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Operation Rubberdoll
by PlastiClown
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© 2014 - PlastiClown - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-F; MF+/f; capture; drug; transform; rubberdoll; inflatable; enslave; prisoner; preg; lesb; mast; sex; climax; cons/nc; X
de_flag fr_flag nl_flag jpn
Operation Rubberdoll PlastiClown Solo-F; MF+/f; capture; drug; transform; rubberdoll; inflatable; enslave; prisoner; preg; lesb; mast; sex; climax; cons/nc; X
 

“Bond. Jane Bond,” the pretty young woman said when the attendant asked her name. She wore her flaming red hair in a thick shag style and wore a plain white dress, visible through the transparent-blue plastic of her raincoat. She had pulled apart the magnetic patches, blue thumbnail-discs of magnetized rubber, so that the raincoat hung open. Her sensuous lips and bright blue eyes were definitely a distraction to the people around her, as she intended.

The attendant acknowledged her reply and asked if she would like to order a drink. Jane placed her order and turned her attention back to the dice. She had come to the Penny Casino to begin an investigation into several reports of missing persons in the surrounding neighborhoods and she was trying to blend in with the locals. The attendant returned with the drink and Jane sipped at it as she slowly accumulated winnings. Soon she felt dizzy and realized that she was having difficulty concentrating on the game, so she gathered up her chips and went to the cashier’s booth.

The cashier took her chips and directed her to come through the door on her right. Every fiber of her being told her not to go through that door, but she went through anyway. On the other side she was confronted by a plump and jolly young man who introduced himself as Nauga Hyde (well, his parents certainly had a warped sense of humor – PC). Under other circumstances Jane would have gladly seduced the man and enjoyed the experience to the full, but this was not other circumstances.

“Come with me,” Nauga said and he led the way up a flight of stairs.

Under what she assumed was some kind of enslavement spell, Jane followed her captor up the stairs to the casino’s second level, a short distance to the end of a central corridor, and into a cozy sitting room. She noticed that the world around her seemed to waver, as if she were seeing it through a heat shimmer, and she knew for certain that she had been drugged. Nauga told her to take off her raincoat and drape it over the back of a chair, then to sit down on the sofa and stay there. When she had obeyed, he left the room.

In some desperation Jane tried to get up from the sofa but she couldn’t do it. All she could do was to stare out the window at the falling rain. It must have been half an hour later when Nauga returned with a plastic grocery bag, which he put on the coffee table. He opened the wall safe and took from it a longish box and something limp, a cream-white thing that displayed a satiny sheen. He placed those two items on the mantle over the fireplace. Then he commanded Jane to get up and go stand by a laundry basket.

Jane obeyed the command and as she stood passively waiting for Nauga’s next command she noticed a strange little throw rug in front of the coffee table. The rug was white and bore a large gold-and-purple mandala design that had two wings, one mostly gold and the other mostly purple, jutting off one side.

Shortly someone knocked on the door and Nauga opened it and invited the three middle-aged women standing outside to come into the sitting room. Each woman wore a transparent-white plastic raincoat that had the red-rose emblem of a social worker printed on the left breast. They went to sit down on the sofa, then one of them caught sight of Jane and let out a horrified gasp.

“That’s Jane Bond!” she said. “Secret Agent Double-Oh Seventeen! Nauga, she’s dangerous! You must know that. We must do something about her! She must be eliminated before that drug wears off!”

“Oh, she’s quite harmless,” Nauga said, “and will stay that way. In fact, she has volunteered to assist me in this demonstration. She will be the first participant in what I call Operation Rubberdoll.”

As the women sat on the sofa, casting wary glances at Jane, Nauga turned to Jane and said, “Jane, take off all of your clothes and put them into the laundry basket, then come stand on this spot.” He pointed to the mandala pattern on the throw rug.

Unable to resist the command, Jane undressed herself and then walked onto the throw rug. She felt embarressed, conscious of the women staring at her, and seemed to feel a gentle heat radiating off their raincoats.

