- Part I – Judgment Day
- Part II – The Prisoner’s Uniform
- Part III – Make Yourself at Home
- Part IV – Sleepless in the Cell
- Part V – Good Morning 134
- Part VI – Action Reaction
- Part VII – Hang On
- Part VIII – Carry On
- Part IX – Freedom. Or Is It?
- Part X – Recruitment
- Part XI – Back To The Old Neighborhood
- Part I – Judgment Day
“All rise” said the security guard as the judge entered the courtroom and took place behind his bench.
He looked at the two young women standing in front of him, smiling as if finding the whole procedures funny. He had a severe look at them.
“Karen and Lynda. You were caught in the act of robbing a bank. Numerous cameras recorded your arrival and crime. You were shown the evidence, and even with all this, you had the arrogance of pleading not guilty, forcing a trial and costing taxpayers money for a completely useless trial.”
“It wasn’t my fault, how could I know that a TV crew had set up two dozen cameras in and around the bank in preparation for a TV series…” she whispered to Lynda, who laughed.
“… It is your third conviction for robbery although you are strong suspects in about a dozen others,” continued the judge “and I think you deserve a lesson on the law and the consequences of breaking it.
In consequence, I hereby sentence you for five years at the Laru correctional facility.” He said, slamming down his gavel.
Karen turned to her lawyer.
“See you in what, 18 months, two years top?” she said, smiling.
“I’m sorry, Karen.” Said the lawyer. “Every sentence at the Laru facility is carried out completely. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
Karen suddenly lost her smile. The judge saw it and he smiled. Her lips could be seen mumbling “Gotcha!”.
They were transported to a transfer bus, heavily shackled on their seat. They were the only ones on board. The ride took a few hours then the bus stopped. When it moved again, it was not by itself, but being carried by something else. Karen recognized the sound and the feeling: they had boarded a cargo plane! The flight lasted for quite a long time before they landed and the bus rode again for an hour or so. The blackened windows of the bus prevented them to know where exactly they were heading.
They were taken inside a garage. When Karen saw the guards, she laughed.
“What the fuck is this place?” she said. “We’re being watched by hookers?”
The two guards, wearing very tight fitting black and shiny shirt and jeans style pants with a yellow band running down the sides, were walking on knee high buckled platform boots, with skyscraper heels. Their hairs were held into a tight bun in the back of their head, and they weren’t smiling at all when they grabbed Karen and Lynda by the arm to drag them into a room.
“Get naked, and don’t waste any time.” Said one of the guards.
Karen was finding it amusing and started to wonder what kind of weird joke they were playing on them. As the guard found Karen was not fast enough, she received a sharp blow of a riding crop on the back of her thigh.
“I said hurry up!” said the guard with a cold cone.
“Relax bitch.” Said Karen.
Her comment was responded by a sharp blow of the riding crop behind her head. It wasn’t fake and it hurt a lot. Karen figured that she was better to shut up and try to understand what kind of weird place they had ended up into.
Once they were naked, they were directed to small shower booths. There, the guard took a red hose and started to spray some foam on them. Sure it was soap, Karen rubbed herself carefully, until her hands became full of hair.
“Oh shit! Oh my god! My hair! What are you dowgglrhgh…”
Her complaints were cut by a flow of warm water, to rinse them off. They came out, looking at each other, amazed and completely hairless.
Part II: The Prisoner’s Uniform.
Once out of the shower, their completely hairless bodies were dried out with jets of hot air. Plugs were put in their ears and they were directed to cabins, the size of a phone booth. They were instructed to close their eyes and not to move, at all, before the door was shut. Immediately, a spray of hot liquid engulfed them. They stood still as they felt hot lamps turned on. They tried to open their eyes but were unable, and their lips were also apparently glued shut. Their only way to breathe was through their nose.
Karen felt dragged out of the booth and placed on a table. There, her legs were spread and her ankles fastened to the table, as well as her wrists. She then felt the crotch portion of whatever was covering her being open. Something was being applied on, something greasy, then she felt something huge being forced on.
“Relax, it will go easier and faster.” She heard from the hard tone of a guard.
