His eyes rolled as he heard the sound of clicking high heels coming from behind, getting closer. He smiled and turned around.
“Hey, Karen! Nice to see you. But what are you doing here?”
She entered the small loft where everything was within one room: kitchen, dining room, living room and bedroom. The man who just spoke was near the kitchen counter as two police officers in uniform, wearing black gloves, were searching around.
“Hello Phil. What are YOU doing here?” she asked, putting on purple nitrile gloves that appeared to be too small for her hands, and for which she had to work her fingers almost one at a time before struggling to unwrap it over her hand.
“I happened to be close by when the call came, and you know the rules: first one on the scene takes the case. So, what are YOU doing here? I haven’t asked for any worthless forensic technician. Yet.”
“This is a high profile case. The Chief attached me to it. I’m surprised he kept you on it, or perhaps, that’s the reason he asked for me, because YOU had the case.” she said with a victory smile as she began to search for clues.
“You’re useless, Karen. I have no need for a tech. Why don’t you go back home?”
“Like I said, the boss assigned me to it, so… fuck, Phil. You’re not even wearing gloves. You’ll spoil the scene!” she harshly said, pointing to his bare hands.
“Hey, I know my job. No need for gloves, this is not an abduction, she ran away, that’s all. The spoiled brat of a rich father goes missing. Big deal.” he said, waving his hands around to show the loft and its rich furnishing.
“Like the last one, when we found the young woman cut in pieces in the dumpster? Yeah, I’m sure she ran away and accidentally cut herself into eleven fucking pieces and managed to walk her head to the river. Put some fucking gloves on, Phil.”
“Nah, no need. You know my fingerprints… very intimately.” he said, trying to approach her, but she backed off.
“Phil. We dated for two weeks. That’s all and it’s over. Now, you either put gloves on or get the hell out of here.”
“Yeah, right. You don’t give me orders. I’ll call the Chief.” he said, taking his cellphone and dialing while Karen performed her search.
She was walking slowly, making the heels of her leather booties click on the wooden floor of the loft. She stretched her arm, wrapped in a tight black leather jacket, creaking in the process, to carefully move one of the pillows, then reached for her purse which was brushing against her extremely tight jeans, so tight that the seams looked ready to pop.
She was a sight to see, even a distraction to some. At the office, they would have liked her to tone it down a little, to be a little more conservative, but she was so good that risking losing her was worthy of a few rule bending.
She opened her purse and got out a plastic bag and a pair of tweezers. She carefully picked up the tweezers and, with her gloved hand, manipulate it precisely to pick some fiber she found strange to be on this pillow
“What do you have here?” said Phil, snatching the bag out of Karen’s hand.
“Hey! Wha… oh, gloves! now?”
“Yeah… the boss told me to.” he mumbled. “So what is that? Cat hair?” he said laughing.
“No, it’s a fiber of something else, but it’s not from this room.”
“Oh, and you know that just by looking at it?” he said, shining some light through the clear plastic bag, trying to see what was inside.
“Yes.” she said, snatching the bag back with her gloved fingers, the leather of her jacket creaking, spreading his musky smell. “That’s what I’m paid for.”
“Whatever. I’m telling you, she didn’t get abducted, she simply ran away.” he said, getting louder as Karen walked out, high heel clicking, butt wiggling in her tight jeans, waving him goodbye.
But then she stopped at the door. For an instant, Phil thought she had stopped for him, but his smirk disappeared when she bent down, or rather kneeled with one knee close to the door. There, a stain, looking like mud. She grabbed another bag and took up a sample, straining against the tight leather impairing her movements and the jeans barely allowing her to kneel like that. She was biting her lower lip. The feeling was almost sexually arousing.
Still kneeling, she grabbed her phone and snapped a few pictures of partial footprints, hoping they were genuine and not Phil’s. She slowly got back up, regained her balance and walked out of the building, heels clicking, butt wiggling and her face smiling.
Back at her lab, she sat on the high stool by the microscope and repressed a moan. Those tight jeans were a killer, rubbing at just the right place. She lifted one leg, straining against the tight jeans. She grabbed the footrest bar with her high heel, put the little fiber on a plate and placed it under the lense.
“Yeah…. I think…” she said, going back to her computer, wiggling her tightly wrapped butt, into a normal leather office desk chair, barely able to sit straight, her jeans being too tight. They were stretched, but when there’s no more stretch left. She just loved the squeezing they gave her, the struggle, the strain to move was a blast.
“Common cotton rope. I knew it.” she said to herself.
She knew Phil was a moron and he only got to be an investigator because he was sleeping with the police chief’s wife. She would investigate, she would succeed, again, and make Phil look like a fool… Again.
“Now the mud.” she said, taking the other enveloppe and putting it through a few different instruments, awaiting the readings.
“Hum… Interesting.” she said, looking at the display. “This soil has been contaminated by… Oh, there’s not a lot of houses around this area.” she said, all proud of herself. She had practically broken the case.
She had gone back home to change, replacing her tight denim jeans by faux-leather ones, always as tight. She put on her tight leather jacket and struggled to get into her small car, driving to the area of her suspicions.
She walked around, trying to hide as much as possible amidst the trees of the property she suspected. She approached, looking around, looking at the ground, at the dirt, there, a footprint. She got her camera and compared it to the image taken at the loft: match. Smiling, she walked closer to the house, having second thoughts about choosing stilettos to walk on grass, but she liked it nonetheless. On the basement part of the house foundations, there were some windows. Grinning at her tight pants as she crouched down to look through one of them.
There didn’t seem to be anyone in the house, and there, she spotted it, barely visible. A cage. Why would someone have a cage that large in his house?
She had to find a way in. Making a tour of the windows, she found one which was slightly opened. With a smile, helped with her black leather gloved hands, she slid the small window open and waited. If someone heard her, he would be coming, but nope. No one.
She took her phone.
“Phil, I believe I found where Sandra has been abducted. Please come with some back-ups. I’m going in.”
She peeked inside and smiled. Perfect. Almost as if someone had prepared the way: just below the window was a series of shelves, making the perfect ladder. Turning around, she slid her feet in first, laying on her stomach, feeling the window sill slide against her legs, her thighs, over her crotch where she couldn’t resist a few strokes. Over her tight faux-leather tight jeans, that was a blast, then she began to bend her legs down, trying to locate the shelves, to get a foothold on.
Again, she had second thoughts: extremely tight leather jeans and high heels were not the best choice for breaking and entering inside a house, and not crawling backw… there. One shelf. Carefully, she put her weight on her feet and slid inside the small window opening, realizing that her arms would cause a problem. She managed to get one inside and had to stretch the other one out, impaired by her tight leather jacket.
But you already know it: she loved the challenge. Carefully, stretching her pants to their breaking point, she managed to get in and to climb down the shelves unit without making too much noise..
She was inside some kind of small storage room. She brushed her faux-leather pants off, removing the wrinkles caused by her stunt and some dust, and straightened her leather jacket. Well, it was more comfortable when straightened out. Finally, she made a few small steps toward the closed door, trying hard not to make her heels make too much noise, and put her ear to it. Nope, silence.
Carefully, she opened the door which creaked slightly, and, always listening, slowly walked out. There appeared to be a few rooms in this basement, filled with boxes, debris and a harsh moisture smell. Her heels were making too much noise, crushing some debris, sand and stuff under their pointy tips. She tried to walk more on her toes than full foot, the loudest noise becoming her leather jacket and tight faux-leather jeans. No, she was far from stealthy. She should rethink her sneaking outfit.
One wall and there she was. She recognized it by the picture provided by her father.
She was there, standing upright in a narrow cage, barely allowing any movements, wearing a shiny blue yoga suit or something similar, with sneakers. She had her feet bound with rope as well as her wrists in her back. Her mouth was kept closed by a few pieces of duct tape.
Karen approached slowly, then Sandra saw her. She made wide eyes and began to frantically nod no, but her head was barely moving.
Karen made a silent gesture while mouthing “Shush… I’m from the police”, but Sandra kept nodding no and looking at Karen, then at something else.
