The Story Of Sarah

After one look at the laboratory, Sarah knew this was going to be no ordinary session. She’d responded to the ad in the college paper as soon as she saw it, figuring it was just another post-graduate experiment, and another quick $30, even though the last one had involved some kind of weird lights that had given her a headache. So when she saw the big room lined in white tile, full of all kinds of bizarre equipment, she decided to demand an extra $15. Even though the guy who dropped her off said he’d never heard of “Rubber Research Inc”, she imagined they could afford it. She giggled, wondering if they did research on prophylactics. I suppose, she thought, it can’t be any worse than that psych major doing “research” on bondage. And you did come three times, she reminded herself.

The guy in charge, a Dr. Hevea, explained apologetically, “I’m afraid we’ll need to administer an, er, enema, that is, a high colonic irrigation, to rid your system of solids. It’s for your own safety, actually.” “Look, doc, are you sure this is on the up-and-up?” Sarah was getting annoyed. “I mean, I’d better get well paid for this!” “Our usual payment is $50 per hour, will that be sufficient?”

Sarah thought of the patent spike-heeled boots she’d seen at the mall…about a hundred and twenty… “Oh well,” she said, “I’ve had enemas before, my mom used to give’em to us kids when we were bunged up, and so long as it’s not too hot…”

It wasn’t. In fact, it was just warm enough to be kind of nice. It gave her a pleasant feeling of fullness. When the nurse had finished with her, Doc Hevea said, “I’m glad you’re used to medical experiments , it should make this a bit easier.” He explained how she’d have to be completely isolated from her environment, with nasal cannulas and a stomach tube.

“HUH? What’s the stomach tube for?” Sarah had heard from an ex-roommate that they were rather unpleasant.

“It’s rather technical, you’ll just have to trust me that it’s necessary,” he said, absently inspecting some kind of control console.

Getting the tubes in, two through the nose into her breathing passages, and one down into the stomach, was rather difficult, even though he’d given her something to suppress her gag reflex. When her nausea had subsided, he asked, “Alright now? The rest is comparatively easy.” Sarah nodded. It was nearly impossible to talk with the tubes in. She was thinking to herself that this was the damnedest experimental method she’d ever heard of. But the money was good, and besides, these guys had to be careful, didn’t they? Otherwise, they’d be knee deep in law suits. Of course, Sarah didn’t know that ‘Dr. Hevea’ had had nothing to do with any research efforts ever, other than his own, very special interests.

Soon, the nurse returned, this time with a urinary catheter. The catheter had a little bulb on the end that prevented it from coming out once it was inflated. After lubricating the slender rubber tube, the nurse was very gentle as she it inside Sarah. Once it was seated, a helpless embarrassment came over her as her bladder began to empty itself into the attached hose. She couldn’t do anything to prevent it. Sarah resigned herself to this, thinking, well, in a few hours, it will all be over. She was wrong of course.

“Now since this will involve immersion, and we don’t want you getting fluid in your mouth, you’ll have this special safety plug in your mouth, to keep anything from getting in,” the Dr. said brightly.

“Or out,” the nurse muttered under her breath.

The ‘safety plug’ was essentially a hollow, inflatable gag, with a core running through it for the stomach tube. It was somewhat uncomfortable, and Sarah began to get panicky. What if this is some kind of bizarre kidnapping? What if they don’t let me out? She forced herself to be calm.

“Now, to prevent you from being biased in any way by sounds you might hear, we’re going to insert these little plugs into your ears. From here on, I’ll just motion with my hands, alright?” Sarah nodded. She thought back to her first experience with research volunteers. She’d met Jim in the campus coffee house, and he’d explained how he made extra spending money on the weekends. “See, every post-grad experimenter is practically screaming for volunteers,” he’d said, “and they don’t even have to pay for them, the money comes from the school funds. Of course, once you’ve been doing it for awhile, there are some off-campus places that do the same thing, and they pay better.” Her first job was right after her Hist-102 class, took two hours, and she walked away with $70. This is great! she thought, I didn’t do anything, except stare at his dumb inkblots, and for this I get paid?