After the intruders had been inserted, she felt a tube being fed in, and a few moments later, she felt her bladder being pumped and something growing in her rectum. She figured that she was being fitted with some kind of catheters. But why?
Then she felt something being inserted up her nose: more tubes. They were pushed until they got out at the back of her throat.
Finally, she felt her lips being separated, but before she could complain or ask anything, another tube was stuffed in her mouth, this one forced down to her stomach, before what felt like a loose balloon was forced around the tube, in her mouth.
She started to panic when the balloon grew bigger and bigger, filling her mouth until she felt her cheeks stretched out.
“Don’t open your eyes, or it will sting like hell.” Said the same cold voice as she felt something liquid being applied on her eyelids.
A few moments later, it was wiped off and she then felt as if something was being pressed on her face, all around her eyes. She risked opening them. She was seeing through some dark tinted lens, all blurry.
She was unfastened from the table. She could see shadows and figured that the shadow getting up from a table nearby was Lynda, probably undergoing the same weird procedure.
She took her hands to her face and felt the tubes going off her nose and mouth, but she didn’t feel her skin, as if it was covered with something. She put her hands in front of her face to see them completely black.
“They painted us?” she thought to herself.
She was instructed to sit on the table while tubes were applied to her feet. She had to put her toes fully down for the tube to fit. It was reaching to her knee. The same thing was done to her other feet.
She then felt the same warm lamps. She could see through her darkened vision, that it was some kind of black lamp. She felt the tubes shrink around her leg, becoming quite tight, and trapping her feet into an en-pointe position.
Two guards then took her by the arms and had her stand up.
She had worn high heels before, but nothing like that. Even worse, those didn’t seem to have any kind of heel to support the feet. Unsteady, she was balancing from side to side as one of the guards had a strict grip on her arm.
She was instructed to lift her left foot, then her right one as another tube was run up until it reached her armpit. This one had been a struggle to go past the hips but was now in place.
The same UV lamps were applied and she felt the tube shrink down, compressing her chest, her breasts and especially her waist.
She tried to fight it by blowing her stomach, but it didn’t stop the relentless crushing of its shrinking, squeezing her waist so much that she thought she was getting cut in half.
The UV lamps were turned off. Her body was as stiff as if it had been encased in steel. She could only breathe in short gasps.
They were then both put in the spray booth again for one more coating. Then taken out and the tubes cut flush at the nose, mouth and crotch. She could only assume that that was what was going on as she could barely see.
They were put again in the spray booth for two more coats, with UV lamps lit up between each one. Karen’s arms were then pulled in her back, reversed and jacked up in the reverse position until her elbows touched. They were held like that for a few minutes until they were apparently glued together, before she was put to the booth again and subjected to another spray, but this one, she felt covered only her upper torso, securing her arms into place.
When she came out, Karen felt totally encased in a very tight and rigid suit. Her lenses were wiped clean, apparently, the fuzzy layer prevented whatever was sprayed on them to stick to it.
They were placed in front of a large wall mirror, where stunned, they looked at their reflections:
Two pitch black female forms, with incredibly long legs standing on pointed toes. Karen’s arms were nowhere to be seen, tightly tucked between her shoulder blades. Lynda’s arms were dangling by her sides, all fingers glued together. Their head looked like bizarre insects with two bulbous eyes and a small hole for the mouth.
Part III: Make Yourself at Home
A guard entered, evidently higher graded than the two in shiny catsuit who stepped aside, slightly bowing.
This one was wearing a very tight fitting police dress with the yellow side trim and insignias. The dress was going down to mid thighs where they were meeting with thigh high kid leather boots with a spiky six inches heels. However, she seemed to be walking in them as if they were plain slippers. Karen heard cracking noise in her ears, revealing that they were earphones.
“Welcome to the Laru correctional facility. In case you hadn’t figured it out yet, Laru stands for Latex and Rubber. It’s the only one of its kind in the world, and we have the highest level of success of any correctional facility.”
“Your bodies have been covered with several layers of highly resistant and durable latex alloy. It is abrasion resistant and very difficult to cut. In other words, don’t try to get yourself out of it, you will only scratch it. But don’t worry, you’ll also be punished for it.”
