Karen – Doomed

4.3
(3)

Author’s note: This is a very dark story that deals with unwilling enslavement and a fight to win it over. For those that are not hot to that idea, I suggest you stop here. For the others, please, go on…

I’m writing this each time I have enough relative freedom to do it in the hope that the future generations will know exactly what happened.

My name is Karen, and I’m currently 23 years old.

It all started five years ago. A race of aliens, the Voctons, from as per their saying, a nearby galaxy, have contacted the earth. Of course, naïve as we were, we welcomed them, only to realize that they were here to take control of our beloved planet.

Their followers were treated right. Those who rejected their control were sent to what was openly known as The Higher Order Knowledge Centers, where they would be taught all the good things about the Higher Order, and how our old political and sociological system were nothing more than junk.

In reality, those Knowledge Centers were nothing more than prison where the prisoners were brainwashed to their cause and used as slaves.

I was one of those who resisted their control, so I have been sent to the Higher Order Knowledge number CG429P. I’ve been here for a few months, and I’m still resisting their teaching, and I will do it until I die.

I will try to recap the last few months to get up to speed then go on as things happen.

It was a Tuesday. They came to my home. They’ve tracked me down from a website I had, aimed at discrediting their way of doing, their control taking over the Earth. There was no trial. I was cuffed, put into a dark van and drove off to the nearest Higher Order Knowledge Center, the number CG429P. I know there’s a lot of those centers, I believe in the hundreds, because frankly, about only a third of the population is with them.

Upon my arrival, I was given some kind of drug which rendered me totally immobile. I was still very awake, but couldn’t move a muscle. They could however put me in any position, and I would keep this position.

I was strip naked and some foam was spread all over my body to clean it. I came up totally hairless.  Then a black sticky goo was sprayed on me. I learned later that it was some kind of rubber. One thin coat was applied.

Then a woman, obviously wearing the same rubber skin, but totally white, came in with some scary devices. It was looking like two huge dildos which she inserted into my lower orifices. Being a nurse, I knew perfectly what they were and their use: the first one was a catheter and it was used to control my bladder. The other was an enema attachment. Both dildos were inserted. Their base contained a large flange, which she spread evenly around the hole.

Earplugs were inserted. They were in fact earphones, which I will learn later, will constantly play the advantages of the Higher Order, like brainwashing.

Spherical softly tinted glasses were put over my eyes, about the size of swimming goggles.

My feet were placed on what I would call platform high heel mules. They were looking like classic earth spiky platform shoes, the one often worn by strippers. Why would they add high heels shoes? Well, the Voctons believe that they represent the perfection of creation, and thus every living being should look like them. Since they have feet a little similar to those of a horse, but with a much narrow shoe, they look like they’re always standing on high heels, but without the actual heel. My theory is that by making us wear high heels, we approach their perfection, without being exactly like them. I would guess that the heel raise I was given was close to five inches.

Finally, greasy stuff was applied to my lips, my nostrils and the lenses and I was sprayed two more times this time with a heavier coating. I felt each coat tighten as it dried, imprisoning me in its embrace.

They said that it was all done in the name of hygiene. My guess is that it removes any individuality amongst us, since we all look alike: shiny black rubber sluts on high heels. Come to think of it, hygiene might be a real reason too. Just in this center, I estimate that we are over ten thousand individuals.

I was then carried to the main room where all the other newcomers were waiting for the immobilising drug to lose its effect. Yes, we all looked alike, either we were separated from the men, or we were all shaped like women, which is my confirmed theory.

You see, the Voctons are asexual, meaning that they carry both gender in the same body. Since the woman’s body has the most features : less ribs to allow room for the baby, breasts for milking, wider hips, etc, the women’s features were prominent, thus the Voctons all looked like women.

In a couple, they mutually chose who would carry the child, since it could be either of them, as any pregnancy. Apparently, it’s impossible for one to get pregnant by himself, so they need to be as couples.

