The Devil is in the Detailing 3

by Tannen Scheer

This tale was started some time ago; this current chapter is a continuation of events so if you're unfamiliar with how things got started and how the characters got into their current fix, click here to read the previous chapter, or click here to start with the first part. [Ed.]

Chapter Three

Kim opened the door of the Painting Room slowly, and gradually stuck her head into the outer corridor.  She looked up the corridor toward the main showroom (and toward her ‘assigned’ area, the Waxing Room), and then down the corridor back toward the Upholstery Room where her adventure – no, nightmare – had begun.  The hallway was empty. 

That was good - and bad.  It was good that none of Basil Bubb’s hirelings were roaming the halls looking for stray models like herself.  The deserted passageway afforded Kim a good chance at escape.  But the desolate nature of the corridor also suggested that perhaps she was the only stray model left.  Perhaps none of the other girls had escaped.  Perhaps they all had been subjected to strange and terrifying transformations, just as Sikumi, Michelle, and the other girls in the Painting Room. 

As she stepped more fully out of the door, Kim decided that she would have preferred the company of other frightened models, also looking to escape this house of horrors.  If she had her choice, she would have chosen screams and crying and chaos, over this eerie emptiness and sinister silence.  The leggy model began to close the door of the Painting Room behind her, but hesitated for just a moment.  Despite the horrible transformations she had witnessed in that room, it was a safe haven, now that the conversion van was decorated with the converted bodies of her three modeling colleagues.  And if something threatening did commence, she could always disappear back into the same ceiling vent through which she had entered the room.

But Kim knew that the safety would only be temporary.  Her only hope of survival was to find a way out of Basil Bubb’s exposition of terror.  And the only way to do that was to make her way back to the large exhibition hall, and the main entrance to the building.  Frightened, but determined, Kim shut the Painting Room door and set her face toward the main showroom.

The brunette beauty took a few cautious steps in her stockinged feet, looking up and down the hallway, and then stopped when she looked down at the carpet.  She hadn’t noticed it before, but the hallway carpet was in two shades.  Most of the carpet was a deep red, and it cut a wide swath down the center of the corridor.  But there was about a three foot wide section of blue carpet next to the outside walls of the various ‘showrooms.’  Kim stood on the blue carpet, still close to the Painting Room door, with the red carpet only inches away from her nylon-webbed toes.  As she lifted her foot to step onto the large red section, she stopped, and stepped back on the blue.  Not knowing why, she had the uneasy feeling that something wasn’t right about that red carpet. 

Before she mustered enough nerve to step onto the red, she heard loud screaming from the far end of the corridor.  At first it sounded like just one voice, but then it sounded like more.  She shrunk back into the doorway of the Painting Room, and waited to see what would happen.

Amidst the screams and cries, Kim also detected the sound of a high pitched motor - familiar, but not immediately identifiable.  Then there was the unmistakable sound of a vehicle engine turning over.  The noises - human and machine - drew closer, and Kim soon noticed something rounding a distant hallway, and proceeding up the red carpeted hallway past the Upholstery Room and nearing the room where Kim cowered in the shadows. 

It looked like one of those single passenger, open door vans used by workers in town - like meter police and couriers.  But this vehicle was a little bigger, and sounded more powerful.  There was writing on the front, and Kim’s strong eyesight could make out ‘Basil Bubb’s’ commercial signature, with the words “TOE TRUCK” in block letters beneath.  Kim suppressed a chuckle at what was either very bad spelling or a very lame joke . . . until the mini-truck got closer and the model gasped at its cargo.  Hanging upside down from a small winch at the back of the vehicle was one of the race queens Bubb had hired.  As the attractive girl spun around and struggled, Kim finally got a look at her attractive face.  She believed her name was Trini.  She wore a one piece, lime green bathing suit cut high on each leg and in back, and of course shiny tan pantyhose.  The outfit had come with matching open-toed heels, but Trini wore no shoes now.  Her ankles were encircled by a black leather strap, attached by a chain to the top of the winch.  Another thin chain extended from the rear bumper of the truck, and it attached to a single strap that bound her wrists together.  But what immediately caught Kim’s attention in this bizarre scene was the tip of Trini’s bound stockinged feet.  A small hook extended from the top of the winch, and had been pushed through the thin nylon fabric near the seam of Trini’s right pantyhosed foot.  Kim now understood that the truck’s name was, in fact, spelled correctly.

The truck moved very slowly down the hallway, undoubtedly due to the weight of its ‘haul.’  When Kim finally tore her gaze from Trini’s helplessly hung frame, she glanced at the cab of the small vehicle, and saw that there was no driver.  As in the Upholstery Room and Painting Room, Bubb’s fiendish work was being performed automatically.  Seeing that there was no one in the truck, Kim moved away from the door frame and edged toward the red carpet.  She felt she had to at least make an effort to free Trini from the winch, and whatever horrible fate Bubb had in store for her.  But inches before her feet left the blue carpet, she heard a female voice from the same direction the truck and Trini had emerged seconds earlier.

“I’m coming, Trini!  I’m coming!”  Kim stared down the corridor and saw a short haired model wearing a silver bikini top, hot pants, and matching boots, running along the opposite walls from Kim’s side of the hallway. 

“No, Aiko!  Stay away!  Stay away!”  Trini hollered, but her silver clad friend kept coming.

“I’ve got to try, Trini!”  Aiko quickly caught up with the toe truck, and walked quickly along the blue carpet, parallel to the vehicle and her trapped friend.

“You can’t,” cried Trini.  “Don’t leave the blue!  Don’t leave the blue!”

Aiko hesitated, but knew she had to act if she had any chance to free Trini.  Finally, she virtually leapt off the blue carpeted area, and ran over the red carpet toward the truck.  Kim intended to join her in trying to free Trini from her restraints, but as soon as Aiko’s silver boots touched the red carpet, alarms sounded, and colored lights began to swirl at various points near the ceiling.  And then, a door slid open at the end of the hallway, and another Toe Truck headed down the carpet toward Aiko.

The silver clad model virtually froze in mid-stride, staring down the hall at the oncoming vehicle.  First, she would start toward the truck carrying Trini, still planning to try and free her friend.  But then she would glance at the second truck, and would start back toward the hallway walls and the blue carpet.  Her indecision and fear had a paralyzing effect on the beauty, and she finally stood still, staring at her approaching fate.  Kim saw her eyes tightly close as the Toe Truck drew closer, steeling herself for capture.  But the Toe Truck slowly rolled past her, and the slight breeze caused by the passing vehicle made Aiko open her eyes, and even breathe a small sigh of relief.  Apparently the truck could not detect her presence if she wasn’t moving.  Now the only question was whether to run after the truck carrying Trini, or wait until both trucks disappeared and then track down her friend’s destination.

But Aiko’s decision making process was brought to an abrupt halt when the second Toe Truck came to a sudden stop several feet past the young woman.  Looking on from a side wall, Kim wondered what was happening, and then remembered the time that her own car had broken down on the way home from a modeling gig.  She had called a tow truck, and waited anxiously.  And then when a truck arrived, she panicked when the truck drove past her, thinking the driver had not seen her car.  But, of course, since the car attached to the back of the truck, it had to go past the vehicle to get in proper position.  Kim realized now that the silver dressed model, Aiko, had not avoided the Toe Truck at all.  It was simply getting ready to make a pick up.

Aiko must have realized that as well, for seconds after the truck stopped, she decided to change her strategy from standing still to running away.  She took a few small, slow steps backward so as not to alert the truck of her intention, and then turned to run.  But apparently the truck did know her intention, and a long think cable shot out of the back of the truck and wrapped itself around Ailo’s legs, pulling the girl hard to the floor.  Fortunately for Aiko, the cable wrapped itself around her silver boots, and the lithe model quickly squirmed both legs out of the boots, and crawled away on stockinged legs and feet.

