Karen – Moving In


There was a knock on the open door.

“Knock-knock. It’s me?” said Karen with a joyful tone.

Lynda turned around and frowned. In the doorframe, was standing a tall slim woman. She had a very tight turtleneck, long sleeves shirt, extremely tight jeans, and it was those non-stretch jeans, and to top it off, or rather bottom it off, she had platform sandals with a 1.5 inch platform and 6 inches heels. She got up.

“What the hell is that, Karen? I thought you were here to help me.” she said, angrily.

“Hey, slow down, I am, I am.”

“In tight jeans and heels?” asked Lynda, pointing at Karen’s clothes.

“Well, you wear some yourself.” responded Karen, pointing at Lynda stretch skinny jeans and wedge high heel sneakers.

“Yes, but those are stretchy, and these are sneakers.”

Karen was taken aback.

“Would you rather me go then?”

Lynda let out a sigh.

“No, Karen. No. I’m glad you came. I’m sorry, it’s just that, for once, I thought that you might… well, you are what you are.”

“I don’t know exactly how to take that, but you’re only moving one level up to a bigger place. I mean, all there is left to move is your personal belongings. So, these boxes are ready to go?”

“Sorry about that. Yes, those boxes. You know where to go?”

“Yes, one floor up, third right one on the left when exiting the elevator.”

“Yep, that’s right. But you’d better take the stairs. The wait for the elevator is too long.”

“Okay then.” she said, crouching down, but realizing at the same time that she would have a hard time picking the boxes off the floor. She had to put one knee down. Her jeans were too tight. She was too proud to admit she made the wrong choice.

She picked the boxes and walked the tiled floor toward the stairs, just next to the elevator, her heels clicking hard. Lynda had no choice but to admire her friend, carrying a heavy load, on high heels, her but wiggling in those extra-tight jeans. She knew that, once in the staircase, the echo of the heel would be heard all over the building.

Karen walked the way, humming. She reached the floor, opened the door and walked to the new apartment. She put the boxes on top of others already there and walked back.

She made six trips like that. On the sixth one, she had two rather heavy boxes. When she put them down, one of them tore open, making part of its content, 36 rolls of three inches PVC tape, fall on the floor. She picked one up and examined it. The PVC was rather stretchy although thick and very sticky.

“What is she doing with all this tape?” she wondered to herself. She was quick to ask the question to Lynda on her way back.

“It’s two cases of wide electrical tape or something from my ex-boyfriend. He was regularly using this at work. He had those cases in his car when he had to empty it for our camping trip, and he forgot them since.”

“Why do you keep it?” asked a puzzled Karen.

“Dunno. Just in case that he wants them back, I suppose. They don’t take a lot of space, so I don’t mind. I actually forgot that I had them.”

“Ah…” simply said Karen.

Lynda let out a sight.

“Four more boxes to pack and I’m helping you carry them.” she said.

Karen made another trip, which took a little bit longer than the other ones, but Lynda barely noticed. She then made another one. Lynda was done packing. She took two boxes and went on, expecting to cross Karen’s path along the way, but she didn’t. Once at her new apartment Karen was nowhere to be seen. 

“Maybe she took the elevator,” she thought. She was about to get out when she heard noise from the farthest room. She went in, and startled. Karen was there. The two cases of tape were opened, revealing an assortment of width, from the standard ¾” to 4 inches. She was holding a roll 4″ tape in her hand, wrapping her waist in it.

“What the heck are you doing, Karen?” asked Lynda.

Karen startled.

“I… my shirt keeps pulling out of my jeans and I’m tired of tucking it back in. This should hold it in place.” she said, drawing another layer, as tight as she could, around her waist. Right now, the tape was covering her jeans from her hips to under her ribcage.

“You’re nuts, you know that?” said Lynda. “I’ll… go get another load.”

By the time Lynda made the trip back with another load, she crossed Karen in the stairs. She was slowly walking down the stairs, rubbing her hand made PVC corset.

“What do you think?” asked Karen.

Lynda let out a sigh.

“As long as you still help me with the boxes, please?” said Lynda.

Karen slowed down for the next two or three trips then picked up the pace. Two hour later, all the boxes had been moved. Lynda collapsed in the reclining chair while Karen laid on the sofa. She was rubbing her tightly constricted waist and slowly rocking her hips up and down.

“Damn. I’m getting quite horny in this thing.” she said,

“Then take it off. All that is left to do is to put the stuff from the boxes back on the shelves and the  cabinets. It’s not important if your shirt rides up or not. Here, take care of the dishes. I’ll be in the bedroom.” said Lynda.

Lynda was unpacking stuff in the bedroom when she heard cursing from the kitchen. She didn’t pay attention. A few minutes later, she recognized the sound of tape being pulled off a roll. When she reached the kitchen, Karen was wrapping her left arm in 2″ tape.

“Now what?” asked Lynda.

“I tore my shirt on one of those big steel tingny.” she said, pointing at a steel prong protruding from one flap of a box and then pulling a hole from her right sleeve.

