), so I set it all up and left around 8:30. Thanks again, love you!” Cassie looks at her phone’s time display: 9:05. Oh, she thinks dejectedly, I really am late. Shrugging her shoulders and waving the driver on, she walks to the side entrance. The cameras scan and buzz her in, as she is the company’s android and the boss’ daughter (though very few know that). Walking down to his lab, even though he spends most days in the office at the top floor, she can see the usual wreck he always left it. Robot parts and android pieces along with equipment that looks from some science fiction movie fill the space. Over on the main work bench, she sees a charred humanoid form with a stack of clothes and notes next to it. As she walks up, it looks like the female cyborg had been hit with a flamethrower. She shudders slightly and then looks onto the table. The first note is for morning tech and his duties. The second note is for Cassie. Picking it up, she reads that the 3D sports wear store in the Galleria Mall ordered a demo of the 3D projection tech for a public demo tomorrow. The latest cyborg could do it, unlike the older versions. Cassie is a special, one-of-a-kind model, so she has the necessary tech to help. Reading it over, it seems pretty straight forward. They download the software, activate the tech in her “eyes”, and then she just stands outside the store trying to make a sale. Nodding her head, she begins to strip. Might as well check the outfit out before I head back home, she reasons. I can get back down here early tomorrow when the tech comes. She places her street clothes on the table and opens the bag containing her outfit. She gasps out loud as she pulls it out: a Playboy bunny costume. “Oh no,” she grumbles, “Not gonna happen.” Before she can do anything, she hears a door open and footsteps coming her way. A naked lady in the lab would look pretty weird, and trying to explain herself would take just as long with just as much awkwardness. Deciding to dodge the situation, she puts the clothes back on the table and assumes a neutral, power-off stance. The footsteps do not sound like they are coming closer, but she is not sure if they can see her or not. The rather young but intelligent looking fellow walks slowly around the lab and ends up at the table near Cassie. His lab coat is a light gray, not white like the senior employees. His shaggy hair looks a little out of place, but his glasses and bright eyes make you know that he is smart. He picks up the tech notes for tomorrow. Cassie watches him read through the notes. He glances over at her, but then returns to checking the table. He sets the notes down, then rummages through the table’s contents. He finally turns back around with a small tablet in his hand. “Well,” he says with a slight sigh, “Guess I should just do this all tonight rather than in the morning.” Cassie realizes too late, that he is talking about her. Great, she thinks sarcastically, I may be stuck here for the night. He reaches up and cups her exposed breast. He does not even look at her while he rubs her gently, but instead at the tablet. “Hmm, they seem smaller than 40’s,” he says while removing his hand and extending an index finger to her left nipple. He pushes in on her nipple in three places then on the final press in the center, he hears a click and she feels it move. With shifting and moving inside her, Cassie feels her chest change. In a few seconds, she can feel her left breast fill up and out, becoming disproportionate to her right one. Cupping her again, he nods his head, “Better.” Doing the same on the other side, Cassie notices the right one even out to the left one. I had no idea I could do that, she thinks to herself in disbelief. Coming around behind her, he gropes her butt cheek. Then without warning, he slaps it. Cassie squeals inside, why is he spanking me? “Hmm, seems to be not firm enough,” as he checks his tablet. With more presses on her butt cheek by his index finger, Cassie feels her butt tightening and sticking out a bit more. Oh, you creep, she wants to scream, don’t make it bigger?! Seemingly satisfied with the mods stated on the tablet, he walks around her again, putting his hand around the back of her neck. With another click, he removes the back and top of her head, exposing her “brain.” Did he just remove my hair? she pouts as he sets it down on the table. As she looks closer at it, she thinks, hmmm, that seems to be awfully thick for just holding hair. Holding the tablets extended wires out, he connects them to Cassie’s exposed processors. Cassie loses all sight and feeling. Yikes, what happened? While she tries to figure it out, he continues to update her systems to the specs on the tablet. She can “see” many of her main data files being archived to make room for the primary 3D Projector File. She can see the file overrides her speech and movements, but her regular thinking should be unaffected. Once completed, he disconnects the control leads. With them out of her, her vision and other abilities come online. “Well,” he states, “You are about ready for testing. Just one final thing…” He walks over to the table and picks up the clothes. Oh no, she protests, I am not wearing that degrading thing. He puts the Playboy bunny suit on her, as it is split into two halves and joins along the seams by magnetic fabric. Within seconds, she has a kelly green satin, strapless one piece. Her new “girls” are barely covered, and she can feel the AC blowing all over her butt sticking out. He adds black and white cuffs to each wrist and a matching choker to her neck. The shoes are rather high-heeled, but as he puts them near the back of her feet, she automatically arches her foot. The shoes slip on her feet and close by built-in motors. He heads back to the table and retrieves a blonde hair wig and skull plate. With a snap, Cassie has long, blonde, curly hair that reaches past her shoulders. A light touch with the lip-pen, and her lips are now a green to match the outfit. Soft pink bunny ears are added and fit magnetically onto her skull plate. He steps back to admire her. “Wow,” he says, “You are a dream come true.” He puts down the tablet and picks up a remote. Oh boy, Cassie thinks frantically, I hope that doesn’t do what it looks like. Click! She straightens up and stands at attention. I can’t move, she protests, my motor control has been taken from me. Click! Her arms bend and her waist pivots and her legs lock into a standard slightly-bent-one-foot-in-front-of-the other position and she smiles broadly saying, “Welcome to 3D Projections, where anything is possible.” She can see the program pirating her “eyes”, projecting images onto the floor, wall, and him. The images look very real of flying birds, moving cars, talking people, etc. You name it, Cassie is projecting it onto every surface. Satisfied with the pre-demo, he pauses the program. Walking behind her, pressing his finger into the back of her knees. Cassie can hear and feel the clicking and locking of her legs. “No need to let you have walking abilities, just in case something goes wrong.” What? I can’t walk now?! He pulls out his phone and dials a number while looking her over. “Cyborg is ready to go… pick up in an hour?… let yourself in, I’m leaving.” And without so much as a wave good bye, he turns on his heel and walks out. Cassie is not sure if she should be relieved or miffed. She stands in the same position he left her. She tries to override her motor limitations but she cannot. She legs are locked into that position, and without being able to reach down and unlock them manually, she is stuck there. She thinks she can crack the software override given enough time, but even that is a stretch. She is a cyborg now, with nothing to make her look or feel human. And while she knows it is temporary, she feels frustrated with a hint of fear. I forget I’m not really human, she says to herself, even being a maid is like a game or acting. But this, she resigns herself to the situation, is what a cyborg or android must feel like: helpless. Within the hour, Cassie is picked up and delivered to the mall store without incident. The delivery team knows what they are doing and do this sort of thing regularly. Still standing on the hand truck they brought her in on, she can see the well-lit mall but she doesn’t hear the bustling of shoppers. Huh, she says to herself, they have redone this place. I guess it has been longer than I thought since I have been in here. As she takes it all in, she can hear voices coming closer to her from behind. “Oh yes, yes,” a male voice says, “She is perfect for the display.” While the mover holds her in place, “Great, it’s early,” says a female voice. “Get it over in front of Projections. Let’s have it ready to roll when the stores open tomorrow.” Cassie can feel herself being wheeled over to another part of the mall. Well, she reasons, that explains why it is so quiet: mall’s closed for the night. After a couple of minutes, she is tilted forward. The mover steadies her by holding onto her newly expanded chest. With more pushing and groping than is needed, he gets her into place in front of the store. Cassie can see a large portion of the mall in front of her, as the 3D Projections store is on the corner of an intersection. The worker moves out of her field of view, giving her a good look at the giant, shiny, newly-renovated mall. Wow, she says to herself, this place looks amazing. A lady in a navy blue power suit walks up to her. She looks to be in her late forties, but she obviously takes good care of herself. The woman straightens out Cassie’s suit and messes with her “ears.” Producing a remote, Cassie knows instantly when she pushed the button. Swiveling at the waist from side to side slowly, Cassie begins, “Welcome to 3D Projections, where anything is possible. Check out the latest in wearable tech with eye-projection.” Cassie tilts her head down as she displays a beautiful sunset on the ground in incredible detail. “Notice the colors and contrast.” Still swiveling, she looks to the side to project a race car on the wall leading into the store. “It’s not blurry no matter how fast you go.” Over the next 5 minutes, Cassie demos the entire system. The lady watches intently throughout the “show.” Once Cassie starts to repeat herself, the lady presses the pause button. By this time, other people dressed nicely had shown up. They are talking to themselves, saying something important but probably not real important. Cassie thought she might be uncomfortable with this, but now that she is here, this seems quite natural. They think I’m a cyborg, and I am a cyborg, so there is nothing to be nervous about (I am not really me right now… well, sort of). Setting the remote just inside the door, the group walks away, congratulating themselves on a job well-done. Uh, lady, Cassie says loudly to herself, you realize I’m just paused here… not turned off… battery wasting away… ah well. The day starts slow but picks up for Cassie. Hundreds of people stop to see her demo. The kids are jumping around as she projects all kinds of images and videos on the ground and wall. The adults are paying more attention to her words and the prices. But, the teenagers and 20-somethings only have eyes for her. She can feel them undressing her as she goes through her demo again. As a whole, it is not really a bad gig, she thinks. I am showing off some amazing tech in an amazing body with a completely degrading outfit. Heavy sigh as she “shrugs” her shoulders, ah well, I guess it is better than staying at home all weekend. Just after dinner, she notices her low battery light come on. I tried to tell them, she thinks, but did they listen? No! She chuckles at the joke as she projects a spaceship across the “awning” of the store. I figure someone will come check on me soon, but they have really ignored me all day. It is like the store has been closed or something. I have not seen anybody actually go in, but there have been a bunch stop to stare and get brochures. When she reaches 5%, her system shuts down. She stops swiveling and her mouth stops in a smile as she was inbetween words. Her eyes stop projecting the mountains of Colorado and her arms are extended slightly in front of her. She would have slumped over somewhat, but her locked legs have affected her back motors as well, so she stays in that exact pose. Most people had gone on, so no one really noticed this being much different, just figuring the demo was over. Uh, she says to herself, a little help here? The next hour or so is rather boring, but at least she did not have to say the same things over and over again. They will probably be by to take me back soon. As she is thinking that, a young man in a gray jumpsuit slowly walks by her. He is busy watching a video on his phone, so he barely notices her. He pauses long enough to hold up a scanner-type device. With a click, Cassie can feel a slight touch on her cheek. What was that? She finds out soon enough. After the mall closes, an unmanned cart rolls by her. The cart is a flatbed type with a tower bot build into the front of it. They are old tech with no resemblance to humans, but they get the job done. A red light from the bot scans her body. When it reaches her cheek, it beeps. Reaching out a set of robotic arms, Cassie is loaded onto the cart. With her are a bunch of life-like mannequins, all wearing various clothes from the retail stores in the mall. Uh oh, she thinks, this can’t be right… I’m not a mannequin. Driving into a service elevator, Cassie and the other mannequins ride down into the basement. From her view, she can see a gigantic, low-ceiling room where mannequins and bots are cleaned and stored. None of the machines look scary, as a mall is just there to maintain it’s illusion of marketing clothes and other items. As they continue to drive slowly on the cart, she can see the bot section. They are cleaning and polishing the bots and cyborgs (which is where I should be). The cart comes to a rest. There is a beeping sound, then the cart starts to tip to one side. It is behind her, so she cannot see where she is going, but she knows this: they are all going together. In a loud series of thumps, the mannequins are dumped into a bin of other mannequins. It is a giant container of mannequins from every store. Now what? Cassie says to herself in disbelief. Cassie can hear machines working around her. She knows there is more to this than just being dumped here. Like the hundred times before, she tries to will herself to move, but can’t. Her power is low, her body is locked, and she is pressed in all sides from the many mannequins around her. Argh, she complains, this stinks! The mannequin container begins to empty, as each one is removed and placed on a conveyor belt. The feet are locked onto the conveyor using magnets that were inserted into the feet of each. Cassie’s skeleton is made up of metal, so her feet stick better than most of the mannequins around her. All of the clothes are removed carefully, as the stores might need their merchandise back. The mannequins’ limit mobility affects this somewhat, but the robotic arms are programmed quite well. Cassie travels naked with the others down the line. She is sprayed with a cleaner and wiped with a towel. She is then sprayed with a different cleaner and wiped with a soft cloth. She is then sprayed with something else without being wiped, then finally sprayed again with a very thick and gooey substance. The goo is rubbed in with a sponge then buffed out with a spinning brush. The smell is like a candle. It was at that point she realizes what just happened: I have been waxed and polished. Oh no, she moans, if this stuff hardens, I will never get out of this. And for the hundred and first time, she tries to move to no avail. At the end of the line, she is removed like the others and placed in storage boxes. The boxes are made of cardboard and have clear plastic windows at face level. Cassie can hear the box closing and being taped shut. She feels her box being stood up on end and placed on another cart. The slow movement makes her think of the cart that brought her here in the first place. Wondering where she is headed next, she realizes she will never know. The critical power level light just came on. I have a few more seconds of active memory, Cassie thinks dejectedly, then I really am nothing more than a mannequin. Well, dad, she says loudly in her head, I know I kinda did this to myself, but I could use your help right about n– ~ ~ ~ Epilogue ~ ~ ~ ...