Nauga reached into the grocery bag and brought out Jane’s shower cap. It was a simple beret-style cap made of soft, skin-smooth, transparent-white plastic with a white rubber headband. Small silver starburst patterns had been printed on the plastic in a tiara array. When Jane wore it in her shower she thought of herself as a plastic princess and got a warm feeling from that thought. Now Nauga held it out to her and told her to put it on.

With practiced ease Jane tucked her hair up into the cap and gave her head a light shake to settle her hair in place under the plastic. Nauga then whispered an appalling command into Jane’s ear. He went to the mantle and took a strange glowing rod from the box, then went to the door and beckoned for a woman named Shirlene to come in.

Jane recognized Shirlene. Pretty, with shoulder-length blond hair, she came into the room wearing a tee shirt, shorts, and a transparent-gray plastic raincoat. It was the sight of the raincoat that unsettled Jane. She seemed to feel a special warmth radiating from it and was intensely aware of the gentle swishing that came from Shirlene running her hands over the limp, skin-smooth plastic. To her horror, Jane felt her clitoris swelling up and lengthening until its tip protruded from its sheath above Jane’s vagina. Shirlene strutted in front of Jane as if she were modeling the raincoat for a fashion show and Jane, helpless to defy Nauga’s appalling command, gained a full sexual arousal from it. Shirlene leered coquettishly at Jane as she gently pulled her raincoat taut over her breasts and then over her buttocks to display the plastic sheen. Watching Shirlene tease her, Jane got all the hotter. Then she felt the climax coming. She tried to resist it, but she failed. She took in a deep breath and puffed out her belly and just as her climax started she felt something touch her neck an inch below and behind her left ear.

She felt something explode inside her with a dull whoomp and the room resounded with the sound of a champagne cork popping. Jane’s head cleared; the dizziness and the shimmer went away; and she could think clearly and concentrate her thoughts again. But she couldn’t move. A rubbery-feeling force pressed against her and held her upright with her hands pressed against her thighs. And she felt... light.

She heard the box on the mantle close and lock and then she saw Nauga come to stand in front of her. Shirlene was giving her a puzzled look.

“There, ladies,” Nauga said to his guests. “The terrifyingly dangerous Jane Bond is now my inflated plastic prisoner, my helpless blow-up slave-doll.” He gave Jane a quick jab in the belly and Jane bounced off his fist as lightly as a beach ball, tipped over backward halfway to the floor, and bounced smartly back upright as if eager to be Nauga’s punching bag.

“Oh, my goodness!” one of the women moaned. Another fanned herself with her hand. Shirlene simply stared at Jane and stroked her raincoat.

“As you can see,” Nauga said, “this solves the big problem that we’ve had with shipping our goods. Now all we have to do is to plastify them, let the air out of them, and seal them into appropriate containers for shipping. They can be re-inflated at their destination. And,” he added, “it gets better.” He took a step toward Jane and put his foot onto the throw rug.

Jane felt the rubbery force on her vanish. She was free to move, but decided to remain passive for the moment. She needed to learn more about what had been done to her before she could hope to escape from this situation.

“Now, then, Jane,” Nauga said condescendingly, “be a good girl and go put on your raincoat.”

As much because she disliked standing naked in front of strangers as because she did not feel ready to defy her new master, Jane obeyed. Not that wearing a transparent plastic raincoat did all that much to solve the nudity problem. Jane found that she could walk normally as she went to the chair and she heard horrified gasps.

“She’s still alive!” one of the women exclaimed. “There’s still a living spirit inside her!”

“But what happens if you let the air out of her, as you propose to do with our goods?” one of the other women asked.

Jane was relieved to hear Nauga say, “If I let the air out of Jane, she will simply go to sleep and she will wake up when I re-inflate her. That’s one of the signs that the plastification is not irreversible. Now,” he added, “consider how much any of our clients would pay for a living blow-up slave-doll!”

Jane was sliding her arms into the sleeves of her raincoat when she heard one of the women ask, “Can you do this with men?”

