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 evil Zorelle
had been exiled by Princess Linda's father for dabbling in the forbidden magics;
the cruel woman had used her time away effectively, learning the full extent of
her powers....no 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, marching them towards total
dominance 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 kingdom.


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 and booted 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 anonymously beneath their tight hoods and 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 vision.

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 strikingly
clad woman she was holding seemed to collapse into herself, looking terrified in
the process.  The woman was a decoy.  The hapless gold and silver outfitted
figure who she imagined was Zorelle had shimmered abruptly 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 gag in her mouth that expanded to
fill.  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
unconsciousness.

< A captured male officer was marched to stand in front of the Sorceress as she
paced back and forth excitedly in front of her throne, unable to stand still for
long.  The six inch metal heels of her glossy black rubber hip boots made sharp
noises as they struck the marble flagstones, a novel flooring for a tent, but a
luxury that she demanded and received at every new battleground.  Against her
skin she wore a spectacular metallic gold latex catsuit that hugged all of her
curvy body, leaving just her proud face exposed.  The all-in-one seamless garment
had slim gloves joining the sleeves and a glossy attached hood with a ponytail
tube in the top from which a waterfall of dark hair flowed over a permanently
anchored golden crown.  A large silver cloak completed the ensemble, polished to
a mirror sheen and seemingly connected at two points to her erect nipples. "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 was stretched up
to cover her head from the suit at her neck and 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
princess, 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 as she settled her golden form
comfortably in the throne. "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 for a while - I
have a boxful of these darned purses already and they never wear out.  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 tentroom 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 bend her legs enough to even push herself off the
bench with the towering heels that had been 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 status 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 and stimulated her nipples 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
it stretched taut, preventing her bonneted rubber head from squeaking against a
recently created marble flagstone.  The Sorceress unplugged the hose from the
large tank and joined it to a smaller, softer, more portable 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 rubber. "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 an expensively carpeted part of the tent
floor, 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 evil 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 flushed out or 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.

<snip!>

Months later....in 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 weeks 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 in a huge glass display case
in her old room at the castle.  When the green mineral had invaded every cell of
the Princess's body and sapped her strength disastrously, it had been safe to
release her restraints and put her on public display in her crib.  Tens of
thousands of her previously loyal subjects filed silently through the castle for
a look at the fate of their Princess.  There Supergirl lay, in her frilly,
humiliatingly full baby costume, surrounded by little pink rubber dolls and
stuffed toys that were made from soldiers from her defeated army. There in the
throne room, with no energy reserves at all, standing weakly in front of her
captor, 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 metal manacles at both her wrists and ankles.  The
skin-tight outfit had oval holes for her attractive 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 on....so 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 maid's 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
castle. "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 body....soon I hope!".

The transport maid dragged her weakly resisting charge away and the other maids
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 tiny hay carpeted stalls, quietly feeding the populace with
their massively enhanced mammary glands.  The black and white cow-patterned,
podlike costumes stretched the fully enclosed maids taut by the hands and feet
and angled their dappled bodies a foot above the ground to an optimal forty-seven
degrees for milking.  A polished brown leather collar with a large attached cow
bell provided an attractive contrast with the crash-test dummy colours of the
amorphous hood that joined the costume.  Once squeezed into a tiny 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 trip.  Unless there were other plans for
them, the milk maids passed through an induction programme which removed their
capacity to concentrate on anything but muscle control for milk production.  Men
did not escape their duties either, for it took just one extra day for the
hormones to turn a man into a fully functional milk producer.  Zorelle soon
discovered that the hapless males produced stronger milk than the females, so she
had the half feminized creatures milked between the legs as well as the breasts
to add to the feed of the ladies and perhaps pass on some of their potency.  The
brain re-arrangement of the producers did not seem to stop the milkmaids that
were predisposed to misbehavior.  The worst would wait patiently until they heard
the muffled voices of the attendants nearby and kick wildly the moment they felt
any of their connecting tubes being handled, sometimes even dislodging the
milking cups from their constantly spurting nipples.  These recalcitrant milkers
were disconnected from the hooks stretching their pods and fed without further
ado into a chute to the loosely named "Battery Section" of the factory.  There
they were given a dose of potion that retracted their arms and legs fully into
their bodies while moving all of the extra body mass to their already enormous
breasts. An appropriately smaller latex sheath became the new attire of the
compact milkers, leaving no evidence of limbs that had once existed.  They were
lifted easily by machinery and hooked to their straining bars.  The cows were
strained so close together in the battery section that each rubbed her armless
latex shoulders against her neighbor.  Their distorted, efficient torsos
shuddered from the strong vibrations of the continuous milking process, causing
their super-stretched rubber coatings to squeak disagreeably.  The Battery
Milking section was always quite noisy and not a favorite of the dairy staff,
even though its occupants were zero maintenance - completely controlled and
enhanced by automatic machines from the moment they arrived in the chute.