This story continues Cassie’s life as a Cyborg from Cassandra Cyborg’s Vacation by PoseMe Cassie has been enjoying life again like never before. Getting back from the “vacation” was a hassle, but it worked out. Going back to work each day has been fine, and really, kind of enjoyable: she has a purpose now. Life with Allie is fun and always a trip, especially living with a very rich and eccentric teenager (technically, she is not a teenager but you could not tell that by her actions and outfits). So when Cassie gets a call from her dad about business, it seems odd but not strange. “So, you need me to do what?” Cassie asks to the view screen in front of her. Her dad is dressed in his lab coat with a robotics lab in the background. His glasses are pushed up onto this head, forcing his thinning yet wild hair to sit down at least a little bit. He gestures to something off screen as he replies, “Our newest model was just damaged in a test and we have a public demo tomorrow. I was hoping you could come down here tonight and get fitted for the demo tomorrow… that is if your not too busy.” Cassie knows she has time tomorrow and tonight might be a problem, but she really can’t say no to her dad. “No prob, bob,” she says in jest, “I’ll do it.” His dad smiles broadly and says, “Be here by 8 tonight, while I’m still here, or you will have to let the tech tomorrow do it. I would prefer me.” Cassie nods and closes the screen with, “See you tonight!” Cassie finishes her chores and asks to be relieved a little early tonight. The chef cyborg makes some comment in German, then switches Cassie off in her programmed anger. During the rush of dinner, Cassie’s stiff body is bumped by a server and doused in the spaghetti sauce that was to be part of dinner. She cannot scream, but she can feel the really warm, thick sauce slowly running down her back and legs. Great, she curses, that will ruin this outfit. Eventually, Veronica sees her and reactivates her. Cassie has to finish cleaning the pots and pans before she is released to the basement maintenance area. Trying not to think how bad she must look, Cassie does as ordered and heads down stairs for her usual post-work cleaning. Due to the mess and staining of the sauce, she is slowed in the process. After twice as long as usual, she is out the back door, perfectly buffed to a gorgeous sheen. Her cyborg body looks amazing in the moon light, reflecting the light just so. “Moonlight?” Cassie says outloud in a panic, “I gotta hurry.” Throwing on her clothes for public use, she says goodbye to Allie and with a quick hug and peck on the cheek, she rushes out the door. The cyborg driver wastes no time in leaving the mansion grounds. Since that cyborg registers Cassie as one and the same, he does not access his small talk protocols. Cassie is totally fine with that, as it seems strange to small talk with an object. She has to chuckle at that thought, like me? Getting to her dad’s company is relatively short and she is eager to get out of the car, but then she stops. Looking at the building, she is reminded of that day when she “woke up.” How weird it felt to be alive, but not breathing. How strange her body felt, familiar yet alien. All those memories come back, just as if she was human still. She moves to step inside when her phone buzzes. She has a voicemail from her dad. Wait, dad? “Hey, girl. Figured you would be late or not show up tonight (sorry, but I’m a realist), so I set it all up and left around 8:30. Thanks again, love you!” Cassie looks at her phone’s time display: 9:05. Oh, she thinks dejectedly, I really am late. Shrugging her shoulders and waving the driver on, she walks to the side entrance. The cameras scan and buzz her in, as she is the company’s android and the boss’ daughter (though very few know that). Walking down to his lab, even though he spends most days in the office at the top floor, she can see the usual wreck he always left it. Robot parts and android pieces along with equipment that looks from some science fiction movie fill the space. Over on the main work bench, she sees a charred humanoid form with a stack of clothes and notes next to it. As she walks up, it looks like the female cyborg had been hit with a flamethrower. She shudders slightly and then looks onto the table. The first note is for morning tech and his duties. The second note is for Cassie. Picking it up, she reads that the 3D sports wear store in the Galleria Mall ordered a demo of the 3D projection tech for a public demo tomorrow. The latest cyborg could do it, unlike the older versions. Cassie is a special, one-of-a-kind model, so she has the necessary tech to help. Reading it over, it seems pretty straight forward. They download the software, activate the tech in her “eyes”, and then she just stands outside the store trying to make a sale. Nodding her head, she begins to strip. Might as well check the outfit out before I head back home, she reasons. I can get back down here early tomorrow when the tech comes. She places her street clothes on the table and opens the bag containing her outfit. She gasps out loud as she pulls it out: a Playboy bunny costume. “Oh no,” she grumbles, “Not gonna happen.” Before she can do anything, she hears a door open and footsteps coming her way. A naked lady in the lab would look pretty weird, and trying to explain herself would take just as long with just as much awkwardness. Deciding to dodge the situation, she puts the clothes back on the table and assumes a neutral, power-off stance. The footsteps do not sound like they are coming closer, but she is not sure if they can see her or not. The rather young but intelligent looking fellow walks slowly around the lab and ends up at the table near Cassie. His lab coat is a light gray, not white like the senior employees. His shaggy hair looks a little out of place, but his glasses and bright eyes make you know that he is smart. He picks up the tech notes for tomorrow. Cassie watches him read through the notes. He glances over at her, but then returns to checking the table. He sets the notes down, then rummages through the table’s contents. He finally turns back around with a small tablet in his hand. “Well,” he says with a slight sigh, “Guess I should just do this all tonight rather than in the morning.” Cassie realizes too late, that he is talking about her. Great, she thinks sarcastically, I may be stuck here for the night. He reaches up and cups her exposed breast. He does not even look at her while he rubs her gently, but instead at the tablet. “Hmm, they seem smaller than 40’s,” he says while removing his hand and extending an index finger to her left nipple. He pushes in on her nipple in three places then on the final press in the center, he hears a click and she feels it move. With shifting and moving inside her, Cassie feels her chest change. In a few seconds, she can feel her left breast fill up and out, becoming disproportionate to her right one. Cupping her again, he nods his head, “Better.” Doing the same on the other side, Cassie notices the right one even out to the left one. I had no idea I could do that, she thinks to herself in disbelief. Coming around behind her, he gropes her butt cheek. Then without warning, he slaps it. Cassie squeals inside, why is he spanking me? “Hmm, seems to be not firm enough,” as he checks his tablet. With more presses on her butt cheek by his index finger, Cassie feels her butt tightening and sticking out a bit more. Oh, you creep, she wants to scream, don’t make it bigger?! Seemingly satisfied with the mods stated on the tablet, he walks around her again, putting his hand around the back of her neck. With another click, he removes the back and top of her head, exposing her “brain.” Did he just remove my hair? she pouts as he sets it down on the table. As she looks closer at it, she thinks, hmmm, that seems to be awfully thick for just holding hair. Holding the tablets extended wires out, he connects them to Cassie’s exposed processors. Cassie loses all sight and feeling. Yikes, what happened? While she tries to figure it out, he continues to update her systems to the specs on the tablet. She can “see” many of her main data files being archived to make room for the primary 3D Projector File. She can see the file overrides her speech and movements, but her regular thinking should be unaffected. Once completed, he disconnects the control leads. With them out of her, her vision and other abilities come online. “Well,” he states, “You are about ready for testing. Just one final thing…” He walks over to the table and picks up the clothes. Oh no, she protests, I am not wearing that degrading thing. He puts the Playboy bunny suit on her, as it is split into two halves and joins along the seams by magnetic fabric. Within seconds, she has a kelly green satin, strapless one piece. Her new “girls” are barely covered, and she can feel the AC blowing all over her butt sticking out. He adds black and white cuffs to each wrist and a matching choker to her neck. The shoes are rather high-heeled, but as he puts them near the back of her feet, she automatically arches her foot. The shoes slip on her feet and close by built-in motors. He heads back to the table and retrieves a blonde hair wig and skull plate. With a snap, Cassie has long, blonde, curly hair that reaches past her shoulders. A light touch with the lip-pen, and her lips are now a green to match the outfit. Soft pink bunny ears are added and fit magnetically onto her skull plate. He steps back to admire her. “Wow,” he says, “You are a dream come true.” He puts down the tablet and picks up a remote. Oh boy, Cassie thinks frantically, I hope that doesn’t do what it looks like. Click! She straightens up and stands at attention. I can’t move, she protests, my motor control has been taken from me. Click! Her arms bend and her waist pivots and her legs lock into a standard slightly-bent-one-foot-in-front-of-the other position and she smiles broadly saying, “Welcome to 3D Projections, where anything is possible.” She can see the program pirating her “eyes”, projecting images onto the floor, wall, and him. The images look very real of flying birds, moving cars, talking people, etc. You name it, Cassie is projecting it onto every surface. Satisfied with the pre-demo, he pauses the program. Walking behind her, pressing his finger into the back of her knees. Cassie can hear and feel the clicking and locking of her legs. “No need to let you have walking abilities, just in case something goes wrong.” What? I can’t walk now?! He pulls out his phone and dials a number while looking her over. “Cyborg is ready to go… pick up in an hour?