Karen – Sometimes, Other Times



In some parts of the Universe, they are called Assistants. In other parts, Servants. In some other parts, Penitents. Captives. Prisoners. Forced Laborers.

In the Tu’Vgans world, they are called dagames. Simply translated: slaves.

A few centuries ago, their world was nothing but chaos, after one of their endless wars about a piece of land, a planet, or a star. There was always something to bring up a war. With war comes mayhem. With mayhem comes thieves, crooks and murderers.

But people had enough. They needed something to stop this frenzy. Their solution was dagams.

Five levels of what is called encasement, were created.

The level One was for low level criminals, petty thieves, little crooks. The sentence was encasement in a polymer coating from neck to toes, leaving the head and genitalia free. They would wear a control collar. They were relatively free. They had semi-permanent polymer cuffs that could be removed by the owner. They were usually kept gagged, but some were known to never have been gagged.

Blindfolds and earplugs were used when deemed necessary.

High heel shoes and boots were mandatory, although they were limited to wedge soles.

They were primarily used as personal dagams, for the rich and powerful, to maintain their mansions, even mann their ships. They were maids, servants, companions.

The level two dagams were also encased from neck to toes in a polymer sprayed-on suit, but were wearing permanent fibersteel cuffs and knee high fibersteel pointed toe boots. There was a chastity belt for all, with plugs, as well as chastity bras for some.

A heavy steel collar was permanently wrapped around their neck. 

Gags were mandatory, except for meal time, hygiene or medical reasons.

They were usually kept in chains. Sleeping in chains was mandatory.

They were used for medium duty work, often sent off in outer space to colonies, where they would work in mills and plants.

The level three dagams were wearing full body polymer catsuit, plugged, chastity belt, rigid corset, high posture collar, pointed toe boots, full set of cuffs (including knees and elbows), all made out of a material called fibersteel, a hybrid of fiberglass, carbon fibers and steel. It was impossible to break or to take off. Well, yes there was, but the body would be destroyed in the process.

Their gag could be removed but rarely done. Severe bondage if misbehaving or for the night. Good general working dagams.

The level four was the highest level with still working dagams. They were encased in full polymer-latex catsuit, with sight and hearing controlled.

They were permanently plugged in all orifices. They were put into a full torso fibersteel corset, which included an attached chastity belt and an attached rigid posture collar, all made of fibersteel. Full set of fibersteel cuffs were included, their arms constantly tied in her back at the elbows, which allowed some working manoeuvers

Fibersteel pointed toe boots were completing the outfit.

Light duty dagams because of their restraint arms, mostly used to carry serving trays or other light tasks. 

The level five contained no working dagams. The subject was covered from head to toes in polymer, sight, hearing and breathing controlled, waist crushed by a fibersteel corset and feet encased in fibersteel toe boots, before being literally cast into a block of solid clear polymer, becoming a living display of immobility.

They were put everywhere within the Tu’Vgans influence zone to show what would happen to crooks.

There was no coming “down”. One dagams could only go up.

And the sentence was… for life. Since an average Tu’Vgan was living 230 earth-years, that could be a very long time.

And since their hands were covered, they had no hand scan possibility. They had no status.

The plan worked. Crimes were on an all-time low, and dagams were in high demand.


The year was 285.8121.

The ship was the Gzog VIII, heading for the Digarian system, where a mining company was in need of working dagams.

They were carrying 514 mostly Level Three with few Level One and Two.

Kar-Hen was looking at herself in the long mirror of her little room. A buffing cloth in her hand, she was removing the last smear off her perfectly polished armor.

Oh, it was only decorative. It served no purpose against a plazer gun. It was a show of rank, of position, of force. She was part of the Ro’Dagams, the dagam’s guardians.

She was especially proud of her Level One Leader Pin. At 27 earth-year of age, she was only the third youngest to have achieved that rank in the past 400 years, since the creation of the Ro’Dagams.

She took a few steps back, admiring the shining chrome and purple armor, over her skintight shiny bodysuit. She smiled, throwing her long ponytail in the air and walked out of her quarters to join the rest of the squad in the main room, her high heel boots clicking on the steel deck of the ship.

High heels were a normal footwear for them, men as well as women. It showed their skills. The higher the heel, the higher the social rank. Kar-Hen was at four inches, heading to five.

The dagams with their pointed toe boots? Those were deemed impractical, too dangerous. Dagams were made to wear them so it would impair them from running away, and they would be the laughing matter of the civilians when they would trip and fall. As for the Level One Encasement, with their wedge heels, they were passing for weak, as wedges were usually worn by toddlers.

