The Bondage Perils of Supergirl V1.3
by Richard Marnet (


*** Copyright (c) 1997 - All Rights Reserved ***
        This is a work of pornographic fiction intended for 
adults only.  It describes sexual acts and behaviour in 
explicit and graphic detail.  Only read this story if you 
have reached the age of sexual consent in your country.

        This story is entirely fictional.  The characters, 
places and events depicted in this story are not intended to 
represent or resemble any real persons, places, or events.  
Any such resemblance is purely coincidental.

This story is a work of extremely explicit and graphic 
sexual fantasy.  This story may or may not include non-
consensual sexual activity, oral/vaginal sex, heterosexual 
and homosexual acts, encapsulation, use of drugs and other 
mind-altering substances on an unwilling or unknowing human 
being, and degradation, humiliation, restructure/forced sex-
change or enslavement of a human being.  The depiction of 
any act in this story should not be construed to imply that 
the author condones the performance of said act, either on 
the author's part or on the part of anyone else.  This is 
not a story for narrow minded people or for people who 
cannot distinguish between fantasy and reality.  Leave now.

YOU, DO NOT READ THIS STORY.  Note: This story is a work of 
FICTION.  The story, names, and events depicted in this text 
are fantastical.  No names are changed, as no one is 
innocent or real in this story.  IF YOU ARE NOT OF LEGAL AGE 
FURTHER.  Also, if you are offended by consensual adults 
enriching their lives through harmless mental fantasies, or 
if you have a religious / moral / anti-pornography agenda, 
please go away.  Many people who are worthy pillars of your 
community enjoy complex and fulfilling fantasies that you 
will never understand, so do not be so arrogant as to judge 
them against your strait-laced existence.  You have been 
thoroughly warned.  This is heavy stuff.

=============< An insight from the author >================
This fantasy started ten years ago as a collection of short 
unrelated paragraphs.  It is being pieced together and re-
edited in what can only be described as a long process.  The 
author is a very sane, kind hearted person who does not 
believe anybody deserves the fantastical fates in this story 
- if you haven't guessed already, in his fantasies he would 
enjoy changing places with Linda or any of her friends.


        Within days of the King's death and her coronation, the 
ruling Princess of Steel heard rumours of Sorceress 
Zorelle's return from forced exile.  The Princess knew that 
the evil Zorelle had been exiled for dabbling in the 
forbidden magics; the cruel woman had used her time away 
effectively, learning the full extent of her 
one had followed the dark path and survived before.  
Informants told the Princess that Zorelle was using her new 
spells to create an army of mindless followers....completely 
unstoppable.  It was obvious that her aim was to seize total 
control of the land and its people.  One by one she was 
capturing her enemies and dealing with them in a terrible 
fashion.  Only Zorelle's wicked mind was capable inflicting 
such suffering on the land.

Dangerous battlefields

        A very tired Princess Linda Danvers used her super 
powers to hover in mid air and scan the massive enemy army 
many miles below.  The hostile force was made up mostly of 
forced conscripts, ordinary citizens who had been captured 
and clad in the glistening black leather bondage suits that 
all in Zorelle's enchanted army wore.  The magical 
punishingly buckled costumes took merely five minutes to 
convert a struggling captive into a docile obedient soldier 
who would follow the destructive woman's mental commands 
without question.  Once controlled by the suit, they would 
walk happily into certain death for the evil spellstress, 
smiling beneath their expanded gags, and even help to force 
dress more conscripts.  Half of the squeaking, suctioned 
forms had once been in Linda's own army, but were now 
"prisoners of war" in every sense.  Zorelle had made some 
of the conscripts into winged rubber scouts, imprisoning 
their arms and legs together in a single tube of 
frictionless black latex so that all but the round circle of 
their faces was visible.  She attached dragon-like rubbery 
wings to their corseted backs and controlled them remotely 
so that the stiffly encapsulated scouts flew obediently over 
what had once been their own army.  Everything these 
flapping rubber targets in the sky saw, Zorelle saw through 
her magic.

        From her vantage point in the clouds, Linda spied a 
figure in the Sorceress's colours of gold and silver 
standing in front of a very well-appointed tent.  Borne by 
desperation and hoping to catch Zorelle by surprise, the 
Woman of Steel flew down in a split second and appeared 
beside her enemy.  Knowing that she could not allow the 
witch to try an escape or attack spell, she enveloped 
Zorelle's mouth with hers, grasped the spell-weaving hands 
and utilized her super-strength to crush them.   There was a 
brilliant flash, and the form she was holding seemed to 
collapse into itself.  It was a decoy.  What she imagined 
was Zorelle had evaporated into a harness of glowing green 
straps....kryptonite!  How had Zorelle managed to find some?  
Her first thought was to flee, but the nightmare harness 
seemed stuck to her wrists and face already, neatly circling 
her forearms with wide cuffs and sliding between her lips to 
insert a glowing green expando-gag in her mouth.  She fought 
against it feebly with her rapidly draining strength to no 
avail.  The myriad of remaining straps on the harness 
encircled her body like snakes and threaded themselves 
through the buckles as Linda sank gasping to her knees.  
They tightened themselves mercilessly and Linda was soon 
neatly packaged, a powerless super-bundle.  A layer of the 
cuffs peeled away and rolled down over her hands, forming 
slim D-ringed mittens, canceling any hopes she had of using 
her fingers to undo a buckle or two.  Likewise, her ankle 
cuffs peeled down over her high-heeled blue feet forming 
slippery D-ringed booties of deadly green.  Not to be 
outdone, the straps began unfolding rapidly, doubling in 
width and joining each other until Supergirl was cocooned 
seamlessly from the neck down in polished greeny black.  She 
rolled to the ground in a weakened, dizzy state as her 
collar folded up to cover her chin, then covering her mouth, 
nose, eyes with a clear layer which thickened rapidly.  The 
real Zorelle's black boots came into her dwindling field of 
vision, and in her hallucination-affected vision, Linda 
briefly imagined that she could see the forlorn blank faces 
of her recently lost officers staring out at her from the 
surface of the shiny black rubber boot leg....was that the 
mound of a miniature coated breast?....the curve of a 
torturously bent elbow she could see through the green haze?  
No, she decided, trying to  clear her swimming head....her 
mind must be playing tricks.  She lapsed into blissful 


The victory tent

A captured male officer was marched to stand in front of the 
  "It looks very much like you chose the wrong side, young 
man" she laughed, pointing out the rubber baby costumed 
form of his former leader and princess sitting docily in the 
corner.  In stark contrast to the way he remembered his 
strong commander a few hours ago, Supergirl was now strapped 
in a high chair and sucking purposefully on a magical 
pacifier.  The all enclosing latex-kryptonite babysuit she 
was sheathed in was designed in attractive transparent 
green.  Her hands and feet terminated in stiff frilled 
mittens and booties, and from the frills around her neck 
hung a sparkling rubber bib ready to catch the slightest 
dribble.  A tight airless hood with a mockery of a baby-face 
fashioned on it stretched up to cover her head from the suit 
at her neck, and was crowned with a ludicrous little bonnet.  
It appeared she could not stop sucking the pacifier, which 
was unfortunate because it was connected to the large tank 
of brilliant green fluid strapped to the back of her high 
chair.  Kryptonite laced water!