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.  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 mostly 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 wasted
opportunity.  She 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.  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 the bizarre figure 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, barreled without his knowledge for they had separated on bad
terms. Eccles graciously accepted the gifts 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 over 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 to be 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.  Sure enough, 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:

Belle woke up in bed feeling very strange. Something was wrong with her eyes. 
She couldn't blink properly.  Her skin was tingling with an unusual pressure from
all directions.  "Must be another hangover" she thought and tried to push herself
to a sitting position and rub her eyes.  Her arms positively refused to answer so
she twisted her legs and rolled over onto her back near the edge of the bed.  "I
ought to remember not to sleep on my hands next time" Belle thought groggily. 
Ow! her neck was so stiff she couldn't turn her head.  She gyrated to a seating
position and caught her reflection in the mirror, gasping with horror - or she
would have gasped if the tap wasn't where her mouth used to be.  Her entire body
had been coated as though dipped in black vlatex, and her arms were *missing*,
her glossy shoulders showing no evidence of where limbs had been attached just
hours before. Ballet booted feet tapered endlessly away from her as she lifted
her foot into her field of vision. She was a barrel girl!  What had she done to
deserve this?  She raced to the door of the bedroom, but it was closed.  Without
hands, turning the round doorknob was an impossibility.  She threw her new latex
self down on the pink satin sheets and sobbed - or tried to sob, but her mouth
tap was in the "off" position and all that came out was a low purr- like noise
from her nostrils.  Lord Eccles opened the door and looked down over the shiny
black vlatex creature that lay face down on the bed making funny noises.  The
ebony darkness of Belle's artificial skin was framed beautifully  by the
contrasting masses of pink satin sheets.  The doll on the bed had been his wife
just twelve hours earlier.  He rolled her over and her tear reddened eyes
immediately blazed with hatred. "Ah!  Merciful silence!  You look much better in
this form, my dear wife - I'm almost tempted to keep you like this....but I have
other plans for you. The grapes are good for an excellent vintage this year.  You
look so stiff!  Permit me to examine you with my hands - after all, you can do so
no longer!" he laughed, skating his fingertips over every inch of her
surprisingly sensitive frictionless body, marveling at the workmanship that
Zorelle had described in her magic potion - the same potion that Belle had
quaffed in her wine the evening before. Belle spent the whole of the day
automatically walking around in circles in her grape crushing half-barrel, often
stumbling into the rich red grape mash, coating her waterproof, flawless rubber
skin in juice.  When she had filled a large tank with her forced stomping, the
juice had a fermenting culture added and it was again mixed.  Lord Eccles reached
over the edge of the stomping barrel and grasped hold of his soon to be ex-wife's
mouth tap, pulling her to face him. "Now comes the time for you to make your
dramatic departure from the real world, my dear." he murmured with a hint of
sadness.  "I hope that my next wife marries me for love instead of money or
power.  But no matter.  *You* had to be such a bitch on top of it all, didn't
you?  You'll have plenty of time to reflect on your foolishness Belle, at least
while you still have your mind, that is!  Such a waste of one of the sexiest
women around too." He opened her mouth tap and she immediately felt a sensation
of falling towards the pool of unused juice about her ankles.  Her beautiful legs
were getting shorter!  In seconds they were completely retracted such that just
two vlatex ankle boots protruded from her hips where her legs had been. They
quickly disappeared altogether.  Unbalanced, Belle toppled flat onto her back in
the ruby fluid. She had become a rubberised torso of herself, limbless and
helpless as a newborn baby.  A tube from the fermenting tank was connected to her
facial tap and without further ado the tank's contents were hosed into Belle's
mouth tap.  As the fluid was pumped in, a second layer of the skin on her torso
parted and expanded like a balloon, rounding into a barrel shape and forcing her
head to arch back and form the front end of the container.  They stood her new
rigid vlatex form on its circular rear end and Belle could feel the cool liquid
streaming down the front of her glossy internal breasts and the pressure building
up.  The tank filled and she could feel her thoughts blending with the young
wine. Lady Belle had been turned into a barrel girl.  As a barrel girl, she 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.