“Good morning, ladies and gents.” she said, saluting the other Ro’Dagams present.

“Good morning, Leader Kar-Hen.” answered some members of the groups, the majority acknowledging with a gesture of the head while they were completing their morning checklist. About a dozen soldiers, men and women, in all.

“Okay gang, the briefing will be short. We’re still on course, nothing major to report. Expected time of arrival is in three standard days. The dagams will go to the activity room in rotation, starting with block E today.

Just be very cautious with the dagam KL84P5. He’s been acting violently yesterday, pushing others around. He’s currently at level 2 but heading straight for three.” she said with a devilish grin. “If he gives you any trouble, just call me. Other than that, it’s the usual routine. Any questions?”

People nodded no or gestured of the hand, returning to do their last tasks before going on patrol, replacing the night shift group.

Another female guard approached Kar-Hen.

“Hey there.” she said. “If it was only for me, I would skip the Levels 2 and 3 all together, leaving only level 1, 4 and 5 to those worthless dagams.”

“You read my mind, Ln’Daa.” said Kar-Hen. “You’ve probably heard that the High Council is working on a new law to reform that. What I learned,” she said, lowering her voice, because what she was about to say had a non-disclosure clause, and she was allowed to know it because she had the right rank, not Ln’Daa, “is that there will be only 3 levels: One, Three and Five. Two and Four would be wiped out. And the Level Three would have what Level Four has right now, except for the arm permanently tied in the back. But I didn’t told you that.” she said with a wink.

“That’s way enough!” whispered back Ln’Daa, smiling. “They don’t need that many levels anyways. If I was making that choice, I would even remove the Level One, leaving only two Levels.” she said, laughing. “We ought to keep some as display props”.

Kar-Hen laughed with her. After all, dagams were worthless pieces of shit.

They went on with their days, taking out one block after the other, getting the dagams out of their coffins and bringing them to the activity room, a place where they could move a little, out from their cramp storage bin: when traveling, dagams were only allowed their bed, the size of a large drawer, pretty much the size of a coffin, hence their name. They would get in, and the drawer would be pushed closed, leaving them very little space, not enough in fact to allow them to flip sides. If they went in on their back, they would stay like that until the drawer is opened and they are allowed to roll on their stomach, if they wanted to.

Those coffins were arranged in large rooms called blocks. Twenty by blocks, in four rows of five drawers, the one on top having to use the other drawers as a stepladder to get down.

While Ln’Daa was manning her own row, Kar-Hen commanded the opening on the drawers on her row, laughing at their struggle. Her fun was to put a level four on the top drawer, and watch “it” (they had no status) struggle to get in or out of it, their bodies stiff from the rigid corset, and without using their hands. They will often fall on the floor, which will make her laugh even more.

They were so worthless. She would pity an earthworm before a dagam.

They were directed to the activity room. If one wasn’t walking fast enough, she would push it forward, generally make it stumble and fall on another one, triggering a chain reaction of dagams falling down.

That was the running joke. There was even an unofficial bet going on as who would get the most dagams done with one throw.

Kar-Hen pushed one that was trailing behind, but it was able to counteract the gesture and stay on its feet. That pissed off Kar-Hen.

She reached for a button on her belt, and as she said “don’t resist me.”, she pressed on it. The dagam’s legs seemed to paralyse, as it fell face first, like a dummy, its fibersteel corset and her pointed toe boots clanking hard on the steel deck of the ship. It couldn’t turn its head as it was held rigid by the tall fibersteel collar of the Level Four containment.

Ln’Daa laughed out loud.

“Ha, Ha!!! Have you seen how its face hit the floor! That must have hurt!, Ha, Ha, Ha…”

The dagam stayed there, unable to move. The paralysis lasting pretty much the same time they would be out in the activity room. Kar-Hen will pick it up on the way back.

The others kept moving, toe boots clicking, polymer catsuit creaking and chains clinking.

Kar-Hen and Ln’Daa followed them to the activity room, watching them, making sure they wouldn’t misbehave. If so, a little shock treatment and the calm was brought back.

Over the course of the day, she did shock a few of them, just for the fun of seeing them fall face first, unable to protect themselves, or just bend their knees under a sharp but non-paralyzing zap. She always found it hilarious.

At the end of the day, she was back in her quarters, a small but comfortable room with a nice bed with a window giving to the outside where she could see stars streaking by, a desk and enough room to comfortably remove her armor. That was one of the advantages of her rank: a room with a view!