… let yourself in, I’m leaving.” And without so much as a wave good bye, he turns on his heel and walks out. Cassie is not sure if she should be relieved or miffed. She stands in the same position he left her. She tries to override her motor limitations but she cannot. She legs are locked into that position, and without being able to reach down and unlock them manually, she is stuck there. She thinks she can crack the software override given enough time, but even that is a stretch. She is a cyborg now, with nothing to make her look or feel human. And while she knows it is temporary, she feels frustrated with a hint of fear. I forget I’m not really human, she says to herself, even being a maid is like a game or acting. But this, she resigns herself to the situation, is what a cyborg or android must feel like: helpless. Within the hour, Cassie is picked up and delivered to the mall store without incident. The delivery team knows what they are doing and do this sort of thing regularly. Still standing on the hand truck they brought her in on, she can see the well-lit mall but she doesn’t hear the bustling of shoppers. Huh, she says to herself, they have redone this place. I guess it has been longer than I thought since I have been in here. As she takes it all in, she can hear voices coming closer to her from behind. “Oh yes, yes,” a male voice says, “She is perfect for the display.” While the mover holds her in place, “Great, it’s early,” says a female voice. “Get it over in front of Projections. Let’s have it ready to roll when the stores open tomorrow.” Cassie can feel herself being wheeled over to another part of the mall. Well, she reasons, that explains why it is so quiet: mall’s closed for the night. After a couple of minutes, she is tilted forward. The mover steadies her by holding onto her newly expanded chest. With more pushing and groping than is needed, he gets her into place in front of the store. Cassie can see a large portion of the mall in front of her, as the 3D Projections store is on the corner of an intersection. The worker moves out of her field of view, giving her a good look at the giant, shiny, newly-renovated mall. Wow, she says to herself, this place looks amazing. A lady in a navy blue power suit walks up to her. She looks to be in her late forties, but she obviously takes good care of herself. The woman straightens out Cassie’s suit and messes with her “ears.” Producing a remote, Cassie knows instantly when she pushed the button. Swiveling at the waist from side to side slowly, Cassie begins, “Welcome to 3D Projections, where anything is possible. Check out the latest in wearable tech with eye-projection.” Cassie tilts her head down as she displays a beautiful sunset on the ground in incredible detail. “Notice the colors and contrast.” Still swiveling, she looks to the side to project a race car on the wall leading into the store. “It’s not blurry no matter how fast you go.” Over the next 5 minutes, Cassie demos the entire system. The lady watches intently throughout the “show.” Once Cassie starts to repeat herself, the lady presses the pause button. By this time, other people dressed nicely had shown up. They are talking to themselves, saying something important but probably not real important. Cassie thought she might be uncomfortable with this, but now that she is here, this seems quite natural. They think I’m a cyborg, and I am a cyborg, so there is nothing to be nervous about (I am not really me right now… well, sort of). Setting the remote just inside the door, the group walks away, congratulating themselves on a job well-done. Uh, lady, Cassie says loudly to herself, you realize I’m just paused here… not turned off… battery wasting away… ah well. The day starts slow but picks up for Cassie. Hundreds of people stop to see her demo. The kids are jumping around as she projects all kinds of images and videos on the ground and wall. The adults are paying more attention to her words and the prices. But, the teenagers and 20-somethings only have eyes for her. She can feel them undressing her as she goes through her demo again. As a whole, it is not really a bad gig, she thinks. I am showing off some amazing tech in an amazing body with a completely degrading outfit. Heavy sigh as she “shrugs” her shoulders, ah well, I guess it is better than staying at home all weekend. Just after dinner, she notices her low battery light come on. I tried to tell them, she thinks, but did they listen? No! She chuckles at the joke as she projects a spaceship across the “awning” of the store. I figure someone will come check on me soon, but they have really ignored me all day. It is like the store has been closed or something. I have not seen anybody actually go in, but there have been a bunch stop to stare and get brochures. When she reaches 5%, her system shuts down. She stops swiveling and her mouth stops in a smile as she was inbetween words. Her eyes stop projecting the mountains of Colorado and her arms are extended slightly in front of her. She would have slumped over somewhat, but her locked legs have affected her back motors as well, so she stays in that exact pose. Most people had gone on, so no one really noticed this being much different, just figuring the demo was over. Uh, she says to herself, a little help here? The next hour or so is rather boring, but at least she did not have to say the same things over and over again. They will probably be by to take me back soon. As she is thinking that, a young man in a gray jumpsuit slowly walks by her. He is busy watching a video on his phone, so he barely notices her. He pauses long enough to hold up a scanner-type device. With a click, Cassie can feel a slight touch on her cheek. What was that? She finds out soon enough. After the mall closes, an unmanned cart rolls by her. The cart is a flatbed type with a tower bot build into the front of it. They are old tech with no resemblance to humans, but they get the job done. A red light from the bot scans her body. When it reaches her cheek, it beeps. Reaching out a set of robotic arms, Cassie is loaded onto the cart. With her are a bunch of life-like mannequins, all wearing various clothes from the retail stores in the mall. Uh oh, she thinks, this can’t be right… I’m not a mannequin. Driving into a service elevator, Cassie and the other mannequins ride down into the basement. From her view, she can see a gigantic, low-ceiling room where mannequins and bots are cleaned and stored. None of the machines look scary, as a mall is just there to maintain it’s illusion of marketing clothes and other items. As they continue to drive slowly on the cart, she can see the bot section. They are cleaning and polishing the bots and cyborgs (which is where I should be). The cart comes to a rest. There is a beeping sound, then the cart starts to tip to one side. It is behind her, so she cannot see where she is going, but she knows this: they are all going together. In a loud series of thumps, the mannequins are dumped into a bin of other mannequins. It is a giant container of mannequins from every store. Now what? Cassie says to herself in disbelief. Cassie can hear machines working around her. She knows there is more to this than just being dumped here. Like the hundred times before, she tries to will herself to move, but can’t. Her power is low, her body is locked, and she is pressed in all sides from the many mannequins around her. Argh, she complains, this stinks! The mannequin container begins to empty, as each one is removed and placed on a conveyor belt. The feet are locked onto the conveyor using magnets that were inserted into the feet of each. Cassie’s skeleton is made up of metal, so her feet stick better than most of the mannequins around her. All of the clothes are removed carefully, as the stores might need their merchandise back. The mannequins’ limit mobility affects this somewhat, but the robotic arms are programmed quite well. Cassie travels naked with the others down the line. She is sprayed with a cleaner and wiped with a towel. She is then sprayed with a different cleaner and wiped with a soft cloth. She is then sprayed with something else without being wiped, then finally sprayed again with a very thick and gooey substance. The goo is rubbed in with a sponge then buffed out with a spinning brush. The smell is like a candle. It was at that point she realizes what just happened: I have been waxed and polished. Oh no, she moans, if this stuff hardens, I will never get out of this. And for the hundred and first time, she tries to move to no avail. At the end of the line, she is removed like the others and placed in storage boxes. The boxes are made of cardboard and have clear plastic windows at face level. Cassie can hear the box closing and being taped shut. She feels her box being stood up on end and placed on another cart. The slow movement makes her think of the cart that brought her here in the first place. Wondering where she is headed next, she realizes she will never know. The critical power level light just came on. I have a few more seconds of active memory, Cassie thinks dejectedly, then I really am nothing more than a mannequin. Well, dad, she says loudly in her head, I know I kinda did this to myself, but I could use your help right about n– ~ ~ ~ Epilogue ~ ~ ~ ...

