Karen – Hazardous Materials


The small Learjet plane landed on the airfield, its windows blackened. Once it stopped, near a barrack, the door opened and a woman got out, escorted by two men in military uniforms, but without any country insignia. The woman had just enough time to realize that she was in the middle of a desert, surrounded by high hills before entering the barrack. 

There she was led into a small office with a window giving a view on the airfield where she witnessed the plane taking off and leaving.

A few minutes later a woman entered, wearing the standard field military uniform, with desert camouflage pattern. Again, apart from her name, Murphy and her rank, Colonel, nothing indicated what country she was from, because Karen had absolutely no idea where she was. She had been taken off her home while she was sleeping, had taken numerous modes of transportation, but either she was blindfolded, or the windows were black.

Nobody answered any of her questions, and she hoped that this woman would.

“Who are you and why am I here, and where here is?”

“My name is Colonel Murphy of the Special Artefacts Multinational Task Force, but you can call me Sandra. You’re here because we need your expertise, and here is what you would call Area-51. Are these answers satisfactory?”

“Yooo… What?” said Karen, rolling eyes in disbelief.

“Your presence here is requested for your knowledge in rescue as a Hazmat specialist and… by your body measurements.” Said Murphy. 

Karen went wide-eyed. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Murphy continued.

“You’ll understand fast enough. We are not part of the military, and we don’t want any military involvement. When we need help, we look outside the military. In fact, all the employees here are civilians. We only have a military-like structure. Now, we needed someone that could rescue personnel trapped in a toxic environment. To access that environment requires the wearing of a very special protective suit. That’s where your body measurements come to play. You’ll learn why as we go through the procedure. Time is short. Come with me.”

Karen followed, too stunned to ask more questions. She was led to an elevator which began to ride down, and, actually, had only negative floor numbers!.

“In the 1950’s, after boring the area in preparation for an underground nuclear explosion experiment, we discovered a strange rock. It apparently was an asteroid, pretty much in very good condition that has buried itself in the desert floor. We dug all around it to gain access and built a laboratory. Its study gave us numerous new materials and technology, thus the Alien thing going on about Area-51. 

A few years ago, a crack appeared that let out a strange orange vapour.  Immediately, the workers began to feel ill, and the lab was sealed. By numerous experiments, a protective suit was designed. It had to be custom made, pretty much moulded from the wearer’s body. That’s the LX Protective Environment Suit you’re going to wear. We call it The Suit.”

The elevator stopped at sub-level 15. Murphy led the way. They reached a large room where one wall was blocked by large plates of glass and what looked like an airlock. On the other side of the glass, a room filled with electronic equipment, and the floor covered with an eerie looking orange fog about 3ft deep.

“That orange fog will eat away any normal hazmat suit within a few minutes. This is what the workers have to wear.” She said, pointing at what looked at first, a woman, wearing a shiny black diving suit with high heels and a motorcycle helmet, hanging 6 inches off the ground. Murphy approached the woman and unhooked the suit. It was empty. Karen touched it.

“Feels like rubber.”

“It is, and quite thick.”

“There’s the name Judy on the chest. Is it to whom this suit belongs? Why isn’t she performing the rescue?”

“Because she died in a car accident three days ago. So, we had to find someone that would fit into this suit. I must admit that you’re a little… rounder than she was, but you were the closest match. Now, if you would please, put on that suit and start the rescue. There’s four other girls in that fog filled room we haven’t heard of for the past 24 hours. All we know is that there has been some kind of an explosion, and we lost contact. We normally receive status signals from the suits, but the communication appears dead. On all four.”

“You mean they’re dead?”

“I can’t say that. We don’t get any radio signal from them, so we have no data.”

Karen was a rescue worker. It was her life. There were four lives to be rescued, and she would do it, risking her own in the process. It was part of the job.

“Very well. Let’s go.”

“I must warn you that the suit is very… special.” She said, plunging her hand into it and producing what appeared like a pair of rubber panties with two dildos.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m afraid not. You see, the suit seals the wearer completely, and it has been made for a prolonged use. These… inserts serve to evacuate urine and FCs through automatic enema, while you’ll be intubated for breathing and feeding purposes.”