She did so with almost religious gestures, taking each part, and placing it carefully on its respective stand. She was left with the underlying catsuit, made of stretched polymer. It was very comfortable and allowed as much freedom as if she was naked. It felt tight, but she liked it. The outer coating had a soft shimmer she liked.

She laid on her bad, still wearing the catsuit, her fingers reaching her crotch. That suit was giving her shivers.

With her fingers, through the sleek fabric, she was able to stimulate herself, slow but consistently building an orgasm. As it was getting higher and stronger, she tucked her feet under her bed sheets, in a way to lock her legs in place. She liked that little restraint.

She trusted her hips forward a few times, as the orgasm released its flow of pleasure hormones.

She enjoyed the time it lasted, which was never long enough. It was now time to sleep.She took the suit off, almost disappointed to get out of it, and went to bed. She wished she could sleep in it, but if she was found like that, she would be the laughing stock of the group, perhaps losing her authority, her place.

The next morning started without a hitch. It was routine. Then around dinner time, the news was announced: the council had voted and was abolishing the containment levels Two, Four and Five, leaving only containments Levels One and Three.. Level Three was the same basic setup, meaning a full polymer coating, fibersteel corset, chastity belt and posture collar and pointed toe boots. However, they were fully entubed, plugged, hearing and sight controlled, like the previous Level Four.

Their arms would generally be chained to their waist, unless needed to work.

“Too bad.” said Kar-Hen, “those will be less fun to watch fall rigid.” she said, laughing, as the other Ro’Dagams agreed.

While getting the dagams out to the activity rooms, Kar-Hen had fun teasing the Level Two and Four that they were now an endangered species, and they should take good care of them, just before zapping them and having a lot of fun.

The next morning was the last day. They will be arriving at the planet in late afternoon. Shortly after the morning briefing, Kar-H en was called at the Head Leader’s office.

“Do I smell a promotion?” asked Ln’Daa.

“Might be as well.” said Kar-Hen. “I heard that Susz-Ee had been muted to headquarters, leaving the Sector A87 opened,, and Jho’Nn also had her promotion. I’m the next in line so…”

“Good luck!” said Ln’Daa. “I’m next!”

Kar-Hen waved her goodbye, walking straight and proud, her shining armor reflecting the harsh lights of the corridors, her heels clicking hard on the steel deck. She was looking forward to being Sector Commander.

The door of the Ro’Dagam’s  Head Leader office was opened. Madam Mss’Trss was there, sitting behind her desk. She was only wearing the basic armor’s catsuit, It was pitch black with a deep blue pattern emphasizing her already thin waist. She waives at Ka-Hen to enter.

“Hello Leader Kar-Hen. Please, have a seat.” said Mss’Trss turning around and taking two small red glasses and a bottle of green liquid Kar-Hen recognized immediately: lIra’h liquor. A Holy beverage served only on rare occasions, like… promotions.

Mss’Trss poured about a sip in each glass and put them in front of her on her desk.

Kar-Hen was sitting, her heart beating hard.

“You know, Kar-Hen” began Mss’Trss, “I’ve been watching you for a while now. What do you think of dagams?”

“They’re worthless pieces of trash, Madam.” said Kar-Hen, convinced of her thinking.

“Well, they are the finest of criminals, thieves, and the like. What do you think about the Council’s decision to abolish some levels?”

“I agree with them, but I wonder why they removed the Level Five, the display dagams. There are a bunch of them that deserves to be there.” she said with an evil grin.

“In fact, they got rid of that level simply because the message is well received and putting them in permanent immobility is a waste of resources. We need them to work. Not just stand there.”

“Oh… Of course. I haven’t seen it that way.” said Kar-Hen, looking alternatively at Mss’Trss and the glasses of Ilra’h liquor.

Mss’Trss was browsing Kar-Hen’s file.

“Humm… Medal of honor, A+ in weapon’s training, Best of Class in your graduation, Third Youngest Level One Leader, you’re impressive.” she said, smiling.

“Thank you, Madam Mss’Trss.” said Kar-Hen, pumping her chest.

“I think you’re due for a change.” said Mss’Trss, taking one glass of Ilra’h liquor and offering the other to Kar-Hen. “To change.” she said.

“To change.” said Kar-Hen, drinking the small amount in one shot, feeling it’s incredible warmth flow down her throat, heating her body in a wave of pleasure, the closest thing to an orgasm without having one. She felt like having drunk 1000 glass of the finest liquor.

“Oooo That’s good stuff!!” she said, wiping her lips with her tongue, to get every last drop of the liquor.”