My wife and I work at the same company. I’m 25 and she is 27, and the story takes place a couple of years ago. At the time, she was the VP of Financing at this place, and I was the assistant to the owner. That job is the strangest one that I’ve ever had. I had just finished working on my master’s degree and was in need of a job. Fortunately, my wife is friends with the owner of this company, and she was in need of an assistant. ...

Part 1: The Trial I held my breath as the eleven men and one woman entered the courtroom through the door which led down a hall to the jury room. My fingers on both hands were crossed, and, if my toes were looser in my conservative three-inch pumps, my toes would be crossed as well. The jury foreman; an older white male with dark hair; greying on the sides above his ears, making him look quite distinguished; handed a slip of paper to the bailiff, which the bailiff promptly handed to the judge. The process seeming to take forever; though my lungs still held the air they had taken in when the door on the side of the courtroom first opened and the jurists returned. The judge unfolded the piece of paper, glanced at it, then set it on his bench. ...

“Join the fleet, they said. Experience all the adventure and excitement that comes with serving humanity.” Glancing around the small compartment, Sandra Bollingbrooke frowned. “Yeah, right.” Surprisingly, she thought, there had been a time when she’d believe what all those vids had claimed, which was why she’d enlisted right after graduation. Now, nearly five years later, she’d reached the rank of Lieutenant, Junior Grade. She even had her first command, if you’d call it that, but that was as close to her dreams as she’d come. ...

“Join the fleet, they said. Experience all the adventure and excitement that comes with serving humanity.” Glancing around the small compartment, Sandra Bollingbrooke frowned. “Yeah, right.” Surprisingly, she thought, there had been a time when she’d believe what all those vids had claimed, which was why she’d enlisted right after graduation. Now, nearly five years later, she’d reached the rank of Lieutenant, Junior Grade. She even had her first command, if you’d call it that, but that was as close to her dreams as she’d come. ...

Note: This very short story was inspired by the Dec. 6, 2016 New York Post. https://twitter.com/nypost/status/806114238594957312 Carrie is preparing to close the store for the night, well, she is watching the store’s automated systems preparing to close the store. After the last upgrade Carrie wasn’t sure why she hadn’t been fired, the system never has a major failure, it fixes its own minor issues. The supermarket cleans itself, stocks itself and opens and closes itself and answers customer questions by smart phone text all by itself. Her job has been reduced to watching the monitor. No customers detected Restocking and purchase orders complete Preparing end of day reports Carrie logs off the system before the diagnostic reboot, she is supposed to stay until the system comes back up and starts overnight cleaning operations but twenty minutes of pay isn’t worth hanging around for that. Carrie is grabbing her things when the whole place goes pitch black. Power failure. “Why aren’t the emergency lights on?” Carrie said as if the system was going to respond. Her knee slams into a server rack. “Owww, don’t worry about me, stupid piece of junk.” Carrie finds the door and feels her way out of the office. She sees lights, thank goodness. “Hey, over here, help.” Carrie said. A figure approaches. The light strapped to his forehead makes him look like a shadow, but from his size Carrie can tell it’s a man. He grabs her, dragging her further into the dark store and toward the second figure. “My shift is over, you don’t need me to work on the system.” Carrie said. “We’re not fixing the place, we’re robbing the place.” The man holding Carrie said. The second man turns his light on Carrie and the man behind her, she can see he is wearing a ski mask. “You know there’s no money here, right?” Carrie said. “There’s no money anywhere since automation, we’re forced to steal stuff.” He said. “Well you don’t need me for that either.” Carrie said. “Sorry Honey, but you’re staying right here.” Carrie’s wrists are pulled behind her back and secured with plastic cuffs. Several strips of tape are pressed over her mouth and she is lowered to the floor, her ankles are cuffed. “How much time do we have?” “45 minutes before the power comes back on.” The two men get to work rifling through shelves and filling plastic boxes on a push cart, and they’re not being neat about it, spilling food and trampling on containers all over the store. Carrie tries to worm her way out of the bakery aisle toward the entrance and maybe get someone’s attention, but only manages to cover herself in flour, molasses and whatever else is on the floor before one of the men comes back. He sees Carrie’s attempted escape, folds her legs and uses a cable tie to hogtie her, then tells her they’re off. Now she can only wait for the power to come back and the system to report the robbery. After some time Carrie hears the snap of a breaker and the low hum of the computers powering up. It won’t be long now. The system lost power at the start of the diagnostic routine and now displays a message on the terminal. This is where Carrie would recover full function of the system, if she were at the terminal and logged on. The system waits the preprogramed three minutes for input then sends a text to Carrie’s phone to respond to a system failure and initiates post-closing operation in safe mode. Low level lighting comes on, just enough for sensors to scan the store and assess the cleanup required. The job begins by deploying the Spider, Self-Propelled Debris Remover. It looks more like a Hippo with its square shape and large maw. Traveling up and down the aisles, it uses its two arms to sweep trash into the front intake, depositing full trash bags out the back at the end of each aisle. In the bakery aisle Carrie sees the machine coming but can’t get out of the way. The end of the arm moves past her then folds at the center like an elbow catching Carrie in the side and pushing her toward the intake where she is swallowed whole by the machine. Inside she is swept into a large plastic bag as more trash is heaped on top of her. When full her bag is tied and ejected from the back of the machine. Soon the aisles are clear of trash and black plastic trash bags form a row along the dairy and meat section. Carrie struggles but the tight hogtie, sticky contents and the heavy plastic bag itself prevent much movement. She concentrates on creating breathing space. An overhead trolley system collects the bags so floor scrubbers can be deployed. Carrie feels herself being lifted as her bag moves through the delivery room then drops into the dumpster outside. She knows she is in trouble and can’t understand why the police haven’t arrived. AI, that’s a joke. Suddenly a loud bang and rumble echoes through the dumpster. Of course the truck is here. The sound of hydraulic pistons and the dumpster is lifted. Carrie feels her weight shifting, then she is falling into the back of a refuse truck. She hears the dumpster hit the pavement, then the sound of hydraulics again as the driver compacts the load. Carrie is pushed around as the flour, sugar and other bakery debris in her bag is pressed into her. She wills the compactor to stop as it continues to press her into the trash. Her bag pops just as the piston stops and reverses. At least she can breathe easier. More trash is added at each stop with the driver cycling the compactor every three or four loads. Fortunately they have all been at restaurants, though Carrie doesn’t feel very fortunate, she is pinned in a wall of plastic bags and smells fried chicken, fried beans and fried fish. She fights to not be sick. Hydraulic pumps start and Carrie panics, she can’t take another compacting. This time the whole wall moves as the trash is ejected from the truck. Carrie falls from the back and tumbles down a mountain of bags and waste being tossed from her plastic prison in the process. Her hair is plastered with grease and food and she lost a shoe, but she lived through it. The trucks have gone, only the sound of seagulls circling looking for a meal. Carrie can move a little, but getting back up that mountain of trash will be impossible. If she stays here she will surely be buried in trash tomorrow. Carrie hears a faint sound, like someone crumpling plastic wrap in their hand. It’s getting louder. Footsteps. An old man bends down. “You’re a girl, imagine that, I though these old eyes were fooling me again.” He studies the situation then takes out a small pocket knife and cuts the hog tie and wrist cuffs. Carrie sits up and pulls the tape from her mouth, he hands her the knife to cut her ankles free. “Is this one of those initiations?” He said. “I got robbed.” Carrie said. “Didn’t we all, I’ll be happy to share my wealth if you want to look around.” He said. “Thanks, I’ll just look for my shoe.” Carrie said.