She was distracted by the sensation of soft, smooth plastic warmly caressing her breasts. She felt the pressure in her clitoris rise and her heart rate (did she still have a heart?) increase. “Yes, of course,” she heard Nauga say and somehow she knew that he had already done it. She puzzled over that as she finished putting on her raincoat, allowing the magnetic patches on the placket to close the coat. She became intensely aware of her raincoat pressing against her breasts, buttocks, and thighs and she felt sexual heat intensify within her. She wanted so much to masturbate and she understood then that she was actually falling in love with her raincoat.

“Jane, come here,” the woman closest to her said. Jane obeyed and the woman grabbed her left arm and squeezed. Jane felt something like a memory of her clitoris swelling up in sexual excitement as she heard the woman say, “This is more than pneumatic. There’s something more than air inside her.” The other women reached out to squeeze her arm and Jane felt the memory of clitoral arousal intensify in a strange way that she couldn’t discern.

“Yes,” Nauga said. “There’s a kind of force-field that springs into being when she’s fully inflated and it manifests... well, it manifests... her.”

The women let go of Jane and the strange memory of clitoral arousal faded. Jane picked up the grocery bag from the coffee table and carried it back to the chair on which her raincoat had been draped.

The woman who had asked about plastifying men spoke up and said, “There is a handsome young man in my district who insists on sowing his seed as widely and as irresponsibly as he can. I believe that the project would benefit from his disappearance and that he might even enjoy plying his sinful trade in my bedroom.” The other women made approving comments and said that they also knew men who would benefit the project by disappearing.

“Very good,” Nauga said. “Give me the relevant data and I expect that I will have your plastic prisoners ready for you within a week.”

Jane felt a frisson of horror flash through her, then she looked into the grocery bag, saw what she had suspected, and took her own kitchen apron out of the bag. With its broad, calf-length, ruffled skirt and breast-wide bib, it was made of soft, skin-smooth, transparent-white plastic that had bubbly pink, blue, and yellow polka dots printed on it. Jane slipped the yoke over her head and ran her hands down the plastic to smooth it out and settle it into position. She felt Shirlene grab the apron’s ties and knot them into a neat bow behind her back. Half turning, she made the deaf-sign for “thank you” to Shirlene and Shirlene made the deaf-sign for “you’re welcome”.

Suddenly Jane’s mind was filled with imagery of Shirlene picking her up and carrying her to her bedroom and then of naked Shirlene getting on top of her in bed to play with her. Again she got the memory-like impression of her clitoris swelling with lust. With a shock she understood: it was telepathy; she was reading other people’s minds. The apparent memories of clitoral arousal that came to her when the women were squeezing her arm were actually telepathic impressions of the women getting hot over her.

But soon the meeting ended. Nauga had the information that the women had given him and they were preparing to leave. Each woman gave Jane a hug and at the same time Jane saw in her mind an image of her standing naked in the woman’s bedroom with the woman using her for a punching bag and masturbating over her. As the women went out of the room Shirlene gave Jane a hug and Jane received an image of her naked in Shirlene’s bed with Shirlene on top of her. Then the women and Shirlene were gone and Nauga closed the door.

Jane watched with an increasing feeling of helplessness as Nauga put the box containing his magic rod into the wall safe, closed and locked the safe, and then picked up the limp cream-white thing and brought it to Jane. He held it out to her and told her to put it on.

She took the proffered object and discovered that it was a Charlotte Corday style shower cap. Reluctantly she put it on. “Why does he,” she thought and then she heard her own voice say softly, “want me to wear a second...? Oh!”

“That’s your vocalizer,” Nauga said. “When you’re wearing it we can talk.”

“You’ve turned me into a balloon,” Jane said accusingly. “You said it was part of Operation Rubberdoll.”

“Operation Rubberdoll,” Nauga mused. “Turning people into inflatable toys. It’s going to help our project immensely.”

Jane sat down in the chair. “This project of yours. Would it have anything to do with certain missing persons reports?”

“Very likely,” Nauga said as he sat down on the couch. “We have been making certain people, mostly women, disappear for some time now. Progress has been slow due to the difficulty of smuggling them out of the country undetected.”