However, Karen didn’t understand the message or she simply didn’t care because she approached the cage, whispering “I’m with the police. Stay calm.” But as she got closer to the cage, Sandra’s eyes widened as if looking behind Karen.
She didn’t have time to react. She was grabbed from behind, one hand over her mouth, the other over her waist. The man was shorter than she was, and he forced her to bend down backward, making her lose balance. She struggled to get free but he quickly dragged her backward. Her extremely tight pants and high heels proved of no help, unless it was for the man holding her.
She was harshly pivoted sideways and pushed inside something, falling on her knees, hitting her head on some metal bars. When she turned around, it was too late as she saw and heard the door of the large cage, the same cage she saw from the window, had closed and locked.
“Let me out of here. I’m with the police. You have been found, mister. They’re going to invade this property any moment now. Just surrender and all will be fine.” she said from her harshest voice, which was still quite soft. She never had that mother’s commanding voice.
He leaned against the cage and laughed.
“Yeah, right. You? Police? Insta-crap police maybe.” he said, grinning, with a very low, slow and calm voice. “Well, it’s her who you should arrest. She’s the one posting false affirmations of Insta-crap. She’s a falsie.” he said, pointing at Sandra, still always apparently very calm.
“What? No, I’m really from the police…” began to yell Karen but he had turned away, walking back to the room he was apparently in when Karen walked on Sandra. She heard noises, power tools being used, then silence.
He approached Sandra with a steel collar and began to put it on through the cage bars. Sandra was trying to get away, to avoid having the collar put on, trying to dodge every attempt inside her narrow cage, and that was frustrating him.
“Just stand still, it will be easier,” he said with his calm voice.
“Hey! You!” yelled Karen again. “What are you doing to her?”
“Oh, my… But of course.” he said, turning to Karen. “Perhaps you’d like to watch. It might be quite interesting.” he calmly said, first going to the hidden room then to Karen’s cage, holding steel police issued cuffs.
“If you’re police, I’m sure you know the drill.” he said, showing the cuffs.
“Karen extended her hands.
“Nah, come on.” he said, smiling, always calm. “Turn around. Hands on your back.”
With a sigh, Karen complied. She felt the tugs on her hands, feeling the steel cuffs close over her leather gloved hands but when she tried to turn back to face him, she realized that he had passed the cuff links over one bar, effectively cuffing her to the cage.
“What the fuck?” she asked, pulling on the cuffs, but they were sturdy.
“Now, now.” he said, still calm. “Just put your legs closer together.” he said, snapping another pair of steel cuffs around her ankles, which only had a few links of chain between them, then he went back to her wrist cuffs, undid one, pass the cuffs inside and snapped it shut again.
He had been very thorough and Karen figured that he was really smart and she would have to outsmart him. She just wished the SWAT was already on the way.
He opened the door and she had to walk at a crawling pace just to walk out of the cage, then he simply held her upper arm with a firm grip, guiding her toward Sandra’s cage.
“What are you going to do to her? Why her?”
“I’m not really sure anymore.” he said with his calm low voice. “She lied on Insta-crap. Look.” he said, producing his cellphone with an image from Sandra’s Insta-crap account, with the caption ‘I’m so hot, it’s like I wish to be abducted by a rich man’s heart.’
“See? She says right here that she wishes to be abducted, but she’s not. She’s done nothing but complaining and asking me to release her. And here,” he said, producing another picture showing Sandra’s butt wrapped in a very tight pair of spandex leggings with the caption ‘it’s never tight enough’, or here.” he said, swapping to a video from the Flip-Tok app, where she was dancing like a robot, with the caption ‘A robot, I am.’
“This is also false. She doesn’t want to be a robot. Everything is false. No tight clothes, no abduction and no robot. But I have no choice. I have her now. She’s here. I have to do it.” he said.
By this time, they had reached Sandra’s cage and the man gently lowered Karen to sit on her knees on the old and stinky mattress. Karen had an idea.
“You have to do what?” asked Karen.
“Turned her into a human drone, of course.”
“A drone?” she asked, puzzled.
“Yes, you know, a human robot.”
“I see… But she doesn’t want to.”
“That is a shame.”
“Hey.. why don’t you take me, instead? I’ll do it.” she said, thinking quickly.
“But… I know nothing of you.”
“But just by looking at me, you know I like tight fitting clothes. I broke and entered your house, so I’m willing to be abducted and I would love to be a drone.”
“But I made the stuff for her.”
“And… Well, we can try it.” he said.
“Okay. Free her and I’ll do it.” said Karen.
He looked at her and smiled.
“No. I will not free her before I know you’ll do it for sure.” he said, his voice almost singing.
“Uh… okay then.” she said, then thinking hard. ‘Phil! Where the fuck are you??’
The man walked again to the other room and came back with a set of chains and heavy irons. He fixed a large eyebolt to the wall using a power drill and concrete screw. He did it in front of Karen as if to show her that there would be no easy way out. He then put a large steel collar around her neck, had her get up from the mattress and walk to the concrete floor where he linked it with a heavy chain to the ring he had just installed.
Karen knew that, once the cuffs removed, she would have no way out. She better comply and hope that her team will be there any minute from now.
He began by undressing her, completely naked. He had difficulties peeling her tight leather jacket off and especially her extremely tight jeans.
“Yes, you will like the drone suit.” he said as he tugged at the pants to slide down her legs.
“Oh really? And I’m thinking.” she said, trying to know as much as possible, “what’s your name?”
“People call me Doody.” he simply said.
“Doody. That’s a nice nickname or is it your real name?”
“Just call me Doody.” he answered, going back to the room to come back with a jar of some white stuff and a lump of fabric.
“We should lube you good before putting the base layer on.” he said, opening the jar and sticking his hand inside what looked like petroleum jelly or something similar and began to apply it to Karen’s body.
“First layer?” she asked.
“Yes, first layer. The drone suit has two layers. This layer of carbon fibers and one layer of rubber to protect it.” he said as if it was obvious.
“Ah, I see.” she said, not knowing what to add as he greased up her body, apparently interested by her good hips, small waist and ample breasts.
He picked the lump of black fabric. It seemed to be small black fibers woven in a checker pattern. He took the suit by the neck opening and began to stretch it, pulling hard on it to do so.
“Where’s the zipper? Don’t tell me I have to get in through this tiny hole?” she asked.
“Oh, yes, but it will stretch.” he said, still pulling hard on it, stretching it as wide as Karen’s shoulders then bending down and instructing her to get her feet in. She complied and he began to feed it over her legs, stretching it by pulling hard as it rode up.
It appeared to be very hard to stretch but slow to retract to its original size, leaving her time to move. Gradually, the suit rose up and soon her legs were encased in the satin soft fabric, including her feet into the attached socks. He re-stretched the collar to feed it past her hips, then her breasts and he pulled the rest of the suit along, getting harder and harder to do.
Feeding her arms into thigh sleeves proved difficult but as the suit rose up, helped with the lubricant cream, the feeling was simply out of this world. She always loved tight clothes, but this thing was made in heaven, although it was tight as hell…
She moved her arms, lifted her legs, feeling the tightness of the suit, loving every second of it. She would have to get one for herself, probably something with a zipper because there was no way she would be able to put it on alone.
As the suit settled in place she couldn’t resist running her coated arms over it, feeling how sleek it was, how tight it was and it seemed to be getting tighter by the minute. She felt some cold spots at her breasts, around the nipple, like small metal plates but she didn’t inquire about it. He took a few steps back and looked at the result, smiling.
“Yes, I think you will make a good drone.” he softly said, leaving for that room to come back with a can of spray. He approached her and began to spray her hair. She figured it was some other sort of lubricant as she was seeing what look like a carbon fiber ski mask on the mattress, and even helped him as he was brushing it thoroughly in her hair, until she saw them fall down on the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?” she said, putting her hand on her hair and coming up with a handful. “MY HAIR!!”
“Yes, that’s a shame, they were beautiful, but a drone has no hair.” he calmly said, wiping Karen’s now bald skull with a towel. She was sobbing, looking at her hair on the floor.
“But…” she tried to say.