“A prisoner number has been assigned to you. You are 134″ she said pointing at Karen ” and you are 135. From now on and until the end of your sentence, it’s your name. You obey and your stay will be fair. You disobey, and you’ll be severely punished. Note that there’s no warning. You fail, you get punished.”
“Now this wonderful facility has been built by fellow prisoners like yourself, so it’s perfectly understandable that you will have to work to continue to expand this wonderful facility as more prisoners are expected.”
“134, you have been convicted of burglary. That’s why you have been ripped off the usage of your arms and hands. 135, you have been an accessory in the robberies. Your dexterity had been taken off by gluing your fingers together.”
“There’s no rest period. You work then you sleep. All days, all weeks, for the whole duration of your sentence as they will be executed in full.”
“Finish their preparations and give them the welcoming tour.” She said with a devilish smile. “then they’re confined to their cells until tomorrow morning.”
One guard approached Karen with a large chrome band. She expanded it, showing that it was a heavy, chromed steel collar, with a hinge. It was put around her neck and locked. Karen felt it was a wee bit too small as it crushed her neck and made swallowing difficult, but it didn’t seem to impress the guard.
More steel cuffs were put around her ankles and linked by a short chain. She could see that Lynda has been fitted with similar ankle cuffs and collar, in addition to having her arms tightly drawn in her back, with cuffs at the wrists and elbows, making them touch each other.
A leach was attached to their collar and they were given the order to follow. Walking for the first time on those dreaded boots proved quite challenging, especially with the small step length created by the hobble chain. They were led through heavy steel doors to a large area, three stories high. She could see rows and rows of lockers, although larger than the regular school lockers. Up over their heads, were suspended, some by their feet, other by their wrists, other fully supported, other tightly cramped into a ball, five or six bodies.
“Those are being punished. It’s the level one punishment.” Said Lynda’s guard.
“This place is the main room.” continued Karen’s guard. “When you are called to the main room, this is where you come.” She said as she continued the visit.
They walked all the way across this 10 meters long hall to another set of large steel doors where the harsh sunlight greeted them. Karen didn’t know exactly where they were, but they were in plain desert. No tree to see anywhere. No wonder there was no fence in the perimeter. Impaired as they were, dressed in black rubber, they would cook rather rapidly under the harsh sun. And their lenses were so dark, very useful in bright sunlight, rendered them completely blind in the darkness of the night.
“This is the construction zone.” Said Lynda’s guard. “This is where you’ll work.” She said as Lynda and Karen could see the large group of workers, laying concrete blocks, other feeding electrical wires, other pouring concrete or nailing woods.
Karen was quick to notice that all those who had their arms impaired, either like herself or elbow tied, were pulling rather large wheeled carts, used to carry building materials and tools around. Others had their hands tied in front of them, either with long chains or short chains, allowing or denying some freedom of movement. Others had their wrists linked to a belt at their waist, limiting the movements of a different manner. Others were securely kneeling down, legs tied together or encased into a “single sock”. Each one was assigned a duty where their restraints were causing the least trouble, or rather, where they were the most productive.
About a dozen guards, all dressed with tight rubber catsuits but with different color of side striping identifying their task or rank, were monitoring the prisoners. She also noticed that all the prisoners were women, although some appeared very strong built for women, unless…
A strong tug on her collar brings her back to reality. They were led back to the main building.
“Remember where we’re going because when you’ll receive the jail order, you have to go to the right door. The number of your door is your prisoner’s number.” Said Karen’s guard.
They were led in front of two doors, locker’s doors, numbered 134 and 135. The door was opened and they were pushed in, backward. Karen couldn’t believe that those small lockers were actually their cells. How would she find any kind of rest? There wasn’t a bed in this thing, it was even smaller than a phone booth!
They were backed to the wall. Tubes were attached to their crotch, on both intruders, while more hoses were linked to their mouth and nose. Then the door was closed and it was total darkness.
Karen began to balance, from one foot to the other. Her feet were not used to this kind of treatment and were hurting. That’s about when she felt things change around her: her cell was getting smaller, and smaller. At first she thought that the walls were moving on her, then she felt the relatively soft padding surrounding her and figured that in fact, the walls were being inflated. She was getting squeezed by inflating bladders all around her.