“You sell them as slaves,” Jane said accusingly.

“Yes,” Nauga said, “but it’s not as bad as you seem to believe. Our victims are complete social failures. They’re actually better off in their new lives.”

“Well, there’s a convenient justification,” Jane said with a hint of sarcasm.

“You misunderstand,” Nauga said. “Our victims are self-selected. We established this casino to attract them. Any poor person who is stupid enough to gamble away any of the little money they have is never going to be a success at anything and is better off as a slave. They need other people telling them what to do.”

“So am I another one of your losers?” Jane asked.

“No, my dear,” Nauga said. “You are a threat. You have an amazing reputation in some government circles. You are certainly your father’s daughter. You seemed poised to end our project, so we’ve taken you out of the game. But I assure you, you will not be put on the auction block. Now, come, it’s getting late.” He beckoned for Jane to with him as he got up from the couch.

Jane got up from the chair and went with Nauga as he passed through a disguised door and into a hidden passage. “Why not just leave them to their fates? Why does it matter to you whether they fail or succeed in life?” she asked.

“They bring the rest of society down,” Nauga said, “and they breed. By removing the lowest class of breeders from the population we improve the culture of these neighborhoods and eventually, we hope, end the poverty and degradation.”

“You don’t remove the men, though,” Jane said.

Nauga sighed. “There’s not much of a market for them, I’m afraid. But,” he added, “that may change with the inflatable versions.”

Jane recalled what the women had requested and envisioned a naked young man lying inflated in bed with a middle-aged biddy getting on top of him and working him over... and over... and over. She shuddered at the thought.

They came to a bright square on the passage wall. Jane saw that it was a window made one-way by a loosely woven fabric, white on one side and black on the other, hung over the glass. On the other side of the window was a small room, a cell, occupied by a bed and a plush armchair. The armchair was occupied by a young man who was wearing a transparent-black plastic shower cap and a transparent-black plastic raincoat. Jane inferred that the shower cap had been used to catalyze the young man’s transformation into a plastified blow-up doll. She saw that the prisoner was masturbating while stroking the plastic pulled taut over his swollen belly.

“Why is he so fat?” she whispered.

“Not fat,” Nauga said. “Pregnant.”

“What?!” Jane exclaimed. “But that’s imposs... ible?”

“Not at all,” Nauga said. “He was wearing that raincoat the first time that I squirted into him. So in a few more days, with the benefit of a little extra attention, he’s going to have a new raincoat, just like that one.”

A sense of horror swept over Jane. “That’s...,” she started to say and then the full horror of the situation came to her. “Oh, no! No, Nauga, please, don’t!”

“Don’t be silly,” Nauga said. “As long as you’re pregnant your transformation cannot be reversed, so I’m going to keep you pregnant all the time and you will be my plastic prisoner forever.”

Stunned, Jane let Nauga nudge her on down the passage. They came to another one-way window and Jane saw only a bed and an armchair inside the cell. She knew that she was going to be kept in that cell when Nauga wasn’t playing with her.

Another disguised door let them come into Nauga’s bedroom. Jane quailed at the sight of Nauga’s big double bed waiting for her. Half turning, she saw Nauga take off his slippers, his shirt, and his trousers. The bulge in his underpants hinted at what he had in store for her and she felt quivery inside with anxiety. But her anxiety was mingled with lust and that fact only deepened her sense of horror.

“Nauga, please,” she moaned as a special sense of helplessness overwhelmed her and made her feel faint. “Please, don’t,” she pleaded desperately. “I promise I won’t try to escape. Use me for a punching bag. Just don’t get me pregnant!”

Nauga simply picked her up and laid her down on the bed, sliding her legs under the folded-back blankets. He folded the skirt of her apron on her chest and then slid the skirt of her raincoat above her hips. Then he pulled the blankets over her, trapping her fully, and went to his side of the bed. He took off his underpants and Jane saw his penis standing tall and proud. Ignoring her continuing pleas, he turned out the light and got into bed. Jane felt the bed move as Nauga pulled the blankets over himself and slid himself across the bed to lie right up against her. He wasted no time in mounting her.