Brushing cobwebs aside to peer at labels, 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 briefly 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 enormously.  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
ten litres of wine to carry - and the barrel girls were horrified too, because
they all knew that their 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 a completely encased Princess Linda, now set solid on
all fours, her plaster knees and palms supporting her weight on the floor, with
her enlarged heavy breasts hanging exposed below to be 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.  The spell was only
temporary and would return her bosom to normal size within a few days, but inside
her stiffened shell Linda was wondering if she would have to carry the huge
breasts around forever.  Zorelle 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 relieved of her plaster layer and inner 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 damp, 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 similarly 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 fresh 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 to play with, 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 by wrists and ankles
to the vertical rack.  She was very pale, freshly hairless, and looked somewhat
relieved at being released from months as a stretched milk maid for the troops. 
The mass of black and white latex that had been her cloying sheath during milk
production lay discarded on the floor.  What Lisa currently thought of as her
name, "Daisy" could be read in small lettering amongst the folds of mottled shiny
rubber, and would soon be stretched larger than life across the back of her
replacement Daisy in the dairy.  Daisy's relief did not last long.
"I....I....Moooooooo!....oh....I....MoooOOOooo! " stammered Milkmaid Daisy,
explaining that she would try to produce more milk next time.  She looked around
at her audience with big glazed brown eyes that had once been deep blue, and as
she did so Supergirl noticed that her cowgirl friend now sported little
button-sized horns that were starting to grow from her temples.  The forced
induction programme at the dairy had left Lisa with a new name, a room
temperature IQ and matching single- syllable vocabulary.   She had had few
opportunities to exercise the latter from within her beautifully patterned
kayak-shaped cocoon as she hung in her tiny cubicle at the dairy.  The
figure-hugging pod had always kept her perfectly silent, holding an expanded
penis shaft down her throat that spurted slightly salty, liquid hormones into her
stomach every hour, swiftly converting her into the huge- breasted human cow
currently seen stretched out naked on Zorelle's vertical rack.  In a flurry of
activity, 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 Daisy 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, Daisy 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 Daisy 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 prepared body so narrow that Linda imagined
that her friend could not have fitted inside it at all.  Zorelle assured the
captive princess that Daisy 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 mummy.

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 the
poison.  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 rail 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 Rosemary, buffed
and glossed to mirror perfection each time as per the evil sorceress's
instructions.  That evening Zorelle checked on what she planned to call her
"rubber statue corner".  She found a finely polished bronze vlatex creature
struggling fruitlessly against her new rigid rubbery sheath.  Rosemary's bronze
hands had bonded to her bronze 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 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 demure
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 ten 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 were compelled to do only her bidding -
especially useful when medical procedures were required.  The ridiculous heels
were very difficult to balance on, so the sisters were always clamped to the
floor before a delicate operation. Keeping Sister Josephine teetering 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 colossal dildo for the
last hour.  The over-sexed 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 stop... ...ohhhhhhhh... ...uh... ...no 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.  One more orgasm and you can stop
your display for everyone here" 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 to feed the climax sweeping through her body yet again. 
Smiling to herself, Zorelle halted the compulsion spell and had the guards hold
the recuperating 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 - 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 with 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 free.

Trudi and Pamela were identical twins.  During the fall of the city they had
answered a desperate knock on their door and found Melanie, very 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.  Beginning life as the rubber
ballet slippers they had been made to wear, the rubbery skin 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 skinsuits, casting a spray of radiated green
light across the room.  Once the transformed girls had squirmed fully into their
frictionless outfits, there was a hiss as all remaining air in the sheaths 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 tiny.  When they were a small proportion
of their original size, the petite rubber creatures 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 seamless soccer balls quivering and bucking on the floor
as if they had a life of their own.

The jiggling globes were rolled over to where Linda watched powerlessly from her
embedded floor position, still wearing her tightly stretched leather slave girl
restraint.  She struggled to free her arms from the stiffened leather sleeves of
the straight jacket that cradled her leather covered bosom but the material was
like sheet steel.  The part of the costume covering her breasts shimmered and
disappeared, exposing her naked skin to the air of the room - air that seemed
extraordinarily fresh due to the hot confines of the suit.

Zorelle carefully lifted the large wobbling rubber creations in her hands and,
kneeling down, squashed them against Supergirl's comparatively miniature breasts.
"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have breasts this big, Princess?
 No?  Well, how about you try it for a while....perhaps forever?" The sorceress's
eyes glowed and her hands became difficult to see clearly, but it seemed apparent
that she was slowly sinking her fists and the implants into Linda's chest.  The
princess of steel almost passed out at the sight of Zorelle's wrists protruding
from her presented bosom, watching in dismay as the evil queen slid her fists
deeper, as if Linda's super-flesh was made out of soft wax. The princess could
feel Zorelle maneuvering the implants into position inside her breasts and after
what seemed like an eternity, the invading hands withdrew, minus the load they
had been carrying. The result: Supergirl with gravity defying size EE breasts! 
The evil queen had developed this bizarre method of control for Linda because the
kryptonite vlatex that encased the mermaids inside the Princess's new breast
inserts would prevent her from mustering any of her super strength until they
were removed - and there was not a scalpel in all the land that could cut
Supergirl's flesh.  In fact, Linda would not need restraining at all unless she
found out a way to remove the implants.  Having a "live" bust caused the princess
much distress - her two captives kicked and struggled night and day, jiggling her
heavy breasts even as she slept....or tried to sleep.  Zorelle squeezed two
tautly stretched nipples between her fingers. "Your plastiskin'd bosom buddies
are there to stay Princess.  I hope you'll enjoy getting to know them - they are
certainly enjoying their new format, courtesy of our little `beg to be bound'
helmets here".  She cupped the huge mammaries and felt their ponderous weight.
"My! These will be heavy!", Zorelle chuckled, half to herself.  "Don't worry
Supertits! - I have plenty of costumes with stiffened backs to lace you into!  
Hmmmmm.....I wonder if I can add boning and laces to a plastiskin garment -
perhaps you could end up as my super mermaid?...we'll see!"