“Yes, too bad.” he simply said, applying a thick layer of paste including in his ears where he pushed plugs on, rendering almost deaf. He put the wrist cuffs back and linked them to the chain before removing the steel collar and then pulling the hood on. Like the rest of the suit, it was very hard to stretch but it finally passed over Karen’s nose, sucking itself in place over her head and face, tightly wrapping her neck, making all traces of skin disappear except for a small hole over her mouth, two small nostrils holes and holes for her eyes. Again, she felt some small metal plates touching her skull, a strange feeling along with the hood itself, but didn’t ask about it. The mouth hole was so small she almost had to whistle in it to breathe.
He smoothed out all the wrinkles and put the steel collar back on, releasing her wrists, smiling.
“Good. Very good.” he said.
Again going to the other room, he came out with a large and heavy garment Karen identified immediately as a corset but without any lacing. He wrapped it around her waist and immediately, she had doubts.
“This will not close.”
“Oh yes. It has to.” he said, adding ratchet straps!
He began to tighten them and Karen was in disbelief. There was no way this was going to close.
“Stop it, that’s too tight. I can’t breathe.” she said, putting her hands on the heavy rubber garment, squishing her breasts.
“You will adapt. The body always adapts.” he said as he continued to tighten the straps. “Just 3cm more to go.” he said.
“I… can’t… take… it… stop… Please.” she said, trying to reach the ratchets.
“Okay, I’ll stop. For now.” he said, leaving her. She tried to loosen the ratchets, but they were located in her back and out of reach.
“If you loosen just one, I will have to start over, and this time I’ll have you in cuffs and gagged. Is that what you want?”
Karen weighed her options. She could fight, get restrained more for the same results, or cooperate. The Force will be there soon anyway. Why piss him off. She put her hands on her side and waited.
She catched Sandra’s look from her cage and she was apparently shocked. She would have been the one getting the treatments if it weren’t for Karen.
He had been back to that room and had made two trips, bringing a total of four large cardboard boxes. He opened one and took out the content: a shiny, pitch black catsuit.
“This is the outer layer of the drone suit. Good looking, hey?”
“Shit! I can almost see my reflection on it.” she said, stunned by the look and quite… appealed by it. She loved shiny tight clothes, like her faux-leather pants. This was beyond shiny. And the undersuit was already beyond tight… and the corset wasn’t even fully closed.
“Glad you like it since you’re going to spend the rest of your life in it. Well, we have to get that corset closed, shall we?” he said, putting the suit down and going to the ratchet straps again.
But it was too tight for Karen’s taste and he noticed that she was straining against it, forcing her stomach out.
Without a word he picked up another ring and screwed it over Karen’s head on one of the upstairs floor beams, then put a set of heavy steel shackles and snapped it on Karen’s wrist before linking them to the ring, forcing her to stretch upward, effectively thinning her body.
“Ah come on… Doody. That’s too tight, I will never fit in this.”
“If you don’t stop complaining, Karen, I will have to gag you. Is that what you want?” he calmly said, showing his roll of duct tape.
“No…” she said, lowering her head.
“Good, now suck it in.” he simply said as he tightened the straps, one click at a time, slowly.
Karen thought that she would be broken in half if it got any tighter when he began to fondle at the back. The closing mechanism was two rows of rings meshing with each other, making a single long tube, when properly aligned. He fed a stiff steel wire inside that hole, going slowly, sometimes tightening one strap, sometimes losing one until the small wire had been fed all the way through. He took pliers and bent the ends so it wouldn’t come out and removed the straps.
Actually, Karen didn’t feel the straps being removed. The corset wasn’t giving anything back. She felt her body heavily compressed and rigid. And she liked it. Her breath began to shake as he slowly ran his hands up and down the heavy garment, covering her from her hips to overhear breasts, encasing them in its tight embrace into rigid cups.
Without a word, he added a spreader bar between her legs, keeping them wide apart, linking the center of it to the floor. Now Karen was suspended by her wrists, her feet barely touching the floor, barely able to move… and breathe.
“I.. I guess you have never been intubated before. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt.” he said, picking stuff from one of the cardboard boxes and showing the surgical tubes to Karen. “Just open wide.” he said, approaching her face with a rather large tube and aiming for her mouth.
Karen kept her mouth shut and nodded no, realizing at the same time that the suit, which had now tightened, was limiting her head movements.
“It’s your choice, Karen. You can open your mouth willingly or I can use a mouth spreader.” he said, still calm to the point it was almost spooky.
Reluctantly, she opened her mouth just enough for the tube to go through. As it pushed at the back of her throat, it triggered her gag reflex.
“Just swallow… yes… that’s it.” he said as she felt the tube go down her throat. He pushed it in until it reached a mark on the end of the tube. Karen couldn’t really talk anymore but only gargled.
He produced another tube, more flexible and smaller and fed it up one of her nostrils. She closed her eyes, wishing the police would ram the door any moment. This was going farther than she had expected… or wanted to. Phil should have done something by now.
After doing the same with the other nostril, he fetched more stuff and what looked like huge dilos from the box and set up to work at her crotch, pushing them through small holes she never noticed at the crotch of the suit.
She knew better than to resist when the huge buttplug was inserted. Then, as he worked forward, she felt a tube being pushed inside her urethra, feeling it go in, upward and then the huge dildo was inserted. She moaned. That one actually felt good… Could it really be? I mean, she was all tied up, squeezed into an incredibly tight corset, tubed up her nose, down her through, rectum filled, urethra tubed and she was still aroused by a dildo being pushed in? That was nuts!
He picked up what looked like a small caulking gun and plugged it at her crotch. She felt the butt plug getting bigger… and bigger, until it stopped. Something similar happened at her vagina, although feeling it getting bigger was.. Fun? Then he got up and plugged it in her mouth where she felt something inflate inside her mouth getting bigger, pushing her tongue down, forcing her mouth open, bulging her cheeks, pushing at the back of her throat. She nodded a frantic no when she felt it was enough but he continued, looking at some small indicator on the caulking gun, before unplugging it.
“There. Nice and tight.” he said, smiling. “Oh don’t worry, it will slightly expand as it cures.” he said, putting the gun away.
Karen couldn’t react. This was way too much. Way too tight, way too big, way too… no, it couldn’t be arousing.
He began to hum a song. He was happy, apparently. That was making one of them. Sort of.
He removed the steel collar, took his jar of goo and applied a generous amount all over Karen’s body. She liked the rubbing feeling. No, that can’t be. She was not in a situation to like anything of that sort. Where the hell was the police force?
He then removed the restraints and shackles from Karen’s feet, took the next suit and stretched the neck to feed Karen’s feet in it. She didn’t resist. She knew it was no use and she was almost eager to feel that layer on top of all the rest. He fed the legs, including the attached socks over her feet, getting the suit higher, passing it over her now tiny waist where it was obvious that the suit was cut for a waist that small. He then lowered her on the ground. She didn’t fight.
He took another hood and pulled it over her head, making sure the little bits of hoses protruding from her nose and mouth would go through the appropriate holes. That hood had clear lenses over the eyes. With it on, she felt totally sealed off from the exterior world, her eyes being the last sensory organs she had.
Once all the wrinkles had been rubbed out of the hood, including its large yoke, he continued with the suit, unliking her arms from the ceiling hook. She actually worked along, helping him feed her arms in the tight shiny rubber sleeves, pushing her fingers into the attached gloves, and helping him smooth out the wrinkles as he made sure the collar was well over the hood yoke and that any air bubble was pushed out.
He ran his hands, tightly chinching the suit, from her feet to her neck, from her fingers to her neck, getting all air and excess lubricant out of the suit, to make it super smooth.
Again, Karen saw Sandra’s eyes. They were stunned, and she didn’t know if it was because of the extreme suit or of the look of it.
Doody re-attached her wrists to the ceiling hook and opened another box to retrieve two long tubes. They could only be boots but pointy and without any heels.
Karen knew what ballet boots were but without heels? That was a first. He applied lubricant over her lower legs and fed her feet into the boots. They were closed using the same tube of rings and steel wire technique as the corset, making them look smooth with the suit. He put the heavy steel shackles back on with the spreader bar.