Note: This very short story was inspired by the Dec. 6, 2016 New York Post. https://twitter.com/nypost/status/806114238594957312 Carrie is preparing to close the store for the night, well, she is watching the store’s automated systems preparing to close the store. After the last upgrade Carrie wasn’t sure why she hadn’t been fired, the system never has a major failure, it fixes its own minor issues. The supermarket cleans itself, stocks itself and opens and closes itself and answers customer questions by smart phone text all by itself. Her job has been reduced to watching the monitor. No customers detected Restocking and purchase orders complete Preparing end of day reports Carrie logs off the system before the diagnostic reboot, she is supposed to stay until the system comes back up and starts overnight cleaning operations but twenty minutes of pay isn’t worth hanging around for that. Carrie is grabbing her things when the whole place goes pitch black. Power failure. “Why aren’t the emergency lights on?” Carrie said as if the system was going to respond. Her knee slams into a server rack. “Owww, don’t worry about me, stupid piece of junk.” Carrie finds the door and feels her way out of the office. She sees lights, thank goodness. “Hey, over here, help.” Carrie said. A figure approaches. The light strapped to his forehead makes him look like a shadow, but from his size Carrie can tell it’s a man. He grabs her, dragging her further into the dark store and toward the second figure. “My shift is over, you don’t need me to work on the system.” Carrie said. “We’re not fixing the place, we’re robbing the place.” The man holding Carrie said. The second man turns his light on Carrie and the man behind her, she can see he is wearing a ski mask. “You know there’s no money here, right?” Carrie said. “There’s no money anywhere since automation, we’re forced to steal stuff.” He said. “Well you don’t need me for that either.” Carrie said. “Sorry Honey, but you’re staying right here.” Carrie’s wrists are pulled behind her back and secured with plastic cuffs. Several strips of tape are pressed over her mouth and she is lowered to the floor, her ankles are cuffed. “How much time do we have?” “45 minutes before the power comes back on.” The two men get to work rifling through shelves and filling plastic boxes on a push cart, and they’re not being neat about it, spilling food and trampling on containers all over the store. Carrie tries to worm her way out of the bakery aisle toward the entrance and maybe get someone’s attention, but only manages to cover herself in flour, molasses and whatever else is on the floor before one of the men comes back. He sees Carrie’s attempted escape, folds her legs and uses a cable tie to hogtie her, then tells her they’re off. Now she can only wait for the power to come back and the system to report the robbery. After some time Carrie hears the snap of a breaker and the low hum of the computers powering up. It won’t be long now. The system lost power at the start of the diagnostic routine and now displays a message on the terminal. This is where Carrie would recover full function of the system, if she were at the terminal and logged on. The system waits the preprogramed three minutes for input then sends a text to Carrie’s phone to respond to a system failure and initiates post-closing operation in safe mode. Low level lighting comes on, just enough for sensors to scan the store and assess the cleanup required. The job begins by deploying the Spider, Self-Propelled Debris Remover. It looks more like a Hippo with its square shape and large maw. Traveling up and down the aisles, it uses its two arms to sweep trash into the front intake, depositing full trash bags out the back at the end of each aisle. In the bakery aisle Carrie sees the machine coming but can’t get out of the way. The end of the arm moves past her then folds at the center like an elbow catching Carrie in the side and pushing her toward the intake where she is swallowed whole by the machine. Inside she is swept into a large plastic bag as more trash is heaped on top of her. When full her bag is tied and ejected from the back of the machine. Soon the aisles are clear of trash and black plastic trash bags form a row along the dairy and meat section. Carrie struggles but the tight hogtie, sticky contents and the heavy plastic bag itself prevent much movement. She concentrates on creating breathing space. An overhead trolley system collects the bags so floor scrubbers can be deployed. Carrie feels herself being lifted as her bag moves through the delivery room then drops into the dumpster outside. She knows she is in trouble and can’t understand why the police haven’t arrived. AI, that’s a joke. Suddenly a loud bang and rumble echoes through the dumpster. Of course the truck is here. The sound of hydraulic pistons and the dumpster is lifted. Carrie feels her weight shifting, then she is falling into the back of a refuse truck. She hears the dumpster hit the pavement, then the sound of hydraulics again as the driver compacts the load. Carrie is pushed around as the flour, sugar and other bakery debris in her bag is pressed into her. She wills the compactor to stop as it continues to press her into the trash. Her bag pops just as the piston stops and reverses. At least she can breathe easier. More trash is added at each stop with the driver cycling the compactor every three or four loads. Fortunately they have all been at restaurants, though Carrie doesn’t feel very fortunate, she is pinned in a wall of plastic bags and smells fried chicken, fried beans and fried fish. She fights to not be sick. Hydraulic pumps start and Carrie panics, she can’t take another compacting. This time the whole wall moves as the trash is ejected from the truck. Carrie falls from the back and tumbles down a mountain of bags and waste being tossed from her plastic prison in the process. Her hair is plastered with grease and food and she lost a shoe, but she lived through it. The trucks have gone, only the sound of seagulls circling looking for a meal. Carrie can move a little, but getting back up that mountain of trash will be impossible. If she stays here she will surely be buried in trash tomorrow. Carrie hears a faint sound, like someone crumpling plastic wrap in their hand. It’s getting louder. Footsteps. An old man bends down. “You’re a girl, imagine that, I though these old eyes were fooling me again.” He studies the situation then takes out a small pocket knife and cuts the hog tie and wrist cuffs. Carrie sits up and pulls the tape from her mouth, he hands her the knife to cut her ankles free. “Is this one of those initiations?” He said. “I got robbed.” Carrie said. “Didn’t we all, I’ll be happy to share my wealth if you want to look around.” He said. “Thanks, I’ll just look for my shoe.” Carrie said.

Carla knew transferring to a new school midway through the semester would be difficult to say the least. Friends have been made, relationships formed and she would be the outsider invading the sanctity of the foundations these bonds had been built. Not because it was her nature to subvert friendships and couplings; she preferred to remain at arm’s length from others and avoid the drama so many people her age seemed so eager to engage. It was her sheer attractiveness which always seemed to foster upheaval. At the university she had previously been attending and subsequently transferred from; Carla had been accepted, if not entirely liked. Her ‘stand-offish’ disposition was often confused with snobbery and mightier-than-thou beliefs and misgivings. Carla was the furthest thing from being self-centered and conceited however. She simply believed that college was a place to gain an education and not for one big social gathering. It had been one of these latter which made her take her transcripts to a new school. She had invested too much and came too far to simply drop out. As with almost every misfortunate situation, a number of seemingly unrelated commons converge to make an uncommon. An airplane doesn’t crash because it ran out of fuel; it crashes due to fuel no longer burning. Either a mechanical problem or a human factor or a mixture of the two would be the cause, not a matter of the tanks instantly becoming dry. A leak in the fuel lines, a miscalculation of refueling, frozen ice crystals trapping the fuel behind them at some bottle-neck; but not because the fuel simply decided to go on Hyades. As the aircraft gets starved of fuel due to progression of failures, Carla’s rape was a coalescence of unrelated events with vector lines placing her at the point of intersection. The fact that there was a party going on in the dorm was not the cause. The fact that Vic was drunk wasn’t either. Nor was her room’s door not being fully latched or her lying in her bed studying wearing only her panties to blame. Carla was violated because Vic went to the party, got shit-faced and stumbled down the hall, bumping into her unlatched door, falling into her room causing her to jump and gasp, gaining his attention and noticed her scantily clad body in front of a soft mattress; putting the idea that he was horny in his mind. Had any one of the events in the progression not happened Carla would still be still be a virgin, her sanctity intact, and enrolled in the university she wished to attend. To top it off and seal her decision to transfer, Carla was blamed for the football team losing its star quarterback… be-damned that he had violated her. “Shit happens!” Vic’s girlfriend told Carla, blaming her for her boyfriend’s arrest. “New school… same bullshit.” Carla muddled to herself when her latest single-sided foe flipped her off and yelled; “Fuck you slut! Leave my guy alone cunt!” ‘Single-sided’ because Carla neither liked nor dislike Cheryl; and, as for her guy, Carla had never even said ‘Hi’ to him. Zach, had however, spoke to Carla—in the form of a cat-called “Hey baby!” as Cheryl scowled at her as if she made him or provoked him into doing it. The seeds of providence had been sown, fertilized, and watered thoroughly; merely awaiting to take root and breach the soil. The final evolutionary alignment came as Carla walk from work towards her dorm across a dark, unlit lawn; she being alone, Cheryl not. The attack was sudden, quick, and brutal. One of the girls shoved a rag into Carla’s mouth and wrapped several turns of duct tape around her head to hold it in place. At the same time, another was looping her wrists behind her back with rough, abrasive rope. Yet a third attacked her legs and bound her ankles tightly. Carla was forced into a sitting position and more rope was used around her arms and chest, pinning her arms to her sides and bracketing her breasts above and below; the ends tied between her tits. Another strand cinched tightly around her lower belly and between her legs and around the hemp-rope belt at the small of her back. The loose ends of the crotch-rope knotted around her wrist bindings holding her hands pinned at the top of her ass. Carla’s legs were lashed above and below her knees; her legs pulled high behind her and tied by the ends of rope from between her breasts, over her shoulders and under the breast ropes just under her scapulas. Carla had been trussed into a tight hogtie complete with an equally tight crotchrope forcing the denim crotch of her jeans deep into her cleave and a rope binding around her chest tight enough to make breathing difficult and her tits hurt. “Don’t litter… put trash in its place.” One of her attackers said as they heft her and swept Carla away. The large blue-painted steel dumpster they chose to put Carla in served a day-care facility which catered to college-enrolled mothers. “Baby’s should smell like babies.” Cheryl said as Carla was rolled from the metal lip and into a soft, but smelly, bed of shit and piss soiled diapers. Her fall broke several liners open, exposing her to the liberated and foul disposables. Struggling for her freedom only sunk Carla deeper into them. Sometime later; being no closer to gaining her freedom than she had only minutes after being bound; Carla heard the engine of the disposal truck close in on her, the dumpster bumped and lifted; spilling her and the shit-encrusted, piss-soaked discards in with bags of household waste. Just before the huge Caterpillar D-9 covered her limp and seemingly lifeless body, the operator seen her and checked Carla for signs of life. Carla was rushed to the Hospital and not the County Morgue. ElectroPainLover

Sal hated Christmas. Not because he was a Scrooge, and he really liked to help others and always put his change in the kettle. What Sal hated was the days after the holiday. Sal worked on a garbage truck. And for a solid week afterwards, the streets would be lined with bins and bags, piles full of trash. The wrappings, paper and boxes were no problem even if they should have been set out next week to be recycled. No, it was all the old toys and furniture and kitchenware that had been replaced by gifts. It was all kept so the new things would be a surprise. And out it all went starting the day after Christmas. ...

“One more day and we’re on vacation, I can’t wait to leave.” Vicky said. “I can’t wait to get there, traveling with you is no vacation.” Kelly said. “I didn’t complain last year.” Vicky said. “You did get a little ruffled in the hotel.” Kelly said. “I could have gone to lunch, that was just mean.” Vicky said. “So will you be traveling as luggage again? I’ll bring my lumbar belt this time.” Kelly said. ...

A Sequel to Surprise Inspection “Come on in.” Marisa said. “Look at you, evening gown. Nails. Hair.” Stacy said. “You look amazing. I thought you needed our help getting ready?” Kayla said. “I do, for the game.” Marisa said. “Now what?” Stacy said. “Mission Impossible is Dean’s favorite movie. You’re going to help him live it.” Marisa said. “For the innocent one you’re becoming diabolical.” Stacy said. “I learned from the best.” Marisa said. ...

Pausing as she moved across the parking lot, the woman smiled, shifting the bundles in her arms. “Beautiful,” she murmured. Before her sat a large Peterbilt truck, its metal-flake emerald green paint gleaming in the light. On the side of the sleeper, a mural depicted peach trees silhouetted before a setting sun. Above, gilt letters spelled out the words “Carolina Skye”. Seeing a figure standing by the door, she frowned, walking quickly forward. ...