In the past, Zorelle had also used the skin to get her revenge on a serving maid
called Lillian who had tried to poison her.  Zorelle drugged the girl's food, and
whilst she was asleep, she rolled Lillian tightly from the neck down in a large
sheet of plasti-skin.  She cut two small holes for access to the drugged girl's
cunt and rear, and two more through which her breasts could protrude, and then
pressed the skin smooth all over.  Long after the five minute setting time had
passed, Lillian awoke to find that she could not get up.  She could not seem to
get her arms or legs to move at all.  They had disappeared, and apart from her
head, breasts and sex, she looked like a rather curvaceous human worm, destined
for one of the queen's brothels. Lillian's accomplice Charlotte was revenged upon
in a similar but worse way.  She simply had her usual plastic prison bedsheets
and pillows replaced with identical plasti-skin ones.  She awoke the next morning
to find that she had been permanently fused into her bed.

Linda was lifted from her recess in the floor and made to walk stiffly along
behind Zorelle who held her leash and led her to a section of the castle under
fresh construction since the takeover. Linda found that she had no energy in
reserve at all due to the kryptonite embedded in her chest. Despite the
difficulty of walking upright with the extra weight of her bosom pulling her down
over her towering heels, she managed to walk perfectly all the way just to spite
her captor.  Zorelle was quite angry at the show of defiance by the time they
reached their destination, so she had her slave fitted with two huge vibrators
that locked snugly into the Princess's leather costume.  An doubly- layered
rubber body bag followed that, once inflated, compressed Linda's body from the
neck down in a neat tubular mass of ballooning red latex, a polished sheath that
hid none of her new busty attributes due to its glistening transparency.  The
super-captive was lifted to her air cushioned feet and buckled in a dozen places
to a recently finished pillar so she could watch the progress of the royal
builders.  These hard working staff were examining a set of plans to work out
which prisoners were supposed to be installed where, and as which part of the
building....perhaps as components for a door or a ceiling relief....Zorelle had
drafted many plans since renovations had begun.  They builders were checking the
numbers on the blueprints against the numbers on a rack of anonymous black rubber
pods that hung in storage until they were needed for installation.  Zorelle
commanded the worker's attention.