Soon, she was unable to move, tightly compressed all over her body, so much that she was barely resting on her feet: her whole body was being supported. But the pressure didn’t stop there, It continued to increase until she thought she would be crushed, compressed, compacted into a very small package. Then it stopped.
Her chest was already compressed by the tight corset, and now with the pressure of this bladder all around her, made breathing difficult, but she felt fresh being somewhat forced in.
Eyes wide open or eyes shut, she was in total and complete darkness, only hearing her own breathing and especially, her pounding heartbeat. No sense of smell, no sense of touch, no sight and no sense of taste. She was nothing. For the first time in the last 24 hours, reality was sinking in, and she realized what kind of predicament she had gotten herself into.
Part IV: Sleepless in the Cell
She felt something warm filling her bowels. She figured it was the enemas. She felt bloated and after a while, she felt relief. It was followed by her stomach feeling something warm filling it. It was also her first experience of being tube fed. In her darkness, she had no way to tell what time it was. Was it shortly after she had been locked into her locker-cell? In the middle of the night or was it morning?
She tried to add to keep some track of time, but she easily got bored. She had to grab something. How about counting her heartbeat? It would be something to concentrate on. She realized that she was surprisingly calm, her heartbeat seems low, 50 to 60 beats a minute, she figured. She began counting. 30, 60, 80, 81, … 81. Her birth year. Yes, she was only 27 and had already spent a total of 6 years in jail following numerous small robberies. And now she was in for 5 years, which would put her at 32 years old when she would get out.
32, 34… No! That’s not the right count! Where was she? 100? She tried to take a deep breath, to clear her mind, oxygen her spirit, but she couldn’t, heavily compressed by her corset and the tight confinement of her inflated cell. She tried to move, struggled as much as she could. She tried to scream, to get out, but nothing happened. Nothing moved, no sound came out. She was as immobile as she was before, surrounded by darkness, hearing nothing but her breathing and her now pounding heartbeat.
She tried to calm down again, counting her heartbeat.
Part V: Good Morning 134!
In a whistling sound, she felt the air sacks all around her, quickly deflating, and she also felt the pull of gravity on her legs, bringing back the fact that she was actually standing on her toes. She kept her legs stiff, her back against the back wall of her cell. She heard a faint clanging sound, dampened by her earplugs and the thick rubber coating her head. Then the door opened and she recognized a guard. Was it the same as the day before? She couldn’t tell, they all looked alike: tall, long hairs held in a ponytail, wearing incredibly tight and shiny black rubber catsuits, standing on buckled platform boots with a spiky heels.
Her hoses were unplugged and she was let alone. She saw her fellow prisoners get out of their cells and took place in rank, standing at attention, not moving except for the slight balancing on their pointed toe boots, because they were all dressed in similar fashion. Nobody could be distinguished.
She saw Lynda, or rather 135 as in was indicated on her shoulder. She too was trying to figure out what to do. They heard the order in their earphones.
“Take your rank!”
That was all. They took their place and, one by one, the rows of prisoners moved forward, making one long line. Where they met a group of three guards, they were separated. Some were going to the right, some to the left, and some straight forward. Karen was able to figure out that she would be directed to the left as all those without the use of their arms, were directed.
And she was right. There, she was fitted with a steel belt around her waist. A narrower band was going between her legs, tightly pressing on her crotch. The steel belt was about four inches wide and fastened very tightly, screwed in place with an electric ratchet until both ends met. It was even more crushing than her corset.
On each side of the belt, over her hips, was the ball part of a ball joint. Once the belt was in place, she was directed farther away where a U shaped steel tube was fixed to the balls. Even farther, the U tube was linked with another joint to the actual cart, providing a very flexible “hitch” attachment.
A guard, identified with a purple strip along the side of her tight rubber catsuit, talked through a headset.
“134. You follow the G path. You stop at the red dot to get a load and dump it at the blue dot, then stop at the yellow dot to get a return load, and dump this one at the green dot, then it’s back at the red dot.”
Karen stayed there, not knowing what to do next, trying to remember what she had been told. She would have asked to hear it again.
“GO!” yelled the guard, pointing in the direction of the large steel doors leading to the construction zone, leading outside.