Of course, not all the jobs were that easy, and some of the medical experiments, although not dangerous, were distinctly unpleasant. On the other hand, there was that Psych major…he’d really opened her eyes.

Sarah was beginning to relax. She felt kind of strange, like a big mannequin, with all the tubes inside her, the ear plugs taking away all sense of sound, the gag filling her mouth with the strange taste of rubber. She hardly paid attention as the nurse inserted a large rubber plug into her rear passage. It had been warmed somehow, perhaps in hot water.

She was feeling quite removed from it all, until a strange sensation shocked her back to reality. The thing in her rear was inflating! The nurse smiled reassuringly as she pumped the hand inflater. Sarah wanted to ask what the hell was going on, but the mouth-filling gag made this quite impossible. It’s probably for another enema, she told herself. As the nurse pumped, the inflatable nozzle catheter filled her rectum tightly, until Sarah, no stranger to anal pleasures, began to squirm with delight. She wondered if they would fire her if they knew how much she was enjoying the procedures.

Dr. Hevea then returned, carrying a large black bundle. As he held it up for her, she saw that it was a heavy black suit, like a diver might wear. No, she thought, it looks more like the material my purple skirt is made from- it’s latex! she realized. Ooh, this could be interesting. She had bought a lavender rubber miniskirt on a dare and worn it to a party just a week before. She liked the tight, cool feel as it was put on and how it resisted movement as you walked in it.

After powdering her entire body, the doctor helped her don the heavy outfit, pulling the open neck up around her shoulders. It fit quite closely, and had little fittings where the various tubes passed through. This is rather nice, she thought, as the nurse adjusted something on the neck-ring. I could wear something like this for Halloween. She moved her arms and felt the cool, tight material rubbing her legs. Dr. Hevea smiled and held up a small sign that said, “See you again soon”, as the nurse approached with a black rubber helmet sort of thing. Sarah fought her apprehension, as the form-fitting helmet was pulled down over her head, and the rings at her neck locked together. The helmet had no faceplate, or holes anywhere. She couldn’t see or hear a thing. It was quite tight, molding its soft material to her head like a second skin. She rather liked it. She raised her hands and felt her face and head through the thick rubber gloves of the suit. Once again, she had that odd sensation that she was being transformed into a mannequin, or dummy, with no control of her own body. She was completely in the hands of the puppet master. She would have giggled again at the silly mental picture this created, but the tube in her gullet, and the gag filling her mouth, prevented her from making more than a grunt.

After what seemed like a long time, but was in fact, only about five minutes, she felt them helping her up onto some padded surface. She recognized it as the leather padded table where she had received the enema.

Outside, the man who called himself ‘Dr. Hevea’ said to his partner, “That was entirely too easy. I can’t believe how gullible she was!” The ‘nurse’, a woman known to him only as The Mistress, snorted. “Huh! I told you, there’s no limit to what students will do if you wave a few dollars under their noses. Besides, I specifically chose her because she’d been in medical experiments before. Notice how easily she tolerated the stomach tube?” “Yes, dear, you’re wonderful, now please help me get the bag on her.” He was holding up a heavy rubber bag, of roughly human outline, that had a stainless steel sealing yoke at the top, with a diaphragm closure. The Mistress frowned. “I hope,” she said, “that that was a polite request, not an order. You’re getting yours soon, count on it!” “Forgive me,” Dr. Hevea said looking sheepish, “I meant no offense.” They began pulling the heavy bag around Sarah’s shiny black form.

Inside, Sarah felt them wrapping something heavy and cool around her rubber-suited body. Aha! she thought to herself, this must be what they didn’t want me to see or hear. I wonder what it is?

Whatever it was, it enclosed her completely, wrapping closely around her legs and torso, leaving little room to move her arms. It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic, she thought. She was beginning to get warm in the suit, and the extra weight of the heavy rubber outer bag made her feel as if she had re-entered the womb. She felt both trapped and yet secure. As they helped her to her feet, she found she could still move about a little, her arms sliding over her rubber covered body. She slid her gloved hands over her belly and buttocks, under the concealing rubber bag. The smooth rubber stretched tightly over her body had an exotic, erotic feel to it. She felt her nipples grow stiff. Mmm, I think I’m going to like this experiment, she thought. The air continued to hiss through the nose tubes. Her mouth was redolent with the taste of the rubber gag.