Unfortunately for Aiko, the truck had another cable.  And this one had a harness attached to the end, just like the one that held Trini suspended on the first truck.  Kim watched in horror as the harness slid over Aiko’s feet and ankles, then quickly tightened.  The lovely model was indeed caught.  Aiko struggled, clawing at the carpeted floor to pull out of the harness and away from the truck.  But it was no use.  The high pitched motor that Kim had heard earlier engaged, and the cable began pulling Aiko toward the back of the truck.  The cable was powerful, and quickly dragged Aiko’s body along the carpet until it reached the back of the truck, then it pulled upwards, lifing the girl feet first completely off the carpet.  Aiko writhed and screamed, turning her upper body to and fro in hopes of wriggling free.  A shorter cable came out of the truck with a leather cuff attached, and in seconds Aiko’s wrists were bound together, and the suspended model’s gyrations slowed considerably.  And then the cable attached to Aiko’s legs lifted her feet until they brushed against a metal hook on the winch.  The cable carefully maneuvered the captured girl until the hook ran through the loose nylon at the tip of Aiko’s right big toe.  Once secured, the truck shifted into gear, and began carrying its cargo in the same direction Trini’s truck had carried her. 

Kim wasn’t sure whether the red carpet was ‘deactivated’ now that the two girls had been captured.  Taking no chances, she walked close to the wall, staying on the blue carpet, and hoping that there was enough blue to get her out of this perilous place.  When she reached the end of the set of buildings, another hall extended to left.  She could cross the hall, but that would put her on the red carpet.  She looked down the hall, and noticed the Toe Truck carrying Aiko pull into a larger exhibit room.  Kim knew that she had to try to help the two girls she had seen captured.  She also could see that the safe, blue carpet extended down the side of this hall to the large room’s entrance.  And she saw that the far wall of this large show room appeared to be an outside wall.  Maybe there was a door to the outside somewhere in that room.  This was one time when courage and optimism joined forces with practicality.  Maybe such an alliance would spell escape.  Or maybe it would spell doom.  There was only one way to find out, and Kim headed down the blue carpet toward the large meeting room’s door.

The meeting room’s extra wide doors remained open for a few minutes, allowing the Toe Trucks plenty of time to deliver their struggling cargo.  Kim slowly approached the entrance, still debating the best way to enter the area unnoticed.  The sign above the meeting room doors read: “Accessories.”  Kim didn’t know what that meant exactly, but her experiences in the Upholstery and Painting Rooms left little doubt that it meant something bizarre, and something horrifying.  Maybe she shouldn’t go in, after all.

But then the doors started to slowly close, and Kim knew she had to decide.  She heard a couple of familiar cries coming from Aiko and Trini, and she knew what she had to do.  The lovely model slipped as quickly and quietly into the room as she could, just seconds before the doors closed completely, trapping her inside.

This was, in fact, the largest meeting room in the facility, not much smaller than the main exhibition area itself.  And while there were lighted stations scattered near and far, the room was somewhat dark, and Kim had to stop for a few moments to let her eyes adjust, and to get her bearings.  She listened for the sound of the two Toe Trucks, but in fact heard only one still moving, further back in the room and toward the outside wall.  That was fortunate, she thought.  At least her rescue attempt would lead her closer to her own possible escape.  But that was only one truck, and she had a lot of room to cover to reach it.  Where was the other Toe Truck?  Maybe it was closer to the entrance than the moving truck.  If so, she should try to reach that model first.  The area closest the entrance door was the darkest part of the room.  Risky as it was, Kim knew she had to walk deeper into the room to get a better look.  There was a lighted area just ahead to the right.  And as best as she could tell, there was no Toe Truck parked there.

As she got closer, she was relieved to see that there were no workers milling about.  And she heard none of Bubb’s infernal machines buzzing or beeping or blaring, and that was good news.  The only sounds she could detect as she drew closer was a kind of bubbling noise, and some gurgling, like that of an office water cooler.  Good, she thought, it’s just some kind of pumping station for the rest of the room.  There was even a large glass tank centered in the lighted area, with several tubes extending from its base.  This would be the perfect place to form a plan.

Kim slowly stepped into the lighted area, keeping the glass tank at her back, her gaze cautiously darting from one area of the room to the next to spy possible assaults from outside the area.  She continued to scan the areas adjacent to the tank, sliding her hand along the tank’s thick frosted-glass surface as she traversed its perimeter, following the plastic tubes carrying liquids to small glass jars.  Curious to see where the tubes led, and hopeful that one of the bottles may contain something she could use in her escape, Kim drew close to the racks that held the bottles.  A sign above the racks described the bottles as “Special Scents,” and Kim guessed that they were fragrances one would spray inside one’s automobile, like “New Car Smell” or “Pina Colada.”  Just to be sure, she looked closely at the label on the first bottle, which contained a thick, whitish substance.  “Milk & Honey” was printed in flowing script.  An odd scent for the inside of a car, but Basil Bubb seemed to be a connoisseur of the ‘odd.’  Neither milk nor honey would aid an escape, so she lifted the next bottle, filled with a thin, clear liquid: “Parfum du Pleasure.”  Again, quite odd.  In fact, Kim didn’t really know what scent that described.  She shook the bottle to see if there was any fizz.  Perhaps if there was some carbonation or acidity, she could use its spray as a weapon.  But no such luck.

The resouceful model quickly realized that this was a waste of time.  She needed to move further into the room, and it appeared that stealth and surprise would be her only defenses.  Before her mind told her feet to move away, her hand reached out for a third and final bottle.  She casually read the label:  “Nectar of Nylon.”    Kim looked more carefully at the bottle, and then at the plastic tube extending from its top.  This liquid was more shiny and gritty than the first two bottles, but what particularly caught Kim’s attention was its color.  An unmistakable brownish tint.  Suntan - the shade of pantyhose that many of the models were wearing today.  Kim continued to stare down the length of tubing.  Was this match a coincidence, or was there a more ominous explanation?  Her glance followed the tube all the way to its entrance at the base of the thick glass-walled side of the tank.  She really couldn’t see anything inside from this angle, so she walked around to the front of the tank, to see if she could relocate the route of the tubing.  She did, and quickly put her hand over her mouth to muffle a scream.

For the “Nectar of Nylon” tube - along with the other two bottles she had examined, plus some additonal tubes, all led to a single source.  Floating inside the tank, suspended by lead wires attached to the bottom and sides of the enclosure, was the body of one of the models.  At first Kim believed the girl to be drowned, but as she moved closer she saw that there were bubbles coming from her nose and mouth, near some different form of tubing that was obviously providing air.  Kim also saw that the girl’s eyes were moving, but not darting in panic, or entreating for help.  They were moving up and back, as if the girl were experiencing some intense pleasure.  As Kim placed her face against the clear glass at the front of the tank, she tried to remember the girl’s name.  Gina?  Giya? Yes, Giya.  She had been working in the custom motorcycle area of the show floor.  Kim hadn’t spoken with her, but she did remember that the lovely brunette had been wearing an unusual perfume.  She had commented on her scent to Michelle as the girl had passed. 

Giya had been wearing a two piece outfit, with a halter-style top and mini-shorts.  But both the top and shorts were gone now, as were her white pumps.  Giya’s body bobbed topless in the liquid filled tank, wearing only pantyhose with a thin white thong showing barely through the sheer tan of the nylon.  Kim’s observation of Giya’s attire noted that the tubes flowing into the scent bottles outside the tank were attached in strategic locations.  A series of tubes encircled and caressed Giya’s lovely breasts, with two of the tubes ending in suction like devices attached to each nipple.  Another series of tubes ran up and down the length of the floating model’s stocking sheathed legs, and even under each nyloned foot.  These unnatural caresses were obviously having an arousing effect on the girl, as Kim could see with the incremental heaving of Giya’s chest, and the extra flow of bubbles from the girl’s excited breathing.  When Giya’s body shuddered with the impact of another orgasm, Kim noticed that a large tube went inside the waistband of the model’s pantyhose, and inside the flimsly covering of the thong as well.  Kim didn’t have to follow that tube to know that it was creating “Parfum du Pleasure.” 