She was puzzled. What could be next? She was all suited up, corseted, hooded, deaf, mute, intubated, her walking impaired, what could be missing? She nodded internally when she saw the steel belt being unpacked: a chastity belt, of course, like if she could have sex anyway.
He wrapped the belt around her waist and she realized why he had to squish it down to this size: the belt had only one setting. Tight. He fastened the waist belt then bent down to pull the crotch steel strap, aligning the tubing coming from the urethra and rectum that were protruding from holes in the suit to steel flanges on the belt, then yanking it upward to meet with the waistband. He applied some steel block on it and using a pair of hydraulic pliers, crimped it shut. No key, no lock and… no way to take it out without power tools.
It was beginning more and more to look like a semi-permanent predicament. She wonders how she will get it all off. Come on, Phil! What are you waiting for?
From another box, he retrieved what looked like a motorcycle helmet, but with tubes running down the sides. It was weirdly looking and opened in two halves, front and back. He coated the inside with the gel and applied it over Karen’s head, closing it. It would be a very tight fit. Using a power screwdriver, he drove embedded screws to close the two halves together, forcing Karen’s mouth, which was itself forced opened by the overinflated gag, to close, increasing the pressure in her mouth, pushing the bag of paste down her throat, pretty much sealing it. She couldn’t produce a sound anymore, not even a grunt. That was extreme!
She felt the helmet press everywhere on her head and neck and around her eyes where her vision totally blacked out. It was totally disorienting and she was on the verge of panicking. She felt his hand softly caressing her neck and shoulders, trying to reassure her, then they were gone and a few moments later, something was getting wrapped around her neck, something wide, heavy and rigid. It was squeezing her neck more when she felt some clips. She tried to move her neck but it was now severely impaired by the large and tight collar.
After some time in total silence, she heard sounds, electronic sounds. Her vision was restored but… in black and white? What the hell? Doody moved in front of her, smiling.
“You should see me and hear me, now” she heard in her ears or rather in her head. That was strange. It was as if she was hearing him through her skull. She nodded yes.
“Perfect,” he said smiling. “This helmet offers a lot of features you will learn to use in good time.” he said. “Now, the finishing parts.”
He unlinked her ankles from the spreader bar, removed the steel cuffs, buffed the lower part of the suit with some cleaner to remove any trace of the lubricant, and put strange looking flexible steel cuffs around her ankles he got out of some vacuum packed bag.
After unlinking her arms from the hanging chain and removing the cuffs, he cleaned the top portion of the suit and applied more of those strange flexible steel cuffs over her upper arm and wrists, and finally, one large flexible steel belt over her already constricted waist.
“Those are very special. They are flexible, for now, but in about half an hour, exposed to air, they will harden as hard as steel. Very wonderful gadget.” he said, calm and smiling.
Karen was receiving so much information at the same time: the tightness of the suit, the constriction of the corset, her feet rigidly held by the boots, where she had to slowly swing from one foot to the other to keep her balance, her head tightly encased into this helmet controlling her vision. A lot to cope with.
“Now that you are almost a drone, just some training required, you can release that falsie in the cage.” he said pointing to Sandra.
Karen opened the cage, had her turned around and removed the rope holding her wrists then kneeled, feeling how tight the suit was and how constricting the corset was, to remove the ropes holding Sandra’s ankles together, then got back up, under the stunned look of the young lady who was unsure how to react.
“You did good, Karen and you deserve a reward.” said Doody, taking a rather large remote and pressing a button.
Immediately, Karen felt something happening at her crotch, as well as small electrical shocks around her breasts. Those were modulating and were quite pleasant.
Sandra was staying there, looking at the scene, speechless… well, nobody had removed the tape over her mouth.
“You can go now.” said Doody. “Unless you want to become a drone too?” he inquired, to which Sandra ran upstairs to disappear.
Karen’s thoughts should have been toward Sandra, toward the police she would call in, hopefully quickly, but instead, she was focused on her crotch, on the pleasure wave that was building inside her. She crouched down, reaching for the filthy mattress and lay on it, trying to feel her crotch, to squeeze her breasts but as she realized, the corset was forbidding it as well as the chastity belt was forbidding her from touching the toys. She was at the mercy of Doody and his remote, but she didn’t mind. She didn’t care.
She was having a ball. The pleasure wave was indescribable. It was as if she was receiving pleasure signals directly on her brain as her vagina and rectum were getting zapped, vibed, humped, twisted in sinc with her breasts being stimulated, her breathing being controlled.
She wasn’t seeing Doody, nor the basement or anything from the house, but a swirl of color that seemed to be in sync with all the rest. It was mixed with strange smells, like arousing hormones as the orgasm built up, stronger and stronger, and suddenly, the restriction of the suit became part of the pleasure. She liked it. She liked the corset, its tightness, the suit, how she felt it become tighter around her body, squeezing it, hugging it. Her body, her mind was filled with pleasure she never felt before, she never thought were achievable before. She tried to moan. She tried to scream and the frustration of not being able to do so seemed to increase her pleasure, keeping it all inside her, until she exploded, her body taken by strong convulsions, as if she was having a seizure.
Her brain short-circuited as the orgasm reached its peak of pleasure. Damn! That was so good. She wanted more and more, but as strange as it had suddenly appeared, it subsided to nothing within a few minutes, and she was back as cold as she was before it.
Her vision was back, in black and white. She was laying on her back on the mattress, Doody standing by her side, holding the remote, smiling.
“That was good, wasn’t it? Good actions deserve rewards. Bad actions deserve punishments. Your drone programming has begun.” he said, always calm. “Now, get up.” he said, still calm but with a more authoritative tone.
Karen was in no rush. She wanted to rest. After all, her goal had been achieved, which was to free Sandra. Now the police will be here soon. She was in no hurry to play the robot for this obviously deranged person.
“I said, get up.” repeated Doody, but Karen was not moving fast enough for him.
She felt a disturbing wave at her crotch and her breasts hurt.
“Good deeds earn rewards, bag ones earn punishment. I said get up.” he repeated.
Karen complied. She was starting to have a foul taste in her mouth, strange since it was sealed, as if it was coming from her brain. That was probably it, the steel plates she felt on her skull were electrodes and he was controlling all of it from his remote. Well, a remote has a range, which isn’t really that far. She formed a plan.
Struggling, the tight corset and pointed heels were not helping, she got up and stood straight, facing him, slightly switching from one foot to the other to keep her balance.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he said, “I’ll show you your room.” he added, pointing to the direction of the staircase.
Karen began to slowly walk toward it, passing in front of Doody. With a swift move, she quickly turned and pushed him hard on the chest, sending him off balance, falling backward, his remote flying off his hand. Then she ran, as fast as she could. She figured that once upstairs, or outside, she would be out of range from the remote and in the meantime, she could cope with some disturbing feeling at her crotch.
“Shit! You shouldn’t have done that, Karen” she heard him say. She climbed the stairs as fast as she could, feeling the tight suit pinching behind the knees, struggling to breath, her arm difficult to bend. Damn, she liked it!
As she reached the top of the staircase, everything went black and she felt a debilitating pain at her crotch. At the same time her senses were filled with a very bad taste and an awful smell, making her almost choke and she heard the most annoying sound blasting in her head. Her legs suddenly became very heavy, being barely able to move them. She collapsed on the floor, still trying to flee, to crawl out of the house, away from Doody and his remote.
Doody slowly climbed up the stairs and walked to her, restoring her hearing.
“You do good, you are rewarded. You do bad, you are punished. I get that a lot more training is required for you to become the perfect drone.”
He snapped a leash on her collar and pulled her up. She strained against the sudden stiffness of the suit, or was it her brain that was slow to answer, and get up, still blind, and followed the tugs, wishing her punishment would end up soon. She was led somewhere, having no clue where she was going. She was backed against something, a table with a soft top or a cushion, and had to lay down on her back on it. Her hearing was cut and she was stretched, spread eagled, legs wide apart, arms extended and away over her head, then the was bound there, arms and legs, as well as chains linking her belt to the table. She was unable to move.