"Release pod sixty two - that annoying wench who was captain of the guard.  We'll
do the support pillar now.", she said.  Linda's loyal subject Valeria slid in a
well lubricated way from the breached seal at the base of her pod.  After a brief
cleaning ritual a punishment and feeder helmet with the standard air and food
hoses attached was laced over her head, leaving her without sight or voice.
Valeria was dragged to a huge perspex cylinder about two metres in diameter that
ran vertically from floor to ceiling.  At the queen's command, her head, arms,
and legs were pulled back as far as they could go into adjustable round openings
in the cylinder. The guards entered the pillar via a door in the base and
shackled the silent girls' limbs rigidly inside it to rings, so that only her
naked torso remained outside, leaving her anonymous vagina and breasts arched
achingly to the world.  The food and air tubes protruding from her face were
connected to two remaining holes in the cylinder which were just above her head.
"Welcome to your new home, number sixty two. Very soon you'll have a new concrete
pillar to call home" announced Zorelle, chuckling at the sight of the struggling,
but firmly secured woman. "When the pressurised concrete sets, only your naked
torso from the throat to hips will be on the outside of the pillar....then you'll
feel what I felt in your dungeon so many years ago.  But you'll be a permanent
prisoner!". The builders made fast work of the concrete pipe assembly that would
be feeding into the top of the pillar, because they did not want to fall victims
of their mistresses' feared temper.  Once it was all done, Zorelle took hold of
the control lever, but hesitated with a sudden malicious thought. "Hmm.. I can
use this pillar to kill two birds with one stone so to speak.  Bring in Donna."
Raging impotently against her layers of stifling red latex, Linda remembered that
Donna had been one of her best infiltrators, and had narrowly missed the evil
queen with an arrow before she had been captured. Tightly bound in a network of
crimson latex straps that made up her body harness, with two vibrators buzzing
loudly inside her, Donna appeared. Sucking fearfully on her gag, she was pushed
through the small door to stand in the center of the cylinder.  Her feet were
locked to the floor in a widely spread stance, and just the gag was removed to
free up her mouth.  Without bothering to connect any tubes to the girl on whom
she had passed a death sentence, Zorelle shut the door and bolted it.  She pulled
the lever and liquid concrete began pouring slowly over pleading Donna's head,
flowing like thick grey mud down her body.  Some concrete also splattered the
head and limbs of her stretched motionless partner Valeria in the process.  In a
little while, the lumpy liquid had reached Donna's thighs, and had completely
covered the inner portion of wall-bound Valeria's legs, stretched out as they
were.  Donna gasped under the flow of grey liquid and cried out desperately
"Zorelle please!  I can help you.  I'll tell you anything you want to know!" "You
already have my dear" answered the queen, smiling, "you told me everything
straight away when we forced the truth serum into you.  The other impalings we
did to you on torture stools and the like were simply for my entertainment.  Of
course you would remember nothing of your confession dear, we reverted your mind
back to childhood for a while. Your dozen or so helpers were easily rounded up
and now they grace spare bedroom number six, as arm and legless rubber pillows".
By then the concrete had completely covered the first girl Valeria, and the level
had raised to the height of Donna's breasts and neck.  Donna began to scream. 
When the liquid had reached the now completely grey girls' chin, Zorelle halted
the flow.  She had a hole drilled at Donna's face height in the cylinder and a
wide pipe was pushed through to the helpless girl. "Open your mouth you little
traitor!  It is your only hope for survival!" cried the sorceress with an evil
gleam.  Donna opened her mouth as wide as she was able and allowed the pipe to be
forced and twisted in between her teeth.  The concrete flow was restarted and
quickly covered the terrified captive's head.  In twenty minutes the whole column
would be filled, but would be left for days to dry. Before the column was
completed, Zorelle brought out a finger-thin Burrowing Snake from a basket she
materialized and handed it carefully to a handmaiden. "Feed this little cutie
down the mouth of the tube we just made" she said. "But surely my mistress
doesn't want to kill her now" cried the girl, horrified that she had been told to
take part in the proceedings. "What did you say wench?  I'll teach you to disobey
a direct order!  Plastiskin her!" shouted the angry queen at two reluctant
guardswomen. Wanting to make an example of her, she raised her fist at the
petrified girl.  "Seal her into one of our new plastiskin body stockings." The
guards pounced on the handmaiden and stripped her.  One of them held open a
pearl- coloured skinsuit, careful not to handle any part of it for too long,
while the other forced the girl into it.  The featureless skin adjusted itself to
the maiden's proportions and covered her smoothly from head to toe, with the
exception of two small nostril holes for air. The frightened convertee was held
down while the plastiskin set on her.  After five minutes, the guards released
their grip and she had changed to the unrecognisable state that the dark queen
had ordered.  Even though she could still breathe through the two nostril holes,
her mouth and all other openings were now sealed over, so that she would not be
able to eat and would eventually starve.  The pale, ghostlike figure was
mouthless, could not see or hear, and her groin area was now a smooth sexless
region.  The pitiful, smooth-headed creature was dog collared and chained to the
throne as an example to all.  She flopped pathetically around the floor in her
new condition scrabbling where her mouth and eyes had once been with smooth
awkward paws. "Now for the snake." ordered Zorelle heartlessly "You do it!" she
said, pointing to another handmaiden.  Unwilling to share the fate of her
featureless comrade, the frightened girl fed the snake down the mouth of the
tube.  The reptile entered willingly, since it sensed a source of heat ahead to
burrow into and lay its eggs in.  It slid quickly down the tube until it was
halfway in when it paused slightly.  Faint gagging noises could be heard and then
the snake continued its progress, burrowing down the throat and into the warm
body of the still living stasis-spelled woman who would incubate and provide food
for its babies.

It was usually warm and sunny in the little country village of Greenhaven.  The
place was barely a dot on the map, known only for its hosting of the State Asylum
for Women, a complex large enough to house a thousand inmates.  The residents of
these heavily secured white buildings remained there for the protection of both
themselves and the public - since Zorelle had seized power, no news of events
within escaped its imposing walls.