Kim was mesmerized by this perverse display.  Basil Bubb’s imagination, and infamy, apparently knew no bounds.  The model’s reverie of repulsion was broken by cries of “No!  No!” coming from another station in the room.  The voice belonged to Trini, the first captive of Bubb’s evil Toe Truck.  And since there seemed to be no way to get Giya out of her exotic tank of torture, Kim stepped away from the glass and her floating comrade, and headed off to help Trini.

The pleas for help came from a lighted area near the center of the room, and toward its inside hall.  Kim moved quickly, but stealthily, toward the site.  The first thing she saw was the Toe Truck, now void of its cargo.  Only a few feet away stood a large metal contraption, with multiple appendages.  It was robotic in some fashion, as Kim noted its ability to swivel on its metal base, and lean forward and back with its metal arms moving in unison.  The robot was working on something, and when another of Trini’s cries came from directly in front of the machine, Kim realized the something it was working on was Trini.

From her current vantage point, Kim could not see the captured model, or what the robotic contraption was doing to her.  Perhaps that was just as well, Kim briefly thought.  She did see a nyloned foot kick forward at one point, as Trini tried to work herself free.  But one of the robot’s appendages quickly grabbed the kicking limb, and pulled it back to continue its evil work.  As much as she dreaded having a ‘better look’ at the scene, Kim knew she had to get closer to find out what was happening, and to figure out a way to free her tormented co-model.  As she slowly moved closer, Kim saw a sign between the Toe Truck and the robot.  The vehicle was blocking part of it, but Kim gasped when she saw the words: Wheel Covers.  She remembered the horrible fate that Michelle had experienced in the painting room.  Was the robot preparing to decorate another wheel cover with Trini’s voluptuous form?

Kim’s forward motion stopped when she heard Trini’s cries weaken, then stop. She sensed that there wasn’t much time, and she looked around for some sort of weapon with which to attack the robot.  But in seconds, she heard a serious of clicks, and then a slow, but gradually quickening whirring sound.  The robot swiveled in Kim’s direction, and the model quickly hid behind a nearby post.  But she saw that the robot was carrying Trini’s lime green swimsuit, white bra, and matching panties.  When the robot glided closer to the Toe Truck to lay down the clothing, Kim finally had a full view of Trini’s predicament.  And it wasn’t good.

Trini had been affixed to the outer rim of an oversized, metallic wheel.  The model’s arms were outstretched above her head, reaching almost to the apex of the wheel.  The rest of her upper half continued down the front of the rim, but somewhere near Trini’s waist, her body started to bend backwards, as her nyloned thighs covered the bottom section of the rim, and her long legs stretched upwards on the back of the rim.  Her tan stockinged feet nearly reached the top of the wheel, only inches from the tips of her hands.  Kim grimaced at this unnatural configuration, wondering how the robot had stretched her friend into such a shape, and fearing that even more painful stretching was yet to come.    The only consolation was the look of blissful stupor on Trini’s face.  Apparently, her silence and limber nature were drug-induced. 

Kim’s attention on Trini’s predicament had stalled her search for some means of rescuing the girl.  But that search was proving fruitless.  The darkness that permeated the giant room provided safe cover for Kim, but made weapon foraging next to impossible.  Noticing that the metallic robot was still occupied near the Toe Truck, Kim moved a bit closer, and tried waving her arms to get Trini’s attention.  But Trini’s expression indicated that her attention was in a galaxy far, far away from the imminent torture her body was soon to undergo.  And that puzzled Kim for a moment.  As terrifyingly weird as her experience had been this day, somehow this painful tableaux did not fit.  So far, every predicament Kim and her friends had been in was for the express purpose of transforming living, beautiful race queens into some bizarre – but auto related – inanimate object.  But Trini’s unnatural forced pose on the metallic wheel was reminiscent of a medieval torture chamber scene, or the cover picture of some misogynistic horror comic book.  Was something different planned for the victims brought to this room?

While Kim pondered this possibility for a moment, the weird robot swiveled away from the Toe Truck and moved back toward Trini.  But Kim’s attention remained on the small truck.  Maybe that was the weapon she would need to free Trini.  In fact, maybe the Toe Truck would be her engine of escape from this carnival of carnage.  But would she be able to figure out how to drive it in time to rescue Trini?

A loud whirr from one of the robot’s thin metal arms, and the loud hum of a larger motor warming up, answered part of Kim’s query.  And, unfortunately, for Trini, the answer was no.  The wheel that framed the beautiful race queen began to turn, at first making large, slow circles with the model’s pinned torso, and then gradually becoming faster and faster.  Kim’s fear that the wheel would tortuously stretch her friend’s body was fortunately ill-founded.  Rather, the spinning wheel seemed to be stretching Trini’s pantyhose!

Each time the girl’s body spun round, the dark tan waistband moved further up her torso.  After several rotations, Trini’s pert breasts were covered in sheer nylon.  The increasing speed of the wheel made it more difficult to gauge the advance of the fabric, but just before the wheel’s revolutions made Trini’s figure a circling blur, Kim was sure that the model was entirely encased in her own pantyhose, as it covered her face and hair and extended over her outstretched arms and hands.

Like some kind of demonic carnival ride, the wheel spun the nylon cocoon surrounding Trini faster and faster.  Kim sensed that her friend was not going to share the same fate as Michelle.  But she had no idea what fate was in store for the beautiful model.  Once the wheel reached what seemed its peak speed, the robot moved to the other side of the spinning girl.  Kim carefully moved in that direction to see what was happening, and saw the robot moving a second wheel next to Trini’s revolving form.  A petrifying sense of panic washed over the model.  Had the robot seen her?  Would her body be placed on one of these hellish contraptions?  She started to slowly back away, readying herself to sprint in the opposite direction.  But then she noticed that the second wheel was actually a large number of small wheels attached together.  The robot stopped this collection of smaller wheels close to the first wheel, and then extended a small rod from one of the second wheel’s spokes.  In a flash, the rod attached itself to some part of the lifesize nylon encasing Trini, and the revolution of the first wheel began to rapidly turn the second wheel.  And as it turned, tan nylon began wrapping itself around each of the small wheels in the second unit.

Kim was mesmerized by the constant spinning - wheel upon wheel upon wheel - as tan nylon from Trini’s original pantyhose was now stretched beyond reason.  The whirr of the robot’s spinning torso regained Kim’s attention, and she saw that the mechanized worker was pulling another giant wheel - again made up of several small wheels - next to the second spinning unit.  And, once more, a robotic arm attached a spoke from the new, stationary unit to the collection of small, spinning wheels, and soon the small wheels in the third unit were spinning rapidly, with tan nylon coating each small wheel’s rim.

As Kim watched this bizarre process, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that the first large wheel - the one to which Trini’s drugged form had been attached - began to slow down.  She noticed that the robot was still focused on the smooth rotations of wheels two and three, and no longer paid the first, single wheel any attention.  Kim realized that this may be her only chance to free the captured model, and proceed on to wherever the second Toe Truck had taken Aiko.  Impatiently waiting for the first wheel to stop turning - or at least slow down enough for Kim to release Trini from her bonds - Kim cautiously inched closer to the machine.  Kim kept an eye on the robot, but apparently it was programmed for the singular task of attaching nylon to the spinning wheels, not for guarding the area.  Still staring at the back of the robot, Kim knew she was within a few feet of the first large wheel.

“Take it easy, Trini,” she whispered, still watching the robot.  “We’re going to need to do this very quickly.”  Finally confident that the robot would not turn her way, Kim turned back to the wheel, planning to bring the slowing metal to a complete stop and loosen the cords holding Trini fast.

But Trini was gone!

The wheel had nearly stopped now, and Kim looked inside the spokes, behind the wheel, and on either side.  But there was no sign of the captured beauty.  The puzzled model glanced back toward the Toe Truck, and noticed the complete sign identifying this particular station.  It wasn’t just “Wheel Covers,” as she had read before.  The full description was “Steering Wheel Covers.”  That explained the numerous small wheels on the second and third units, but it didn’t explain Trini’s disappearance.