The foul smell and bad taste were gone as fast as they had come, suggesting that it was all in her head, and she was left there, in the total void of darkness, silence and immobility.
She tried to move, she tested her bonds, but she was chained, and there was no way she was getting out of there.
Her vision was suddenly restored. She had barely slept, and she saw Doody standing in the room, brightly lit by the morning sun. It took her an instant to realize that what she was seeing was real and that she wasn’t dreaming in… black and white. She had a thought for Sandra, for Phil. What the hell was taking so long?
“Good morning, Drone Karen. Ready for your first day?” he asked, smiling. “By your behavior last night, it is clear to me that you have to be kept restrained at all times, for the time before you become a truly submissive drone, that is.” he added with a weird giggle. “We’ll start by the feet, shall we?”
He went to the foot of the bed and removed the link from her left foot while firmly holding it down. She felt something else was snapped to the steel ankle cuff and he pulled her foot toward her right one where she felt again something snap on the right cuff. Then she felt her foot was released from the bedpost. As he let go of them, she slowly moved them and quickly realized that they were linked by a short chain.
He went to her head and removed the chains linking the collar to the bed frame.
“Okay, drone, pull yourself up and sit.” he coldly ordered.
Karen struggled, using her bound wrists on opposite corners, to pull herself toward the head of the bed and sit. The tight suit and especially the corset and wide steel belt weren’t helping her, but Doody was not rushing her. He seemed to enjoy simply watching her struggle.
She silently moaned as the intruders moved when she slid her buns and tried to sit. She did the best she could impaired as she was and Doody seemed to be satisfied. He snapped two chains hanging from the top frame of the bed to her collar then slowly walked to the foot of the bed, taking another chain and linking it to her hobble chain. She would not get out of that bed.
He returned to the head and unlinked her right hand from the post to bring it in her back but as far as it would go toward her left arm, then linked them together with chains at the elbows and wrists, before unlinking her left arm from the bed and quickly shortening the chains so that her wrists were together and her elbows were touching, but that was done with a little effort.
“That’s very good for a first time. Well, I assume it is a first time, is it?” he asked, looking at her for the answer, but Karen didn’t. She stayed of ice. It was her first time and she felt it was rather extreme.
He unlinked her ankles from the bed and then her neck. Taking the remote, he looked at her.
She felt a gentle yet annoying buzz at her crotch and she knew she better obeyed but she resisted. The pain and foul smell of the day before were still fresh in her mind but… He looked at her and smiled then punched some more on the remote. The annoying buzz became slightly painful and an odor similar to a skunk was smelled.
Reluctantly, she followed, hobbling precariously on her pointed boots. Her hips were stiffened by the corset forcing her to balance her whole upper body to walk, bent slightly forward to adjust her center of gravity, thrown off by her hands in her back. That slow hobbling walk also made her inner thighs brush against one another where she could feel the slick rubber coating slide against one another with each small step, which also made the huge plugs move. That was disturbing. Disturbingly pleasurable.
She followed him out of the room and into the kitchen where he chained the front of her wide steel belt to a ring attached to the counter, then unlinked her elbows only to set up the chain a little longer then unlinked her wrists, brought them forward and linked them again with a longer chain. She could use her arms, somewhat, but was limited by her elbows not allowed to get past the sides of her body from the back and her wrists unable to go past the sides of her body from the front.
“How about some nice coffee to start the day with, then cook me some breakfast. Nothing fancy, just some eggs, Canadian bacon, toast, pancakes, sausage.”
She slowly turned her head toward him in disbelief, raising her hand in a “what the fuck” manner. He simply smiled.
“Start with the coffee.” he said, or rather ordered, his tone having changed from casual to cold.
She began to look around. How was he usually making his coffee?Drip coffee maker? an italian coffee maker? French press? Espresso machine? Pour Over? At that moment, she realized how color was important in her life: she was looking for color clues, but everything was in black and white.
She spotted the coffee maker. It was one of those single serves where you insert ready-made pods. Now, where were the cups? She struggled with her chained wrists to open the cabinets and the drawers, searching for the plastic pods she felt were total waste for the environment (my 2 cents here… I have one of those machines and I use reusable filter pods…. With Tim Horton’s coffee (for my fellow Canadians). Heck of a lot cheaper and better for the environment.)
She found them in a drawer sorted on some kind of rack. Now, again, those pods are very colorful but with her impaired vision… and oh fuck! He had about a dozen varieties. Which one would he want? She picked one and turned around to show it to him but he was sitting at the dining table, in the other room! She raised the cup in the air to show him.
“I have bad eyesight. You will have to bring me that closer”. He said from the dining room. She let out a sigh and proceeded to hobble her way to him but she felt a zap and stopped.
“A drone doesn’t have nor show emotions. A drone executes. Now bring that cup closer.” he simply said, waiting.
She resumed her walk. He waited for her to be just on the other side of the table to say that it wasn’t it and to choose another one. No clue at which fucking one he wanted. Karen hobbled her way back, struggling on her ballet boots, yet feeling the tight latex and whatever that fiber suit was, pinch behind her knee, below her buns, rub at her crotch, squeeze her shoulders. Damn, she liked that tight feeling so much! She picked two more cup at random and hobbled back to him. The large intruders were beginning to show their presence, and rather loudly. She was getting aroused. Oh, not enough to trigger an orgasm, but enough to excite her, to make her horny, and she couldn’t believe that she was horny, encased in rubber, waist crushed by a rigid corset, head encased into that strange helmet blocking, controlling her senses, feeling tubes going down her throat, feeling the large intruders in her crotch and rectum, but by the third trip, she was horny as hell and she wanted to rub herself, to play with herself, but she knew she was denied, by her bonds, by her chastity belt, by the large plugs that were currently silent.
When she came back to the drawer for the fourth time she had had enough. She looked around and removed the whole drawer and brought it to him. He giggled.
“I was wondering how long it would take before you switched from a robot to a drone. A drone is intelligent. Obedient but intelligent. On second thoughts, I’ll take that one.” he said, pointing at one, but not looking at it, rather looking at Karen.
She looked down and refrained from throwing the whole drawer at his face: it was the first pod she had brought to him. Frustrated, even more as she heard him laugh as she hobbled her way back, she was about to smash the drawer into place, but remembered the punishments. Should she test it. Nah, not now. Maybe later.
She made the cup of coffee and brought him. The weird thing is that she didn’t feel that much out of place, manipulating small things with her gloved hands, although the fabric layer plus the latex one made it a lot thicker than her generic nitrile examination glove. She… liked it.
Then she set up to make his breakfast. Looking into the refrigerator with bound hands to pick up stuff wasn’t easy, and she dropped down the bacon pack, looked around for quite a while for the flour and…. Damn. What is used to make pancakes? She never made some. Well, she did, from a pre-mixed bag but never from scratch. She began to read the bag of flour, hoping there would be a recipe when she felt a soft touch on her shoulder. She turned her head and he was there, smiling. He looked down at the remote and pressed a few keys. A row of icons appeared in Karen’s viewscreen, including a web browser.
“I think it’s time you learn to use your drone features,” he said. “I’m sure that, by now, you’ve seen the web browser icon. You select the app by staring at it for three seconds. Go ahead, open the browser. Once done, stare at the search bar and when it highlights, a keyboard will appear. Stare at the desired key and blink to write what you want. I’m sure you figured it out by now. Oh, by the way you can only write on that search bar. You can go to police websites all you want, or e-mail, or forums, blogs, whatever, all you want. No restrictions. But you can’t type anything, so no log-in, no writing e-mails, messages, filling forms. You can browse only. You will have all the time to test it later. Just find a pancake recipe and get done with it. I’m starving.” he said, walking back to the dining room.
She did, and it worked. She browsed for a basic pancake recipe. She was even able to create favorites. Making the pancakes, bending to retrieve pots and pans, always feeling the tug of her chains on her wrists or elbows or ankles made her… hot. She couldn’t believe that being that impaired, this restrained was erotic. And cooking, unable to look down, unable to smell, barely able to see, was a blast. But she was not to be his slave, or drone or whatever. She would make his live so bad that he would release her. That was her plan.