Many years ago, when Zorelle had started her black magic quest, she was forcibly
sent to the Asylum by the Guild of Magicians.  There she received some severe
punishment before escaping.  Recently, as the vengeful ruler of the country,
Zorelle decreed for her secret police to release every inmate and make them a
staff member, and to imprison every nurse and warden and sign their lives away
forever as new inmates.  In a single overnight raid, the staff became the
inmates, and the inmates became the staff.  She provided all the new psychotic
wardens with magical auto-do cubicles, which had the power to change a victim to
any format or costume once sealed within.  Most of the new warders were quite
insane to begin with, and one by one their recent human gifts paid terrible
penalties for imagined transgressions.  Each former guard or nurse patient was
heavily modified to make the idea of ever escaping their new home laughable. 
Even the humble tea lady was now a half human, half machine trolley creature that
pushed itself along the corridors with its leather hip-booted legs.

For example, the front half of former Nurse Jones spent the rest of her days as a
warm metal statue protrusion from the rear inner wall of a locker in the wardens
change rooms.  A once-patient of hers found it gratifying to hang his clothes on
the hooks that now terminated her polished metal bosom.  In instead of nipples,
her breasts followed a smooth curve to a point, then turned upwards to a hook, to
finish her conversion into a utility device.  Months ago, sealed helplessly
inside her warden's auto-do cubicle, Nurse Jones had shimmered through many
different formats to conform with the images generated in the head of her new
master, who sat comfortably in a chair nearby wearing the pickup headset and
watching the display screen.  She was just thankful that she had retained her
mind and not been made into a drooling and packaged vlatex vegetable like her two
warden friends she had watched emerge before her.

<snip!>

It was one year since the great war, and Maria had just finished her nursing
degree.  She saw an advertisement in the newspaper for a job at the asylum and
secured herself an immediate interview. The director of the institute seemed a
little odd, given that she was dressed in a very severe white vinyl dress that
stretched from her chin to her ankles, but she was pleasant enough, and Maria
needed money desperately so she accepted the job. Fashions of late had been
tending towards the restrictive anyway - Maria quite expected women to be wearing
bondage harnesses in public soon if the tightly laced trend continued.  The
guided tour showed many stiffly restrained and gagged inmates, some undergoing
thought replacement therapies with coloured lights and computer generated tapes. 
It was obviously the place for people with serious mental problems.  The
one-piece uniform Maria had to wear was a purest white vinyl nurse's dress, in a
style similar to the director's except for the hobble-skirt to her ankles and the
long sleeves with attached sterile mittens.  A long zip up the front of the dress
stretched the shiny material taut over her skin making it an effort to move, but
every nurse working there wore that regulatory uniform and seemed used to it, so
Maria soon forgot her initial annoyance with the dress code.  She worked long
hours and found an uneasy feeling in the place she could not put her
rubber-stiffened fingers on.  One day, her curiosity got the better of her and
she briefly ungagged one of the struggling patients who was scheduled for her
final round of thought replacement.  The panicking woman was hopelessly
combination locked to the conveyor belt leading to the docilisation chamber, but
before she was erased to total obedience she managed to share the full tale with
Nurse Maria.  Maria acted like she didn't believe the story, but was very
concerned and troubled as to what action to take.  Her uniform, with its mittened
sleeves molding of the hands into spoon shapes, made it impossible to escape the
complex during the day because the doors had hidden security latches that
required fingers.  All cadet nurses like Maria wore a regulation sleeping corset
to bed, which was laced from the tip of the toes to just above the mouth (so they
couldn't chatter) and locked closed with special keys.  The durable white patent
leather garment left just the arms bare, which were supposed to be clipped into
automatically-locking comfort cuffs on the bed. Although her legs were married
into a single boot, Maria knew she could hatch her escape on a little motorised
trolley nearby, as long as no-one noticed her arms were not clipped in place
properly.  Her idea was a success.  Her vehicle got her all the way out a service
door, shuddering to a standstill right at the top of the steps down to the
street.  She had to hop down each step to street level, and stood ready to hold
out her thumb at any traffic on the quiet lane.  After ten anxious minutes, the
lights of a red sports car bathed her glitteringly white sheathed form.  The
passenger door opened and she heard a young man's voice.  "Mmmmmmm.....kinky! Hop
in, gorgeous".  She breathed a sigh of relief that help was at hand.  Within
minutes she would be at a police station narrating her story once they worked out
how to cut her mouth free.  Maria tried awkwardly to climb into the low slung
seat, but could not bend the corset enough.  He got out to help her, and there
was a "Phhhht" as a tranquiliser dart appeared in his neck.  A confused look took
his face as his legs collapsed and guards appeared from behind the bushes in a
flurry of activity.  Maria and her luckless rescuer were quickly enveloped in
straight jackets that swallowed their arms and in no time they found themselves
as stiff parcels, strapped to trolleys and being led back inside the building. 
The Directress had seen the entire exchange on a hidden video camera.