Karen complied. Pulling a cart was something new to her. Well, everything was new to her: her confinement, the bondage, the rubber, the boots and now, pulling a cart. She found the cart to be relatively light, but she was sure it would change.
Now, what was her instructions? She remembered she had to stop at the red dot of the G path. She located the path. She was relieved that it appeared relatively easy, the red dot not being very far. She parked there and waited. Other workers were arriving. She saw Lynda, or rather 135, heading for a brick laying operation.
She felt a weight being put into her cart. She turned around with the little freedom her attachment allowed and saw three workers, kneeling on a pile of broken rock, taking large chunks and dumping them in Karen’s cart. After three of those huge rocks, she figured she had enough of a load and started to walk away.
She fell on her knees, a sharp pain in her crotch.
“Who told you to go?” she heard in her earphones.
The pain had stopped. She turned around and a guard with a yellow stripe was standing by, a small remote in her hand.
“You go when told to. Get up and wait. You’re gonna get a double load for this.”
Two minutes later, she received a slap on her shoulder. She figured it was the signal to go. She pulled but nothing moved. She thought the cart was being held back so she waited.
There was another slap on the shoulder.
“It’s time to go now, sweety, or you want more… persuasion?” said the guard as Karen received a small and quick shock at her crotch.
Karen pulled but the cart didn’t move. She did receive the shock. She pulled harder, and this time, the cart moved. She remembered thinking that it was light. Now it felt it weighed a ton!
The pointed boots actually provided a very sturdy gripping tool to pull the cart. Hauling such a heavy load was not easy. Now, what were her instructions? Where did she have to dump this thing? She reached the green dot. She saw more carts dumping at the blue dot, and remembered that was it. She took her place in line, taking notice at how the others were proceeding:
They would back up near a pit and would stop when receiving a slap on the shoulder. Then another prisoner would release the dumping mechanism and the load would fall into the pit. Once done, another slap indicated that they were okay to go.
Karen did her best. Backing up proved more difficult than going forward, especially with the heavy load she had. The load was removed and she was set free go… to where? The green dot, that was it. She took her place and when reaching the guard she was greeted by an angry face.
“Where is your load, 134?”
Karen couldn’t tell that she was there to get a load, not to take one.
“Cyndie! We have a misunderstanding here! 134!” yelled the guard to the purple one.
Karen heard some noise in her earphone then a very cold, monotone mechanical voice told her the instructions.
“Take the first load at the red dot, dump it at the blue dot. Take a return load at the yellow dot and dump it at the green dot… Take the first load…”
And the message repeated itself again… and again… and again.
For the whole day, Karen had to hear the same message pounding her head with the same instructions.
She lost foot a few times. Every time, no one gave her a hand to get back up. She had to struggle with her useless arms, tightly held in their reverse prayer position, to get back up and continue her work. No break, no rest. For 12 hours.
Then their accessories were removed and they were led to a high pressure shower where they were thoroughly cleaned. Hot air guns were drying them out, making the shiny outer shell of their rubbery suit, shine like new.
They were led to their cell, plugged and squeezed by the air bladders to get some rest. This time, Karen had no difficulties finding sleep, although, in her mind, she was still working hard, getting a load at the red dot, dumping it at the blue dot, then…
Part IV: Action Reaction.
The work was tedious and exhausting. On the other hand, the days were going fast, especially since she had learned that she could be zapped when doing something bad, but she also gets rewards when things go right, although it took about a month before she received her first reward.
For the first weeks, she was zapped to follow orders, but when she was doing it right, she had nothing, not even a nice warm slap on the shoulder. She figured that it was a repression-style training. Then one day, after work, after she was enclosed in her cell, she was told something:
“134. You’ve been here a month. For this month, harsh punishment was not carried out, as well as rewarding sessions. You showed that you could behave correctly enough to have a taste of the rewards. From now on, if you do good, you will get rewards. If you do bad, you’ll get discomfort, and the more you misbehave, the more intense the punishment will be.”
Then there was silence. Karen was puzzled. What kind of rewards could she get? A box of chocolate?
Suddenly, she felt something move in her crotch. She feared she would get zapped again but instead, she felt the dildos start to vibrate, as well as the cups of her breasts. Oh geesh! This felt so good. She had been a month without sex, without even being able to think about it, and now she was receiving quite a powerful stimulation.