Or at least it didn’t until she heard the whirr of the robot’s arm, bringing the slowing second unit to a stop.  The robotic arm carefully removed the circular band of tan nylon that had been crafted around the spinning hub.  As the arm held it up, the fibrous pattern of the sheer nylon shone in the ceiling lights that illuminated the area.  And in that light, Kim saw exactly what had happened to Trini.  The nylon steering wheel cover contained the outlined form of a beautiful girl: arms extended above a lovely head; curvy breasts with small tabs of stiffened nylon protruding for the driver to fondle.  And long tan legs extended around the bottom curve of the cover, ending in dainty tan feet just inches from the figure’s outstretched finger tips.  Each one of the steering wheel covers - at least a couple dozen - had that same figure.  And Kim knew that somehow, someway, by some horrible and insidious process, Trini’s nylon-sheathed body was in each of those shimmering, sheer, tan-shaded covers.

Defeated and downtrodden, Kim slowly backed away from the station, leaving the robot to remove all the portions of Trini that rested on the steering wheel size hubs of the second unit, and those still spinning in unit three.  So far, the model thought glumly, Basil Bubb’s wicked magic had defeated her at every turn.  She had tried in vain to rescue five of her friends and fellow race queens, but each had experienced a horrible transformation.  Kim knew that somewhere in the farthest corner of this giant exhibition room, Aiko was awaiting a horribly different - yet terrifyingly similar - fate.  And Kim also knew that there was probably nothing she could do to prevent it.

Kim moved slowly and hesitatingly at first, then faster and more resolutely to the outside wall of the huge room.  Fear and despair had drained the beautiful model of what little commitment she had to rescuing her co-models.  Faced with the weird malevolence she had already witnessed, she now believed her only chance was to escape, and to escape quickly.

The area along the outside wall was quite dark, as none of the light from the ‘work stations’ extended beyond the center area of the room.  Kim waited a few moments for her eyes to adjust, but she was still unable to detect any doors or covered windows leading to the outside.  She held her hand against the wall, and paced slowly, feeling for some crevice while watching for possible obstacles or traps.  After advancing several paces, she noticed that there was another wall in front of her just a few feet away.  At first she was puzzled - she thought the room extended much further back.  But from the dim light of the middle of the room, she saw that this second wall ended after several feet.  Apparently there a small room within the giant exhibition area.  Kim’s heart leapt.  Perhaps this was some storage room, or loading area.  And if that was the case, there would have to be a door to the outside.  A door to freedom.

Kim quickly, but carefully, moved to the front of the room, and was relieved to find a door to the small enclosure.  She was even more relieved to discover that it was not locked.  But her relief became apprehension when she inched the door open, and heard a soft moaning from inside.  And the apprehension turned to horror when she stepped inside and discovered the source of the sound.

Another one of the race queen models - Kim couldn’t recall her name - was reclining on a small divan just inside the door.  Actually, ‘reclining’ wasn’t exactly a correct description.  The model, wearing a shiny gold one piece bathing suit, tan pantyhose, and no shoes, was rather posing seductively on the sofa.  One arm was tucked under her knees, pulling her folded legs toward her waist.  The other hand caressed the smooth nylon of her outer thighs softly and slowly.  The soft moans came from the girl’s lips, which opened and closed quickly, in rhythm with the upward rolling of her eyes in an expression of intense pleasure.

Once the race queen settled in her pose, there was a quick series of intense flashing lights.  Kim looked to the middle of the room, and saw that the flashes came from a large black machine.  The clicking sound accompanying the flashes, and the round opening just beneath the flashing light on the machine told Kim that the model was being photographed.  The bizarreness of the scene went up a notch when Kim noticed a thin, clear plastic tube extending out of the machine, running along the floor, and up and around the model’s back.  Kim stepped toward the wall to visually trace the tubing’s path even further, and gasped when she saw that it was inserted in the back of the posing race queen’s neck.  Drugged.  That probably explained the intense pleasure the model seemed to be experiencing from this strange scene.

Kim hesitated before proceeding.  She didn’t know whether to speak to the girl and rouse her from her erotic stupor, or attempt to remove the evil ‘iv’ from her neck.  And what was this all about?  She got a partial answer when she saw a yellowish fluid begin to course through the clear tubing.  The fluid came from the machine, and quickly made its way to the model and into her system.  The flashes stopped, and the model made a short gasp.  Kim thought maybe since the photos had stopped, this would be the best time to make her move.  But in seconds, the drugged race queen swung her tan stockinged feet onto the floor, and then stood erect.  She put her left hand on her left hip, and her right hand over her left breast, then began to gently rub the right hand back and forth over the golden fabric covering her ample bosom.  The flashes started once again, as the machine’s camera began capturing this new pose.  Kim saw the girl’s cleavage begin to rise and fall, at first slowly, then faster, in rhythm with her quickened breathing.  The model was once again entering a phase of intense drug induced pleasure.

Kim wanted to step up to the girl and yank that accursed tube out of her neck.  But she had no way of knowing how deeply the tube was inbedded, and the girl could bleed to death.  And what about the pictures the machine was taking?  If Kim moved into camera range, would Bubb or one of his henchmen be alerted?  No, somehow the camera had to be deactivated before Kim could attempt to free the drugged model.  Kim’s hopes and plans for escape would have to be delayed once more.

The intrepid race queen moved slowly toward the giant machine and away from the posing girl, trying to keep out of the shutter’s range.  Reaching the machine, Kim slowly inched along its surface, moving closer to the shutter and flash.  Her bare arm rubbed against raised lettering, and Kim took a moment to read the name of the unit:  the SCULLY MOLDER.  What kind of machine is this, Kim asked herself.  And how does taking pictures of a sexy race queen fit in with the other bizarre, auto related machinations and transformations she had witnessed earlier?

As she neared the built in camera mechanism, Kim saw that there was a small glass window just this side of the flash and shutter.  She cupped her eyes with her hands to keep out the flashing light, and looked inside the machine.  She could see the camera mounted inside the machine, and a carousel of flashbulbs rotating to provide the light for the photos.  Then she noticed that small white cards were being ejected from the camera as the pictures were taken.  The cards moved along a small conveyer, and the photos of the model were developing as they moved along.  Was the SCULLY MOLDER just a giant photo developing machine?  That didn’t seem very threatening. 

But as she looked further down the line, she saw a small mechanical arm reach down and pick up a selected photo, inserting in the slot of some other piece of machinery.  What happened next was hidden by metal, but small sparks flew out of this part of the machine for several seconds, and then a trail of steam, as if something very hot was being quickly cooled.  Finally, Kim saw a metal plate drop out of this part of the machine, and move on a conveyor the opposite direction, and out of sight into another part of the machine.  Kim strained to see what was on that plate, and finally saw that on one side of the plate was a deep impression of the model’s current standing pose, burned into the metal. 

Of course, Kim thought, the name of the machine.  It’s making small molds of the drugged race queen’s best, and probably most sexy, poses.  Kim was still trying to sort out the why’s and what for’s, when she realized that the flashes had stopped.  So had the camera.  Now was the perfect time to get that tube out of the drugged girl’s neck, and to get the drugged girl out of this room.  Finally, she would be able to rescue one of her co-models.

Kim moved quickly to the girl, who was still standing but beginning to come out of her pose, and down from her most recent artificial high.  There was no way of knowing when the next dosage would come through the tubing, and begin the next round of sexy posing.  The model was tall, so Kim had to reach up on nyloned tiptoes to see how the tube was attached.  The tube seemed to have somehow adhesed itself to the girl’s skin, but there was only a trace of blood, and the tube seemed to jiggle rather loosely, but Kim guessed that it was not in very deep.  The rescuer pulled gently on the tube, and then a little harder.  The drugged model groaned just a little, but was too far gone to feel much pain.  Kim decided that it was worth the risk to give it a strong yank, while no drugs were coming, and no photos were being taken.  She grasped the tubing firmly, and pulled hard.  It came free, with only a small trickle of blood that quickly stopped, and some red skin where the tubing adhesive had coated the skin.