“Yes it is. Ilra’h is a nectar from the Gods.” said Mss’Trss. “Now, Kar-Hen, do you know how important dagams are to our civilisation?

“Well, I know they do all the dirty work.” she said giggling.

“Oh, much more than that. Yes, they do the dirty work, the dangerous work, but they are also the ones who build this ship.”

“Well, robots built it, and dagams gave a hand.” she said, almost immediately regretting to have corrected Mss’Trss.

“Yes, Kar-Hen. Mainly robots built this ship, but all the delicate work, a good bunch of the wiring and installation of equipment was done by dagams. They are really useful. In fact, we’re so involved with them that we can’t afford to lose even a single one of them. In fact, we have a… supply problem.”

“A supply problem, Madam?”

“Yes. The crime rate is really low. And we’re close to half the dagams will have to be retried or will die of old age within the next decade or so. Problem is, we have less new criminals sentenced to become dagams than the number that will go away.”

“Ah… Well…” thought Kar-Hen. “Maybe we can make the laws more stiff, we’ll get more criminals.” she said, thinking she had found the solution for the crisis.

“Yes…” said Mss’Trss. “However, we will end up with people becoming dagams for forgetting to floss.” she said, giggling. “We can’t make more laws, otherwise we will have to stop living. No, we have another solution. We… How do you feel, Kar-Hen?” she asked, seemingly intrigued.

“Well… I’m not used to Ilra’h liquor, madam. I feel a little dizzy, but it will be fine.”

“All is fine, Kar-Hen. All will be fine. As I was saying, we have another solution to get new dagams, and we’ve been using it for close to 100 years now: we MAKE new ones.”

“Make, Madam. Ho…ooowww?” said Kar-Hen, her mouth apparently feeling numb. She tried to speak more, but only managed to mumble incomprehensible sounds. She tried to touch her mouth but her arm barely moved.

“We take those who are a threat to our way of life. People like you, Kar-Hen, who are too willing to go high, too fast. You know why?”

By then, Kar-Hen was not moving anymore, and not talking. Her breathing was steady, and she was staring right ahead.”

“Because if you get in higher ranking too fast, you will see what we don’t want you to see and report it. Also, the higher you get into the Ro’Dagams ranks, the farther you go away from your family. They are proud of you, and also know that you will have very infrequent communications with them. You will be too busy. too far away to go to family reunions. And they will be so proud of you that they will accept to only receive a text message from time to time, telling them how good your life is, how fulfilling, how your work helps them live their wonderful life. They will be  overwhelmed to know that their daughter, their sons, is a Sector Director, a Camp Manager, a Supervisor, they will not give a thought about the fact that you’ve been away for so long, and since they will die before your time for retirement will come, they will never wonder how they never saw you, even only once, for so many years. In short, you are easy to make… disappear.” 

Madam Mss’Trss could clearly see the horror, the fear growing up in Kar-Hen eyes, as two Imperial Guards, the ones responsible for dagams sentencing, came and took Kar-Hen by her arms, easily lifting her off the chair.

She didn’t fight back. Well, in her mind, she was trying hard as hell to get free, but her limbs simply didn’t respond.

She was carried to a room, just behind Mss’Trss office. She was there, watching, as she was stripped down, ending up completely naked, her perfect body displayed for all to see, although there was only Mss’Trss and the guards. She was taken on a circular platform, and an anti-gravity field was applied, making her float off the floor. The platform was lowered into the ground, lowering her, and stopped when her head was at working height of the guards. There, they applied a liquid to her hairs and in horror, she saw them quickly fall on the ground. Plugs were put into her ears, cutting off all sounds. The platform was raised back up and a circular tube was lowered over her.

The tube was filled with a dark fog, as the polymer spray was beginning, coating her skin with a very thin layer of that indestructible material. The spray stopped and green lights were lit. She knew the polymer was reacting to that special green light to cure, harden and… tighten. The first coat was easy to cope with, but as they reached the third one, the tightening effect could not be misinterpreted.

The tube was raised, but she stayed trapped into the anti-gravity field. The guards approached her with a bunch of tubes. They began to insert them in her lower holes. Kar-Hen knew what they were doing. They were thoroughly informed of the procedure in their training. She also knew that she would not be a Level One dagam, but a Level Three. A New Level Three.

After the catheter and plugs were inserted, the platform was lowered again so that her head was  at the working level of the guards. More tubes were inserted in her mouth and nose. She was feeling every one of them. In fact, she was feeling everything. She just couldn’t react. Not even a grin.