“But, since I’ll be wearing it just for the rescue, I guess we could forget these inserts and the entubing?”.

“I’m afraid not. It would compromise the seal. The suit has to be skin tight.”

This was not appealing to her at all, but she was thinking about those four lives. A few hours of discomfort was a small price to pay for saving them. She undressed and took the briefs. Murphy helped her apply a large amount of lubricant to them and helped insert them in place.

She felt the huge inserts invading her. The feeling was somewhat disturbing, and it showed as she blushed.

“Don’t worry.” Said Murphy. “I’ve seen it before.” She said with an evil smile. 

Then it was time for the suit. The inside was already coated with a lubricant. Karen proceeded to insert her feet. It proved to be a tight fit.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to get into this. Way too tight.”

“Because it was discovered that if there was any air pocket left between the suit and the skin, painful 2nd degree burns would occur after an exposition of more than three hours with the orange fog.” Answered Murphy while yanking up the suit so Karen’s feet would slipped into the built-in platform soles with a 6 inches spiky heel.

“And how about the heels, if I may ask? Don’t tell me there’s really some use for them.” Asked Karen as she tried to steady herself on the high heel platform boots, her who was not used at that at all.

“For a lot of the work, the girls had to stand on their toes. They tried building small steps, but they were constantly tripping on them. Then one day, one of the girls replaced her normal sneakers with a pair of platform heels. It worked so well that the others adopted it, and it was incorporated in the next version of the suit.”

Karen acknowledged as she was pulling hard to get her arms down the tight sleeves of the suit. Finally, the hands popped in the attached gloves.

“Yes the rubber is thick.” Said Murphy, answering Karen’s silent question “it has to do with wear and tear. They’re working around rocks. Too thin it simply gets ripped at first touch. This thickness is the best compromise.”

The suit was pulled over her shoulder, and before the back zipper could be closed, Murphy produced a rubber hood with a wide collar.

“Good thing you have short hair, otherwise I would have had to cut them. Hang tight, this is going to be a very tight fit.” Said Murphy as she started to pull the heavy latex hood over Karen’s head.

It was tight. Very tight. Once it popped in place, Karen found it hard to open her mouth, although there was a hole in front of it, as well as nostrils holes and eyes holes. Murphy carefully placed the wide collar inside the catsuit, removing any wrinkles. Then she yanked the two sides of the back together and proceeded to zip the suit up.

The suit had a toothless zipper, like the ones seen on sandwich bags, providing a complete seal. Karen stretched in the suit, getting used to its tightness and compression. She found her mobility quite affected by its thickness and the high heels, which she was not used at all to wear. And the tight hood, rendered speech difficult. She had to struggle to breathe as the tight suit compressed her chest, but she would soon find out that it was nothing compared to what was next.

Murphy came back with something that looked like a black rigid leotard with devices attached to the front and the back. It had a hinge at the crotch, and was folding on itself upward, joining over the shoulders, with a high and apparently stiff collar.

“This is the back pack.” Said Murphy. “It contains the power supply, as well as the air filtering system, water and food supply, and some electronic equipment. If you would step in.” she said, lowering the crotch portion on the floor.

Karen stepped on it, and noticed on the crotch area, two small tubes that will evidently be linked to the two holes at the crotch of the catsuit, giving access to the dildos, or inserts. Then, Murphy got the two pieces up, asking Karen to hold them in place as she put the straps on.

“I think you should take one a size larger, or rather three sizes larger. That waist portion is too small, you’ll never be able to close it… oof! What are you doing?”

“Closing it. That’s the right fit, believe me. You see, if you breathe too deeply, you’ll get infected by the orange fog, even though it is filtered. All methods have been tried to prevent the wearer from breathing too much, but a corset-like device proved to be the most effective way. By the way, it’s made of carbon fibers. Quite sturdy. Stuck your stomach in and empty your lungs, please.” She said, while yanking the straps tight.