The young man gave a stricken cry, and even managed to take 
a step towards his queen, struggling against the powerful 
spell holding him in place.
        "Don't bother.....there is nothing you can do to help 
her." Laughed Zorelle, fingering a small rubber purse on 
the table beside her.
        "She should think herself lucky - I was going to make 
a superheroine pussy purse out of her once she was 
rubberised.  I would have enjoyed watching her pussy zip 
shut and her body collapse - quite distressingly! - into 
that lovely pouch shape, but I realised it would be much 
more fun to string out her punishment."
        She zipped open and fingered the tiny sample latex 
purse, watching the defenseless latex clitoris spring to 
life even though its owner had long since been turned into 
rubber lining.  She waved it at the shaking man.
        "You would look very nice as one of these".  A look 
of horror crossed his face as a zip sealed vagina appeared 
where his sex had been moments before.
        "But no, not today.  I promised myself I'd only make 
clothing trophies on Wednesdays.  Consider yourself lucky - 
soon you'll be just another doll to blend into my 
collection!  Come!  Join your friends".
        Zorelle waved her hand flippantly and in a process her 
staff had seen many times, the officer transformed painfully 
into an abundantly endowed nude female form.  Uselessly 
straining for control of her limbs, the very feminine buxom 
trophy marched like a stiff marionette to a bench near the 
side of the room and lay back on the shiny red vinyl 
surface.  A mist formed around the officer's body as she 
arched in pain.  A short cry escaped her lips, followed by a 
liquid hiss, then total silence.  The air cleared to reveal 
her unaccustomed feminine curves coated completely in glossy 
black rubber.  The sightless effigy wriggled in an effort to 
escape her new costume now that a spell was not controlling 
her movements but it was pointless.  Not only did her 
rigidly boned vlatex (a special blend of Vinyl and Latex) 
layer keep her stretched out flat on the bench, but she 
could not even push herself off the bench with the towering 
heels permanently bonded to her booted feet.  Zorelle placed 
her hands on the black clad form and concentrated a little, 
casting the spell to shrink it into a tiny quivering doll in 
her fist.  She bent down and pressed the little doll against 
the polished yet strangely lumpy smoothness of her right 
boot and the toy sank beneath the surface like it was being 
swallowed in a bog....its arms and feet sank first, followed 
by hips and shoulders.  Soon just one knee of the doll and 
its face to the cheeks protruded from the raven-black layer 
along with the tip of a breast.  Zorelle stopped pushing.  
Her latest boot addition stared somewhat beseechingly at the 
world, its expressionless vlatex face framed by the 
glistening sea of rubber that was its prison for all 
eternity.  As if disturbed by the arrival of a new resident, 
the most recent of the other trapped forms in the dark 
Queen's boots rippled slightly as they sought escape from 
the magical coating that would hold them forever.  The bulk 
of the "residents" merely lay still, for they had long ago 
worked out the futility of struggling.  Indeed, some had 
struggled themselves beneath the surface because the 
enchantment worked in one direction only.  The evil woman 
always enjoyed watching their tiny encapsulated bodies 
struggle as she pushed them into their new rubbery home in 
her footwear.  Hmmmm....Zorelle thought to herself.  When 
the enemy army surrendered soon, she would have enough 
unwilling victims to make a matching catsuit or two.  It 
would be nice to arrange some of the figures as shoulder 
pads.  She mused over making a half dozen different catsuit 
styles for a moment as she absently brushed her fingers 
around two slight cherry bumps protruding from the boot at 
her left thigh.  She had long since forgotten who they 
belonged to, but they were the only remaining signs of a 
captured colonel.  It was no longer possible to identify him 
much less rescue him - she had endowed him with massive 
basketball breasts before turning him into the doll and 
embedding him until only his nipples remained.  His two 
female aides had been made into chesty little rubber Barbie 
dolls and set face-to-crotch inside a dildo shaped sheath 
that was currently a feature of the pussy-stimulation unit 
wriggling away tirelessly between Supergirl's babified legs.