Like I said earlier, the Voctons believe they ARE the closest things to perfection, so they want us to look like them, men or women.

Gee, do I remember when the damn drug wore off. It hurt like hell, like thousands of little needles poking you, everywhere on your body! Excruciating. With that pain, the constant New Order Rules being played over and over in the earphones became quickly unbearable. Many started to scream, but they were quickly silenced by guards, stuffing a huge rubber gag in their mouth. I screamed too, and I was stuffed.

I don’t know what I have different, but I’m somewhat able to block out their constant nagging about the Higher Order. For me, it’s like it isn’t playing anymore, which got me into more trouble.

Today is my 93rd day in this center. Yesterday was a test to see how I was doing in learning the Higher Order doctrine, in short, how advanced I am in their brainwashing. To their surprise, I’m as low as when I came in, so I was given an incentive.

My body was put inside some kind of metallic clamp making a tube that was covering me from the hips to the shoulders. Then I felt my body being compressed, especially the waist, as if a wide belt was getting highly tightened. The whole process was very hot.

After a few minutes, the metallic tube opened. The pressure kept on. My body was encased in some kind of hard shell, from the hips up to just blow my breast. To me, it was a plain corset, but they said that it was an incentive to become more aware of the Higher Order, by looking more like them, who have very tiny waist. But deep down, I knew it was just more bondage, just more confinement.

Of course, the slick rubber layer was not to be cut by that hard shell, so another coat was applied.

Walking was a new learning. I could not balance like I used to do, but I manage. I think they hadn’t foreseen what I felt: The tight rubber coating, along with the corset, plus the high heels made the intruding dildos act like… pleasure shafts. Yes, I enjoyed them. They were no longer a disturbance. Each step, each move made the dildos move inside me, creating a very welcome rubbing. I tried hard not to show it, but I was actually glad. There was now some fun out of it. Relatively speaking.

Today, I’m confined to my quarters a very small room comprised of only a bed and a desk to study the Higher Order book. That’s why I’m actually using the pages of that book to write my story. I really hope it will help future generations understand what happened to the good old Earth.

Everything is covered in rubber, from the wall to the bed. There’s no sharp object anywhere, so it’s impossible to try to rip off our rubber covering.

I have nothing to do but lay there, on that rubber covered bed, and… play with myself.

Day 176.

Apparently, they discovered the hidden pleasure I was having with their suit, and they were not pleased. So from now on, I would be vacuum sealed on the bed at night. They have added a cover frame to my bed. When the curfew is ordered I lay on the bed and the cover is lowered on me, with only a hole for my mouth for which I have to carefully align. Then the air is pumped from underneath the cover, sealing it, pinning me down on the mattress. I’m completely immobilized, unable to move a single finger. That is until I discovered that I could place my hands reaching my crotch before the vacuum is applied…

Day 222.

Well, I went a little overboard, and I paid for it. I guess that I never really mentioned it, but we’re not gagged. Our mouth is free. Of course, since we’re all totally deaf, only able to hear their darn Higher Order mumbo jumbo, we can’t speak amongst ourselves… but we still can make some noise that only them would hear.

So I turned toward whoever was sitting next to me, since we all look the same, and I screamed my lungs out in her face.

Yes, we can’t hear it, but we can sure feel it. She went on with me and started screaming, passing the word. I’m not sure, but I guess a good bunch of us embarked on it, because it didn’t take long before guards ran down on us and gagged us with a large rubber ball on a head harness, before being sent to our rooms.

Today, I’m the only one still gagged and I don’t know how long I will have to keep it. Not very comfortable but for just to see their face in a panic state not having foreseen anything like that, the discomfort is worthed.

Day 361. 

Almost a year. For some reason, it seems that I’m insensitive to their constant brainwashing speeches sent to my earplugs as I, purposely, failed another one of their damn tests. I was sent to another center, this one I’m sure, with stronger methods. But I don’t give a damn. They will not win me that easily.