Julie was finishing putting up the volleyball team equipment when she heard the locker room door open and close and the sound of a large 80 gallon trash can on wheels being rolled into the locker room. She figured it was just the custodial staff as she goes over to her locker to get her stuff so she can leave. As she turns the corner there is Lacy and four other member of the cross country team standing next to her locker with the large trash can. There had always been some rivalry between the two teams. Julie nor the rest of her team never liked them as they were always breaking rules and somehow never seem to get caught. However Julie had tipped the administration off about their drinking parties and they ultimately got caught. Julie had no regrets about this either. ...

Julie was finishing putting up the volleyball team equipment when she heard the locker room door open and close and the sound of a large 80 gallon trash can on wheels being rolled into the locker room. She figured it was just the custodial staff as she goes over to her locker to get her stuff so she can leave. As she turns the corner there is Lacy and four other member of the cross country team standing next to her locker with the large trash can. There had always been some rivalry between the two teams. Julie nor the rest of her team never liked them as they were always breaking rules and somehow never seem to get caught. However Julie had tipped the administration off about their drinking parties and they ultimately got caught. Julie had no regrets about this either. ...

(story continues from Ever Increasing Bondage 8) Part 9 Lady Hazel Paine strolled slowly across the cellar floor and began climbing the steps back to the outside world, leaving Lauren feeling chilled to the bone by her final remarks. Was she just teasing or trying to scare her? Surely she didn’t really sell people into slavery and have them shipped to the four corners of the earth, did she? Although Lauren knew she wasn’t exactly in the twins’ good books at this precise moment, they wouldn’t really sell her to this decidedly creepy woman. Or would they? She’d seen what had just happened to Amber, and it seemed that the rivals really did hate each other. So Lauren couldn’t rule out the possibility that Hazel would come back and whisk her away as well. She had to warn the twins. But that could prove difficult bearing in mind how efficiently she was gagged right now. ...

Regina Monroe and Raymond Moore were partners with a history. From their first days at the Academy, they had been thrust together by a system that loved to alphabetize everything. In classroom, during field training, even on the exercise yard, the placement of their names on the lists had them paired together more often than not. By the time they graduated, their partnership had been established beyond any doubt, with even some of the instructors referring to them as Raygina. After graduation, assigned to the same station, the partnership, and the nickname, had stuck. ...

Consciousness brought, first, pain, a sharp throbbing that made her wince even before she was aware enough to know why. Next came the sensation of coolness on one side, while something warm pressed against the other. Slowly, as awareness grew, she began silently assessing her situation. She was, she realized, standing naked on a hard pressed dirt surface. The sensation of warmth came from a body pressed against her back, its warm flesh touching hers along the length of her body. Even without seeing, she had no doubt who’s flesh pressed so firmly against hers. ...

Authors note: This is a standalone story featuring characters from Homecoming “Isolda!” The shout echoed through the dense trees, its reverberations seemingly swallowed by the huge trunks. Turning, Balian repeated his shout, as if hoping a different direction would bring a response. “Damn it, girl, where are you?” Eyes raking the trees, Balian urged his horse into motion along the faint trail. “Damn girl,” he muttered, “I didn’t come this far to lose you now.” ...

(story continues from The Thief and The Bounty Hunter) Part 2 “Who am I?” For most, this would be a simple question, perhaps an exercise in philosophical thinking. For the naked woman now staring at her reflection, it was much more than that. But it hadn’t always been so. Just over two months ago, she had known without question who she was. Back then, she’d been Victoria Swann. Secretly, she had also been the international thief known as the Phantom Fem. Only one person had ever discovered her dual identity, and it was because of him that she now asked herself this question. ...

My Daddy is my hero. But before I explain that, I better tell you about me and how it all happened. I’m 18, but I’m small for my age, and not the smartest tool in the shed as I have overheard people saying about me. It’s related to my size, some kind of medical thing that makes me look and behave like I’m about 13, according to those silly tests they keep making me take. ...

Authors note: This is a standalone story featuring characters from Homecoming It was a small courtyard, at least compared to others she’d seen. Glancing around, she doubted even five hundred could fit here, no matter how closely packed. This smallish fort near the border was never meant for the kind of meeting about to take place. This was a place for soldiers, not show. Around her were nearly one hundred people, their rich clothing a sea of reds and yellows. Beside her stood the focus of this gathering, his own clothing even richer and brighter than those around him. Like the rest, he watched the front gate, on the far side of the courtyard. ...

“Fancy rope work.” Kayla said. “Dean’s been teaching me a few tricks and I’m showing off.” Marisa said. “We’re good matchmakers, I was worried about you living in the same building.” Kayla said. “That’s been a plus.” Marisa said. Marisa finishes the last knot on Kayla’s chair tie and goes to the sofa to check the knots on Stacy’s hogtie. “So it’s going well?” Stacy said. “He’s so easy to be with, we get along on everything and he makes me laugh.” Marisa said. ...

Authors note: This was inspired by a vid I came across recently called ‘Quicksand Bondage’ on MyVideo.de - http://www.myvideo.de/watch/10856811/Quicksand_bondage Emma had very little recollection of her actual abduction, although the events leading up to her capture were etched indelibly in her mind. On the day in question, she had been attending her regular Tuesday evening yoga class at the local gym. Just after the class had finished & she was preparing to get changed & leave for home, however, her mobile phone had rung & she’d stepped out of the changing rooms & into the corridor to take the call. It had been an old friend calling & for several minutes the two women had chatted & caught up on all the latest news. ...

Authors note: This was inspired by a vid I came across recently called ‘Quicksand Bondage’ on MyVideo.de - http://www.myvideo.de/watch/10856811/Quicksand_bondage Emma had very little recollection of her actual abduction, although the events leading up to her capture were etched indelibly in her mind. On the day in question, she had been attending her regular Tuesday evening yoga class at the local gym. Just after the class had finished & she was preparing to get changed & leave for home, however, her mobile phone had rung & she’d stepped out of the changing rooms & into the corridor to take the call. It had been an old friend calling & for several minutes the two women had chatted & caught up on all the latest news. ...

I thought my day couldn’t get any more messed up, but boy was I wrong. It all started when I got on the wrong side of a bunch of thugs in the inner city. They decided I looked too “well off” for their part of town, in my torn jeans, ragged tee and sneakers, and had cornered me in a side alley, away from the main drag. I had had my wallet taken, my sneakers stolen, and they were in the process of removing my jeans when things changed. ...