        Linda squirmed weakly against the buckled straps 
holding her in her highchair.  Her Barbie-doll vibrator was 
awash with her own lubricant and the translucent rubber 
costume gripped every inch of her skin, causing undeniably 
erotic sensations.  The spell she was under kept her sucking 
noisily on her pacifier and she was unable to stem the 
strength-sapping flow at all by squeezing her teeth or lips 
together.  The spurting nipple of the oversized dummy 
between her teeth had expanded inside her mouth and could 
not be removed even if she was able to stop her compulsive 
suckling.  She knew that her forced infantization was a 
deliberate reduction of her rank for the benefit of her 
rebellious people but there was no way she could avoid being 
reduced to a mere toy when confronted by magic as powerful 
as this.  Through the velvety, transparent latex mask she 
watched as the shape of another of her officers appeared and 
was swiftly coated.  Was this their reward for being loyal 
to her?  Somehow she would save them and exact her revenge, 
but it depended on her survival....right now the Kryptonite 
coursing through her veins ensured she could think of no 
plan at all.  An out-of-focus Zorelle loomed in her green 
tinged vision to gloat over her prize catch.  She adjusted 
Linda's stimulation unit so it sat deeper in her pussy and 
cupped the glossy breasts until the princess came again with 
a slurp.
        "See snugglepot - trying to hold back makes no 
difference.  Come on, say goo goo ga ga for Mommy.  It's 
time to get you ready for the big parade".  She unbuckled 
Linda from the chair and watched the girl slide like liquid 
to the floor.  The feeding tube was still joined to 
Supergirl's mouth and stretched taut, preventing her 
bonneted rubber head from squeaking against a marble 
flagstone.  The Sorceress unplugged the hose from the large 
tank and joined it to a smaller, soft latex bag full of the 
same liquid.  The flaccid bag had an attached harness which 
enabled it to be strapped to the poor girl's back, forcing 
her to keep drinking.
        "I have a very special diaper for you to model 
today." said Zorelle as she produced a strange voluminous 
latex diaper and proceeded to glide its frilled mass up the 
captive's gleamingly sheathed legs.
        "It used to be one of your officers too - I'll bet he 
never thought he would be this close to your pussy!".
        The feminine diaper consisted of many puffed and 
stretched layers of glossy polished latex, crafted in the 
same iridescent blue colour her Supergirl costume had been, 
and it had her large `<S>` super logo stretched across the 
generous padded bottom.  The cool rubber slid into place, 
covering her sex and enveloping her from thighs to hip in a 
strange tingling embrace.  The tightening of an attached 
smooth latex buckle belt at the waist and two more around 
her upper thighs ensured that no leakages could occur from 
the sealed diaper.  Zorelle attached a leash to Supergirl's 
posture collar and dragged her along the expensively 
carpeted floor of the tent, forcing her to crawl along 
behind on all fours because she lacked the energy to stand.  
As they left the tent, Linda felt the tingle of the magic 
diaper again.  She experienced a sudden stab of pressure on 
her bladder and her green-shrouded face reddened with shame 
as her muscles involuntarily released control.  The warm 
fluid flowed from her groin for over a minute, and filled 
her squeaking diaper to bursting point.  A faint sloshing 
sound could be heard as the babified rubber princess crawled 
behind her captor, who was marching her through the 
appreciative ranks of her army.  In front of the massed 
forces were the huge city gates, already shattered and ready 
for the invasion of the city.  All pockets of defenders had 
been overrun days ago.  Striding through the gates, her 
metal heels striking sparks on the cobblestones, the evil 
queen led the procession into the heart of the city, 
dragging her unwilling infantized display piece behind her 
with its bulging Supergirl logo gleaming across tautly 
stretched buttocks.  The loyal citizens sobbed in fear when 
they recognized the super symbol and the identity of the 
adult rubber baby being paraded past their homes and down 
the streets to the castle.  Supergirl's public humiliation 
had begun and the morale of her people was broken. 


Five days the throne room of the royal castle a 
shackled heroine, dressed once again in her Supergirl 
costume, stands before a haughty sorceress queen:

        At Zorelle's magical coercion, the heroine in distress 
jerked like a puppet involuntarily forward with a jingle of 
her chains.  Thankfully Princess Linda no longer wore her 
strength-sapping green babysuit; in another room an 
unidentified rubber woman was being forced to keep that 
discarded outfit warm in a high chair bolted to the bottom 
of a large aquarium full of gradually hardening and 
pressurised clear latex.  Linda had been cleaned up and her 
new lycra Supergirl costume gleamed uncharacteristically in 
the torchlight, for it was not lycra at all - it had been 
changed into a parody of shiny red and blue buckled vlatex, 
notched to its tightest settings for good measure.  In new 
subtle ways the Sorceress was emphasising how much power she 
had over the woman of steel.  Linda had spent the last few 
days wearing a full body version of her latex diaper which 
sealed at the throat, wrists and ankles.  The gallons of 
Kryptonite spiked water they had been making her drink had 
soon filled it to bursting point as she lay in hospital 
restraints in her special adult crib.  The green mineral had 
invaded every cell of the Princess's body and sapped her 
strength disastrously, so she could do nothing but be a 
fetish marionette for the moment.  Zorelle clawed the air in 
front of her and Supergirl's barely-worn vlatex super 
costume was torn from her by invisible hands.  Outfits could 
be created or destroyed in the blink of an eye; the new 
queen demonstrated this often unless she wanted to observe 
her victim being reduced to helplessness slowly.  The evil 
woman murmured a single word and the nude princess was 
instantly clothed again, this time as a military issue 
concubine.  The full-length catsuit was made of black patent 
leather, doubly stitched for strength, joined to a tight 
chrome collar at the neck, and to closely fitting chrome 
manacles at both her wrists and ankles.  The skin-tight 
outfit had oval holes for her pert breasts, which had always 
defied the light gravity in a remarkable way, and a thin 
slot between her legs which opened to a mass of blonde pubic 
hair when she parted her legs.  The suit glowed with minute 
quantities of kryptonite powder, enough to render the girl 
powerless against bonds that she would ordinarily laugh at, 
and the boning from the corset-like waist of the catsuit 
were made from a cage of Kryptonite fibres embedded between 
the layers of leather.  The evil queen was emphasising her 
control.  The suit did not have any zips or lacings, and 
appeared to have been sprayed even if she had a 
little energy, Supergirl could not entertain the thought of 
struggling free of the humiliating costume - she would 
require cutting tools and help.  She fell to her hands and 
knees and a jeweled posture collar was slotted around her 
throat along with a leash.  Zorelle slid her fingers over 
the taut costume of her deliciously helpless new pet.
        "Maids!  I want our captive to spend the night wrapped 
in a krypton-plaster cast - over the top of her new finery, 
of course!  Oh! - make sure you leave her breasts free of 
the plaster - I will be along later to connect her up to the 
milking machine."  She ruffled the hair of her captive 
heroine and snibbed the end of Linda's leash to the single 
D-ring at the back of a waiting transport maid.  The maid 
wore the standard stiff vlatex maids costume, but her black 
rubber coated arms had been fused together behind her in a 
permanent arm binder.  The snugly moulded addition mated her 
two limbs neatly into one, flowing in a smooth unbroken line 
from the shoulders to where her fingertips had been, 
terminating in a large ring designed for carting various 
trolleys and suitably helpless prisoners throughout the 
        "I have sooo many experiments for you to try my 
dangerous little pet - I'm sure I can relieve you of that 
super strength when I've worked out how to transfer it to my 

        The transport maid dragged her weakly resisting charge 
away and the others followed to begin wrapping Supergirl in 
her full body cast for the night.  Zorelle knew her staff 
would have had the newly installed castle milking machine 
warming already, for a luckless individual had been 
installed in it every night so far.  The recently created 
machines were little different than those used for cows, but 
were designed to be quite a pleasurable experience - once 
the hormone-induced milk started flowing.  Zorelle had quite 
a taste for human milk and had wasted no time in starting a 
large dairy factory, where row after row of rubber cocooned 
milk maids hung in hay carpeted stalls, quietly feeding the 
populace with their massively enhanced mammary glands.  The 
black and white, cow-patterned costumes stretched the maids 
taut by the hands and feet and angled their bodies a foot 
above the ground to an optimal forty-seven degrees for 
milking.  Once squeezed into the milk maid skin and 
incarcerated in the factory there was little chance of 
release, for Zorelle had decreed that the dairy be a one way 