She felt pressure and light friction in her vagina as he penetrated her with his rubbery-stiff penis and she let out a grunt as if she had been punched in the belly. Nauga slid his arms around her back and brought his full weight down on her. Then he pulled his penis partway out of her and shoved it back into her. He repeated that move again and again and Jane felt sexual heat flare up inside her and raise the sexual pressure in her clitoris.

“Oh, you’re so soft and warm!” Nauga panted as he pumped her ever faster. Jane was so hot that she could no longer beg him to stop. She had become a passive sexual punching bag. Nauga punched Jane more vigorously with his penis and she writhed in his embrace. His weight pressed her into the bed and his body heat softened the plastic of her raincoat and apron. Her clitoris felt as if it had been blown up like a balloon.

Suddenly something hot blossomed inside her in hard spurts and she climaxed. She bucked and squirmed as Nauga squirted hot semen into her. Convulsions of sheer animal pleasure shuddered her body. And then it was over and Nauga stopped moving, lying panting on top of her.

And as she lay under her master and felt special heat still glowing deep within her belly, she knew that Operation Rubberdoll was going to be a complete success.

Post Script

The morning after she had been captured Jane sat in the plush armchair in her cell. She had taken off her apron and put it on the chair, so now she was sitting on it. With nothing else to do, she was masturbating with her raincoat. Suddenly she heard a knock, saw the door open, and saw Shirlene come into the cell.

As on the day before, she was wearing a tee shirt, shorts, and her transparent-gray plastic raincoat. She stepped into the cell, closed the door, and approached Jane.

“Testing time, luv,” she said as she picked Jane up and laid her down on the bed. “Gotta see how you’re doing.”

“I’d be doing a lot better if I could get out of here,” Jane said through her vocalizer.

Shirlene looked down at her prisoner and said, “Perhaps we can talk Nauga into letting you visit some other places during the day.” An image of Shirlene’s bedroom came into Jane’s mind.

Looming over Jane, Shirlene took off her raincoat and tossed it onto the chair. It gave off a soft, sexy swish of smooth, warm plastic sliding over itself and Jane felt her arousal intensify. Next Shirlene took off her shirt and shorts and tossed them onto the chair.

Jane saw something dangling between Shirlene’s legs. It looked like part of a stethoscope, but instead of merging with paired earpieces the tube went into Shirlene’s vagina. Shirlene pulled the tube up and grabbed the object at its free end. What would have been the chestpiece on a stethoscope looked like a white hockey puck. Shirlene took the puck in hand and slipped it inside Jane’s raincoat just above Jane’s clitoris.

“Now let’s see what the pregnoscope has to say,” Shirlene gloated. Strange images swirled into Jane’s mind, things that she couldn’t interpret, and then she saw an image of herself lying on the bed with a blue plastic raincoat coming out of her vagina. “Oh, yes,” Shirlene said. “Yes, indeed. You are well and truly pregnant.”

“No,” Jane moaned.

“Yes,” Shirlene said. “You’re going to have an apron and a raincoat. Won’t that be nice?”

“No,” Jane moaned again.

Shirlene took Jane’s left hand and pressed it onto the puck. “Hold this just here for me,” she said. Trembling, she half turned and sat on the bed. Then she laid herself down alongside Jane and half turned toward her. In her mind Jane heard a ghostly saying, “At last, at last I get to put my hands on the fabulous Jane Bond!” Shirlene slid her left arm under Jane’s shoulders and put her right hand on Jane’s belly. She stroked the plastic of Jane’s raincoat, caressed Jane’s breasts, and ran her hand down Jane’s body, touching all of Jane’s erogenous zones that she could reach. Jane got hotter and began to squirm as the ghostly voice said, “Oh, Jane, I wish you could get me pregnant with your raincoat. Make me your big, fat, plastic slave-doll!” Both Jane and Shirlene climaxed then, writhing on the bed as hot pulsations of pleasure convulsed them.