She made the doe, but not exactly as specified. Well, the pinch of salt had become a handful.
She brought him the plates and he looked at them with disgust: the eggs were overcooked, the bacon barely cooked and greasy, the toasts had half a ton of butter on each side, the sausages were raw. Almost reluctantly he took one bite of the pancakes and spit it out.
He calmly put the utensils on the table and took the remote.
“You know the rules, bad behavior brings punishment.” he said, pressing a button.
Karen’s vision darkened, the awful smell and taste were back, her legs became numb, she had a disturbing sensation at her crotch and on her nipples. She was panting. Every part of the body was aching, and as quickly as it appeared, it was all gone, except for the smell and taste.
“However, “ he calmly added, “there’s also what they call positive enforcement, meaning I would not punish you for doing bad things, just do nothing. However, when you do good things, you get a fantastic reward.”
On her visor the vision of the kitchen disappeared for color images of people in latex, corset, high heels, being bound, suspended, mummified, all while getting teased, which is exactly what happened to her. Her crotch began to vibrate. Her tits received small electrical shocks that were arousing. Her crotch was also zapped. She was smelling and tasting wonderful flavors. Oh, darn, that was good. So good. She began to flex her knees, to get on the floor when everything stopped.
She was panting, her crotch was on fire. She immediately tried to reach for it but was blocked by the chastity belt. She could barely reach her breasts because of her chained arms, but her nipples were under the rigid cups of the corset anyways. She let out a grunt. In her mind, that is because no sound was produced. Her vision was back to black and white and she was looking at Doody who was smiling.
“Now…” he calmly said. “Can I have an edible breakfast?”
Karen hobbled her way back to the kitchen. Every step, every tug of the chains, the weight of it, the collar, the tightness of the suit, everything was arousing, even her reflection on the glass stove top. She wanted more, more restraints, more rubber and especially, more rewards. She could have coped with the punishments, worked to ignore it until it was over, but the pleasure?… She wanted more.
His breakfast was perfect. He then commanded her to clean the dishes, the kitchen, then make the laundry. She was hoping to put the clothes outside, and that, perhaps, she would be able to run away, although chained and in ballet boots, the feat had very slim chances.
And she did have to get outside to put the clothes up to dry. However, Doody’s plan was well thought of. Her heavy belt was linked to a steel track running from the back door to the umbrella-like clothesline hanger. He linked her belt to a dolly on the track before freeing her elbows, linking them in front of her with the same chain while locking her wrists together with no play..
It meant that she had to struggle with her elbows, constantly in front of her to pick up the clothes from the basket, get the clothespins, and hang the piece of clothing, all while he was looking at her, smiling, obviously liking her shiny body struggle with the simplest of tasks, her pointed boots sinking into the grass.
The sun was already high and shining hard on her black latex covered body. She was getting cooked. She hurried to get all the clothes on the line to get out of the sun. As she was hobbled back, Doody had disappeared, and she felt a rush of cold water hit her on the back. She stopped, welcoming the sudden fresh shower and slowly turned around. Yes, it was Doody with the garden hose, cooling her down. She raised her arms over her head, noting at the same time that none of the water was staying, not even forming small droplets. It was simply running off, totally repelled. That was a strange sight, and also a strange feeling where she could feel something hitting her, her brain knowing it was water, she could feel the temperature but in all, it didn’t felt like water, just like a strange force hitting on her, splashing her. She could feel there was a breeze but not feel the wind. Strange but oh so… nah come on. She couldn’t actually like it.
The cooling completed, it was back inside the house for more chores and to prepare lunch. However, by this time, she was herself hungry and thirsty. She tried to send the message, mimicking drinking his glass of water.
“Ah, yes, of course.” he simply said, gesturing to follow her.
He led her to another room, rather small, with only one device: it looked like a spidery pedestal. He instructed her to walk backward to it. When she reached a specific position, a clamp closed against her steel belt holding her in place. Then two plugs raised up and mated with connectors on her chastity belt. Once done, he gently pushed her head backward until it rested against the headrest. There she felt something grab hold of her helmet and suddenly, her visor became black and something was poured inside her feeding tube. At the same time, her bladder was emptied as she felt her colon getting bigger.
That was a strange feeling and, perhaps because she was all tightly wrapped into her catsuit and isolated from the outside world, this was… pleasurable? Could it be?
“You come here as often as you like… assuming you’re not tied up elsewhere.” she heard him say then giggle. Such a sense of humor, this Doody.
In the evening, he set up in the living room where, to the side of the TV, was a stand with a large X-frame. The first time Karen saw it, she was pretty sure of its use: it was for her. And of course, she was right. He pressed a button and the frame lowered to the ground. He fixed some hook to her waist belt and chastity belt, then spread her legs, linking the ankle cuffs to the X-frame, and finally did the same with her upper arms and wrists cuffs. He pressed a button again on the frame and it slowly raised up in the air, effectively lifting her.
Now, as she was lifted, most of her weight was carried by the waist belt and the chastity belt, pushing on her intruders, making her try to moan. That was fun, but it was nothing compared with what was about to happen.
Her vision was flooded with colorful swirls as her crotch was slowly stimulated. Then her nipples were teased. She smelled wonderful aromas and tasted the most awesome food. All of it was pleasurable. Then things gots stronger. The vibrations, the movements at her crotch, the humping, the twisting of the intruders, the small or heavy zapping at her crotch and niples, then her hair supply was cut for a short amount of time, and the orgasm built. Slowly. The machine, the computer or whatever ws controlling all those sensors, vibrators and stuff, was doing it slowly, keeping her aroused, making her enjoy the moment, and that’s where she realized that being tied up added the frustration of having absolutely no control, and that by pulling on her bonds, struggling to get out, increased the pleasure by a tenfold. Was she one of those? A bondage fetishist? Well, she was becoming one, that’s for sure, maybe explaining why she loved to struggle with her too tight jeans and extreme heels in situations where normal people would have worn sneakers and sweatpants. Is that bondage?
That was good, pleasurable, too good in fact. Was she dreaming of it? Was it only in her mind? Her body, her crotch said that it was real. She pulled on her bonds, feeling the cold steel bite her skin through the thick layers of rubber, she pulled hard, until it hurt. It only increased her pleasure.
From his point of view. Doody had problems focusing on the movie. His eyes were attracted by the gleaming black body slowly squirming in her bonds, closing her fists, opening them. He could see the rapid raising of her chest, impaired by the stiff and tight corset. He could see her thighs muscles contracting, responding to the stimulation her crotch was receiving, her legs straining against the restraints. He liked the light reflecting on her permanently shiny latex skin, tighter than her own skin could be.. His beliefs were that, in time, she would be so addicted to sexual pleasure that she would become a living sex drone, something obeying every command just to get rewarded with sex. He had high hopes for Karen. She was giving all the good signs. As her body tensed, he smiled and returned his attention to the movie.
Karen exploded like she never thought possible. If she was to give a scale of 1 to 10 to her orgasmes before that, this would be a 25! She fought her bonds like hell which only seemed to increase the pleasure. She was on the verge of passing out when the orgasm subsided and her vision reverted to black and white. Doody was there, on the couch, smiling.
For the night, she was set up again on the bondage table, chained and unable to move. In any case, she was so exhausted by all the orgasms she received that evening that she didn’t mind at all. She just hoped for a quiet night.
The very next day, Doody reverted to punishment and she spent most of the afternoon tied up, suspended upside down because she broke his favorite coffee cup. She would not do it again. Well… favorite cup no more.
The door of the small holding transit cell office opened and a young woman peeked her head inside, looking confused, until she saw the small office behind the clerk’s grilled window.
“Oh… hi.” she said, approaching, making small steps, wearing tight jeans, high heels and a tight jacket.
“Hi, may I help you?” asked the police officer behind the counter.
“Well, that’s awkward, but I’ve been abducted a few days ago and I would like to report that I’m safe and sound now.”
“Oh, really? What’s your name?” he said, picking up his pad.