The wine cellar

   Humming happily to herself, Zorelle headed down to her 
wine cellar to choose something fruity to go with the 
evening's meal.  As expected of an evil dictatoress, her 
cellar was huge, with hundreds of barrels of surprising, 
exquisite liquor stretching away into the cool darkness.  
But the quantity wasn't the surprising part.  Each barrel 
contained the armless and legless torso of a rubberised 
woman, stasis-spelled and pressurised into complete 
immobility.  The entombed females were nursing the precious 
fluid surrounding their warm vlatex bodies to maturity - a 
process which could take hundreds of years.  The only 
visible part of these silent helpers was a rigid, glossy 
rubber face protruding from the sealed rubber end of each 
barrel, heads bent achingly back so they looked straight 
ahead as the barrels lay naturally on their sides.  The 
barrel girl's eyes were permanently bonded into widely fixed 
stares - the whites of their eyes contrasting dramatically 
against their glossy black vlatex faces.  Row after row of 
beseeching eyes could be seen dotting the wall of neatly 
stacked barrels that stretched away into the darkness.  Some 
of the older barrel girls had been lucky enough to retain 
their own lips, albeit rubber coated and heavily gagged, for 
they had a tap below the point where their chin would have 
been from where the wine could be sampled.  Zorelle had soon 
tired of this, and found it more aesthetically pleasing to 
have a tap protruding directly from the rubber lips and to 
modify the internal plumbing.  Having eyes fixed wide open 
could be quite traumatic for newly converted barrel girls, 
for over the months and years they saw many cellar rats 
crawling between the barrels, and often had large spiders 
making their webs over their rubber faces.  Zorelle had been 
collecting and barreling vintages since her first year of 
exile, making up the contents with enemies and agents who 
had been sent to keep an eye on her.  Each spy had no choice 
but to continue her watching job, but from the discomfort of 
her own personal barrel now.  Zorelle didn't care much who 
she barreled these days, but she had added some fun to the 
process.  Often she would just seize the first person who 
happened by, sheath and change him/her into a high-heeled, 
armless vlatex doll, and make her stomp her own grapes 
before conversion into a new addition to the cellar.  
Zorelle made a gift of five barrel girls to her new senior 
minister Lord Eccles, one of whom was his freshly tap-
mouthed ex-wife.  Eccles graciously accepted the gift and 
placed them on stands in his entertaining room where they 
could be the subjects of interest and humiliation by guests.  
His current wife Belle took an instant dislike to the pretty 
rubber faces with their darting eyes and gave such a tantrum 
when she found out who the pink beribboned barrel contained 
that Eccles finally gave in to her smug demands.  He called 
in a fem-service unit, and had it seal over the barrel 
girl's faces with an extra flat layer of vlatex so as to 
render them forever blind and smoothly expressionless.  
Belle gloated on her control of her man as she slid her 
fingers over the polished hard rubbery curves that hid the 
face of the woman she had replaced a few years ago.  She had 
won again.  Little did she know, but in six months time she 
would give her last ever tantrum.  It was a silly yet common 
incident where she demanded that her Lord stop seeing his 
brother because she was jealous of his wife's sense of 
humour and the next day she found herself sheathed in 
armless vlatex, tap-mouthed in readiness and walking her six 
inch booted feet in a circle through the grapes she would 
accompany in her barrel.  As a barrel girl, Belle was 
labeled clearly and given pride of place in the entertaining 
room for a few weeks before her face was sealed over just as 
she had ordered done to her compatriots beside her.
        Queen Zorelle always found it difficult to choose a 
vintage, but settled on the barrel that contained the first 
boyfriend who had ever dumped her.  She waved at a shapely 
drink-maid who scurried over and connected her rubber mouth 
flange to the end of the tap protruding from his feminine 
glossy pouting lips.  There was a brief hiss of escaping air 
as the seal was made good and Zorelle turned the tap, 
allowing dark red wine to flow steadily into the drink 
maid's breast tanks, expanding her rubber bosom to massive 
proportions.  The evil queen toyed with the idea of giving 
the drink maids their arms back so she wouldn't have to do 
the menial task of connecting the seals herself, but no, she 
enjoyed the look of horror on the faces of both unwilling 
participants too much.  The drink maids always panicked when 
their breasts expanded so much that they thought they would 
burst or fall over - walking was difficult enough already on 
their ballet booted rubber legs without litres of wine to 
carry - and the barrel girls were horrified too, because 
they all knew that the amount of retained humanity was 
directly proportional to the amount of wine they nursed 
inside their rubber forms, almost as if their intelligence 
was stored in the wine itself.  And so it was.  With each 
glass, the best of their thoughts and knowledge were being 
transferred forever to Zorelle's ever expanding mind.   
Empty or near-empty barrel girls watched the world with 
vacant stares and no recollection of who they once had been.  
Zorelle had all their memories, and even used this 
information to seize and barrel whole groups of friends.

Linda the spectator.

        Queen Zorelle, leader of the victorious army ran her 
sleek gloved hand over the hardened plaster figure of 
Princess Linda, now set on all fours with her enhanced, 
heavy breasts swallowed by the vacuum milking cups of the 
Auto-Milk machine.  By casting a strong motherhood spell, 
Zorelle had extracted hundreds of litres of super milk from 
Linda's enchanted bust and quite enjoyed it on her breakfast 
each morning.  She pointed at the white figure.
        "Okay, I want our princess to be able to see what's 
going on again.  Cut her out and put her in slave girl 
restraint.....with the usual trimmings of course so she 
can't move."
  Linda was cut out of her plaster layer and concubine 
catsuit with a diamond saw, and struggled into a similar 
tight fitting leather jumpsuit-like outfit that had been 
dampened in preparation for the dressing.  The black one-
piece garment had ridiculously long straight jacket sleeves 
and was so snug a fit that she could barely move.  It had a 
high, restrictive buckling collar and an attached kidskin 
facial hood that was so tight that you could perhaps tell 
who she was beneath it.  Embedded in the suit at the groin 
were two dildos pointing inward;  one large one which was 
slid up her cunt, and another smaller one which was pushed 
up her rear.  Both dildos were hollow, which allowed her to 
answer the calls of nature when she needed to, but they 
could also be unscrewed from their position and replaced 
with any of the torture devices the evil sorceress had 
developed for those openings.
        The moist straight jacket was securely laced up the 
back with steel wire from the small of her back to the top 
of her head by a specially designed binding machine and 
welded together, leaving poor Linda struggling for breath, 
her head hidden beneath the amorphous mask.  Both of her 
hands were laced tightly into the mittened sleeves of the 
garment; one ended in a buckle, and the other, a strap.  Two 
female guards took hold of her leather enclosed arms, 
wrapped them snugly around her body so that she was tightly 
hugging herself, and buckled them firmly in position against 
her torso.  Her buckled cradling arms lifted her compressed 
bosom so that the suit clearly showed imprints of her 
nipples in the fabric.
        Next came a pair of wet, thigh length leather boots 
raised on six-inch stiletto heels.  They were laced up so 
snugly that she could not bend her knees at all.
        "Lock her in the drying room" ordered Zorelle.
The drying room was a large padded cell with a huge fan at 
one end blowing hot air through it.  No matter where a 
person was in the room, their clothes would be dried by the 
fan.  After a short while in there, Linda's garment began to 
shrink and stiffen as it dried.