Her heartbeat went up as she tried to move from her confinement. She squeezed her butt muscles, tried to dance on her feet. This was so good, so extraordinaire. It wasn’t long before she exploded in an orgasm of a kind she never felt before: a forced orgasm.
Everything went silent then as she was about to doze off, it started again. She felt it even more powerful and she was glad to be so restrained because she felt she was about to throw herself through the roof.
Exhausted, a third one began, but she didn’t fully experience it as she was just too exhausted.
The next morning, it was work as usual. She did good. She even did better than the day before, carrying a couple more loads. She was rewarded again, and she welcomed the vibrations, the feeling, the orgasm. She could get used to this, she thought.
With time, she even discovered that the way she walked could be quite stimulating. She was never able to reach an orgasm, but she was keeping herself hot the whole day, so when the reward came, it was simply out of this world.
After three months, she was able to cope with the three forced orgasms she was receiving every night, and she would have wanted more!
But action leads to consequences, either good or bad. This day, this time, she had a particularly heavy load of concrete block to haul up a small ramp. One of the guards had decided to test her, how loaded she could get. This other guard wasn’t aware of it, neither Karen who felt more and more pissed off at having heavier loads on every trip.
She was not moving fast enough for this guard, quick on the zapping button. Karen got zapped once, then a second time, then a third time. This one was too much. She kicked a stone with her pointed boot and the guard got it on the leg. When she began screaming at Karen, the guard who had overloaded her came to explain the situation. Although hearing impaired, Karen could make out their conversation. The guard would receive a blame for not following procedures, but Karen would also receive a punishment for responding to a correction by throwing a rock at a guard, and hitting her.
She continued her day, expecting to spend a very harsh night. For the first time in months, she slept without any reward. She was all alone with herself, for the whole night. She figured that if her punishment was to be denied any kind of pleasure for some time, she could live with that. All changed the next morning.
Part VII: Hang On
When it was time for the regular job assignment, Karen or rather 134, was put aside and stood there to wait until all her fellow prisoners got their assignment. Then she was dragged toward the center of the main hall. Her ankle cuffs were drawn together and more leather straps were tightly drawn below and over her knees, and done very tightly. Next, a cable was attached to her ankles and she was hoisted upside down, high up in the ceiling, and was left there, dangling.
She could see a fellow punished convict being lowered. Her links were removed and she had an obvious hard time to stand up. Nevertheless, she had no rest and was immediately fixed for her day’s work and sent to the working zone.
At first, it was somewhat fun, but soon, her legs began to ache. The straps were simply too tight to be comfortable… as if it had ever been an option.
It was boring. So to make up some time, she started to make herself swing. Very little at first, but as nobody seems to notice, or to care, she went harder. This was actually fun, until there was a cracking in her earphones.
“This is no joyride, 134. You stop and stand still right now or…” said the voice of the facility’s mistress before she felt a faint but noticeable electrical shock.
Karen stopped and even tried to slow down her balancing. This kind of pain was not something she was looking forward to.
The day went by, then the night, then another day, and another night. After three days and three nights, she was taken down. It hurt like hell when her straps were removed, but she was immediately fixed to her regular cart and sent back to work.
She learned her lesson.
Part VIII – Carry On
Most of the prisoners got hung at least once. Many twice. A good number reached three times and very few ever achieve a fourth hanging. Those who were hung five times could be counted with one hand.
Karen was part of the “many” group, meaning she had been hung twice in the first year. Her second hanging lasted for ten days, where she was forced in a very tight ball, wrapped with multiple layers of shrink wrap, and hung, unable to move, barely able to breathe. Only the forced air helped her cope with it. She swore she would never get hang again.
And she was right. She was rather quick to appreciate her predicament. Now, every move, every step, every struggle to climb a platform was bringing her pleasure. She took pleasure at the sensation of the tight latex squeezing her thigh muscles each time she was struggling to move forward with a heavy load. She loved the tight embrace of her corset, and was making deliberate attempts to turn her head in every direction just to feel the confinement of the rubber, forcing back in the correct position.