A week later, a new dull-eyed patient was wheeled to her cell.  She was freshly
arm and legless, and a shiny white patent leather papoose restraint sheathed her
limbless torso, laced and buckled gaspingly from the V point below where her
thighs had been, right up her middle to just beneath the nose.  The glossy suit
curved smoothly up her back to cup and envelop her head leaving just her eyes and
nose uncovered.  The spark of intelligence was gone from her dull brown eyes as
Nurse Maria lay back on her trolley and gazed fascinatingly at the ceiling.  Even
if Maria could remember any of her exchange with the stricken patient and get
past her Total Erasure followed by Total Mental Conditioning, it was impossible
to communicate.  Her armless, legless body was rigidly encased in boned patent
leather, and her vocal chords had been permanently removed to be made into the
centres for plastic teardrop pendants that hung from her glossy white plastic
nipples.  She could not even blink, for her eyelids were fixed in an appealing
wide-eyed stare that was the fashion amongst patients at the time. The Directress
tested Maria's conditioning the first night.  Standing over the parceled nurse on
the trolley, she released the gag.  A hiss of escaping pressurised air filled the
room for a second, the patient's glossy white vinyl cheeks resuming their normal
size.  The Directress slid out of her mirror- smooth white uniform and into a
black vinyl sleeping catsuit with openings at the nipples and groin.  She lifted
Inmate Maria from her trolley and into the satin sheeted bed with her, attaching
the medically enhanced pouting ruby lips to her hardening nipple. Maria's
programming sprang into action and she could have no other thought than to
pleasure the flesh filling her mouth.  The Directress touched a panel on the wall
and it opened noiselessly.  From the recess wormed a creature that was so similar
to the new format Maria that it could have been her twin. Unlike Patient Maria,
it still knew it had once been a young man in a red sports car, but the mental
suggestions installed in its brain could not be refused.  The second suckling
inmate still held out hope for eventual rescue and restoration, but her
appearance belied this.  As required by the sexual conversion, her testicles had
been removed and silver plated, and now hung as pendants from her glossy leather
nipples that topped her huge restrained breasts.  Indeed, for the rest of their
useful days, the flashing balls were the only method of telling the twins apart. 
The Directress reached across to a special bra harness of buckles and straps
beside the bed and threaded them through the loops in her catsuit and the loops
attached to the smooth heads of her suckling ones.  In no time they were both
securely squashed to her nipples by the bra cups that hid their heads in a taut
shiny plastic layer.  Now, even if she rolled over in her sleep during the night,
her bra bound twins would not stop their tireless work.  The peacefully relaxing
woman mused that she would have to have another set of twins made to service the
two holes between her legs.  There would no longer be a need for the ensuite
immediately in the morning!

Pauline gets punished, while the Rubbermaids look on.

Pauline, a former interior minister who had once called Zorelle a mongrel on
account of the new queen's multi-racial parentage, was led to stand before her. 
Her conservative business suit had been replaced with a long, sexy black plastic
dress, thigh high boots with eight inch heels that had been moulded in stiff
black platex about her legs to the hip and made her teeter as she walked.  Her
hands were mittened in more of the rubbery black plastic to the shoulder, curling
her wrists as though perpetually holding a shaft.  Her now hairless head was
tightly ensconced in the amorphous layer of vlatex she had been dipped in, which
held a cruelly pressurised expando-gag in her oral cavity.  Her hugely distended
cheeks appeared as black billiard balls from the sheer pressure of her inner
packing. The unbroken ring of her strange new shiny metal collar enhanced
Pauline's look of captivity, but still she showed her contempt by refusing to bow
for this "half breed" as she (very stupidly now!) saw the Sorceress.  At a word
from Zorelle, her head was instantly enveloped from the collar upwards in a
seamless golden metal egg, through which no sound penetrated.....yet another form
of the mind programming device.....her body stiffened as she clutched impotently
with curled plastic hands at the impervious surface of her encased head, sinking
to her knees in submission while the powerful device programmed her mind....her
thoughts blended into a fog...oooh such interesting new thoughts coming in....and
when the fog cleared, she was an adoring submissive....existing only to serve her
mistress....begging her mistress to bind her....while in a small corner of her
enslaved mind, a proud woman screamed..