        When the room was opened up the next morning.  Linda 
lay gasping for water, on the floor in her new rock hard 
leather skin.  She could now be left in the suit 
indefinitely, and there was absolutely no possibility of 
escape from it without help.
        After giving her a great deal of water to drink, a 
guard snapped a collar and leash around the leather coated 
princess' throat and pulled her roughly to her feet.  
Hobbling along as best as she was able in very tiny steps, 
she was led back into the main anteroom where Queen Zorelle 
sat.  The captive princess' stiffened leather sheathed legs 
were lowered down into two holes in the floor facing the 
throne.  Her feet were locked in place from beneath the 
floor so that she remained fixed with her waist at floor 
level.  To an observer it would appear as though she had no 
legs at all.  Laces were released to expose her face, and a 
harness of straps and hooks was placed over her head which 
pulled apart her upper and lower jaws to keep her mouth open 
wide, rendering intelligible speech impossible.

        Zorelle clicked her fingers and Linda's friend Cynthia 
was brought out.  She had been stripped of her leather 
hobble sheath gown they originally dressed her in and shaved 
from scalp to toe.  With her hands converted into useless 
appendages by tight leather mittens, Cynthia had been 
teetering from one mind-numbing punishment to another for 
the last month.  She stood struggling between two guards, 
her lips protruding unnaturally over the large red ball gag 
she had in her mouth, the straps for which dug deeply into 
her cheeks.  The gag and straps were part of a modified 
horses bridle that she had strapped around her head, which 
had the added effect of sealing her deeply packed ears from 
the outside world.  Another array of snug straps around her 
hips and lower torso held a similar-sized red ball wedged up 
her pussy.
        The dark queen turned to Linda, "I am so used to having 
her around, I have decided to make Cynthia a permanent 
fixture, to serve me here as a piece of practical art.  She 
will become a living mannequin to join the others already 
being used by my seamstresses in the bondage clothing 
workshops.  She could survive up to ten or fifteen years 
once painted with our special lacquer.  The meticulously 
tested formula cannot be removed once applied - it's 
permanent" laughed Zorelle. She picked up a large heavy tin 
and a brush.  "Let's begin shall we?"
        Chains and metal cuffs were locked on Cynthia's hands 
and feet.  The chains pulled taut so that she was raised 
upright above the ground in a spread-eagled position.  
Stepping forward, Zorelle dipped her brush in the glutinous 
liquid, and began liberally painting all over Cynthia's 
trembling body, with the exception of her sex.  The lacquer 
dried very quickly, and Cynthia's struggles became less 
effective as her skin began to harden and appear glassy.  
Zorelle painted Cynthia's face and smooth hairless head too, 
her buttock-length black hair many days gone.  Even the poor 
girl's eyelids were lacquered rigidly and permanently open, 
her eyes magically modified as an afterthought to retain a 
the wide stare of a frightened animal.  When Cynthia was 
immobillised, the shackles and harnessing straps had to be 
removed so that the areas they covered could be painted 
also.  With sucking noises, the two red balls were extracted 
from her, one from her puckered mouth and one from her 
pussy.  She stood there stiffly like a scarecrow, with her 
legs and arms widely outstretched while the evil queen 
painted her some more.
        Linda watched from her position in the floor in 
powerless horror as her friend became a glistening hardened 
statue.  Even though the coated girl was obviously never 
going to move again, Zorelle continued to apply coats of 
lacquer to her captive until the large tin was empty.
        The dressmaker's dummy that was once Cynthia had an 
open circular mouth through which a feeding tube of life 
giving soft food and nutrients would be inserted once a day.  
She could not speak because her tongue and voice box had 
been swiftly removed when she was first captured, but her 
breathing was ragged as if she was trying to warn Linda of 
her fate in Zorelle's hands.  The sorceress demonstrated how 
tubes could be inserted between Cynthia's legs to collect 
her waste products and even force fed back into her using 
small pumps if she had to be punished....not that she could 
possibly disobey anything now - but Zorelle would think of 
something.  The only movement possible in the lacquer doll 
was a pair of tearful eyes, forever open and moving and 
watching.  She was propped up against a wall behind the 
throne with all tubes connected in place.
        "Oh, don't worry, Cynthia dear....after a few weeks as 
a mannequin you'll really start to believe you are 
one....and after a month or two you'll have trouble 
remembering your own name.....most of my dummies can't even 
remember they had names at all!  Believe me, there is no 
return from *that* state, my pretty one."
        "I once lacquered a *very* pretty explosives 
scientist, but after three months the lacquer broke down and 
I thought she would need an immediate re-coat.  Not so!  She 
was already long gone into mannequin-land.  She really 
thought she was one - didn't move, couldn't remember how to 
talk properly or even think straight.  I had to dip her in 
flexy stiff vinyl to make her look and feel like a dolly 
again just like she wanted.  She actually begged me to!"

  Since the cost of supplying feed to all 'tubed' captives 
added up, Zorelle usually cast a stasis spell on them, 
especially after the novelty of feeding them their own waste 
products wore off.  The Cynthia doll was so modified three 
months later.  This meant that she could not die from 
starvation or any other ailment such as lack of oxygen as 
long as she was being sustained magically.  Much later, when 
Zorelle grew tired of playing with her rigid life-sized 
doll, she slid her down on the top of a short pole on an 
ornate stand and fixed her in position.  This made her into 
a more conventional mannequin, raised with just the tips of 
her toes touching her pedestal.  Cynthia was used as an 
experimental bondage mannequin for a few years until the 
factory had a big cleanout, and she was moved into warehouse 
storage along with a half-dozen other dolls who had shared 
her original fate.  The Cynthia doll disappeared unnoticed 
one night, no doubt smuggled home by a lonely night watchman 
to brighten up his decor.  Not that she cared who owned her 
anymore - she had long ago pushed the painfully happy 
memories of her past life from her mind and rollercoasted 
into a nicely maintainable empty-headed role.  As long as 
she was kept on her lovely stand, Cynthia was content.  
Perhaps one day somebody would come to rescue her, but 
perhaps if she made an effort to stare blankly at the wall 
they would leave her be.  Time would tell.