“Okay, Sandra, Just calm down, I’ll call an ambulance for you right away. Sure you’re okay?”
“What? Ambulance? No, no need for that, I’m fine.”
“Really? Tell me, Sandra,” began the officer, suddenly thinking she was there for the attention, “how did you escape your abductor?”
“Oh, a young woman, she said, like, she worked for the police, like, traded places with me. You should probably send someone to, like, rescue her. Her name is Karen. I think. Or was it Kathryn? Anyway… I’ll be going now.” said Sandra.
“Oh, woh! When did you get abducted, when did you escape?”
“A few days ago.”
“You… you escaped a few days ago and only came today to declare it?”
“Well, yeah, I mean, I had spent over a day, like, in the same clothes, I had to go, like, change. I mean, I wasn’t going to walk around in smelly yoga pants, like, so I went home, then I called Valerie, like, to tell her all about my adventure, and posted a few updates on Instacrap. Oh darn, you should see the number of likes I got! That was awesome, and I got new follow…”.
“Err… and where were you held?”
“Oh, some house by the river. I don’t know.”
“Anything more… precise?”
“I don’t know, like, it’s a house, okay? By the river.”
“How did you walk away? You drove, took a cab?”
“A cab? Are you nuts? I would only call an Uber but my phone was dead so I had to walk on this filthy road. I ruined my sneakers in this dirt. They’ll never look new again.”
“A public transit stop nearby?”
“I would never take public transit, are you nuts?”
“Oh… okay so… You’re Sandra, you got abducted a few days ago, got released and waited again a few days before reporting it, and the woman who took your place is called Kathryn, is that right?”
“I think so, like, I don’t fully remember. That was very stressful, you know?”
“Hum… yes, I understand. Thank you, miss Sandra. Just fill out this form with your information and I’ll file the report and get in touch with you if there’s anything, but tell me, why come here? We’re only a temporary holding cell station. Why didn’t you go to the precinct?”
“And risk people seeing me enter a police station and post that? That would ruin my followers numbers. No way.”
“Okay, very well. Thank you, Miss Sandra.”
“You wanted to see me, Chief?”
“Yes, Phil. Anything new from that abductee?”
“No, sir. Nothing. Well, since she ran away and was not a.b.d.u.c.t.e.d., I don’t expect to have any sort of news.”
“And what about Karen? Apparently she hadn’t shown up to work for the past three days. It’s not her. Heard from her?”
“Nah, not really.”
“Well, okay then.”
“You wanted to see me, Chief?”
“Yes, Phil. What is this?” he said, producing a printed paper.
“That? That’s nothing.”
“Nothing? We got that from Karen’s cell phone provider. It’s a text she sent you TEN DAYS ago, stating that she had found Sandra. You said you didn’t have news from her.”
“Yeah, she was just trying to get me close to her, you know, we broke up and she’s trying to get back at me, you know, but I wanted to tease her, you know, playing hard to get. Cool.”
“And what about this report stating that Sandra escaped her abductor and that someone called Kathryn took her place?”
“Yeah, of course I saw it. She was just inventing some reason for her reappearance, and she didn’t talk about Karen, that woman’s name was Kathryn.”
“Tell me, Phil.” said the police chief, looking at him in disbelief, “How did you make detective?”
“Because I know what you did, duh.” he answered.
“I want the SWAT unit deployed in that area and search for that house and don’t come back without Karen. Understood?”
Doody was watching a movie as Karen was enjoying another orgasm, suspended and stretched out on the cross in the living room. He saw movement outside. Someone was approaching the house from the back. There was a loud noise, the door was rammed open and police officers rushed in, one man spotting what he suspected was Karen, hung and stretched on the X-frame, while the woman officer ordered Doody to stay, sit and not move. But Doody was not to let anyone remove his prize possession from him. He took the remote but an obnoxious man entered, wearing flashy clothes and immediately began to fight with Doody for the remote.
“Ah, come on, just give me that thing. I am inspector Phil and I finally found you, there’s no escape possible, the SWAT team is surrounding the house.” he said.
“No! You’re not taking my drone from me!” said Doody.
“A drone? What the hell is a drone? Now don’t be childish and give me that weapon.” said Phil.
“Weapon? What weapon?” asked Doody.
“That’s a remot…” began the woman officer but Phil snatched the remote from Doody’s hand. The remote went flying in the air. Phil tried to grab it doing almost theatrical moves but only managed to hit it higher and farther, causing it to fall out of reach and break into pieces.
“NOOOOO!” yelled Doody, rushing for the remote but Phil blocked his way with a swing of his arm just below Doody’s jaw, sending him flying backward, his head hitting hard the corner of the living room table as he fell down on the floor.
There was a sinister cracking sound and Doody collapsed, unconscious, blood spurting from an open gash on the side of his head.
The woman officer quickly kneeled beside Doody.
“Suspect down! We need an ambulance.” she said to her radio.
“Coming, Alicia.” was the answer.
Karen was enjoying her evening, welcoming another powerful orgasm, feeling the tight squeeze of the suit all over her body, the crushing corset, the dildos vibrating, pulsating, even humping was she was gently zapped on the chest, her breath cut short from time to time, all to make her way to the orgasm longer and pleasurable. It was the best reward that could be when she felt someone touch her. It wasn’t Doody’s touch and he wouldn’t touch her in the middle of an orgasm unless there was an emergency.
Suddenly, the swirling colors disappeared to make way to her usual black and white view. She saw a police officer trying to get her out of the X-frame and she saw Doody trying to reach something but being savagely tackled by Phil, falling backward on the table, his body suddenly limp. She looked at what Doody was trying to reach and she recognized the remote, or rather, the parts making the remote, scattered within one square meter. She was released and she rushed to Doody, trying to check his vitals while looked by a perplexed officer Alicia.
“He’s breathing but he needs to be taken to the hospital.” said Alicia.
Karen nodded, acknowledging at the same time that she could hear them.
“Ah, come on. He’s a crook who put you into… What the hell did he put you into? Is he a scuba diving freak or something.”
“Why did you hit him?” he saw being displayed on Karen’s visor.
“Oh, cool. Can you also make some drawings?”
Karen made a gesture she was about to smack him.
“Okay, calm down, babe. I just saved you. You can thank me later, you know. She’s my girlfriend.” he said, looking at Alicia.
There was a loud snapping noise and Phil’s face almost ended up at the back of his head as Karen hit him hard. He was stunned and fell on his back. In bold letters on Karen’s display was clearly written:
“I AM NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND!”
“That’s… That’s assault. You saw her, right?” he asked, looking at both police officers who were too stunned to answer. “This is not over. I will bring it to the Chief, I will bring this to H.R. I will…”
“You will do none of that.” said a loud and firm voice from behind the door. The man moved into view.
“Oh, Chief. You saw her, right? She hit me! She…”
“Shut up and get the fuck out of here, Phil. You’re suspended. That’s your last screw-up.”
“Ha!” Answered Phil. “I’ll tell your wife!”
“Go ahead, Phil, she filed for divorce this morning.” answered the Chief, then turning to Karen “I am so sorry… Karen? Is that really you?” said the Chief.
Karen nodded yes.
“Are you okay in… this? Geesh, what is that suit, better take it off now.” he said, reaching for the helmet but Karen backed up.
“No. Can’t be removed. Controlled by the collar, itself controlled by the remote.” she said, pointing to the debris field on the other side of the living room.
“Okay…. We’ll see what we can do about it… Are you okay, Karen?” he asked.
Karen was staying immobile then slowly brought her hands to her crotch and slowly kneeled in the middle of the furniture and Doody and the officers, her head slowly backward as her body began to shake.
“I think she’s in pain. Any medics nearby?” asked the Chief.
“She’s not in pain, sir.” said Alicia. “She’ll be alright. Just give her… space.” she added a devilish grin on her face.
“Oh… Err… Okay.” he said, suddenly making room for the medics getting in with a stretcher and, after a short stunned look at Karen, went on to work on Doody.
Thirty-six hours later, she was sitting on the hospital bed, in her little private room as the Chief entered, a sad look on his face.