This story follows on from the events in “Hell in a Cell” James had been missing for over 36 hours and the police had stepped up the search for him. He was waiting for them in his prison cell, still wearing his rubber bondage suits and masks. His cock had been left bound and was still sore from the day before. His sweat was running down his back and he was standing in a lake of it. He could still smell his new mistress pussy and ass through the dildo re-breather. She had played with him for over 6 hours the day before and then left him for the night. He had to cry himself to sleep and was unable to have anything other than nightmares. After an uncomfortable night in rubber bondage and fear, the morning arrived. He was being kept upright by the chains and cuffs. All his energy had faded away and so had his hope. He was breathing slowly and deeply through his nose. The machine still controlled his breathing with an iron fist. He stared through the small holes in his hood, waiting for his mistress to enter the room again. The police had just found a key bit of footage from the club. Which showed James leaving the club with a beautiful girl. The police followed them down the street and into a nearby flat. She was wearing an odd outfit and he looked a little drunk. They would pop round and check out this new lead. Around an hour later the two police detectives knocked on her front door. She opened it with one hand and a black bin bag in the other one. She was wearing a full red catsuit under her street clothes. Which you could see poking out from underneath them. She looked shocked to see the police. As it happened the police had reached the house at just the right time. She was about to get rid of James’s stuff. She was going to put his clothes, wallet and phone in a bin a couple of miles from her house. She wanted it to be harder to find her and get rid of key evidence. The police quickly asked what was in the bag and if they could look round. Soon more police arrived at the house and this time with a search warrant. They found his stuff in the bin bag in her hand. They found bondage and fetishes items in almost all wardrobes and chest of drawers. They found duct tape and plastic wrap in a large box and endless rubber outfits on hooks. They found her bottles of chloroform in her bathroom. They then uncovered the secret opening to her dungeon. They could not believe what they saw inside the concrete room. The black rubber man with chains and tubes coming from his body and face. The smell of rubber, sweat and piss filled the room. He started moaning and crying the seconded they opened the door. They quickly put her in handcuffs and dragged her off to a police car. They set about removing the straps and cuffs. The fire brigade arrived at the house and cut him free. By now she was locked in a police cell and would be interviewed soon. The rubber suit was hard to cut through without cutting James. The vacuum suit was pressed extremely tight into his skin. They would need to pump air into the suit. They first removed all the bondage equipment and he dropped into the arms of a nearby fireman. They soon removed his suits and masks which needed to be collected as evidence. He was then taken to hospital. The police interviewed her a day later and quickly charged her with kidnapping and imprisonment. She would be going to court in a couple of months. They had a very strong case against her. Two months later the case was over and she would be going to prison. The prison was also a mental asylum and had an isolation wing as well. It was owned and ran by a private company and was only used for sexually dangerous prisoners. The prison was just a little four story building with miles of metal walls and barb-wire. The windows were just a thin slit of reinforced glass with metal poles across them. The building had two gates for getting people in and out of the prison. One was for people on foot and the other was for prison vans. Emily was the name of the women who kept James captive for over 36 hours. She was mad about bondage and had dreamed about having a rubber submissive. She was a 30 year old with an hourglass figure. Her long black hair was hanging over her lovely blue eyes as her van entered the prison. She was wearing a full orange jump suit and a set of four handcuffs. The cuffs linked her hands and feet together with thick chains and kept her under control. She could still walk with the cuffs around her ankles, but only a small step at a time. The van stopped and she was dragged out of it and into a holding cell by two guards. The two male prison guards come back 10 minutes later and removed her clothes and searched her. It was humiliating as they checked her pussy and ass for any drugs or weapons. They knew she didn’t have anything and just wanted to see her naked. She was then walked to the isolation wing. wearing only cuffs and chains. Her orange jumpsuit had been cut from her body and was now being dragged behind her as it was trapped to her ankle cuffs. The two guards kept smacking her ass with their hands and batons as she moved along. She was taken to level three and headed deep inside it’s walls. The isolation wing was her final destination as she was pushed towards it. A heavy metal door was the opening to her new home and it opened wide to let her in. The government had no idea what happen in the isolation wing and don’t even check before they signed the contract. They had only come to the prison a couple of times and only ever seen a couple of board and management rooms. They had been shown pictures and videos of the rest of the prison. But they had been made up by the prison owner. She was a beautiful 32 year old with a dark secret. She towered above most men with her heels on and her 6.2ft figure. Her body was amazing with curves in all the right locations. Her neck long red hair was running across her lovely face and covering her brown eyes. She was a sexy woman and was often to be found wearing a slutty business suit and high heels. She was waiting for Emily at the entrance to the isolation wing. She was just being pushed through the metal door as their eyes met. She looked up and down Emily’s body as she smiled away to herself. She then grabbed her by the neck and turned her around. Emily let out a soft moan as she was pushed into the treatment room. The treatment room was a see through plastic box and was placed above the cells of the isolation wing. This was to put both the fear of god into her about her new home and to humiliate her in front of other inmates. If they could see her from their own heavy bondage cell. Emily had her orange jumpsuit completely removed as well as her bondage cuffs. She was then hit by a wave of water coming from a powerful hose. She was forced backward by the pressure of the rushing water. She rolled up into a ball in the corner of the plastic box as the water smashed into her. She let out a loud cry when the water hit her pussy or face. She could hear laughing over the sound of the water crashing into her and the plastic box. She was dripping wet and cold by the time the water stopped. She was shaking in the corner of the plastic box as fear filled her mind. The tall women walked over to Emily, her heels made a soft clicking sound against the floor. She was holding something odd in her hands and Emily was finding it hard to see what it was. The women dropped this shiny thing over Emily’s head and bent down beside her. She spoke with an evil and depraved tone as she moved her face right next to Emily covered head. “I used to be a pervert and control freak, just like you and all the other prisoners inside inside these walls. And guest what you stupid cunt I still am. This prison was build with money I took from weak well off slaves. I owned their bank cards, house, cars and life. I put the money into a secret account and used it to build this. All the men and women I took money from are in this prison. They are all placed in the cells just below you. They have had a great time under my ownership and will continue to do so for a long time to come. I saw your story on TV and in the newspapers and wanted you to be sent to me. I want to control and break you. Hope you enjoy your stay with me” Emily was horrified by what she had just heard and had no idea what to do next. She was hiding under the shiny material covering her head, when suddenly knew what it was. It was very high quality latex and somehow she had not spotted it beforehand, it was almost unacceptable to her. The latex suit was the oddest she had ever seen or even heard of. The suit was made from very thick latex and had large bulge sticking out from it. It also had a build in collar, which linked into the bulge. She was folding the latex suit out into her arms and was horrified to see what it was. It was a humiliating latex skunk suit with two white strips and the bulge was the tail. She was told to get lubed and suited up in 25 minutes. She would be wearing the suit for a long time to come. She had no other option, but to put the dirty looking suit on. The lube was easy to pour all over her amazing body and head. She covered her whole figure in the warm liquid and was rubbing it into each nook and cranny. After the lube she found the opening to the suit and forced her legs inside. The lube was the only reason her legs would move down the suit, it was that tight. It was a full latex catsuit and with a lot of struggling she pushed her feet to the bottom of the suit. Her feet and lower legs had been almost painted by latex it was pressing that tightly against her skin. It was hard work moving the thick latex up her lubed body. She was starting to sweat a little from the endless pushing and pulling she was doing. The latex suit was now covering her perfect ass and she was working it up her torso. She placed the front half of the catsuit over her body and forced her arms down the latex sleeves. Her hand disappeared into a rubber mitten at the end of the sleeve. Her fingers found themselves within a latex glove inside the rubber ball. She would now need help to get into the rest of the suit. The two guards started closing her suit almost at once. They stretched the latex over her shoulders and started zipping it up. They had to pull the latex together before they could close the suit. The bugling tail was getting in the way a bit as they reached the top of the catsuit. She had not spotted the attached latex bondage hood, until it was being pulled over her head. The hood was perfect black latex with only a couple of holes for her nose. Built into the hood was padding for her eyes and ears. They pushed ear plugs into her ears before lowering the hood over them. She then had a large ball of tied together used condoms drilled into her mouth. They had all been used on one dirty prison slut in all her holes. Three rolls of electrical tape then went over the top of the condom gag. Her face was being squeezed inwards by the tight tape. The hood was then rolled down over the rest of her face and overlapped her skunk suit. The condoms filled her mouth completely and made her unable to move her jaw. Her tongue was buried inside one of the used condoms and was able to taste the semen within. The hood was zipped and padlocked shut. One of the guards walked over to Emily with a second bondage hood. It was a thick latex skunk mask with white strips down the back of the hood and round her nose. She could only feel them putting something over her face and closing it tightly against her head. Her head felt heavy and the smell of latex was a lot stronger. They had just closed the latex skunk hood and loved how degrading it looked on her. They placed a large leather collar around her latex covered neck. They squeezed the collar tightly around her neck and used three padlocks to keep it in place. To cover the padlocks and zips they needed to inflate the bugling tail by using helium. This was also to make moving a real charge and make her feel inhuman. For an added layer of safty in the tail was a pocket for water. The pocket ran from her neck to her bottom and would make it very hard for her to reach the zip. They filled it with water first and then with helium. The tail was then locked to her collar as it bugled out from behind her. She now looked like a real latex skunk. The latex suit also had a crotch zip and they opened it so they could pull out her toilet tubes. The tubes had been waiting to be freed since she first pulled the suit over her pussy and ass. They now hang down from her body and meant she could now go to toilet. The whole suit was shining from head to toe as she stood their in her new humiliating form. They had not told her about the suits secret and wanted her to find out for herself. The suit had been mixed in with some chemicals that when mixed with liquid would make the suit stink. She would sweat inside the thick latex suit and that would start the chain reaction. The more she sweat, the more the suit would smell. She would not only look like a skunk, but smell like one. The guards grabbed an arm each and dragged her through a newly opened door to the isolation wing. She was walked past heavy bondage cell after heavy bondage cell. She couldn’t see or hear the cries coming from within the cells reinforced walls. But the smell of latex, rubber, leather, sweat, piss and metal filled her nose. It was the only sense left open to her as the others had been taken from her. They walked the full length of the hallway to a large metal door at the end of the long line of cells. Her room would be looking down the isolation wing’s hallway and had a gap between it’s self and the other cell doors. They opened the door with the prison’s owner watching it all through the plastic box in the treatment room. The other side of the door was a large metal box with only one small door. It had no windows or any other gaps or openings. The door was about half the size of the door they had just gone through. One of the guards went through first and got the room ready. A couple of minutes later, Emily was ordered and pushed through the door with her suit only just fitting. She almost ripped the latex on the side of the metal frame. She couldn’t see her new home with her eyes being covered by two layers of lovely latex. The guard was ready with her restraints in his hands. Leg and wrist cuffs were quickly put around her limbs and locked tight. A metal collar was hanging from the ceiling and was closed around Emily’s neck. It was locked over her leather collar and latex outfit and cut into her neck. She could still breath, but now it was a little bit harder. She was standing in the centre of a completely white prison cell with a white uncomfortable bed and a white video camera on the ceiling above the door. For her toilet needs, the cell had a small hole in the corner of the room. She just needed to line up her waste tubes and aim for the white toilet. Not easy when she was blindfold by two thick hoods. The metal collar was linked to the ceiling by a heavy metal chain. The chain went through the ceiling and into a machine. The machine controlled how long the chain was and could be used to great effect. It worked by using timers and clocks as well as per set details on the height of the person and what they would be doing at what time. So if it was at night and the prisoner was sleeping the chain would be longer, than it would be in the early morning. When the prisoner would need to get up and out of bed for her cell inspection. The chain could be changed by a remote control which was set up outside her inner cage. The rest of the room was empty with all the plumbing and electrics built into the floor. It was only a small gap between the two prison walls and was there so guards could check on the chain machine and some of the wiring. They could charge the times and height with the remote control. So she would spend the night standing up or 10 minutes on her tip toes as the collar acted like a noose. The fun the guards could have was endless. Emily was now bound, gagged and covered in latex from head to toe. She was standing in the centre of her cage with no movement, thanks to the chain. She could just about hear the sound of a being door closing and locked. But nothing after that. Her latex suit was getting hot and she needed to go to the toilet, but had no idea where it was in the room. Or if the collar would let her reach it. It was only going to get worst for her. M88

story continues from part eight The final part of “My Butler James” has two endings, one of which is a somewhat happy ending and the other an alternate dark ending. Part 9a: The Pay Per View Heiress = Good & Part 9b: Gloria’s Last Scene= darker ending - you choose. Part 9b: Gloria’s Last Scene Warning: This version of the ending of My Butler James is darker that most I have written. Hours later the black helicopters landed and deposited their human cargo, a team of black uniformed security men with no rank insignia or service in evidence. These men had only side arms on their persons, and the look of technicians landing in a known secure location, and I watched the waiting three human feeders and James speak with them, and then lead them toward the mansion as if they were on holiday. Another civilian chopper landed as far away from the others as possible, and this one sat as if waiting for something with no persons either leaving, or entering, it’s tinted windows hiding what was inside, their being a stark contrast to it’s gleaming white fuselage. Did the good guys always wear white, or ride up on white horses, or did that only happen in the movies? ...

I was a couple of miles upstream and another couple inland. There are several overgrown dirt tracks back here in the woods. When they put the highway through about thirty years ago it cut off access, which is fine by me - miles from anywhere and the whole place to myself. Perfect for my morning nature walk. I got skunked again, didn’t see much to shoot, but I took a few shots anyway. Two days ago I came upon a fox. Critter just sat there like a house dog watching me watch him. I walked slowly toward him, firing away. Unfortunately I had my little pocket rocket of a camera, which means it was slow to focus and slower to save the shots, but I got a few keepers. ...