Kim threw the tubing onto the couch, and started to shake the swaying captive.  “C’mon, we’ve got to get out of here.”  The girl moaned a little, and swayed a little more.  Kim propped the girl up, knowing if she collapsed completely, she’d never be able to move her.  “Just take it one step at a time, okay?”  The girl moaned again, but this time nodded.  She slid her stockinged feet a few inches toward the door.  “That’s it,” Kim encouraged her.  The feet moved another few inches.  “We’ll be home free in just a few feet,” Kim praised her efforts.  The girl moved another few inches, and Kim saw that she was just about out of camera range.  She allowed herself a smile.  Finally, her efforts had not been in vain.

Suddenly, tubing shot of the SCULLY MOLDER like thin, attacking snakes.  Two attached themselves to the drugged girls ankles, and a second pair shot into the girl’s inner thighs, piercing nylon and skin, and melting a small, attaching adhesive.  A larger tube shot out of the machine, and pierced the skin right at the top of the model’s cleavage.  The girl cried out in pain at this invasion, and after being momentarily frozen by fear and surprise, Kim recovered and knelt down trying to pull out the ankle tubes. 

That’s when she saw a darker, thicker fluid pour out of the machine threw the tubes, heading for the model’s body.  Kim wasn’t sure what this was, but she knew it wasn’t a drug.  The color looked very familiar, as she helplessly saw it enter the girl’s body through the ankle tubes.  The race queen’s tan stockinged feet immediately darkened, and then stiffened.  Kim followed the next wave of fluid through the thigh tubes, and as she looked up the girl’s long, attractive legs, she saw that what had happened to her feet was moving up her legs from the ankle tubes, and down her legs from the thigh tubes.  When Kim’s teary eyes looked up to see the fluid heading for the chest tube, she saw the race queen’s one piece swimsuit, and realized exactly what was happening.  In seconds, the beautiful model’s ample breasts were completely hardened, and the effect was slowly moving up her neck and out her arms.

The race queen’s face was still alive, and she was able to mouth the words ‘Help me,’ even though her hardened voice box allowed no more sound.  Kim wondered why the effect had slowed, and then looked over at the original tube spilling its fluid onto a sofa cushion that was already solid gold, and realized that the tube she had pulled would have mercifully finished the task sooner.  When Kim was able to move her eyes back to her trapped colleague, she saw through helpless eyes that flesh and blood were no more.  A beautiful statue of solid gold now stood beside her.

In a state of shock, Kim wondered whether Basil Bubb’s latest creation was intended for the garden of some rich client, or perhaps Bubb had his own collection of sculpted, pedastaled beauties in a private gallery.  With a spiteful, silent chuckle, Kim assuaged her remorse with the consolation that at least this race queen would not be fodder for Bubb’s demonic auto-related merchandise.

And then, the giant claw emerged.

Kim heard the sound of a metal sliding open in the SCULLY MOLDER, and a giant shadow fell over the living and gilded race queens.  A metal claw, like the ones Kim used in arcade games trying to pick up a stuffed toy, descended upon the gold model.  Kim fell back away from the contraption, but had no need to fear.  The claw had only one intended target, and it quickly covered the top half of the golden girl, clasped her middle gently but firmly, and raised the statue off the ground.  Kim saw golden legs, then golden feet, and then golden soles rise toward the ceiling, and then move toward the giant machine.  The claw quickly pulled the statue into the unit, and the metal opening quickly slid shut. 

Shocked into a hazardous curiosity, Kim shuffled toward the far end of the MOLDER, and immediately felt an intense heat emanating from its interior.  An ominous red glow peaked out from small vents at the end of the machine.  Kim saw that there was another small glass window on this side of the machine, similar to the one she had looked through before.  Careful not to lean against the red hot unit, she moved her face close to the glass and looked in.  She saw another small conveyor, but instead of photos this one had the metal molds that Kim had saw created at the other end.  She saw the race queen’s standing pose, along with the one holding her knees.  There was also a mold with legs straight up, and another with the model seated on her heels, and one other standing pose, this one with the model tossling her hair.  The molds just simply moved in a circle for a few moments, and then the hand on hip mold stopped, and a stream of thin, hot, liquid gold poured into the mold.  Once it was filled, it moved out of the way, and the ‘holding knees’ mold moved into its place, and received its golden stream.  Kim watched the original mold move into a small chamber, where the steam from instant cooling poured out in a torrent.  The now cooled, but still malleable mold moved to its next location, where an automated arm inserted a small chain holding a golden ring to the head of the mold.  The mold moved on to another station to further cool and harden, but Kim stepped back, realizing in shocked silence that her defiant chuckle had been in vain.  The beautiful race queen would be part of Basil Bubb’s Automotive wares. 

She was being turned into sexy, golden key chains.

Defeated once more by Bubb’s demonic devices of doom, Kim paused to plot her next move.  She looked to the outside wall of the room, but there was no door or other access to the outside of the building.  She looked back toward the front door, but realized that she had to pass in front of the giant Molder.  Was that what had happened to the gilded model?  Had she simply walked in front of the machine, and been accosted by a clear plastic tube, then drugged in the first stage of transformation into gold?  Kim didn’t think so.  There seemed to be a policy of one trap per model in this fiendish factory.  And she had to get out of this room.  So, it was time to make a break for it . . .

“Oooooohhh, Lindi,” a voice moaned from behind the machine.  “Lindi - are you there?  Can you help me?”  The voice was weak and fuzzy, as if its owner had just awakened.  Apparently the Scully Molder had a second side.  And it had somehow trapped a second race queen.

Kim slowly stepped around the Molder, watchful for tubes or chains or anything built for snaring unsuspecting victims.  Even more slowly, she tilted her head forward, peering around the machine, fearful of yet another new and even more bizarre scene played out before her eyes.  At first, all she could see was a large section of bare skin, framed by low cut, sloping back of a white one piece swimsuit.  The model wearing the suit had not yet turned around, but Kim saw her head move slightly a couple of times, as if still trying to wake up, or avoid going to sleep.

Hearing Kim’s soft, nyloned footsteps in the quiet room, the model spoke again.  “Lindi, is that you?  Please tell me that it’s you.”  The girl was almost crying, both in fear and sorrow.

“No, it’s not Lindi,” Kim answered.  “It’s Kim - one of the race queens.”  Kim stepped forward to identify who she was talking to.  She immediately recognized the girl as Suzi, an experienced model and race queen from the north who had been lured here by Basil Bubb as part of his ‘dream’ Race Queen entourage. 

Kim also saw why Suzi had not turned around.  Thick globs of some kind of bluish, plastic resin were holding Suzi fast to the table on which she sat.  Occasionally, the stuck model would try to lift her bottom, or one of her legs, and thick gummi strands of the adhesive would stretch upward, and then pull the body back to the table.  The bluish substance also adhered body part to body part in a couple of strategic locations.  One patch of the substance held the model’s chin to her skin just below her neck.  The resin had also been applied to the palms of her hands, and each hand positioned under the corresponding breast, leaving Suzi propping up her bosom as if putting them on display.  And finally, some of the blue goo had been placed on the upper sole of Suzi’s right stockinged foot, which had pressed against the top of her left foot, attaching her two feet at the toes.

“Did you see Lindi?” Suzi asked.  “She’s on the other side of this machine.  I think she may be in trouble.”

I think you may be right, was Kim’s first thought, but she chastised herself for letting these horrific events turn her cynical.  “Suzi, I’m sorry, but Lindi . . . well, the machine . . . it changed her . . . and,” Kim was having a hard time explaining to Suzi that her best friend had been had been changed to gold, then melted into key chains.  But she saw the tears in Suzi’s downcast eyes, and the sorrow, and she knew that the model understood that whatever had happened, her friend was no more.

