Continues from chapter 28
It's been perhaps three months since that day. Untold weeks on Level 8 followed by the return to my beloved 'normal' life at the ICRI. The first night after my release was particularly poignant, with an emotional welcome home from our Matron, the Warden of Sublevel 2. We both had a good cry as her big white rubber arms squeezed me as though to never let me leave again. I felt almost like the prodigal daughter although of course we both knew that I had taken no initiative in my departure. I could, in hindsight, have hastened my return but we all need to learn our lessons at our own pace. I guess I'm kind of slow.
My cell was gloriously unchanged, entering it felt like yet another amazing fantasy come true. My time on Level 8 had obviously changed me forever but coming home felt so perfect, so wonderful. It was bedtime and Warden led me through our usual routines in preparation. In some ways it felt like I'd only been gone a short while but at the same time it seemed like eons since I'd slept in my own bed.
Once I was fully ensconced for the night I was happy to learn that Warden planned to continue with her storytelling. I wasn't particularly sleepy and was as curious as ever to learn the fate of the characters, characters I had come to believe were living amongst us.
A few more months passed, the good times outweighing the bad. Our heroine had come to decide that it was time to divulge her secret fantasies to her girlfriend. The initial magic of their relationship had begun to fade and if they were to continue together this line would have to be crossed eventually. She didn't want to spend her life with someone who didn't accept and hopefully share something that was such an integral part of herself and it might be just the thing to revitalize the romance.
The ballerina too had noticed the changed intensity between them. She had no thought of ending the relationship but decided to take a chance and follow through on the plan she had been nurturing. She had asked for and been given access to the parent company's network, trying to casually imply that she could do her work more efficiently with it. The moment had frightened her but her lover didn't seem particularly interested. For her part, our heroine couldn't see why it was necessary but didn't want to say no. She had no fears over security: even if her lover wanted to do harm (and she had absolutely no reason to suspect that she did) there was nothing she could do without the 'launch codes' as she called them. She assumed the dancer was trying to further her career within the subsidiary somehow.
The woman had hinted a few times, half in jest, about an interest in kinky things but had gotten no response from the dancer and wasn't sure how to proceed. She didn't want to sit her down and have a 'serious talk'…she needed something more subtle. She considered giving her a book to read on the subject but couldn't think of one that would be appropriate for the situation. The depiction of BDSM in mainstream media was seriously wanting in her opinion so a movie was ruled out. Then she remembered that her birthday was only a few days away and the ballerina had complained that she was having trouble thinking of a gift: maybe that was it. She would suggest that she had just the thing, a little dress up, cosplay, fantasy, just-for-fun sexcapade as a treat for her, where she would dictate the evening's script.
Inside the secret room she searched for her most vanilla of latex apparel. The Earth had circled its Star forty-four times since she had gone from breathing liquid to inhaling air and she wanted the celebration to be the perfect start to a new phase. She laid out her finds on the rubber sheet of her bed: two bras, two waist-cinchers and two pairs of stockings, all in black for her and white for her lover. She went to a drawer and had to almost empty it before finding a set of furry padded cuffs that she hadn't used in ages. That was enough for the first introduction, far too little for her but hopefully not too much for the dancer.
Her suggestion was accepted without hesitation and the special day had arrived. The woman had donned her modest latex outfit beneath her street clothes and put the matching set in her bedroom, hiding the cuffs beneath a pillow. They had a reservation at a restaurant within walking distance and were to meet shortly. Butterflies swarmed in her belly as she touched up her make-up.
"Whatever does she have in mind?" the ballerina asked herself again as she stood in the crowded subway car holding an overhead rail for balance. "Nothing kinky I hope: she's hinted more than once about such things though, so I have to be prepared." She mused thus, as the train fled down the tunnel in earnest.
Our Matron left me hanging at that point, closing her fanciful tome. She bid me good night and thrilled me anew as the deadbolt secured the heavy steel door with welcome and familiar finality.
My heart skipped a beat as the reality of the white room supplanted my dream of the dancing lake of white goo. I recalled the day's events: being awakened by the Nurse in my cell and her preparing me for my examination by the Doctor who eventually declared me fit to embark on the mysterious voyage to Level 8. Then the long wait as I lay in the unyielding bonds of the gurney before eventually the final brief moments in my old world as Warden 6 roused me from a shallow reverie only to gently ease her anaesthetic mask over my face, concluding another stage of my journey within ICRI.