I was a couple of miles upstream and another couple inland. There are several overgrown dirt tracks back here in the woods. When they put the highway through about thirty years ago it cut off access, which is fine by me - miles from anywhere and the whole place to myself. Perfect for my morning nature walk. I got skunked again, didn’t see much to shoot, but I took a few shots anyway. Two days ago I came upon a fox. Critter just sat there like a house dog watching me watch him. I walked slowly toward him, firing away. Unfortunately I had my little pocket rocket of a camera, which means it was slow to focus and slower to save the shots, but I got a few keepers. ...

Hello! I am Janine. Since everyone likes to have an idea of how people look in these stories, I will get that out of the way…. I am 25, I weigh around 140 pounds and I am 5’-6”, I have 38D breasts, shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes. Not a super model, but not ugly either. I work as a medical transcriber from home entering peoples medical records and charts for several area Doctors. I live with Mike, my boyfriend now for 5 years. He is also in the medical field as an orthopedic technician. This helps out with many of our supply needs in our bondage fetishes. We enjoy most all types of bondage but neither gets into torture or pain at all. We like being tied, immobilized and teased. In 5 years we have got to know each others likes and dislikes and have complete trust in each other. Mike tends to be a bit more introverted, liking short term sessions. I tend to be the type to push the bounds “pun intended”. Going for longer sessions and more uncomfortable scenes. ...

I stood at the edge of the cave, looking out over the long rolling hill and the hardly visible path that ran up from the valley floor to the ground under my feet. In the distance I could see a man in armor riding his horse along the trail, being very careful on the tangled path, yet never looking away from where I stood. I couldn’t see what species he was, but judging by the shape of the armor is was a feline of some sort. ...

This story is dedicated to all my friends in the forum, Who showed so much concern over what happened to me in part one, if your name is not mentioned here, Do not worry Its just due to the lack of editorial space allocated here to me by Gromet so please blame him. Continued from part one Part Two Jenny lost all account of time and had no idea as to how long she had been entombed in underground storage facility. The air that was constantly being pumped into her lungs containing all the necessary nutriments, and liquids in an air born vapour to sustain her. ...

Jenny had been punished by her husband for again not letting him know what she was doing with Mike. Bound, bagged, boxed and entombed by him, Mike and Sue, she was left to contemplate her fate… continued from part three Part 4: Knight to the Rescue My mind drifted as I lay bound in the crate, my body had been tightly bound first with leather cuffs, then rope had been tied around my limbs, followed by leather arm and leg binders. Over this they had placed me into a latex sleep sack, my mouth had been gagged and a leather hood placed over my head. They, I should tell you now, were my husband John, his friend Mike, who you may recall I was rather fond of, and of course there was Sue, soon to be the replacement of my affections with John. Little did I know that she and my husband were having an affair, here I was being punished for fooling around with Mike, but all the time John had been screwing Sue behind my back, talk about two-faced. ...

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. ...

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. Part 2: The Other Side Of The Fence. My name is John and I live in what was my parents house! I am thirty-one and frankly quite happy but I have one thing that is driving me nuts and that is that I like the nurse that lives next door, and despite the fact that whenever we have talked we got along fine I have not been able to get any further with her. Whether that is because I am intrinsically shy, or just some other reason I don’t know. What I do know is that I am finding myself more and more looking out for her, and watching her when she is around. Not in a creepy way, but in a hoping to find an opportunity to get to know her kind of way. ...

Sci-Fi, Machine, Mind Control, Fantasy, Electro-pain, Final Chapter = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = PLATO is forced to reveal his power in this final chapter. PLATO is the most powerful computer ever… grown, but he has been able to hide that power from everyone except Marcella and Richard. In this final chapter, he is forced to reveal the full extent of his power. ...

Part 1: Back at it The cool summer evening wind blew lightly as Lucy walks out the front door and down the street, heading toward the train platform. The party was still going strong, but she needed to be at work early in the morning, so she put her cocktail down, fetched her coat from the pile on the bed, thanked the hostess for a fun evening, kissed the cute guy whose number she got and left. ...

(story continues from Batgirl - The Return 4: Making Plans and Progress)_ Part 5: The Attempt A small boat motored along the shoreline of the Wentworth estate just before midnight. It was a dark, moonless night, perfect for this sort of evening cruise the two sailors were hoping for. With the wind now coming off the land, the waves behind the bluff were almost non-existent. After a few moments of searching, they found what they were looking for and pulled the boat to the narrow shoreline. They tied the boat off to prevent it from drifting off and the two figures moved ashore. Dressed in dark clothing from head to toe and with camouflaged packs on their backs, only the sharpest of eyes would see them in the darkness, and at the secluded spot, no one would be looking in their direction anyway. ...

story continues from part 11 Chapter 12 What it was that caused Hazel to become momentarily distracted wasn’t clear to Steve at the time. Maybe it was a sound that alerted her to the presence of someone else in the doorway; the sound of feet on floor, a gasp of surprise, or even simply the act of someone breathing. Or perhaps she’d noticed something move out of the corner of her eye. It could have been a silhouette briefly crossing the path of one of the now casually positioned torches that caught her attention. Or possibly it was none of the above, but simply a ‘sixth sense’; the feeling of being watched that you have when you know that there’s someone present, although none of your five regular senses seem to have been the receptor to this knowledge. ...

(story continues from Homecoming 2) Part Three With their bonds removed, the three captives rode with somewhat greater comfort, despite the swaying of the wagon. After a time, Isolda dozed off. From the other seat, Emeric watched as she lay with her head pillowed in Sabelina’s lap. There was a strangely gentle look in Sabelina’s eyes as her hand gently stroked the other woman’s hair. “Your Highness….” Sabelina glanced up, her eyes suddenly flashing. At this, Emeric paused. “You seem to care for her greatly,” he finally said. ...

(story continues from Homecoming 3) Part Four “Are we safe here?” Instead of answering, Balian gazed around him. In the two days since the rescue, the party had crept on foot through the forests, avoiding Uthrancian patrols. Only a few hours had passed since they had crossed the border into wild, unsettled northern Iznia. Throughout, Balian had kept his men on the alert, refusing to relax his guard even once they’d crossed the border. Now, after a careful examination of the area, he finally turned his attention to Sabelina’s question. ...

(story continues from Homecoming 4) Part Five “What now?” Emeric stood over the body of the dead soldier, captured sword clenched in one fist. Blood oozed from a deep slash on his arm as he gazed across the body toward Balian. “Now,” Balian replied, “you run. Landsedge Farm is that way. Take the women, keep them safe. We’ll see about giving you the time to get there.” From where they stood, the sounds of fighting grew louder, Uthrancian soldiers forcing Balian’s small force to fall back. Close by, disheveled and clutching their own bloodstained blades, Sabelina and Isolda stood panting. Their running battle, which by now had lasted nearly an hour, had spared none of them. ...

(story continues from Homecoming 5) Authors note: This is a standalone story featuring characters from Homecoming Part 6: Silent Witness “Think you’ll be able to keep up this time?” Seated comfortably in her saddle, the willowy blonde grinned at her companion. “I’ll show you keep up,” her companion replied, settling herself with equal ease into her own saddle. “It was only luck you beat me last time.” The blonde laughed. “I was lucky,” she said, “lucky you decided to wear loose clothes.” Cupping her hands over her smallish breasts, she glanced pointedly at her companion’s decidedly larger pair. “All of that bouncing around couldn’t have been good for your balance.” ...

(story continues from Revenge 2: The Start of a New Tradition) Part 3: A Day in the Park The silence is deafening. I am alone in our big home at the moment. Well I am the only conscious person anyhow, as my infant Daughter Juli is asleep in my owner’s office. My name is michael; I am a male belonging to Miss Justine Solomon, my childhood sweetheart and love of my life. We live in a beautiful estate with our beloved Daughter Juliet or simply Juli, and my property-sister liz. Ours is a unique family relationship and history. I prefer to try to forget the events that lead us to this arrangement. ...

(story continues from Tightly Bound Bride) Chapter Fifteen It was early evening when the intercom from the main gate buzzed urgently. The downstairs maid answered. “Yes?” “Mary Edwards, please.” inquired the voice at the other end. “This is Ms. Erika’s Shultz’s residence.” the maid responded. “Mrs. Edwards died in a plane crash with her husband some months ago.” The voice answered with a tight laugh. “OK,” it answered. “I’ll play this game for a while. May I then speak to Ms. Shultz, then?” The maid hesitated, frowning. “I don’t know if Ms. Shultz is available, Madam.” she answered. “Well,” came the voice. “Tell Ms. Shultz that she either speaks with me, or the police…..its up to her. I’ll wait five minutes.” The maid answered “Yes, Madam.” and rushed to convey the message. In several minutes the electronic gate opened, and Cissi Miller drove up the long driveway, parked, and knocked on the door. Erika answered. “Yes? she inquired politely. “My name is Cissi Miller.” said the dark haired young woman at the door. “I am a good friend of Mary Edwards..formerly Edmonds. I was her Maid of Honor when she married James, and was her bondage Mistress before you were.” Erika’s eyes opened wide in surprise for a moment, but she kept calm. “What might I do for you, Miss Miller?” she asked. “I know for a fact that Mary didn’t die in that crash, and that you have kept her as a slave and defrauded James’ insurance company and his estate out of this house.” “Oh?” laughed Erika nervously. “What a silly story. However did you get that idea?” Cissi turned, and motioned to the car. Erika recoiled when she saw Maria, the little housemaid, get out and walk toward them. “Maria came to me with the whole story, which is taped and will be forwarded to the police just in case you were thinking of any rough stuff.” Cissi looked at Erika like she was smelling a dead animal in the road. “Now, may I come in?” she asked. “Uh….ye…..yes. Of course.” Erika stood back, and allowed Cissi and Maria to enter. ...