It never occurred to her that she was now completely dependent on the ‘Doctor’ and his mysterious assistant for that life giving air.

Having sealed the outer bag air tight, the ‘Doctor’ and his helper (or was it the other way around?) lowered Sarah’s rustling black form to the floor next to a clear Plexiglas cylinder. As The Mistress connected the hoses to the control panel, the Doctor attached a winch to the cylinder, and slowly hoisted it to the vertical position.

“Did you remember to set the pressure release valve on the bag?” said The Mistress. “Certainly,” he replied, “You recall I designed this equipment.” “Yes, to MY specifications!” she replied, “You know, you are getting quite presumptuous, my dear. Do I need to correct that now, or shall we get on with it?”

The Doctor looked sheepish. “I apologize, Mistress, let’s continue.” In her snug rubber prison, Sarah felt herself being slid onto something hard. She started to sit up, but bumped her head against something else hard and unyielding. My god! she thought, they’ve put me in a coffin! She struggled not to panic. It’s probably just another ‘sweat-box’, she told herself, like that nut in Pre-Med put us through. Nothing worse than a little heat.

As the cylinder began to tilt upwards, she fought vertigo, feeling it sway a little. At last, she was again standing upright. She bent over a bit, felt the round, hard walls through the layers of rubber. This is really odd, she thought, it’s almost like a strange form of bondage. The memory of her experience with the kinky Psych major sent a warm tingle through her. Well, if this is bondage, they’re going to have a hell of a time stimulating me in here, she thought. As if I needed any more stimulation, she added, feeling herself get that warm and melted feeling again. The rubber suit was really getting to her. With her senses of sight and hearing cut off, and speech impossible, she had only her sense of touch for company. She had always been a very tactile person, enjoying the caresses of her satin sheets and the tight feeling of her rubber skirt as almost sexual in intensity. But this, this was too much, like an unending squeeze from a lover. All wrapped up in her tight cocoon of stretchy rubber, she wondered how much more she could take.

It would be hours before she found out. “The bag is all hooked up,” the ‘Doctor’ called from the cylinder. “Well then, I believe we are ready,” The Mistress said, inspecting the dials of the console. She turned a valve. Somewhere, pumps began to whine, and there was a faint hissing, as air escaped from the bag.

Inside the cylinder, inside the heavy rubber bag, inside the clinging rubber suit, Sarah felt a smooth, warm pressure starting around her feet, and slowly rising. As the suit squeezed tightly around her legs, she realized there was some kind of thick, warm fluid being pumped into the bag, outside of the suit. The bag must have expanded slightly as she found she could move her legs somewhat. The stuff feels like syrup, she thought, as she slid a foot over her calf. The sensuous, warm pressure continued up past thighs, and over her crotch, pressing the rubber of the suit into every crease of her body. She began to panic again. What if it didn’t stop? She’d be crushed! No, silly, she told herself, that’s impossible. It’s no different than what a diver goes through. And she couldn’t be smothered, she had the tubes in her nose through which she was breathing. She relaxed and decided to enjoy the ride. As the fluid, (which was actually lithium grease) passed her mouth, pushing the rubber hood into her eyes and ears, she gave in to the insistent pressure. The suit became even tighter, making breathing just slightly labored, and as the inexorable fluid forced the inflated catheter firmly into her rectum, she writhed in sensuous ecstasy, hardly caring what happened next. She knew now that this was hardly a legitimate experiment, they seemed to now just what she liked, and although she could have done without the tubes in her throat and the complicated apparatus, if it felt good, why worry? If only she’d known what was in store for her…

As the Doctor and The Mistress watched outside, there was a slight “pop!” and a bit of grease oozed out the valve on top of the bag. “Perfect!” exclaimed the Doctor. “If you can contain your excitement for a moment,” The Mistress sneered, “I’d like to get on with it. I suspect our subject is enjoying herself right now, and I want to see if we can’t distract her, ha, ha!”