        The next one of Linda's friends to be led out in front 
of her was Joanna, also naked.  Joanna prided herself on her 
muscular physique and had been a runner for Supergirl's 
messages during the war.
        "Ah Joanna....put her in one of our new inflatable 
rubber suits, ready to be pressurised" ordered Zorelle.
        After a brief dressing struggle Joanna was wearing the 
strange bulky black garment, enveloping her completely from 
head to toe with all the sealing zips locked closed.  Her 
only links to the outside world were small breathing tubes 
in her nostrils, and the much larger ones forced into her 
mouth, cunt and rear.  Once the enveloping costume was 
inflated, these tubes were designed to keep her body 
supplied with the minimum of life-giving essentials whilst 
removing any wastes she produced.  The wearer could be 
enclosed indefinitely without need for removal.
        Zorelle screwed a hose onto the valve at the very top 
of Joanna's suit and with a little hiss of escaping gas, 
connected the other end of it to a nozzle on the wall.  She 
turned on a tap and the pressure suit began to fill and 
expand steadily.  But not with air.  The substance that was 
inflating it was heavy, plainly a kind of paste.  The 
rubber-sheathed creature was dragged like a giant bloated 
slug down onto the floor under the extra weight.  Joanna's 
arms were inexorably lifted out, away from her body as the 
pressure of the swollen suit gradually overcame her 
strength.  Linda's worst suspicions were confirmed when a 
helper moved revealing a label on the pipe reading "Q.D.P."
        "Yes, that's right, Joanna is to become one of my 
statues also, my dear" gloated Zorelle as she followed 
Linda's gaze.  "A plaster one this time though.  Once the 
suit has been completely inflated, Joanna will be compressed 
and immobilised inside.  This Quick Drying Plaster should 
set in about ten minutes, and it will swell as it dries, 
compressing her with the pressure.  The plaster also 
generates quite a lot of heat as it sets, which I am sure 
will be unpleasant for Joanna with the hot tight rubber 
against her skin."
        When the suit had completely ballooned out, it become 
so heavy that it took four guards to lift the swollen 
captive to her feet and hold her in a standing position.  By 
the time the pressure in the drum-stretched suit had reached 
90 PSI according to the pressure gauge on the pipe, all 
movement from the girl within had ceased.  The guards 
wobbled the sides of the suit to consolidate any tiny air 
bubbles and make them boil back up the filling tube, topped 
it up one final time and screw-capped the valve closed.
        Zorelle waited patiently for fifteen minutes while the 
rubber and plaster encased girl hardened.  She cut away the 
outer rubber layer to reveal a bulbous white plaster statue 
beneath.  It had no features save several tubes that were 
hanging from the face and groin.  The guards were instructed 
to carve a likeness of Joanna's face on the head of the new 
plaster dummy and to dress it in fat rubber imitations of 
the clothes that Joanna was wearing when she was captured, 
including a rubber evening gown, rubber petticoat, rubber 
corset, and high heeled rubber lace-up boots.  The dummy's 
shoed feet were set into a heavy plaster pedestal to prevent 
it from toppling over and then the dummy containing Joanna 
was slid over to rest beside the stiff lacquer mannequin and 
had its tubes connected to the pumps.

Zorelle laughed as she ran her hand down the back of the 
smooth white plaster head.
        "Ooh! Your running legs are so much more attractive!  
Got any messages for me now?".  She put her ear to the 
mouth region of the silent statue as if listening for a 
voice.  "Don't fret gorgeous, since you can't see, hear or 
speak, you'll have even less time than the Cynthia mannequin 
to enjoy your old identity.  Your mind will automatically 
adjust to the situation - trust me, it always happens that 
way.  In no time at all you'll believe you always were a 
plaster and latex mannequin.  The most joyous part of your 
new life will be the feeding times, regardless of what we 
decide to pump in.  That's if I don't cast the stasis spell 
on all of you statues to save myself the trouble."

        Linda tried to find a weak spot in her confinement but 
as she expected, there were none.  Zorelle was neutralizing 
her enemies as quickly as she could, and Supergirl was 
unable to save any of them, at least not yet.  The evil 
sorceress had a complex about being overpowered in her sleep 
because it was then that magi were most vulnerable.  She 
made an effort to ensure all non-believers were safely 
packaged....even a sorceress liked a good night's sleep.

        Another former messenger, Lisa, was brought in and 
fastened to the vertical rack.  She was freshly hairless, 
and looked relieved at being released from months as a 
stretched milk maid for the troops.  Her relief did not last 
long.  Breathing tubes were placed in her nostrils, and a 
food tube sealed to her lips.  Waste disposal tubes were 
inserted into her lower body in the same way the others had 
been.  Once prepared, the guards proceeded to wrap every 
limb of her body tightly in rolls of slimy plaster 
impregnated gauze, the kind used to mend broken bones.  But 
Lisa had no broken bones.  Before long, she was encased from 
head to toe in a catsuit-like thin plaster body cast, which 
hampered any attempt at bending her limbs to any great 
degree.  Her hands were balled into tight slimy white fists 
that were going to be of no use to her, wet or dry, and her 
spectacular milk-maid breasts were wrapped close to her 
chest by a criss-cross of plaster bandages, hampering her 
breathing.  While the plaster was still saturated, Lisa was 
released from the rack, completely encased in seamless 
white.  Her slippery form with the protruding tubes 
slithered helplessly to the floor, trying to crawl on her 
knuckles and knees, completely disoriented by being unable 
to see or hear.  Since the plaster was still freshly 
applied, she could still move in a limited fashion, but to 
no avail.  This was not to be the extent of her confinement.  
The guards lifted Lisa to her feet again and held her 
already stiffening arms so that they crossed and cradled her 
generous bosom, pulling her legs together as though standing 
to attention.  They attached the start of a large roll of 
the gauze to the back of her head and wrapped her from head 
to toe again, effectively mummifying her.  Her static 
plaster form was laid down on its back and left to dry until 
completely hard.  During that time, the movements from 
within became less and less as the stiff wrappings shrank 
considerably.  This made her fully wrapped body so narrow 
that Linda imagined that her friend could not have fitted 
inside it at all.  Zorelle assured the captive princess that 
her friend was still quite alive by amplifying the sounds of 
her labored breathing for a moment.  The plaster mummy was 
painted in an exquisite Egyptian style and placed under 
glass in the Royal Museum along with the rest of the 
historical Egyptian exhibit.  Her feed tubes were connected 
out of sight of the patrons who would shuffle by day after 
day, remarking on the timeless beauty of the rigid painted 