Kim tried to call on the ever shrinking reserve of hope and optimism still within her.  “We’ve got to forget about that and figure out how to get you out of here.”  Kim looked around for some sort of sharp object, and finally found a putty knife on a nearby work table.  She returned to Suzi’s side, and tried to loosen the trapped girl from her sticky bonds.  Suzi appeared frightened by Kim’s jabs under her legs with the sharp instrument.  So Kim decided to distract her.  “What happened to you?”

Kim continued to work at the sticky strands of plastic while Suzi recounted recent events.  “There were six of us assigned to the Accessories display, and when we got to the room - well, it was just so huge that none of us knew what to do.  So, we split up.  Aiko and Trini headed back for the main display room to find someone to give us more specific jobs.  Giya stayed near the door in case some of Mr. Bubb’s staff stopped by.  Lindi and I came in here to see what we could find, and Kira headed to the back of the area.”

Suzi’s tale did seem to take her mind off her predicament, but Kim was beginning to worry that Suzi’s predicament was a lot worse than she had thought.  The putty knife was able to cut through a few of the plastic strands at a time, but before she could cut more, the back of Suzi’s nyloned legs restuck themselves to more sticky goo.  But that wasn’t the worst of it.  Frustrated by her lack of progress under Suzi, Kim switched to the goo binding Suzi’s stockinged feet, and attaching her hands to her breasts.  And there, Kim discovered a more serious problem than stubborn strands of sticky resin.  Both between her feet and under her breasts, the blue resin had completely hardened into thick plastic.  A putty knife was not going to free Suzi’s hands or feet.  She’d need a chisel to break those free.

Meanwhile, Suzi continued her story.  “ . . . so, Lindi decided to take a close look at the machine, while I looked around the work desk and shelves over here.  That’s when all hell broke loose.  First, we heard Giya let out a loud shriek.  Before I could ask Lindi what had happened, I heard her yell out in pain, and briefly call for help.  I started to go to her, and hot steam flew out of the machine, driving me back.  I fell back on this table, and immediately felt something sticky under my legs and rear end.  Then the machine starting spitting out globs of this blue goo.  The first glob landed right under my breasts, then another just under my chin, and a third landed on my heels.  I tried to wipe the glop off my swimsuit, but both hands stuck underneath like they are now.  I did get my heels kicked off before they got stuck to anything, but another glob of goo shot onto the sole of my foot, and when I brought it down, it landed on my left toes, and now they’re stuck together.”  Suzi started to cry.  “I kept hollering for Lindi, but she never answered.  I’d hear her sigh and moan, but she pretended she didn’t hear me.  What’s happening, Kim!  What’s happening?”

Kim took a deep breath and tried to be calm.  “I don’t know exactly, Suzi.  But strange things are happening to all of the models.  Basil Bubb is some kind of maniac, and he’s turning all of the girls into . . . into things for cars.  I don’t know what he had planned for you, or why you’ve been stuck to this table.  But I think if we can just get your legs free of this sticky gunk, the worst will be over.”

As soon as Kim finished her sentence, she heard a loud rumbling from inside the Scully Molder.  “What was that?”  Suzi whispered in a fearful tone. 

“I don’t know,” Kim whispered back.  But I think I need to find something sharper and work a little faster.  Kim backed away from the table, and hurriedly scoured through the work table and shelves, looking for something bigger and sharper to cut away the sticky resin holding Suzi prisoner. 

“Kim,” Suzi whined in a high, panicky voice, “I think something is about to happen . . .”  It was the beautiful model’s last utterance.  A glob of blue goo shot out of the Molder, and sealed the model’s lips.  More goo shot forth, and covered her breasts, then her knees and thighs.  Kim rushed forward to see if she could at least pull the table out of the machine’s range, but balls of sticky resin were landing on all sides of the table, ensuring that no one could reach the table without being stuck to the floor.  One gob fell just inches from Kim’s stockinged feet, and the model jumped back in fear.

By now, Suzi’s lovely body was completed encased in the blue resin.  Kim saw that the model made a few last small movements of her legs and shoulders, with one last attempt to escape.  But it was too late.  Like her friend, Lindi, the Scully Molder was turning the lovely model into a solid, immovable statue.  But at least Suzi would not suffer the ignominy of being smelted into tiny souvenirs.  At least her final demise would have a trace of dignity.

And then a large panel in the Scully Molder slid open, and a blast of heat emanated from a red hot interior.  Several steel rods emerged from the machine, and hooked into the table holding Suzi’s blue plasticized form.  When the rods retracted, they carried the top of the table, along with Suzi, into the machine, and the panel slid shut. 

Kim heard a beeping noise coming from the front of the machine, and spied a digital clock with orange numbers counting down from two minutes.  The model wanted to escape from this perilous processor, but saw that the resin globs on the floor were still moist, and would adhere to her pantyhosed soles and make her a prisoner of the Molder should she step in one on her way out.  But the globs were quickly hardening, and escape would be safe in just a few moments.  Kim’s eyes were drawn back to the clock, and it was now at :30 and counting down.  Whatever was happening to Suzi would be finished shortly.

As the countdown continued, Kim thought for a moment about what to do next.  Did it matter, really?  Her attempts at escape and rescue had become more like a visit to an insidious side show, with her friends and co-models the freaks-in-making, and Basil Bubb’s malevolent machines the surgeons of sorrow and wizards of woe.  A small, but increasingly persistent voice inside the girl’s head argued that the easiest way out was surrender.  It was Kim’s fate - apparently the fate of all the models - to become the inanimate property of Bubb, Inc.  The sooner she accepted that, the sooner she would find peace.

Just as the voice was starting to convince the lovely race queen, a buzzer sounded.  Suzi was finished.  The panel opened, and Kim saw that the red light was out.  The ‘oven’ was off.  But before the table top reemerged, there was a long spray of water, producing a tide of steam coming off what lie inside the machine.  The spray finished, and the conveyor’s motor re-engaged, bringing the table top back to its original position.  Still avoiding the now hardened piles of resin, Kim stepped up to the table.  The cloud of steam still hovered, but was quickly dissipating in the cold air of the room.  When it had gone enough to proffer a view of Suzi’s new and final form, Kim gasped, and let out a mournful cry.  Bubb had his way once more with his race queen models.

There was no lifesize plastic statue on the table.  Instead, there was a small, blue plastic object, no more than a foot in length.  It had the form of a beautiful girl - Suzi’s form.  But this was no work of art.  There was a small rounded area between the small tilted head and the two plastic protuberances held up by tiny plastic hands.  Just the right size to hold a soft drink, or beer, or cup of coffee.  And what were once long, lovely, tan-shaded legs were now long blue shafts with a thin gap running down their length.  Perfect for holding loose coins upright and easy to pick up.  And the coins would not roll off, because they would be stopped by the two tiny feet stuck together at the end.  And the entire unit was just the right size to fit in the console between two front seats. 

Poor, pretty Suzi had become a blue, plastic cup holder.  Another accessory masterminded by Basil Bubb, the Emperor of all that is Evil.

Kim shook her head, then put her hand on the metal table near the custom made cup holder to steady herself.  It was all becoming too much. In the space of just a few hours, Kim had witnessed the transformation of eight beautiful young women - friends and colleagues - into bizzare automotive accroutements.  Seat covers, tire covers, steering wheel covers.  Key chains, cup holders, car scents.  Living paintings, mud flap etchings.  The events of the afternoon were playing out like a car commercial by Hieronymous Bosch.  And as selfish as it might sound, Kim knew that the worst was yet to come: the next transformation might be her own.

That thought slapped the model out of surrender, back into survival.  Basil Bubb would not get her in his ‘Waxing Room’!  She would not become some paraffin’d plaything for one of Bubb’s rich clients!  There was a way out of this transformation tent show, and Kim would find it!

The black haired beauty touched the shrunken, plasticized face of what had been one of her co-models to say goodbye.  She wanted to promise her justice, but knew that all she could really promise was to try to escape.  Kim looked down at the floor.  All of the gobs of blue resin appeared to be hardened and harmless by now, but she still played a form of weird hopscotch heading away from the area, careful that her nyloned feet avoided any chance of getting stuck.