The transport was not that comfortable. They said that it was to ensure my safety that all those procedures were taken. Yeah right.

They first gagged me with a huge hard plastic ball, with a hollow center. It was strapped tight around my head with a leather harness.

Then they tied my hands in my back, first the wrists, then the elbows which they drew until they touched. Finally, all those yoga sessions paid off! To one not flexible enough, it would have been excruciatingly painful, but although it was not comfortable, I could easily manage.

My legs were next, tightly tied together at the ankles and at the knees. Then they had me kneel, and they tied my lower legs to my thighs before bending me over then, and taking another strap and wrapping everything. I was tied in some kind of ball. Finally, they linked a strap from my neck to my knees, and from my wrists to my ankles. I must admit that this was not the best position I ever had.

They then sprayed me with some kind of very greasy stuff before putting me inside a large box. It appeared to be made of some kind of plastic, and the exterior was of a shiny black, their favourite color apparently.

The bottom of the box was lined with some kind of foam, making it somewhat comfortable. A tube was connected from my gag to the side of the box and the cover was snapped in place.

Shortly after, I felt something warm being poured in. It filled the box, and then the pressure increased. That stuff filled every little hole it could find, totally immobilizing me.

Well, they were right for one thing: I was very well protected for the transport, as I barely noticed I was being moved at all. I totally lost track of time. Of course, their propaganda through the earplugs never stopped.

Finally, light showed again, and I was released. I was aching from everywhere. I was put into a brand new room. This one was a wee bit larger, but with more equipment. At first sight I say that they would be able to restrain me in every imaginable position.

Day 396.

It’s the first time since my arrival that I’m actually able to write. I had been sent to the special class, where with a bunch of others, I was tied in a spread eagle position on the wall, having to watch and listen to their Higher Order advantages, and how good THEIR race is, and how better our lives would be to live like them.

Deep inside me, I laughed. I don’t know why or how, but I was still unaffected by that stronger brainwashing session. Oh, yes I could have simply go along and say Yes, you’re right, you’re the best, now release me, but I would lose all the fun I have, looking at them realizing that I’m a total failure to their procedures.

I guess tougher situations are coming up.

Day… something

I totally lost track of time. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but I still know who I am, and what I want, and I won’t go along with their fucking Higher Order.

They tied me in some kind of circular frame, all spread out. They blocked my eyesight and then that dreadful frame started to move, in all axes. Within a few minutes, I was totally disoriented. The only thing I could set my mind to was what I was hearing thought the earplugs: their propaganda.

Like I said earlier, I don’t know what I have different, but I was able to hear and keep only specific words: hope, freedom, force, future, strong, holding-on. All the words I needed to survive it, which I did. When after the session, they asked me what I was thinking of the Higher Order I said: piece of shit.

Now, I’m gagged, permanently. A balloon-like bag was put into my mouth, the center of it being hollow. A tube was fed down my throat for feeding and two more tubes were fed up my nose for breathing. Then something was injected into the bag, which expanded in my mouth, filling it completely and more. I thought my face was going to explode, but that was only the beginning of it.

My head was put into a metal mould, and I felt warm as something hard was being mould around my head. Once done, I had a new featureless face and head, made of the same hard material as my corset. Only one metallic plug at the mouth was visible, as well as the holes for my viewing lenses, which were now darker.

The helmet/hood was going down, covering my neck down to my shoulders. Any movement of the head was difficult. Of course, a brand new coat of rubber had to be sprayed everywhere.

But I will resist. They will not win.

Day something plus 84.

I received brand new footwear yesterday. They believe that the more I look will like them, the more I will accept the Higher Order. The metallic moulding machine went to work on my feet, creating pointed toe boots, going up to my knees. So now, I’m walking like a ballet dancer standing on her toes, without any heel for support. I as they were sure I would trip and fall at the first small obstacle, but to even my big surprise, I walked with those as if it has been second nature, although I never did ballet. That pissed them off. I was simply a no win situation, the first one they ever had. But I’m sure they’re not through their bag of tricks… neither am I.