Two spherical lenses were applied over her eyes, completely darkening her sigh. The platform was raised back up and the tube lowered. The layer coating continued. Six thin coats were added. By then, Kar-Hen felt them tightening more and more. Her breathing became shorter.

It was weird but that sensation of being tightly squeezed? She sort of… liked it.

The last exposure to the green light was completed and the tube lifted. The pad was remotely controlled to move on the floor, and she was led to a rather large and impressive machine. Once positioned, still floating, clamps closed around her legs, wrapping them from their toes to just below her knees. Another clamp closed around her upper body from below her crotch to her neck, while two more clamps took hold of her arms.

Then she felt something warm being applied on her lower legs, around her waist, neck and in bands at her wrists and over her elbows: the fibersteel accessories. She could only imagine: her vision was still pitch black.

She felt everything becoming tighter, everywhere, but especially around her waist and upper torso, when it tightened, again and again. She felt she was being crushed to death. She thought that’s how she was going to die, crushed by a runaway machine. Then, it stopped. Everything stopped.

She felt being moved, still on the anti-gravity platform. She heard a crackling sound in her ears.

“The procedure is complete.” she heard Mss’Trss voice said. “You will learn your place in the dagam crew quite soon. You know you will have to behave. You know too well what happens when dagams don’t behave: Ro’Dagams uses that little button on their belts.

But there’s also something you don’t know: dagams gets rewards when they do a good job. That’s why they’re so efficient, once they experienced it. And the better the job, the more satisfied is the head supervisor or the owner, the better the reward. Here’s a little clue.”

On that, all sounds were cut off, and Kar-Hen just stood there. Then, deep down inside her, things became alive. It was squirming, vibrating, pulsating, moving. Kar-Hen felt a wave of pleasure grow, quite rapidly in fact.

She never thought she would react to sexual stimulation, especially in her situation, but it seemed to take the reality away, to send her to another world, a world of pleasure. The tightness of the suit, her sweat not going away, her short breath, and the fact she couldn’t move at all, were all amplifying that simple orgasmic feeling.

She would have loved to rock her hips, enhance the feeling but she was still on the effect of the paralyzing drug. She experienced a wonderful orgasm. Barely more powerful than what she was able to achieve with the help of toys but she saw the… potential. And she wanted more.

But everything became silent, still, and she felt a sting, like an electrical shock at the base of her neck, then… nothing.

A flash of light awakened her, followed by an alarm sound in her ears. She startled. Was she dreaming? She  jolted to get up, but her body was stiff. Her arms were hard to bend, her legs felt heavy. As she tried to sit in her bed, her head hit something. She blinked a few times, but was seeing nothing else that blackness being cut off with flashes of lights. Then she heard someone, and she slid sideways. Then she saw them: Ro’Dagams. And she heard them.

“Come on, get up trash bags! Get moving. We have arrived at your destination. Time for you to work.”

Kar-Hen, still somewhat dizzy, barely realizing what was going on: she was laying in a dagam coffin. She thought she had been pranked to celebrate her new rank. She tried to talk, but there was something in her mouth. She jumped out of bed and landed on the floor, only to slip and fall on her butt. She looked down and saw her feet, encased in fibersteel toe boots. She thought she was dreaming, a bad dream. But a shock from the collar brought her back to reality, whatever that was, as one Ro’Dagam was pulling her back up, hard and without management, slapping her at the back of the head in the process. 

Kar-Hen wanted to protest, answer back, but her wrists were tied to the side of her incredibly tight corset. At the same time, she recognized that Ro’Dagam: Ln’Daaa. She tried to attract her attention, to be recognized.

“Oh, you feel feisty. Here, take this.” said Ln’Daa, while pushing a button on her beld.

Immediately, Kar-Hen felt a hard shock in her lower belly, through the huge plugs. Her knees bent and she kneeled in front of Ln’Daa.

“That’s better. Yes, you will kneel before me.” she said, laughing. “Too bad I can’t paralyze you, you’re needed on the planet. MOVE!” she ordered.

Kar-Hen struggled to get back up and walk, for the first time, on those extreme boots, her feet linked by a short chain.

At the same time, reality struck. She realized what she now was, and what she would do for the rest of her life. And also realize what happened to Susz-Ee and Jho’Nn, and probably what will happen to Ln’Daa in a few months or a few years.

She would become a dagam.

She also realized another thing: dagams were not merely pieces of trash. They were, first and foremost… humans. 

Now, her only thought was to be rewarded. She would be a very good worker.

A good dagam.

The End.

© Pete / monsterp63, Septembre 2018

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