“Well, here’s the news. Doody is brain dead. He was the only one to know how to get you out of this… suit. Now, as far as we can tell, your collar monitors and controls everything. Doody was a genius in his own right. He actually filed a patent for it, so we know the inner workings of the whole setup.
The collar is recharged by the microwaves all around us. There’s practically no place on this planet that is not covered by microwaves because the satellites transmit with it. We know that if we place you inside a room to block said microwaves, the collar, on its last resort, will send electrical shocks to your brain that would cripple you if not kill you. The cuffs are linked to the collar. The suit is made of two layers and the gel he applied made it fuse together including with your skin.
The short answer is: you’re stuck in this suit until we find a way to get you out. That is assuming you want to get out…. If I understand correctly, it is stuck into… reward mode, right?”
Karen nodded a small yes. It was a surprise and it wasn’t. She had been expecting that answer so no surprise there but feeling aroused at the news that she was really stuck, that was a surprise.
“The only good news,” continued the Chief, “is that according to I.T., they should be able to hack into your display and add a speech synthesizer.”
Karen raised two thumbs up.
“That’s one good news, given the circumstances.” she wrote.
“Yeah.” he answered with a little giggle. “Now I… I don’t know what you will do. The city will pay your salary for as lon… what? You want to go back to work?” he said, reading the display. “But…”
“That suit won’t prevent me from working. I want my job back.”
The Chief smiled.
“That’s the Karen I know. I’ll see what I can do.”
Two weeks later, Karen was at her desk, writing a report when a young woman entered, dressed in a tight fitting shirt and leather pants. Karen almost believed she was looking at a copy of herself from a few months ago.
“Hello Karen. How are you today?” she asked.
“You should know, Detective Alicia. What can I do for you?” answer Karen with an artificial synthetized voice similar to Stephen Hawking’s.
“Do you have the results for the Dylan case?”
“Yes, here they are.” she said, handing a folder.
“Fantastic. See you later.” said Alicia, turning around and leaving.
At the end of the day, Karen took the public transit and went home. She had requested Doody’s house. After all, it was already all equipped with what she needed to maintain her life in this suit and since he had no family, the City would have sold the property. They decided to give it to her as compensation for her ordeal. She also thought that, perhaps, somewhere, she would find something useful, although so far, all of Doody’s notes were encoded.
She walked around the neighborhood, which somewhat, had joined her in this latex thing. It seemed that, seeing her in latex, in broad daylight, doing her job, usual shopping, awakened those latex fetishists to simply do the same. It wasn’t rare to see men and women in latex doing their shopping or simply taking a walk, and her boss, the Chief, was so intrigued by it that he went and tried some and became hooked, spending his evenings tied up to his chair on the front patio of his house.
Karen was back home. She heard the door, meaning that her roomie was back from work. She waited. She knew that she had to change into a proper attire. When she heard her creaking latex suit coming closer, she got up and walked to her X-frame. She needed help for it and had found the perfect roomie.
The short haired blond woman appeared in the living room, sporting a two-tone latex catsuit, bright red with smoked transparent panels. She softly approached Karen and helped her to get hooked to the frame and gently lifted her in position, then she began to grope her, sliding her latex covered hand over Karen tensed thighs, fondling a little at her crotch, then going upward, rubbing her waist, her chest, her shoulders, then coming back to her breasts and softly trying to squeeze then through the rigid corset.
“You are late, Detective Alicia.” said Karen.
“And you ought to shut up, Technician Karen.” she said, turning the speech off.
“One day, I’ll get you out of that suit… and I’ll get myself into it.”
June 21st, 2021
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16 thoughts on “Karen – Forensic”
Well, I just want to say that I really love the plot. I give 6 from 5 stars;) .
I love the combination from pictur and text.
The only said point is that Alicia won’t wear a catsuit like Karen. But this will be fixed in my brain.
Oh and I am not so arrogant as the Sandra in the story^^
I know you’re not as “brat” as the Sandra of the story 😉
I wasn’t thinking of you when I chose Sandra…
Another permanent stuck story from one of my favorite writer? Yes, please!! And as usual (which is a good thing ) Karen has a happy ending. Not many people would write a story tagged with permanent stuck and happy endings. It’s so you, I love it. If you have any rendering that can show her suit in clean lighting just laying around in your computer, can you please post it? Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a great picture set. I just want to see her suit in detail. Keep up the good work!! Sorry if my grammar is weird.
Thank you. Really appreciate the comment! Made me laugh!!
I will have to make a “clean” render for it, all I have has “dramatic lighting” to go with the story (I mean, a basement or a livingroom isn’t lit like a surgery room…)
So it was definitely worth the waiting 🙂
Wow i think i found my new favorite author !
I really love Your stories! 🙂 and of course the art 😉
Thank You for posting/sharing them
Best regards from the Netherlands
Until you find your next “new favorite author”, that is 😉
Thank you very much, Peter. There’s a lot of stories to browse on.
Hello to the Netherlands!
This article is great! I like your description of Karen from the beginning of resistance to the acceptance of permanent all inclusive latex clothes! You are my favorite writer now! I like reading your creation: a rainy night, booby trap, groundhog, holiday work, etc… I like Karen’s love from voluntarily accepting latex clothes or being forced to accept latex clothes at first, and the equipment is upgraded to a permanent form step by step! I’m sorry that you said that the articles describing tights from crotch to neck are not very popular and don’t create anymore! But your article makes me very happy! I see you’re going to write a sequel. I’m looking forward to it! And look forward to your new long permanent latex clothes! (I can hardly speak English at all. I will comment on the machine translation software again. If there is any expression error, please include more)
Thank you very, very much for the long comment and the explanation of what you like. Really appreciate it.
Like I said before and I will say it again: in my mind, you can’t “force” someone to become a fetishist, whatever the fetish. You are one, or you’re not. Perhaps you simply don’t know it yet. As an example, Alexandra Potter (ballet-heels.com) openly say that she like the look of latex but doesn’t like wearing it. Even after all these years wearing some sort of latex outfit, she still don’t like wearing latex. She’s not a latex fetishist and will never be one. She’s a ballet boots fetishist tho.
Putting on anything latex is (at least for me) part of the arousal. What I describe is pretty much how I feel every time I put on my FR catsuit or any other latex garment. Of course I don’t have the same feeling in my “crotch” or my chest as women do, but still… And if a woman is willing to describe how it feels so I can update my description, you’re welcome! Just PM me. 🙂
As for “Forensic 2”, that story is on hold for an indefinite amount of time. I took too long to write the sequel and I lost “the flame” for the story. It may come back, but I don’t know when.
Finally, if I may ask, if you don’t speak English, what is your language? Just curious.
Thank you very much for your reply. I am a Chinese. I speak Chinese. I have studied English in school, but my environment doesn’t use English. I have almost returned it to my teacher. Speaking of Alexandra Porter, the first time I came into contact with latex was to watch the video she shot. Unfortunately, she hasn’t shot it for a long time. In fact, I wanted to leave a message for you a long time ago. Unfortunately, the website always judged my IP as a spam file sender. I had to change my IP to register my account. The first time I saw your article was that someone translated your article on a latex text Forum in our country, probably in 2016, with your website P station attached. I chased you all the way here! Your article brings me a lot of happiness. Thank you again for your creation!
That’s a lot of work to find “me”. I’m honored.
Spam: Unfortunately, most spams comes from China (and Russia…), and I had to install a spam filter because I was hit too much.
An idea? Just got the WEEKLY report: from December 20 to 27, I was hit 7101 times by what was considered spams. The spam filter is automatic. Sorry that it kicked you out.
Ah, I take back the preface. You posted her website. I saw it. She’s still shooting.
Glad I could help. 😉
This has a new spot as one of my favorites! The pictures were stunning, the plot fresh, and a very sexy take on latex rubber drones.
Thank you very much.
It was fun to write (especially the entitled, self-centered dumbs Phil and Sandra) and I used the opportunity to make a lot of “butt shots” renders.
I tried to write a sequel, but I lost the “spark” of it. It went nowhere.