Day… I don’t have a clue.

I’m just back from what I believe the longest isolation period I had ever been since I got my rubber skin. I was put into a tube that was filled with some opaque gooey liquid. I felt pretty much weightless. Quite amusing I must say. I had nothing else to do than doze off, while listening to the increasingly harsh brainwashing, but again even after hearing countless times that the Higher Order was THE way to be, I still don’t care, and I still want my old life back.

They appear that they don’t have a clue of what to do with me. Killing me would be simple, but doing that, they would have to admit defeat, and that’s something they would never do. And I will NOT be the one taking the flag down. Never.

So I was impaired even more: my fingers were all glued together in one flat hand. Needless to say that writing this takes a lot of time and effort.

Day… oh well, I stopped counting.

I somewhat graduated today. Yes, I’m now a member of the Higher Order Priestess Chosen Personal Maids. I have now to serve the Priestess little needs, along with three other girls, probably like me, having failed to acknowledge the Higher Order supremacies. To date, I feel nothing more than a rubbery slave, there to bring her drinks and to flatter her ego. I hate her.

Day… something and a few more weeks.

The Priestess really pisses me off. I, along with the other maids, are treated as household pets, although I believe that a really bad dog gets more respect than we do. I was right: we’re the Priestess little rubber slaves, or I must say sex slaves. I would guess that they believe that being treated that low, will enforce us to really believe how good the Higher Order is and how god like they are. It apparently worked for one of us, who got… released. But of that, we have no proof.

Sorry, but I will fight them to my last breath.

Day… perhaps the last one.

I learned a lot of things lately. The first one is that the numerous worship statues that fill the Priestess room are apparently people like me that totally refused their upbringing.  They won’t accept defeat. So the resistance is poured into a completely covering rigid shell, covered with more rubber and put in the priestess room to live a life of total immobility and void of any stimulus, although I’m not sure they would cut their brainwashing text.

The process to convert me to a statue has already started. Yesterday, I was brought to the “spray room” I used to call it. I was given again the immobilization drug, and I was sprayed with a reddish goo. At first, it didn’t do much but after a few minutes, it started to burn like hell, as if my skin was slowly shaved off. I tried to scream but nothing came out.

I was carried back to my room and put into the vacbed where I stayed until a few minutes ago.

The pain disappeared after what I believe a few hours. I don’t know if that spray serves another purpose than torture, but no, they will not win.

So, I might not die right now, but I will surely end up like it, because it’s simply out of the question that I will accept the Higher Order.

I’ve decided though that I will not let go that easy. I will attempt one last time at committing something that should get me killed, or get me free.

I have apparently been one of the most resistant ones, so the Priestess had chosen me to become her very personal slave, with a lot of degrading tasks to do, including to bring her to climax.

I’ve said earlier that they carry both sexes, and that bitch wants as much to be screwed than screwing.

I will attempt to explain my plan, because I might not be able to write anymore after it. 

The bitch usually wants to get a blowjob first. I think I never mentioned that they have really small dicks, about the size of a finger. It fits perfectly into the feeding hole of my gag. So, I’m to kneel in front of her and she stuff her miniature shaft into my tube and screw. I have no choice but to swallow the sperm, since the tube is plugged directly into my stomach. Of course, it gets down slowly, and I don’t taste a thing since it goes right through.

After she’s satisfied with it, she wipe my mouth clean then install a dildo over my gag, and I then have to screw her. The dildo is hollow.

What I did is that I managed to puncture the damn dildo. Since the hose of my gag is linked to my stomach I can’t breath in it, but with a lot of practice, I manage to burp, and that goes by the stomach.

My goal is that by burping, I will blow through some of that sperm. Yes, I believe that you got my plan: I’m going to send her back her sperm. She will inseminate herself. It probably won’t do much, but I hope it will be a sacrilege punishable by death. There will be my freedom.