“These are steel staples, Karen. They’re used to fasten the BOTTOM of boxes. If you’d turned the box around, you would have seen the TAPE you had to remove.”

“It was an accident. Now I want to make sure it won’t happen again.”

“By wrapping your arms in tape? Good thing you hadn’t tore your jeans.”

Karen went wide-eyed.

“Geesh! I didn’t think of that. Better protect them too.” she said.

“Me and my big mouth.” said Lynda, giving up. “So, you really want to be wrapped up in this tape? But it’s not mine.”

“You haven’t seen him in over two years. What do you expect? That tomorrow he might come back and say Hey, remember those boxes of tape I left behind TWO YEARS AGO? 

Better use then, otherwise you’ll just waste them.”

“You realize that we’ll waste about an hour to wrap you in this? Plus you’ll get even more impaired than with your tight jeans. What help you’ll be able to provide me with, then?”

“I’ll manage. You know I’m used to be… restrained.” said Karen, handing her a roll of 4″ tape.

“Okay… Legs apart.” she said, picking a two inch wide tape in the box.

She applied strips, back to front, from over her belly button down between her legs and up the back. She  made multiple passes, overlapping them 50% each time, and criss-crossing them: what was left at the back was right at the front. Then she proceeded to carefully wrap her buns and front, from the belt of the jeans down to the thighs.

She dropped down to her feet, starting at the ankles with the three inches tape, wrapping each leg, very tightly. So tight that Karen was struggling to keep her balance.

“You’re going rather tight, don’t you?” inquired Karen.

Lynda stopped. 

“You want me to wrap you? Then shut up.” said Lynda, evidently pissed off having to go through this. To her, it was a waste of time.

She did the same thing to the other leg, merging the tape of the legs with the tape of the thighs. TWICE.

She had Karen sit, which made her realize how tight and rigid her legs now were. She could bend the knees but barely much more than 45 degrees.

Lynda took her feet and proceeded to wrap it with the shoe with the two and one inch tape widths, going up again to just below her knees to form some kind of thick boot. When she was done, there were four layers of tape from the foot to below the knee.

She had her stand up and she went for her hands. She picked the ¾” tape. She took a strip that was twice the length of the index finger and folded it over the finger, front and back. Then the same sideways. She repeated the pattern on all fingers, which at the same time, covered the inner-fingers. Next she took long strips and fixed them from the palm, feeding them between each finger to end on the top of the hand.

She then wrapped each finger individually with length of tape, then carefully wrapped the hand up to the wrist, joining with the shirt sleeve.

Karen tried to flex her hand. It was difficult. Her fingers were pretty much stiff. They could flex, yes, but not a lot.

Her arms were wrapped with the 3″ tape up to her shoulders. A long strip of four inches tape was put, with her arm straight up, from her elbow, to her armpit, down to her waist. She repeated the pattern, overlapping each strip 50%, four times, for each arm. Two inches wide strips of tape were used to cover her armpits with her upper torso and shoulders. 

Her arms were wrapped in another layer, overlapping the long strips.

Karen’s breath was beginning to get shaky, wondering what she had jumped into. She never expected Lynda’s wrapping to be so intricate.

Lynda grabbed another 4″ roll and unrolled a long strip and applied it just below the belt of the jeans. Then she yanked it as hard as she could, making Karen lost balance, quickly taking a hold on a nearby cabinet.

“Hold still.” said Lynda.

“You didn’t warn me you were going to do this.”

Lynda dropped the tape and silently walked to her bedroom. Karen heard her moving some boxes around then she came back holding a pair of pantyhoses in her hands. She took scissors and split them in two. She took the first part of the pantyhose and slid over Karen’s head. She then rolled the second part one into a tight ball.

“Open wide.” she said. Karen new better. She complied and she was stuffed with the sock.  Once in place, she took the 3″ tape and wrapped around her mouth, pushing the rolled hose inside. The head hose was preventing it from going all the way through..

“Don’t talk back to me. Hold on.” said Lynda, re-taking the 4″ tape. She stretched it to its maximum and wrapped upward, overlapping almost 75% over the previous wrap, over the previous layers Karen had already put on earlier.

Karen thought she had put her layers tight, but Lynda was able to tighten it. She went lighter when she reached her ribcage, nonetheless squishing her ample breasts. The tape merged then overlapped the one covering her shoulders.

Lynda then went for the neck, wrapping just tight enough, six layers around it, making a makeshift posture collar, before switching for the 2″ tape to carefully but tightly wrap her head with three layers.

When she was done, only two small slits over Karen’s eyes were visible along with some breathing holes under the nose.

Karen had her vision impaired by the nylon web. Lynda stood back.

“There. You’re all wrapped up. Now you won’t get out of it until the kitchen is all unpacked and everything put where it belongs.