Once Kim left the small room, she tried to think out a plan of escape.  There was probably no point in going to the back of the room.  So much time had passed that Aiko and . . . what was the other girl’s name, oh, yes, Kira . . . had probably fallen victim to yet another of Bubb’s invasive inventions.  So, the way out was undoubtedly the way in.  But Kim also did the math, and realized that if the two girls assigned with her were still at the Waxing Room, then she was the last race queen left unaccounted for.  And Basil Bubb would no doubt try to account for her rather quickly, and expect her to exit through the front door.  So, it was still worth a try looking for a back door out of this room.  Or, perhaps, a return to the ceiling vent.

In the middle of this debate, a soft voice floated from the back of the room.  “Kim!  Kim!”

The model froze in her tracks, and listened.  She successfully fought the urge to call out, “Who’s there?”  But hearing her name gave her hope that she wasn’t alone against Basil Bubb and his evil forces.  She took several hesitant steps toward the back, hoping to hear more.

“Kim!  It’s Aiko.  I’m back here.  I need your help!”  Kim took faster steps, almost breaking into a run.  But there was still something strange.  The voice was pleading, but not panicking.  It sounded like Aiko, as Kim remembered her talking to Trini in the hallway, but with none of the fear and urgency she had heard earlier.

As the race queen approached the back corner of this expansive exhibition room, she noticed some ominous details.  First, the area was lit in much the same way as the area around the glass tank near the entrance, and the steering wheel cover work station.  And if that was not enough of a reminder of the horrors in this ‘Accessories’ display area, the second thing Kim noticed was the Toe Truck that had carried Aiko, upside down, into this room.  The third thing that Kim noticed was a car.  Not just any car, but a shiny white stretch limousine convertible, parked diagonally, with its headlights facing the middle of the room, and its rear end only a few feet from the rear outside wall. 

But the next thing Kim noticed wasn’t so ominous.  That part of the room serving as a backdrop to the luxury car was not really a wall.  It was a giant garage door.  Apparently the one that Bubb had used to bring the limo into the exhibition room.  And, Kim hoped, it would be the door that she would use to exit this nightmare.

There was one thing that Kim hadn’t yet seen.  Aiko.  She had to risk calling out.  “Aiko!”  Kim called out in a loud whisper.  “Aiko, it’s Kim.  Where are you?”

“Here!  At the back of limo.  Come around to the back.”  Again, Kim noticed a lack of urgency in Aiko’s words.  In fact, the once captured model spoke with an enticing lilt in her voice.

As Kim approached the rear of the limo, she looked carefully around the front and sides of the vehicle, and then on each row of seats.  She was not only looking for traps and assorted insidious devices, but also for Kira, the other model assigned to the Accessories Room.  With no sign of anything untoward, Kim once more looked to the back of the car and the source of Aiko’s voice.  At first, she saw nothing but the last row of seats, the trunk of the limo, and the panels of the oversize garage door.  There was certainly no sign of the silver-clad model she had last seen hanging upside down, attached by a hook through the toe seam of her pantyhose, to a model-capturing mini-truck.

But as she drew closer, she noticed that something was lying on the rear window display just above the last row seats.  At first she thought it was the collapsed leather roof of the convertible, but she noticed that it lay further out on the rear of the car.  Something else was bundled - covered, actually - by a cloth or blanket, lying prone on the display.  One end of the ‘bundle” was raised slightly.  When Kim’s eyes traveled the length of the cover to its opposite end, her breath caught.  Sticking out of the far end of the blanket was something unmistakably familiar: two tan-shaded, nylon covered feet.  She had found Aiko!

The excited rushed to the back of the limo, and sure enough, Aiko’s lovely face, framed by her short black hair, peaked out from under the covering.  “Aiko!” Kim called out, then lowered her voice in fear.  “Are you all right?  Why are you covered up like that?  Why are you lying on the back of the car?  Can I help you down?”

The questions came fast and furious, and Kim quickly noticed that Aiko was overwhelmed by her rapid fire interrogation.  The covered model’s face swayed slightly from side to side, and she seemed to be struggling to keep her eyes open.  Obviously, she had been drugged in some fashion.  Kim just hoped she would be mobile enough to accompany her out the garage door, once she figured out how to open it. 

“Aiko, are you able to move?”  Kim spoke more slowly this time.  “We need to get out of here.  Can you leave?”

Aiko shook her head slightly.  Kim wasn’t sure at first whether it was more of the same swaying, or a negative response.  But Aiko spoke slowly.  “I can’t leave.  I’mmmmm . . .” the model temporarily lost her voice.  Her lips were moving slowly, but no sound came out.  Eventually, she formed two words: “ . . . not . . . readyyyyy . . .”

Kim climbed up on the near end of the trunk so she could reach the blanket that hooded her friend’s face, and covered her upper half.  “We’ve got to get you out of here, Aiko.”  Kim pulled at the blanket, but it would not come off.  It appeared to be stuck on something, but since Aiko’s upper half was near the center of the back window ledge, Kim was fully extended just to reach her friend’s head, so she could not maneuver to cloth covering. 

“It’s stuck, Aiko.  I’ll have to try from the other side.”  Kim noticed that Aiko’s lips were moving, but hardly any sound was coming out.  This worried Kim.  Something was happening, but she didn’t know what.  The model slid off the driver’s side of the trunk, and moved quickly around the back of the vehicle.  As she did, she looked once again for any sign of Kira, the missing model.

“Aiko, where is Kira?  Kira, Aiko - is she still here?”

Once more, Aiko tried to speak, but only a few words came out.  “. . . shield  . . . protection . . . cover . . . flat . . . floorrrrr . . .”  Kim hoped that Aiko meant Kira was hiding on the floor somewhere in the area for protection.  She would look for her more intently once she got Aiko away from this car.

When Kim reached the other side, she was much closer to Aiko’s feet and lower body.  Hopefully, she would be able to overcome the snag, and remove the covering from her fellow model.  As Kim reached for the lower end of the covering, which seemed to reach just past Aiko’s ankles, she accidently bumped one of Aiko’s stockinged feet.  At first, she said “Sorry,” but noticed that Aiko had not responded - either by sound or movement.  Plus, Aiko’s foot had a strange feel to it.  Kim reached out to touch the nyloned peds, and quickly drew back.  They were both stiff and unyielding, and yet not hard.  Once more, she reached out and rubbed the sole of Aiko’s right foot.  Again, there was no response to this ‘tickling’ from the covered model.  And Kim was disturbed to find that the nylon covering the foot had a velvety texture, rather than the normal crinkly feel of nylon fiber.

Kim slowly slid the covering off of Aiko’s legs, and realized that the same texture and lifelessness extended all the way up both legs.  Kim got no response from Aiko, until she began to uncover the model’s midsection.  The cover pulled tight once more, and Aiko managed to spit out a breathless, but emphatic “NO!  Go . . . Go! . . . Gooooohhhh!”

Kim now realized that the cover wasn’t stuck.  It was being held onto by Aiko herself.  Something was very wrong.  Something was happening to the model.  Kim managed to pull the cover back a little further, and noticed two disturbing things:  Aiko was nude above the waistband of her pantyhose; and there was a thin black wire coming out from under the window ledge that seemed to run up the covered model’s back.

Kim braced herself.  “Aiko, I’m sorry.  But I’ve got to know what you’re doing on this car!”  She gave one strong tug, and the cover flew off the model.  Kim gasped at the sight she beheld.

Aiko’s head was propped in one hand, with her elbow resting on the window ledge.  She was in fact nude from the waist up, and her two full breasts jutted out stiffly, with both nipples dark red and fully engorged.  The velvety veneer of the model’s legs, which Kim had thought was simply transformed pantyhose, extended onto the bare skin of Aiko’s stomach, chest, breasts, and onto her neck.  Like her legs, that part of her body was alsosurface of the model’s pantyhose continued up her stomach and chest, over her lovely breasts, and onto her neck.  Like her legs, Aiko’s upper half was also stiff and unyielding.  Only the poor girl’s eyes and mouth still moved, and those were gradually slowing. 

