Karen – The will

4.8
(13)

It was pretty much a blur. The news of the sudden death of her beloved husband, the funeral, the lawyer and the very unusual testament.

The choices.

She remembers the lawyer, keeping a very serious face, as if all this was very common, turning the form toward her and handing one of those all shiny, slippery, pseudo expensive pens you can hardly hold on.

She had two choices: accept or refuse. She had to sign under the right choice.

Refusal meant that she would walk out of the lawyer’s office with nothing, except what she was wearing. The car, the mansion, everything would be out of reach.

If she accepted, she would keep it all, including the billion dollars fortune. But at what… cost?

As she took the deepest breath she could take, she could hear, or rather feel, the tight corset creaking under the strain, but her chest wouldn’t expand more than what it allowed. She passed the door and made a few steps inside her home. Or is it her prison.

She had some regrets. And then again, no. She didn’t. It was what she always wished, what she always talked to Phil about. A dream. A Fantasy. Nothing real.

But there it was. There she was. But… What was she?

The long mirror by the large entrance hall sent her the reflection, the answer: she was a sleek, tall, thin shiny, rubber… thing. Was she still a woman? In her brain she was. And each time one of the two powerful dildos fired into action, she was remembered.

As she looked at her seamless pitch black body, on which only the array of D rings made some contrast with the overall smoothness, she remembered vaguely the procedure she sustained.

First, there were the insertions of the tubes, because, from then on, she would be tube fed and tube cleaned. Then the dildos slid around those tubes. They were huge. They were long. And they were inserted deeply, so that every vibration would be felt all over her belly.

The feeding and breathing tubes were the most disturbing to insert. She knew she would learn to appreciate them. Once the feeding tube was inserted, a rubber bag making the exterior portion of the tube was filled with rubber paste. It expanded to fill her mouth, down to every little space, pushing itself down to the back of her throat. No sound would any come up from there. Ever.

Then a special paste was rubbed all over her body and worked so that it was deeply and completely absorbed by her skin. She didn’t even knew something like that existed. It had two functions: as a lubricant for her new skin and as an adhesive for her same new skin. She would not get out of it.

Ever.

Then a long thick rubber tube was put over her waist. It covered her from just below her ample breasts to her hips. It took the doctor and two assistants to stretch it enough for her to get in. When they released it, it compressed her stomach almost six inches.

Right then, she began to regret her fantasies. She regretted having those drawings of wasp thin waist woman on her computer wallpaper: she would become one.

Dreaming of one thing, is one story. Living it is another story.

A first rubber catsuit, complete with attached toe socks and gloves, was put on. It was thin and thus stretched easily. It was of the neck entry kind, hence no zipper, and since it had been molded, it had no seams. It reminded her of the first time she put on latex, on Phil’s request. It was a pretty basic catsuit with a back zipper. She remembered how cold it felt at first. She also remembered how her skin reacted, her brain reacted to being gradually wrapped in this tight fabric, the tinglings it was sending to her. Soon, she wasn’t cold anymore, but hot. From the inside.

She remembers when Phil had lubed the outside of the suit, to shine it, how every little touch, every little rub, seemed to be amplified, and when he reached her crotch… she screamed. A scream of joy, or pleasure. Of surprise.

And that’s how/why she received her first ballgag.

Followed was an equally thin latex hood which was pulled over her shaved head. It was the first time she experienced latex over her bald scalp. She shivered at first, then welcomed its warm embrace. It had holes for the eyes and for the breathing and feeding tubes.

There was a large yoke that was carefully pulled under the collar of the catsuit and spread over her shoulders.

Then a series of carbon fiber bands were put about everywhere along her limbs: shoulders, elbows, wrists, thigh, knees, and a large collar forcing her head erect.

Then a rigid corset made of two carbon fiber halves. It was slowly closed around her waist by a ratchet strap until it snapped in place, glued shut. As, one after the other, the dozens of little locking pins snapped into place, she felt an electric jolt. It was all in her brain, telling her that each one was one more step into permanent corseting.

It was constricting, very rigid and was starting below her breasts, making a cup under them, following her already tiny waist compressing it even more, then went under her crotch, between her legs, acting as a chastity belt.

The only pleasure she will have would come from the vibrating dildos. No body would touch her. She will not touch herself.

Boots were put on that made her be thankful for following Phil’s advice to take ballet lessons. They were pointed boots, without any heels. They too were made of carbon fibers and were ratcheted in place and glued.

Another coat of lubricating glue and another neck entry catsuit.

This one was difficult to put on. It was quite thick. Almost too thick for a neck entry catsuit. But then again, it was a one time only. She would never take it off.

It was also less stretchy than the thin rubber suit she had already one, because that one had a coating of special polymers, making it permanently shiny and very resistant to wear and tear. She would wear it for the rest of her life after all.

She squirmed her body into the tight embrace of the pitch black rubber, her pointed feet finding its way to the straight tips of the legs.

She felt it compress her legs and thighs, lifting her butt, enhancing it in its molded confinement. She didn’t feel anything when it went over her rigid corset, only when it covered her ample breasts, gently squeezing them, forcing them in protruding cups, making them appear bigger.

More squirming to get her arms into the tight sleeves. As her fully covered hand reached the end of the arm, she had to fold her fingers on themselves, in a fist like position, fusing all the fingers and thumb together. She knew the glue would fix them in place in a couple of hours.

No, she would never be able to grab something with one hand.

Her breath became shakier as reality sank in. After all, it was her dream. Her fantasy, and now, her reality.

The next rubber item would seal her identity. The heavy rubber hood was pulled into place. It had been specially molded on for her head. It had to be stretched and the two men pulling it in place were struggling to do so. It was not easy. It was not painless, but when it fell into place, everything became peaceful and dark, as the helpers smoothed the yoke under the collar of the catsuit.

It featured tinted lenses. She could see, somewhat, but to an onlooker, there was nothing. Well, the hood had nothing in all: all her facial features were gone: no ears, no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Her head was one smooth ovoid rubber ball.

She could breath by micro punctures over her breathing tubes. A hole not visible unless someone pushed the special tiny quarter of an inch plug in place, was her feeding hole.

Similar invisible holes were located at her crotch for the bodily functions.

Finally, the helpers produced a handful of screwable rings and looked for pre-punch holes in the thick rubber suit, looking for their screwing receptacles in the numerous carbon fiber rings that had been put all over her body. Each ring was screwed and glued.

That way, she could be attached to anything, at her keeper’s will.

The keeper. The person that would take care of her, play with her, keep her in constant bondage: her sister, Lynda.

It was a special deal. As soon as Karen signed the agreement on the will, Lynda was involved.

She would have the same double rubber suit. However, she was limited to the carbon fiber corset. For the rest, her hands were fitted into gloves, and no permanent footwear were attached. However, the soles were molded so that only footwear carrying a five inches heel would do. Finally, her head was left completely free. She had to be aware of Karen’s needs.

She had shown her interest in Karen’s fantasy when she was developing it. Far from her the thought that it would become real, that she would become Karen’s caretaker.

As they slowly walked in the mansion entrance hall, heels clicking in the stone tiled floor, Lynda took Karen’s hand, concerned.

Karen made a pause and slowly turned her head to look at Lynda, straining against the tight and thick layers of rubber and carbon fibers to do so.

“Sure you’re okay in there?” Asked Lynda, knowing that Karen had to read her lips more than to listen. She could hear, but it was heavily dampened by the thick hood.

Karen nodded yes, and Lynda was sure that, under that featureless face, Karen smiled back at her.

“Come. Time to fix you up.”

© Pete / monsterp63, january 2017

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