Karen turned her whole body toward the boxes still to be undone, barely able to move, her head totally immobile. She was already feeling all these layers of tape getting tighter by the minute. She didn’t expect  that at all. She figured that Lynda would have put one simple layer, not three.

The PVC creaking under each forced movement, she began to unpack the first of many boxes. Lynda has a fully equipped kitchen and dishes for 12 guests.

Karen totally lost track of time. She was tired and the wrapping was taking its toll. Her muscles were aching. Karen approached.

“What? Six hours and you barely have half of it done. You know you’re staying in for the night, unless you want to go on.”

Karen nodded no. Well, her whole body nodded. She let her arms drop by her sides, clearly indicating she was tired.

“Go to the guest room, I’ll be right there.” said Lynda.

Karen complied, collapsing on the bed. Lynda was there a few minutes later.

“Get up, come on, I’m not through with you.”

Grunting, Karen got up… and startled. Lynda had brought a box of tape and a few rolls of plastic wrap.

You think you’re going to spend the night like that?

Karen was almost happy. She figured she would get out of this mummification to go to an Egyptian style, but she grunted when Lynda began to apply the plastic wrap over her already wrapped legs.

“My first idea was to take you out of the firsts layers, but since you complained when I told you to get up, you’re getting it over.”

Karen grunt again. Lynda pulled harder on the wrap.

“The more you grunt, the tighter it will be. What were you saying?”

Karen stayed silent this time.

Lynda applied two layers of plastic wrap on her legs. She turned Karen around and put her arms in her back, linking the wrists with two inches tape. She then stretched the tape to bring together her elbows, but the other layers of tape made it difficult. They didn’t join.

Nevertheless, Lynda continued, went back to the wrists and began to wrap Karen’s arms tightly, and gradually, the tape gave and the elbows touched.

She took the plastic wrap and wrapped her upper body completely, before going with the 4″ tape and starting the wrap again from the ankles up. When done, Karen was one stiff mummy she just had to push on the bed.

Karen fell like a tree, landing flat on her back on the bed. Lynda dragged her legs on it and placed her in the middle of it.

I’m pretty sure you won’t roll off. Better rest. You still have the kitchen to totally unpack tomorrow.

Lynda took one last piece of tape and put it over Karen’s eyes. She was in total darkness.

Lynda left turning off the lights, as if it mattered for Karen.

Karen tried to move, but just couldn’t. Nothing moved. Finally, exhaustion had the best of her.

She was awakened by a sudden splash of light as Lynda removed the tape blinding her. She then felt her work her way along her cocoon with scissors, between the plastic and her first mummy wrap. She welcomed the slight loss of pressure around her body. 

“Okay, now back to work.” Said Lynda. “I haven’t got all day, and you’ll stay like that as long as you’re not done. Better get the right excuse for your boss tomorrow if you fail.” she said, leaving Karen to struggle to get up.

It was hard and took her almost 15 minutes. She then stiffly walked to the kitchen, feeling the tightness of the tape that had tightened over the night.

Panting, sweating and swearing internally, she put everything left in place, meaning about a dozen pots and pans and utensils. It just took her… four hours.

She walked to Lynda putting the final touch to her DVD collection. She gently taps her shoulder.

“What.. Ah, all done? Let’s see it.” said Lynda going to the kitchen, not waiting for the impaired Karen.

“Yes…, yes… That could do it…” she was saying, opening each and every cabinet door.

“That’s quite good, seeing how you’re set up. Well, a job like that deserves a reward. ” she said.

“By the way, you never asked me why I was moving to a bigger apartment, why I needed that extra room. Just follow me.” she simply said, heading to the new room, waiting for Karen to get to the door before opening it.

If Karen’s jaw hadn’t been secured by two layers of tape, it would have fallen on the floor.

“Yes, hon. It’s for a dungeon. Now come.” she said as she headed for the X-frame.

She had Karen step on the foot support about six inches off the floor and stretch on the frame. She fastened leather cuffs around her wrists, and ankles and drew a belt tight around her waist. She then took 3″ rolls of tape and proceeded to wrap Karen tightly on the frame. She took a leather harness and fixed a huge Magic Wand over her crotch before taping it tightly in place, then plugged it.

Karen twitched. Her tight cocoon transmitted the vibration not only to her crotch but to her whole hip area.

“Comfy” asked Lynda.

Karen was barely able to nod an answer.

“Good. I’m going out for some shopping. I should be back in, oh, 4 or five hours.”

Karen moaned. Five yours of that? Yeah, she could take it. She’ll be a wreck, but she will take it.”

“Oh, by the way, ” said Lynda just before closing the door, “the vibrator is on a random timer. I hope it’s not a problem.” she said, then closed the door, leaving Karen wide eyes at the devilish nature of a random timer on a vibrator, as her first orgasm was building strong and explosive, she wished hard in her mind for the timer not to turn off, but she was so concentrated as thinking don’t turn off that she totally lost what she had built, having to start again, wishing, hoping… Damn!

© Pete / monsterp63, March 1, 2016

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