Exhausted, Shirlene rolled onto her back. She took the puck off Jane and put it between her legs. “Oh, yeah,” she panted. “You’re pregnant!”

Jane lay quietly. In her mind she saw an image of a lesbian wedding. Shirlene was the bride and Jane was the groom. Shirlene was introduced as Mrs. Jane Bond and Jane heard her image say to Shirlene, “I can’t wait to get on top of you.”

Eventually Shirlene got up and got dressed. As she put on her shorts she tucked the pregnoscope neatly inside them. Then she put on her shirt and her raincoat.

Jane got up off the bed. “Shirlene, wait!” she said. Shirlene turned around and Jane went up to her and in a quavery voice said, “Th... there’s something th... that I want to ask you.” She put her hands on Shirlene’s shoulders and felt a thrill at the feel of warm plastic. “I... I... uh, are you going to test me every day?” she stammered.

“No,” Shirlene said. “About once a week is what we have scheduled.”

“But,” Jane protested, “but this is a new process. Shouldn’t you check the progress every day? Wh... what if something goes wrong?”

“I’ll mention your concern to Nauga,” Shirlene said. “Perhaps he’ll adjust the schedule. I admit it would be more fun. Is that all you wanted to ask?”

“No... no,” Jane said. She slid her arms around Shirlene’s back and hugged her. “Please,” she moaned. “Please.” She kissed Shirlene and Shirlene embraced her.

“Please, what?” Shirlene asked as she broke away from Jane’s kiss.

“Please, leave your raincoat here?” Jane said weakly.

“You want to play with my raincoat,” Shirlene commented.

“I want to play with you,” Jane said, resting her head on Shirlene’s shoulder, “but your raincoat’s second best.”

Sharlene gently pushed Jane away from her, looked her up and down, and said, “Jane Ophelia Bond, you are our plastic prisoner. You are a helpless blow-up slave-doll. You can’t be making demands like... like....”

Jane stood with her head bowed and her hands at her sides. “Shirlene,” she said quietly, “my dear Shirlene, I want to be your plastic prisoner. If I have to be an inflatable toy, I want to be your toy.”

Shirlene looked at Jane in astonishment, then heaved a sigh. She took off her raincoat and draped it around Jane’s shoulders. An image came into Jane’s mind showing naked Shirlene rubbing her belly and breasts against naked Jane’s as she kissed Jane passionately.

“Thank you, Mistress,” Jane said. She knelt at Shirlene’s feet, put her hands on Shirlene’s thighs, and kissed the front of Shirlene’s shorts.

Shirlene stiffened and let out a little squeal, then she gently pushed Jane away, turned, and left.

Now, several months later, Jane sat in her chair and masturbated. Her belly had swollen up like a beach ball, so much so that it pulled the plastic of Shirlene’s raincoat taut. She was climaxing long and hard, then, with scarcely any rest at all, she came aroused and began masturbating again. She had never been so hot and soon she saw the reason for her passion-storm: transparent-blue plastic was protruding from her vagina. She was giving birth to her new raincoat and apron.

It took an hour for the raincoat and apron to come out of her, clean and dry, and for her body to regain its proper figure. She continued masturbating because now she had a new reason to get hot. Nauga would get her pregnant again, this time with a copy of Shirlene’s raincoat. And in a few days there was going to be a wedding, with Jane as Shirlene’s hot plastic bride.

-o-0-o-

If you want to see raincoats that look very much like the ones that I envision in this story, go to www.funplastic.de, click on Rainwear, click on Ladies Raincoats, and then click on style PA3C. I am especially fond of the picture of the young lady modeling the semi-transparent light blue raincoat. The girl in the semi-transparent red raincoat comes in second.

As for aprons, go to Aprons, thence to Montcler Classics, and thence to Aprons of the Fifties (MC22). The semi-transparent floral apron (MC22FLL) will give you a fair idea of what Jane’s apron looks like. But instead of the crossover straps described for the apron, Jane’s apron has a simple yoke, called a pull over strap on the description of the Sissy-Apron.

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14.11.14

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