        Back in the throne room, a serving girl teetered over 
to Zorelle with the queen's afternoon coffee on a tray.  The 
girl wore a completely clear plastic ballet boot costume 
that was laced from her toes to her nose, and the ensemble 
had special additions that ensured she kept her tightly 
stretched clothing on.  Through the clear plastic covering 
the servant's mouth it could be seen that her lips and 
tongue had surgical eyelets added to them and were laced 
neatly together, sealing them closed.  Her mouth and 
protruding surgically lengthened tongue were tightly laced, 
both against and through the clear plastic.  She wasn't 
planning to speak out of place anytime soon.  A little 
ribbon with "Tammy" written on it hung from each plastic 
sheathed nipple.  In a disastrous attempt to please her new 
employer the girl hurried a little, catching her heel on the 
edge of a rug and spilling a single drop of hot coffee on 
Zorelle.  The evil queen exploded with rage and grabbed the 
clumsy girl's hobbling chain and anchored it to the floor.  
Zorelle produced a little vial marked "plasticiser" from 
her potions bag and dipped a tiny pin in it.  The serving 
maid's eyes widened and she trembled visibly with fear.
        "Hold still dear.....this won't hurt a bit" she said 
as she pricked the tethered serving girl on the cheek, 
ending a half-hearted attempt to avoid it.  The most 
immediate change was that Tammy stopped moving the instant 
she was jabbed.  After a moment a shine crept down the 
girl's cheek as her skin and flesh became translucent, 
changing into some kind of artificial substance...seemingly 
a kind of plastic.  Her head went misty and in moments had 
turned completely clear as the effect travelled down her 
neck.  Her lithe shoulders and breasts hardened and became 
clear too as the change worked more rapidly.  All Tammy 
could do was stand there as the plastic grew downwards, 
flowing down her flat stomach like water and making her legs 
crystal clear.  Just as the plastic reached her toes Tammy 
felt a rush of panic and then nothing, as all thoughts left 
her forever.  Zorelle quickly pressed the statue's palms 
together in front of her as though in prayer and pushed it 
to a crouch.  It had taken just a few seconds to transform 
clumsy serving girl Tammy into erotic plastic towel rack 
Tammy.  Zorelle ordered the new furniture to be placed in 
the servant's showers.

        Of course, plastic Tammy had a trainer, Rosemary, who 
was ultimately responsible for the actions of her serving 
girls.  Rosemary soon found herself naked, with her bare 
feet epoxied to the marble floor in the corner of the throne 
room.  But nobody was ever naked long in Zorelle's kingdom.  
Nozzles and melting tanks were set up around her at all 
angles and she was sprayed with a continuous fine mist of 
bronze vlatex.  She tried to scrape it off but it cured 
almost the instant it touched her skin.  The sticky film 
could not be avoided no matter which way she twisted.  For 
many hours, coat after rubber coat was applied to her and 
buffed and glossed according to the evil sorceress's 
instructions.  That evening Zorelle checked on what she 
planned to call her "rubber statue corner".  She found a 
finely polished vlatex creature struggling fruitlessly 
against her new rigid rubbery sheath.  Rosemary's hands had 
bonded to her hips where she first tried to brush off the 
coating and the vlatex-coated floor was now her pedestal.  
If she hadn't had a stasis spell cast on her she would long 
since have suffocated because her nose, mouth and head had 
been sealed over completely.
        "Since you can't train your own staff how to serve 
properly, perhaps you can teach yourself how to be a bronze 
rubber statue" snarled Zorelle, giving the quivering statue 
an exploratory push.  As expected, the feminine rubber form 
toppled backwards a little before juddering upright again.  
This captive wasn't going anywhere soon either.  The 
glistening bronze lips seemed to be trying to mouth words, 
but not a sound emerged from the airless voice box.  The 
spray had hit so fast that even Rosemary's eyeballs had been 
coated while her eyelids were wide open in shock.  Her 
sightless stare would last an eternity.

Something Fishy Going On.

        Plasti-skin was a recent medical breakthrough used 
mostly for plastic surgery.  Once it was pressed against its 
recipient's body, it would become permanent and alive if not 
removed within five minutes.  Despite the skin's capacity 
for good, Zorelle had found evil ways to make use of it.  A 
few men who had been captured alive in the battle were 
shaved and forced to don anatomically-correct female plasti-
skins that transformed their bodies completely on the 
outside.  They were tortured and brainwashed until they had 
become submissive slave girls.  The girls, often seen 
wearing heavily laced Edwardian gowns made from transparent 
plastic, were a relaxation for Zorelle when the stresses of 
her long days suppressing the kingdom got to her.