And she was good at work, carrying not only heavier load, but faster than anyone else. And she got rewarded for it. She was the first to get confined to her cell for two consecutive days, receiving nothing but pleasure vibes as a reward for an excellent job. She came to like the job and especially the way she was forced to do it. Her only drawback was her totally useless arms.
The next section of the facility was completed by her fourth year, meaning that she spent the last year pretty much turning in a circle in the courtyard of the lot, having nothing much to do.
New prisoners were coming every week, and the place would be full in a few years, meaning that new construction would be required. She had made her choices.
Part IX – Freedom. Or Is It?
Three months of rehab. That what it took her to get her body accustomed to direct contact with air, to walk without pointed toe boots, to stand straight without the help of a corset and especially for her, three months to regain the use of her arms that had atrophied after five years of immobility.
She was next to Lynda, doing her exercises of lifting weight with her arms while Lynda was working on her back muscles. Already, just a strong elastic band was enough to support her back. But Karen was still heavily corseted and in high heels.
“What do you plan to do? I mean, your back is not back to normal as well as your feet. You’re going to need more physiotherapy.” Said Lynda.
“I have an idea.”
“Yeah right. Those five years were totally wasted.”
“Wasted? For me perhaps, not for you. During this time, you learned to make a perfectly levelled and vertical brick wall while impaired by the rubber suit, corset, heels, lenses, etc. You learned how to operate tools. You learned how to put up a wall and you even assist at welding. You can easily find yourself a job with any of those experiences. As for me, for the past 10 years, I was used as a truck engine. Not as a driver, but as a plain, stupid engine. I learned nothing except negotiate hazardous terrain wearing pointed toe boots. My arms were confined in my back, remember?”
“Yes, you’re right.” Said Lynda. “But I’m sure that you’ll be able to find something.” She said.
“Oh, I have my plans.” She said. “I’m going back.”
Lynda stopped dead and looked at Karen, shocked and surprised.
“You want to go back? You are nuts.” She said.
“Well, I have my little plan.” She said with a wink.
She got out of the rehab center two months later. She was still wearing a corset, although less tight than her prison uniform, it was still quite constrictive. She was also still wearing high heels. By now, she could stand 4 inches for a few hours. Six inches seemed the most comfortable, but she had settled for five inches one, more practical for everyday activities.
She headed for the train station and bought a ticket. She knew what she was doing.
Part X – Recruitment
The gymnasium was occupied by about thirty people, men and women, all more or less in rank, awaiting the sergeant leading the recruitment. He entered and everybody went to attention, the best as they knew.
“Welcome all.” Said the man, standing stiff, almost military, in his well pressed uniform, looking severe and unimpressed. “I’m Sergeant Murdock. Welcome to the Correctional Agents Recruitment Camp. I must point out that although this is not the army, the training is nonetheless rigorous. You will have to deal with prisoners. Some are easy, but some others are really tough guys and gals and will not be easy to control. Most of you will succeed, but some of you will fail. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. Not everybody is made for this job.” He said, looking particularly at a tall woman on the first row: tall, slim yet athletic, short hair, wearing extremely tight clothes consisting of a tight leather jacket over a tight shirt, showing the outline of what could be a tight corset, jeans so tight that they appeared ready to split apart anywhere, and standing on heels so high he had vertigo just looking at them.
He then has the group perform a bunch of physical activities: running, jumping, climbing ropes. His jaw dropped on the floor when he realized that this woman, he was sure she would give up after the first run, did not only continue, but performed quite well, even overdoing many of the amazed men.
Then it was a written test followed by a short interview.
“Miss Karen.” He called.
She got up, her heels clicking on the concrete floor as she entered the office. Inside, apart from Sergeant Murdock, two men and two women, of different venues, with the task of evaluating the psychological profile of the candidates.
“She did very well for the first physical tryouts.” Said Murdock.
“Oh, and you even took time to change for the interview?” asked one of the women.
“Err, no. I didn’t change, although I had removed my jacket for the exercises.” Answered Karen, sitting straight, bending only at the hips and even there, more leaning that sitting.
“Yeah right.” Answered the woman, looking at Murdock who acknowledged.
“You really did it? You do know that this kind of… image is not what is acceptable in any correctional facility.” Said the woman. “I don’t know what stunt you’re trying to pull here, but this is serious business.”