Karen couldn’t believe it. She was being compressed as if in a vise. She never wore any suit that was so constrictive before, even for a rescue. Her standard hazmat suit, although uncomfortable and bulky, was plush slippers compared to this.

“Almost there.” Said Murphy, still tightening the ratchet straps until the two halves of the back pack were joined. She fastened the numerous clamps on the sides and the shoulders before removing the ratchet straps.

Karen found herself stiff from the waist up to the neck, where a high and rather tight collar impaired her neck movements.

“Standard air hoses would decompose if exposed to the orange fog, as air pockets would produce burns. The only conduits that resisted were carbon fiber ones, but that is not flexible. That’s why the neck is stiff, and will be linked directly to the helmet. Yes, your head will be locked into this position. We’re currently working on the next generation of helmet that will provide some freedom of movement of the head, but right now, it’s as stiff as a steel bar. The girls learned to work with it, you will.” Said Murphy, while taking the helmet.

It looked like a motorcycle helmet. It made Karen think about one of her ex-boyfriend who had a bike and was wearing a black Simpson Bandit helmet. This one looked a lot like it, but it was opening in half, in two pieces, front and back. Murphy placed the back part first. It locked at the back of the collar, meshing with the tubes coming up from the back pack. It rested firmly against Karen’s neck and head. Then she pointed at the front piece.

“You don’t see through the lenses. Instead, cameras record the image and feed them to view screens in front of each eye. Since the signal is electronic, it can be enhanced and numerous filters could be used, providing a wide range of survey devices, from infra-red to ultraviolet. Also, there’s tubes for your mouth and nose. Once the helmet closes, they will insert to provide air and food. Now, take a deep breath and swallow.”

Before Karen could react, Murphy had closed the front part of the helmet , forcing the tube in her mouth, then with all her strength, she forced the two halves together until they locked.

Karen felt her head being compressed like in a vise, then, with a winding noise, she felt something going in her mouth, down her throat, and at the same time, something going up her nostrils and stopping at the back of her throat.

She choked, and instinctively, she tried to remove the helmet. But things just got worse. Something inside her mouth was growing, filling it, pushing her tongue back, and forcing her cheeks out, which made the helmet appear even tighter.

She felt Murphy trying to hold her still, then the viewscreen illuminated and she saw her, and started to hear her asking to calm down.

“I told you. You’ll get intubated. The procedure is complete now. Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

Karen felt the air being somewhat forced in her breathing tubes. She breathes freely, although the tight corset forced her to take shallow breaths. 

“You have a menu bar at the bottom of each viewscreen.” She heard Murphy say through the built-in earphone. “The K stands for Keyboard. You stare at it and blink to select it. A keyboard will appear. All you have to do is type the text. Now, there’s also green and red buttons. Green means okay, fine, yes, and the red means bad, problem, no. Got the idea?”

Karen stared at the green button and blinked.

“You answered yes. Very good. Now, please, hurry, there’s four lives waiting for you.”

Murphy waved Karen to follow her to the airlock. It was the first time she actually walked with the double dildos and the high heels, and it was quite an experience. Very distracting to say the least. The dildos were massaging her in a way she never experienced. Somewhat, the high heels seem to heightened the experience, as well as the corset.

But she had work to do, and she really wondered if she would be able to perform anything.

The airlock was closed, and rapidly, the orange fog filled the bottom of the lock before the second door opened. 

She walked carefully. Everything was distracting: the numerous information on the viewscreen, the corset, the dildos, the high heels, the way she was aware that her body was rather stiff. She was walking but not searching.

“Try the infra-red.” Suggested Murphy.

Karen searched for the button and selected it. Her whole vision changed. She could see through the smoke. There, about 10 feet in front of her, was one body, apparently laying on her stomach. She approached carefully, and kneeled beside her.

Bending to reach her was rather difficult. She managed to turn her on her back and grab her by the arms to drag her to the airlock. She never noticed the fine layer of purple dust that lifted off the floor as she walked and dragged the injured.

She noticed that there were two more people in the adjacent room, two men. As soon as the airlock was available, the two men took the unconscious woman and dragged her out.

“It’s Lynda, the head of the research dept. Only three left to go.” Said Murphy, hurrying Karen to go back to look for the others.