        The next of Linda's friends to be punished was a proud 
Amazonian called Melanie, who had been the princesses' 
chamber-maid and protector.  Zorelle barked an order and a 
white vinyl nurse-nun, Sister Josephine from the Sisters of 
No Mercy bowed into the room with a swathe of shimmering 
garments made from plasti-skin on a silver tray.  The sister 
no longer wore her traditional black and white cloth medical 
habit, for it had been replaced with a tightly buckled white 
vinyl catsuit that hugged her curves leaving nothing to the 
imagination.  The red cross of the catsuit was bright 
between her glistening snowy breasts, and her vow of silence 
was guaranteed by the attached skintight hood that left just 
the eyes and nose uncovered.  Bulging plastic cheeks 
betrayed the huge expando-gag Sister Josephine wore beneath 
her enclosing regulation head gear, and the only sound she 
made was the rustle of her outfit and the click of her six 
inch heels as her booted feet touched the stone floor with 
each dainty step.  The fabric between her thighs was so 
tight that it bisected her pussy into twin mounds, no doubt 
a punishment in itself when walking was required.  The 
Sisters of No Mercy had once been a charitable religious 
order before Zorelle had done an "inspection".  With the 
help of a few choice spells she added a "No" to the name 
on the front of the convent and converted the whole order 
into one that would worship her alone.  The plastic nuns 
would do only her bidding - especially useful when medical 
procedures were required.
        Keeping Sister Josephine waiting patiently, the evil 
sorceress turned to look at Melanie who was laying nude on 
the cushions beside the throne.  Under the effects of a 
compulsion spell, the bronzed Amazon had been helplessly 
frigging her drooling pussy with a dildo for the last hour.  
The figure nestled amongst the satin cushion shook as her 
pussy gripped the shaft in rhythmical spasms and another 
climax wracked her body.
        "Uhhh....please make it 
more....uh....oooooo....can't think....mmmmmm....uh......not 
again..." she cried as she watched her own hands slide the 
dildo almost lovingly home again.
        "Here we are Melanie dear, your new costume is ready.  
You can stop your display for everyone here soon" said 
Zorelle gesturing at the silver tray.  "This the reason why 
the Sisters were measuring you so minutely yesterday.  Here, 
let me show it to you"
        Wearing her shoulder-length latex gloves and being 
careful not to touch it against her skin, Zorelle lifted the 
unusually crafted garment.  It was shaped like a body length 
tube, beginning with a high collar, tapering to a large 
fish's tail at the bottom.  The plasti-skin suit had scales 
all over it, and the mermaid's tail was connected where the 
feet would normally be.  Melanie's eyes widened but she did 
not even break her rhythm as her hungry hips demanded more 
upon more pleasure.  Smiling to herself, Zorelle halted the 
compulsion spell and had guards hold Melanie's arms at her 
sides and her feet together to a point.  With haste, Zorelle 
shrugged the narrow outfit up the girls' body until the 
Amazon was completely enclosed and quite helpless for her 
arms were ensconced in the internal sleeves of the membrane.  
She sealed the neck and waited for the skin to set.  Melanie 
the armless Mermaid flopped pathetically around on the floor 
for some time in an attempt to escape before she was 
permanently altered, but she did not succeed.  Her arms had 
disappeared inside her scaly torso, and where her legs had 
been was now a big slithery tail.  Zorelle dragged her new 
mermaid over to a huge glass spa that she had had filled to 
near the brim with cool, sticky butter, which soon hardened.  
With some help from the guards, she threw Melanie over the 
rim, and the modified girl lay flat on the surface of the 
butter.  Zorelle pushed her struggling form into the centre 
with scoops.

        "Now for some light sport!" she laughed to Linda, who 
watched in revulsion at her servant's plight.  "Watch my new 
little mermaid swim!"
        The butter began to melt from Melanie's body heat, and 
she started to sink into it.  She thrashed about and managed 
to get to some slightly harder butter, but the heat from her 
exertions just made it melt faster.  Soon the butter was 
melting faster than she could cope with, and her tail sank 
in up to her waist.  In a panic, she wriggled over to the 
edge of the glass tank and tried to flip her mermaid body 
over the two foot rim of the spa, but could not, since she 
no longer had any arms or legs.  By kicking with her tail, 
the terrified mermaid managed to slow but not stop 
altogether her downward movement.  Soon she had sunk to the 
point where all she could do was swim jerkily around in a 
small pool of her own melted butter, desperately trying to 
keep her head afloat.  She swallowed repeated mouthfuls of 
butter, and slowly her strength left her, until finally with 
a gurgling scream she sank below the surface and hung still 
- passing out from fear rather than lack of oxygen because 
Zorelle had cast a stasis spell on her long ago.  The evil 
sorceress had the mermaid fished out and revived for 
transport to her new home at the city aquarium, where 
Melanie spent many of her subsequent days gracing a display 
stand inside a small glass tank wearing a full body, neck-
to-toefin corset that left just the tip of her tail fins 

Trudi and Pamela were identical twins.  During the fall of 
the city they had answered a desperate knock on their door 
and found Melanie, scared, on their step - she was on the 
wanted list.  They looked after her and lay low for several 
days until a surprise raid netted the three of them.  The 
sisters had no hope of release - aiding a wanted 
"criminal" was a serious offence - and their conversion to 
mermaids was swifter than Melanie's had been.  The rubbery 
skins curled up their nude bodies with the aid of Zorelle's 
magic and had no five minute setting time.  Crazy with fear, 
the freshly created twin mermaids caused a wild scene in the 
throne room.  The distressed women began thrashing their 
powerful tails in all directions, bowling over a number of 
the chambermaids who rushed to subdue them and even toppling 
a porcelain vase girl who shattered in a million pieces on 
the marble floor.  Eventually the sheer number of rubber-
clad maids grasping them managed to hold the wriggling girls 
still.  Long couches were wheeled from backstage of the 
throne room entertainment area and the mermaids were grasped 
by both arms and strapped down on them, right to the tips of 
their tails.  An enclosing, muffling metal helmet, with a 
single blinking red light on the top was placed over the 
head of each fish-tailed girl and activated.  All in the 
room watched the jiggling forms as their movements 
diminished and finally the light changed to green.  Two 
placid, well adjusted mermaids were released and handed a 
pile of shimmering green vlatex that turned out to be their 
costumes.  They obediently helped to dress themselves, 
sliding their tails and upper bodies simultaneously through 
the single tiny opening down the back of the fully enclosing 
and heavily lubricated skinsuit.  Once the transformed girls 
had squirmed fully into their frictionless outfits, there 
was a hiss and all remaining air in them was expelled.  The 
small slits up their glossy backs sealed shut and then 
disappeared without a trace as the enchanted costumes took 
over the packaging role.  The girls showed indifference as 
the airtight vlatex was suctioned against their faces, 
demonstrating the effectiveness of Zorelle's stasis spells 
when breathing was impossible.  The vacuum-sheathed 
kryptonite rubber mermaids flopped greasily around on the 
floor as Zorelle made them smaller and smaller.  When they 
were a small proportion of their original size, the rubber 
mermaids were doubled over and squeezed into globular bags 
made from the same everlasting green vlatex.  The stretchy 
prisons were topped up with lubricant and then sealed 
closed, leaving two slightly transparent soccer balls 
quivering and bucking on the floor as if they had a life of 
their own.  

================< A note from your author >================
Are there any half decent artists out there who would like 
to try and create illustrations for this story?  Can anyone 
offer web space and time to look after the images?
Intelligent comments and story ideas VERY welcome, but note 
that Fast does not have time to email copies of stories to 
people.  Unsolicited Bulk Email and newsgroup spam must end!
Unsolicited Bulk Email is theft!

All feedback via

I do plan to release Supergirl in the end, but there is a 
lot to happen in the story before that!

...another 68% of the story to come.
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