“I am serious, Ma’am. But I don’t want to be affected to any correctional facility. I want to go to the Laru Correctional Facility.
“Laru? What the hell is this? Anybody know a Laru Facility?” asked one of the men.
The second woman raised her hand.
“I know Laru… And she has the perfect profile for the job.” She said with a smile.
Part XI – Back To The Old Neighbourhood
The woman, dressed with a shiny tight fitting dress put the papers down, crossing her leather covered fingers together before having a look at the recruit standing at attention before her. She had her head shaved, and was wearing very tight PVC clothes, standing on five inches patent leather boots.
“Do you really know what you are getting into? This is no ordinary prison, you know?”
The mistress frowned and punched the requested information on her computer screen.
“134… Karen… Yes, it appears to be you. Quite an impressive file. You got out of here with flying colors. Very impressive. But are you sure you’re not doing it for revenge?”
“Revenge, Ma’am? Revenge for what? If I wanted revenge, I would have not engaged myself in the security guard forces, Ma’am. I liked what I saw, and I liked what I lived. That’s why, I would like to request the following treatment, if Ma’am agrees.” She said, handing a sheet of paper.
The Mistress read it and frowned.
“You really want this? Aren’t you going to be too much impaired to do your job properly? I don’t want standing-by agents, miss Karen. I want hard working ones.”
“If you’re not satisfied, you’re entitled to… revert me to a more normal setup, at your will, Ma’am.”
One week later, the agents were regrouped in the main exercise hall of the facility. In front of the mistress, wearing the classic rubber dress and thigh high boots. On her side was what would look as a prisoner, instead of having a number printed on her chest, it states “Karen” and there’s a yellow strip running down her sides. For the rest, she appeared heavily corseted, walked on pointed toe boots, head totally encased in rubber, eyes covered with dark lenses, Only her mouth was uncovered, although the hole was not very big.
“This is our new agent. Her name is Karen. She has the same setup as the prisoners except that she can’t be put into any painful mode. It was done per her request. She was assigned a booth like the prisoners for her quarters. This has been done per her own requests. She will be assigned to section B.”
Karen saluted the other guards who looked at her surprised. They all went on for their duty shifts. At lunch time, one of the guards, Suzy, just couldn’t hold it any longer.
“Tell me Karen. Why… why this setup. Isn’t the rubber catsuit every day enough?”
“Ever tried it, Suzy? Ever tried the prisoner’s booth in reward mode?”
“Hell no. Of course not.”
“That’s why you don’t understand. There’s a few free booths in section B. Why not ask the mistress to try it tonight, with the inserts and everything?”
“You are nuts.” Had said Suzy.
But looking at her, gladly being fitted with a blow-up gag and getting fixed in the cramped booth every night, knowing that she would be tightly surrounded by expanding rubber for the whole night, then submitted to some devious devices, and seeing that she was doing it again and again, did raised some questions and a lot of curiosity.
One afternoon, Suzy went to her.
“Would you set me up tonight? I would like to try it.”
That night, she took great care not to push it too hard for Suzy as it was her first time. In the morning, she was there to help her get out of it, all mushy, legs trembling, but a weird smile up her face.
“Oh… My… God…” was all Suzy could say before she had a long shower. She showed up at the group breakfast table with still a large smile in her face.
“How do you do this every night and be that fresh and ready in the morning.”
“You get used to it, and then you want more and more.” She said with a wink.
“I guess you will not do it again, right?” asked Jasmine.
“Are you nuts? I’m going back in tonight!”
“What? What for? Look at the wreck you are this morning.”
“Try it first.” She said, winking at Karen.
Two weeks later, the office of the Mistress was cramped with eight guards.
“What is this? A conspiracy?” asked the Mistress.
“No, we simply want better conditions.” Said Suzy.
“You want to unionise?” asked the Mistress as she took the letter of their request.
“If it has to come to that, we will.” Said Suzy. “But I doubt it.”
“Let’s see… Ah shit! Not you too?”
“Yes Mistress. We want Karen’s setup. Does this pose a problem?”
“No, not at all.” She answered with a smile.
© Pete / monsterp63, April 4, 2008
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