Wish me good luck.

New Day 1

Well, evidently I’m not dead and I write this, somewhat free, as I’ve been sent back to my room, but without the restraints or torture I was expected. Let me explain what happened.

I did what I had planned. I burped and burped into that damn tube, hoping that some sperm had made its way back. I don’t know if it was the burping, or the unconscious moves I had to make to do it, but the bitch seemed to have the time of her life, climaxing like I’ve never seen before. At one point, I was sure I was going to throw the content of my stomach back into her. Well, a little stomach acid shouldn’t be THAT bad. But it came too late. She was satisfied and she pushed me away. That’s when she startled.

There, on the tip of the dildo, was apparently a small drop of sperm. It’s easy to see since there is bright green.

She started to yell. I don’t know what she said since I can hear nothing but their brainwashing text, but from the shape of her mouth it was a desperate NO!

The guards appeared startled, not quite knowing what to do, so they brought me back to my room.

Now, this is strange. The constant speech I was hearing has stopped. It is now dead silent, but I’m still locked into my room.

Two days have passed. I could feed and clean myself on the service station in my room, but I didn’t receive any visit, from anyone. Then there was some creaking noise in my earplugs, and I heard a voice. A man’s voice.

“Hel… hello?  Anyone hearing me? Good. We’re looking for someone called we believe Karen. Does anybody know where she is? Is she still with us or did they bring her with them?”

Bring her with them? A man’s voice? What the hell is going on? How to tell them? I went to my door and banged on it as hard as I could. Suddenly, a man and a woman, dressed in city clothes, approached and unlocked the door. They led me to the main room.

Everywhere the corridors were empty, not a single guard, except when I entered the main room: it was full of people. Many were rubber covered like me, but many were city dressed. One man standing near the Priestess throne was holding some kind of microphone to his mouth. I waved at him.

“Are you Karen?” he asked.

I nodded yes as much as my stiff hood allowed me and I raised my hand.

“Good lord, you’re still alive. Thank you very much, Karen. We owe you our freedom.”

I raised my hands in a I don’t understand sign.

“Aren’t you the one that stuff that priestess with her own sperm?” he asked.

I nodded. Then the woman that came to my cell spoke to his ear. I overheard what she was saying to him through the microphone and I made a yes sign.

“So you were kept in your cell all this time? Okay. Apparently, what you did was not a blasphemy but a prophecy. According to their books, one would make the priest receive her own semen. When that would happen, it would be their end of the world song. If someone succeeds at doing it, it means that they were not worthy of their own god since they allowed the priestess to be spoiled.

So they all rushed back into their ships and left. Apparently, they’re going back to their home world to try to clean themselves and ask for redemption. In short, you saved us from their slavery. Thank you, Karen.”

I couldn’t believe it. I was not only free, but I got rid of all of them at the same time! Under the cheers of the crowd, I was carried to the stand and sat on the throne. I immediately, to everybody’s surprise, got out of it and kicked it off its stand. No way I was going to be the Priestess. All I wanted to was to have my freedom back.

Epilogue

Everything on Earth is slowly going back to normal. Gradually, all those that were covered in rubber were freed, except for a few, including me.

Apparently, the burning sensation I had with the red goo, was in fact my skin merging with my latex suit, becoming one. It means that I’m stuck with this suit, since it’s now part of my body. Blood vessels have already started to grow within it. A bright electronic technician was able to plug a local mic to my earplugs, so I’m hearing somewhat normally, the sounds around me. I’m stuck in my rubber skin for the rest of my life. But it’s not that bad compared to the statues. Yes, they are alive, and their rubber shell is now harder than steel, although it IS their skin. They are very much alive, but can’t move a muscle. A bunch of people are attempting to communicate with them, to know what they want us to do. 

As for me, I tried to get a life as normal as possible, but I will always be known as the rubber woman that saved the earth.

© Pete / monsterp63, November 18, 2005

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