White. White but not bright. Soft, padded rubber. I closed my eyes again, having only opened them for a few seconds. I felt as though I were still weightless in the lake of my dream but no longer dreaming. I was lying on my back in a fairly large padded cell. The floor, walls and ceiling uniformly covered in two foot padded rubber squares joined all but seamlessly together. I had glimpsed part of an arm and leg of my new outfit: white padded rubber of the exact hue as the room but consisting of doughnut-shaped toruses that abutted to form tubes that enveloped my limbs. At the end of each, where my feet and hands should be, were large spheres of the same material. I wiggled about a little, with my eyes still shut. I didn't feel as though the suit was inflated and it had some weight to it yet I could feel no pressure anywhere…as if I were levitating inside it. I floated within my new prison within a cell within the Institute.
I had never felt so comfy! No mattress of any price could compare to my perfect confines of repose. If my stay on Level 8 was going to be indefinitely long, at least I would be cozy. Opening my eyes again I realized that I was looking through clear rounded lenses just beyond the graze of my eyelashes. These orbs distorted all my peripheral vision leaving a clear view only directly to the front. My head floated in the same manner as the rest of my body. Despite my desire to remain gloriously inert forever my curiosity insisted upon further exploration.
The move from horizontal to vertical proved difficult. The extreme comfort of my new ensemble belied its size and weight. After some struggle I managed to sit upright. It was an effort to bend at the elbows and knees as the suit insisted upon straightening my limbs whenever I relaxed. I lifted the large spheres of my hands to examine my head and almost fell back to where I began. I settled for a single arm inspection with the other one supporting me against the soft floor. From what I could tell my head was a large padded orb much like my feet and hands. My torso was out of focus when I looked down towards it but I had little doubt that my captors had transformed me into a simulacrum of the Michelin Man.
Within each of the five spheres at my extremities I could with effort move a hand or foot, even a finger or toe, but when at rest they would automatically resume their original position, floating in rubber space. Likewise, I could turn my neck somewhat in all directions only to find my head back where it started when I let off. I pressed an orb to my left breast but it seemed as distant as a waning gibbous Moon. I spread my legs farther apart and tried to push a hand towards my sex. My bulbous thighs and belly jiggled a bit, as though laughing at my futile attempts.
Looking about, I saw that my padded cell was a square, about twenty feet per side with a high ceiling. The only break in the extreme conformity was a small space of about two inches which ran the entire length of the top of one wall. It was through this space that the placid white light shone uniformly. Unsurprisingly, there was no sign of any door or other point of egress.
I briefly considered attempting to stand but quickly dismissed the idea. It would probably be ambitious enough just to crawl around my new home a bit. Somehow I had the distinct impression that the whole of my voyage on Level 8 would consist entirely of being alone in this room. A little shiver of fear passed through me at the thought of that and simultaneously aroused the question of where my life sustaining Elixir would come from. It was then for the first time I noticed my mouth. My teeth seemed to have been completely coated in a layer of rubber. I bit down and felt a pleasant, soft give instead of the usual enamel on enamel. It was odd but somehow exciting…I imagined being strapped in place at a feeding station on Level 4, waiting for the bell to ring and allow me to explore the new sensations of a rubber phallus in a rubber hole.
My breath rate had increased a little and I could very faintly hear a one way valve open and close with every exhalation. It seemed to be directly in front of my nose but that wasn't where my air was coming from: the flow was somewhat restricted and seemed to originate farther afield. I put a ball/hand to my face and learned nothing, of course. I opened my mouth, meeting some resistance, and stuck out my tongue but touched nothing. I had to be careful retracting it as my jaws attempted to close of their own accord. I resigned myself to the situation, knowing that in due course things would be explained. It was time for a stroll.
I maneuvered myself into a crawling position and started to move towards the nearest wall. Controlling my arms was pretty straightforward as I could keep them unbent with some effort but my legs kept resisting my attempts to flex at the knees which would have made forward progress a lot easier. As it was, I had to basically drag almost all of my weight (and the weight of my new suit) using my arms, with just a little push now and again from one leg or the other as they re-straightened. By the time my biggest orb pressed against the wall I was breathing heavily and thoroughly aroused. The feeling of helplessness was delightful. I was inexorably trapped in a prison within a prison within a prison. I collapsed onto my chest with arms and legs splayed, staring at the white padded floor and grinding myself hopelessly against nothing as I floated in my new world: trapped in a padded rubber room like an inmate in an insane asylum…