“Why, Aiko?  Why?”  Kim said through tears.

Aiko looked at her would be rescuer, and thinly smiled.  “To signal . . . signal . . . signal . . .”  Her voice faded for the last time, and the model’s head swayed downward this time, her eyes focusing on her two breasts, and then losing focus forever as her head became just as the rest.

Through tears, Kim’s gaze also traveled to Aiko’s bare breasts, questioning what kind of automotive appendage Basil Bubb had made of poor Aiko.  Then it happened, and sorrowfully, and angrily, Kim knew. 

Aiko’s nipples had taken on a glassy appearance.  A light began to flash in the left nipple, and then in the right, and then it flashed in both before it stopped.  The same sequence began again, and ran its course: right breast, left breast, both breasts.  Kim slowly slid off the trunk of the limo, and stepped back, still staring at the bare chest of the lifesize doll that had been a living model only a short time ago.  But was now a large, sexy, unique, back window turn signal. 

Right nipple.  Left nipple.  Both.  None.  Repeat.

The blinking lights from the bosom of what had been one of Kim’s co-models sickened, and yet mesmerized the surviving race queen.  As she stared at the alternating lights, they no longer signalled right or left.  They were flashing a more ominous message:  GIVE . . . UP . . . GIVE UP . . . GIVE . . . UP . . . GIVE UP!  Kim shook her head, slowly at first, and then more violently.  NO! NO! NO!  She couldn’t give up.  She wouldn’t give up.  Ever.  Even if she were the last race queen remaining, she would fight Basil Bubb until the en . . . .

Suddenly, Kim remembered Kira.  The last model assigned to the Accessories Room.  The model that Suzi had said first went to the back of the large room.  The model Aiko had said was on the floor somewhere, covered for protection.  Once more, a small infusion of hope energized the traumatized model.  She wasn’t alone.  She just had to find Kira, and they would figure out how to get through that large garage door, and escape their horrible fates.

Kim looked once more at her transformed friend, then began to scour the area around the car.  “Kira!” she called out in a loud whisper.  “Kira!”  Evidently, the girl had fallen asleep in her hiding place, and Kim would have to find her and rouse her from slumber.  She looked for telltale signs of a hiding body:  an unusual lump under some cloths, or perhaps something unusually tall, draped by a sheet or blanket.  But no such shape could be found. 

After searching the wall on one side of the limo, Kim headed back to the car to scout the other side.  She happened to glance inside the front seat of the car, and there on the floor she saw a large piece of thick paper, or perhaps cardboard, sticking out from under the passenger seat.  She was about to look away, when she noticed something written in red marker on the paper.  Checking carefully for traps, Kim leaned over the windowless door to look at the paper closely.  Her heart jumped when she saw that it was a name written on the paper:  Kira!  Afraid that opening the door would trigger one of Bubb’s insidious devices, Kim leaned over the door as far as she could, her nyloned legs and feet sticking almost straight up in the air, and reached for what she hoped was some note. 

It was indeed cardboard, and it was very thick, and longer than she expected, as she slid it out from under the seat.  After some difficult maneuvering, she finally managed to get a firm grasp, and pushed herself out of the limo and back onto her feet.  Kim had hoped that some message had been written above the name, and then signed by Kira - perhaps saying where she planned to hide.  But ‘Kira’ was the only word on either side of the thick bundle of cardboard.  Still optimistic - believing strongly that Kira was close by - Kim began to open the cardboard in search of a message.  The thick paper had been folded over and over, almost like an accordion, and Kim began to doubt there was any message inside at all.  She knelt down on the floor next to the limo and unfolded the entire bundle.  It stretched nearly the width of the car itself, but there was nothing else written on the blank white cardboard besides the name ‘Kira.’  Although she felt it was no use, Kim decided she should at least check the other side of the cardboard, and nonchalantly placed her hands on the back side to flip it over. 

First, Kim thought she felt the distinctive texture of nylon beneath her hand.  She looked to see what she had touched, and saw a familiar tan shade.  The tan shade went on for several inches, and with a growing sense of fear, Kim set the large cardboard upright, and lowered it slowly to the floor with its back side facing up.  Once it was fully extended, and the ceiling lights from the limo area lit it completely, Kim put her hands over her mouth and stifled a scream. 

There in vivid colors and realistic textures, was the prone form of the race queen named Kira.  She was posed in the same fashion as Aiko had been at the back of the limo - head resting on her hand propped up by her elbow, full chest facing outward, and long pantyhosed legs extending nearly the entire length of the cardboard, ending in tan stockinged feet, just like Aiko’s.

Kim reached down to touch the figure’s face, and bikini covered breasts, and nylon sheathed thighs, calves, and feet.  She hoped it would be just a very realistic painting or drawing.  But once she felt the spongy breasts and small hard nipples, then the silky smoothness of the long legs, and finally felt the nylon webbing around distinctive toes on each foot, she knew this was not artwork.  This was a painting rendered in flesh itself. 

For a moment she wondered why - why Basil Bubb had decided to transform Kira into a lifesize, living work of art.  But then she saw Basil Bubb’s name in script just beneath Kira’s stockinged feet, and something else written beneath.  Reluctantly, but overcome by curiosity, she leaned down one last time to read what it said.  It was, in fact, a product description:  Basil Bubb’s Dashboard Shield.  That’s what Aiko had meant when she said shield and protection and cover.  She was trying to say that Kira had been turned into a dashboard cover you put in a windshield to keep the hot sun from overheating the car’s interior.  Kira was not a work of art.  She was simply another one of Bubb’s wares.  Another accessory for some wealthy pervert’s luxury car.

Something snapped inside Kim’s brain.  Hope and cunning and courage and caution drained completely out of her.  Replaced by a stunning, searing, all-encompassing anger and hatred.  She started to scream - loud and strong.  “You Bastards!  All of you!  You Bastards!” she yelled, and began running toward the door of the Accessories Room.  She ran past the room containing the Scully Molder and its shrunken trinkets.  She ran screaming past the empty spinning wheels of the Steering Wheel cover area, their nylon novelties already removed and packaged.  She ran past the giant glass tank, where Gira had nearly been drained of her liquid aromatic essence, and was about to be turned into a human shaped figure of deodorizing gel for packaging in hanging, solid car deodorizers.

Kim burst through the Accessory Room doors, screaming at the top of her lungs.  There was no sound from the rest of the exhibition hall, until her stockinged feet left the blue perimeter carpet, and stepped onto the red carpet in the middle of the hall.  Familiar sirens and flashing lights began to echo and pulse up and down the hallway.  Kim stopped her screaming for a moment, and looked up the hallway from where the Toe Trucks had emerged earlier with their prey.  She stared for several minutes, but saw no trucks.  She began to smile, then laugh out loud, thinking that at last she had beat the great Basil Bubb!

Then she felt a chain hit her ankle from behind, and wrap around her lower legs.  Before the chain dropped her to the floor, she turned and saw a Toe Truck emerging from the Accessories Room.  Of course, she had forgotten about the trucks that had carried Trini and Aiko to their fates.  Before she could scream again, the towing motor engaged, and began to lift her off the ground, feet first.  Once her head and hands left the floor, a second chain emerged and bound her wrists together.  She was able to look up and see the tiny hook pierce the nylon webbing between her toes.  With a sigh of resignation, and a tear of surrender, Kim stared straight ahead - albeit upside down - as the Toe Truck made a small circle and drove away from the Accessories Room. 

The Toe Truck made its way down the short hallway, then turned left onto the main hallway.  It’s lovely cargo bounced plaintively behind it.  There was no surprise in Kim’s expression.  No fear of the unknown.  She knew exactly what was happening.  And she knew exactly where the Toe Truck was taking her.  Back to her starting point.  Back to her original assignment.  Back to . . .

. . . The Waxing Room!


To Be Continued

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