As the pressure inside mounted, Sarah found it more and more difficult to move. Although the feeling of the tight rubber suit and mask, and the fat bulb inside her rectum were very nice, when she tried moving her hands to her crotch, it was no use. She could no longer move her limbs at all, and her head felt as if it were clamped in a giant vise made of cotton, held gently but firmly. Hey, wait a minute, she thought, this is getting annoying. She felt horny as hell, and couldn’t do anything about it!

Moments later, the enema bulb inside her jumped, and began filling her slowly with warm water. She was no stranger to colonic washes, like the one that started out her ‘treatment’, but his was different! The large inflated bulb of the catheter prevented the water from leaving- her belly began to feel hot and full. Damn! She still couldn’t move an inch! She was about to go out of her mind with frustration! The warm, insistent water continued to gurgle inside her until she felt helplessly bloated, then stopped abruptly. The hot water filling her insides made her feel heavy and exhausted. If her rubber confinement hadn’t held her up, she probably would have fallen over. She wondered again what they wanted from her.

I’ve been waiting for this a long time,” said The Mistress as she turned off the flow of water at the control panel, “If you will move the filler pipe into position, I’ll start the pumps.”

The ‘Doctor’ swung a large conduit, suspended from the ceiling, over the open top of the cylinder. “You’re sure she can’t be hurt?” he asked, looking worried. “Relax,” replied The Mistress, “I’m using a special mix of paraffin and other waxes- it melts at around 100 degrees, near the temperature of the human body. She’ll just feel very warm. It also cools fairly quickly, and it’s quite rigid at room temperature.” She tapped a dial, said, “It’s warm enough to pour, now.” As she flipped a switch, the room was filled with a low humming, and viscous wax began pouring from the conduit, filling the space between the cylinder and the immobile form trapped inside.

After an interminable wait, Sarah felt the temperature rise slightly. She began to sweat a little. This, combined with the pressure in her belly and her immobility, made her quite uncomfortable. I’m glad I was standing up straight when they filled this thing up, she thought, or I’d really be in a fix. This sure is taking a long time, when will they let me out of this thing? She felt hot, tired, and frustrated. She also felt a little horny, as the bizarre sensations of her bottom and insides being filled to the brim with warm water had unexpectedly turned her on. But if possible, she was now more immobile than ever. It was impossible to twitch so much as a finger, yet the warm pressures inside and out would not let her relax. She tried to shout out to her captors that she wanted out now, but with the tube down her throat, and the inflated gag filling her mouth, all she could manage was a muffled moan. It seemed that, for the meantime, there was nothing to do but wait in warm, dark, pressurized silence.

Considerably later, The Mistress returned, with a flushed and happy looking Doctor, and the clear cylinder was removed. They stared reverently for a moment at the shiny black human form frozen within the transparent wax. “You see?” she crooned, “a perfect cast. The inner wax has set up completely solid as well.” She began humming to herself as she connected the remaining hoses from the cylinder to the console, while the Doctor busied himself with a compressed air spray-painting ‘gun’ by the cylinder.

Inside her womb, beneath layers of wax, grease, and rubber, Sarah gave in to the heat and fatigue, and fell asleep. She never saw the Doctor spraying her waxen prison with a thick black, shiny coat of latex, obscuring her rigid shape from view. She never heard The Mistress say to the Doctor, “Well now, shall we proceed, or shall I continue with you where I left off?” The Doctor flushed and examined the floor. “I see,” she said, “I suppose she can wait until morning.” “As if she had any choice,” she added, laughing.

When the strange pair were gone, and the lights shut off, a few indicators glowed on the control panel, but the only sound remaining was the soft sigh of breath in the tubes connected to the console’s respirator.

Who are the two who call themselves The Mistress and The Doctor?

What are their sinister plans for the captive Sarah?

How will she react when she wakes in the morning?

And will little Jeremy ever play the piano again?

These and other questions may be answered in the next thrilling episode of… the Story of Sarah.

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