She did, still looking with the infra-red. She found a second body a little farther, more to the back of the huge asteroid. She could see a bright orange spot where the orange fog seemed to pour out, way on top of it.

She grabbed the second body and dragged it out of the room.

“This is Carrie. By the way, Lynda is out of danger and coming back to her senses. The air filter was clogged by some sort of purple crystalline dust. Seen anything like that yet?”

Karen selected the red button as she continued her search. Surprisingly, the dildos, corset and movement difficulties seemed less obvious. She had somewhat learned to go around them.

She found the two last bodies stuck under a pile of debris. Apparently, a portion of the asteroid broke off and fell on the girls. She switched her vision to X-Ray, and was relieved when she saw nothing broke on them. She went to work to remove the rocks that were piled over their feet. She got out the first of the two, Isabelle, and dragged it to the airlock.

By then, she was getting quite exhausted and was sweating heavily inside her rubber confinement, but instead of being annoying, it made the suit glide on her skin, providing new sensations not at all unpleasant. 

As she removed the last one of her predicament she noticed, where the rock had detached from the asteroid, what appeared like purple goo, very sticky, running down slowly. She noticed at the same time that the orange fog had taken a darker color, as if mixed with the purple goo.

But it wasn’t time for investigation. She had to take the last one, Caroline, out of there. She dragged her toward the airlock, but her breath was becoming shorter. She felt exhausted, almost sleepy. She wanted to continue, but she was too weak.

“Karen! Are you o..” the rest of the phrase fainted as she collapsed on the floor.

“Are you okay?”

She blinked, and opened her eyes. She was looking at the ceiling. She tried to reconstruct the last moments. Yes, the rescue, the suit. And she was still wearing it. She selected the keyboard instead of answering with the colour buttons.

What happened? 

“Your air filter got clogged with the same purple crystalline, and you suffered the same illness as the others.”

The others? Are they all safe?

We’re all here, except for a small problem that appeared in the viewscreen as she was helped to sit on the exam table, and she saw the four other women in front her, all of them still wearing their suits.

Why are you all still wearing your suit? And why am I?

That’s the little problem. Wrote Lynda.

Apparently, the purple crystalline altered the material of the suit, well, of everything for that matter. It seized everything together, and rendered it somewhat indestructible. Wrote Caroline.

What do you mean?

That for the moment, we’re all stuck in these suits, including yourself, since you were also exposed to the purple crystalline.  Then the text changed to a green font instead of a black one. That is considering that we want out of the suits. We’re talking in private mode right now, thus the green font. Only the four of us could see what is typed. Select the green P button. Wrote Lynda.

Karen executed.

What do you mean? You don’t want to get out of these? They’re so constricting.

I guess that you wouldn’t believe it if we said that we’ve been wearing these suits continually for the past three months. Wrote Carrie.

How can you cope with that for so long?

We might be Scientifics,  wrote Lynda, but we’re still women. Do you really think that the inserts had to be shaped like phalluses? Come on. There’s more on this suit that meets the eyes, and only the four of us know about it. Select the health icon three times. A heart will appear. Select it three times. You’ll have a new display. I would suggest you start with program 1. Said Isabelle.

Karen felt the dildos starting to vibrate, and she twitched, reaching for her crotch with her gloved hands.

“What’s going on? Something wrong, Karen? What is that noise?”

Don’t worry, Sandra wrote Lynda she’s only experiencing the cleaning procedure.

Murphy made a discussed grin. Having an enema was not something she considered playful.

“I’ll leave you to your business. I guess you have a lot of work to do, the first order is to clog that purple spill.”

Yes Colonel. Wrote Lynda. But first, we have to find a way to prevent the purple crystalline from clogging our air filters. Then, switching to green fonts: Coming, Karen. Don’t worry, just let it run. That’s what we do.

Karen followed. It was not easy to concentrate on walking while being vibrated. Suddenly, the suit wasn’t that bad after all, and she was eager to see what the other settings were, especially the number 15, written in deep red.

© Pete / monsterp63, January 2005

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