Zorelle clicked her fingers and Lynette, her personal rubber mannequin-maid came
to life from the corner where she had stood for the past ten days. If her rubber
lips had not been fixed permanently in a glossy, frozen pout, she might have said
"your wish Madame?", but instead she teetered over to the throne in her rubber
ballet boots, squeaked her shiny rubber body down towards the floor and curtsied
as she had been trained to do so naturally. "Rubbermaid, find my new submissive a
wardrobe to suit her recently installed thought patterns...all doubly stiffened
platex and plastic if you will....and have her fitted for her shiny dog costume -
she'll adore being the mongrel now.  Make it the best selection for punishment
you've ever imagined or I'll reduce you to a strength II". Even with her limited
perception the Rubbermaid could understand the threat of being changed from her
current status as a strength III Rubbermaid into a strength II or even (rubber
forbid!) a strength I Rubbermaid.  She knew that as a strength II, with her latex
arms bonded to her sides to the wrist and her squeaking legs hobbled with a
sheath to the ankles, she could not possibly continue to perform her required
daily duties satisfactorily, and in no time at all she would be punished and
reduced to a mindless strength I.  A strength I Rubbermaid is merely a strength
II with her entire body sealed in a full inch cocoon of clear latex.  A whole
corridor leading to the maid "re-education" wards was lined with stiffly wobbling
strength I's as a warning to all who have the honour of being trained as strength
IIII's and III's.  Inside each strength I pod was a screaming rubbermaiden
creature (they did not remember they had once been women), but no sound ever
penetrated the serene polished black faces and their inches of clear coating. 
Occasionally, one of the strength I Rubbermaids would lose balance and topple,
and would drop into a disposal shaft as final punishment for their disobedience. 
The shaft dropped them into a steaming vat of warm rubber cement and they were
melted and blended with the glutinous black liquid by the vat mixers.  When the
count of Rubbermaids in the vat reached fifty, it would be veritably bulging with
limbs trying to find an escape from the surface tension of their stretchy rubber
prison.  The whole vat would be then poured into a mould for yet another of the
hundreds of black rubber pillars in the castle extension wing. Occasionally there
would be inconsistencies in the mix and tiny sections of the pillar would take
longer to set than others, and after the mould was removed a shiny black hand or
foot or elbow or buttock or breast or embossed face would protrude from the
pillar before it set for good....a stark, slightly moving stiffened reminder
forever of what it was filled with.  When the pillars were finished, Zorelle
planned to use any further "raw material" to make furniture such as rubber sofas
and mattresses.

The attentive Rubbermaid remembered little of her past life as a high powered
senior executive in a law firm.  She could not know that at that very moment her
former boss Minta graced stand 23 as a mindless type I......soon to slide gently
into the Vat.

Years ago, when Zorelle was a wanted criminal and the Rubbermaid was a free human
woman named Lynette, Vice CEO Lynette had paid the sorceress to make her boss
Minta "disappear" and pave her way to success. The `fee' was a mere 50% portion
of the mega-company profits every month.

The police arrived at the office asking questions, and she acted tearful at
Minta's disappearance, even though she was now president.  That evening she
arrived home and found a letter under her door.  It read:

"Please select your desired format for your former boss Minta:

1) Rubberised Mannequin Maid - with or without arms 2) Vinyl Dolly 3) Marble
Statue 4) Shop Mannequin 5) Blow up doll 6) Oak Statue - yes!  I can do that! 7)
Household Robot - skin type gold, silver or plastic

Irresistible modifications will be made to her thought patterns to match your
choice exactly"

Lynette thought briefly.  It would be fun to humiliate her former boss by making
her work around the house as her helpless servant forever, so she chose the
Mannequin Maid option.  The following evening a crate was delivered.  Minta had
been dipped completely in black rubber to anonymise her, and lay quivering
slightly in her box as if trying to escape her permanent mental reprogramming. 
The mannequin maid did not like the fleeting images in her head of a proud woman
behind a desk, but she was thankful that they were fading away by the hour. Thank
goodness, for she had important work to do serving her mistress.   The taut black
and white vlatex parody of a maid's dress stretched over her black glossy bosom,
nipped in her now forever suctioned invisibly corseted waist, and sheathed her
generous hips and buttocks with its fabric.  Maid Minta's new feet were
crushingly moulded into ballet boots with eight-inch stiletto heels.  She made
quiet "plik" noises on the floor as she walked, or stilted, since her knees could
bend only very slightly.  Every movement was accompanied by a tortured squeak
from her new skin.  Oh, she loved being a maid so much!

Lynette also had two of her staunch opponents neutralised by converting them into
legless and armless vlatex dolls.  Zorelle had thrown the two frightened naked
women a shimmering black outfit each to put on.  They could not find sleeves or
leg holes in the costume and said as much, at which point the magical sheaths in
their hands flapped open wide and enveloped them.  Sealed completely inside their
own personalised suctioned plastic skins, the two figures writhed in the powerful
magic.  Their limbs shrank away and the plastic sheathing their glossy heads
creaked as it shrank, compressing their plastic faces into blank dolly smiles. 
Each doll had her former name emblazoned in white across her back and her new
name "Cindy" or "Barbie" on her forehead.  The two were returned to their offices
as a warning, where they rocked ever so slightly in their office chairs for many
years before being moved to a display case in the boardroom.

Once in the seat of power, Lynette realised she had the resources to hunt down
the crooked lady herself and avoid the fee, so she whelped on a payment.  She too
was converted into a Rubbermaid.