Best Served Cold

Best Served Cold

by Rubberwolf © 2004

Storycodes: M/f; F/f; kidnap; bond; packaged; bodymod; sexchange; nc; XX

Best Served Cold by Rubberwolf

Alex Summers was in a good mood. The phone call that he had just made would ensure that he could now treat himself to a new car and perhaps a foreign holiday. He was long overdue for a bit of R and R, he mused as he sipped his coffee and made his way through the kitchen towards the connecting door that led to his garage.

The garage was large by such standards. Three large double doors dominated one entire wall. Alex admired his cars as he strolled through the cavernous interior. He ran his fingers lovingly over the bodywork of his silver DB4. Next, he stopped to admire the next car in his collection. A dark green Mercedes sports car that had a bold white stripe running from bonnet to boot over the top of the vehicle and sporting a number four, within a white circle, on the bonnet and doors. This car had won the 1978 Le Mans and brought a smile to his face as he remembered the fierce bidding that had secured him the car.

After pausing to admire his 1934 Rolls Royce he then turned his attention to his motorcycles. He owned a Norton Commando, Duccati 864, the BMW used in the “Great Escape” and a Honda Blackbird, which he had to sit on and admire before retrieving his coffee and walking in to the final part of the garage.

In this final section, there was enough space to house two more cars. However, this was Alex’s’ workshop area and although he had kept the area clear, to allow for more vehicles, as and when he purchased them, he had organised the space to allow him to carry out repairs and maintenance. A workbench sat against one wall and was equipped with a large steel vice. Behind this was mounted a nail board that boasted an enviable array of tools and equipment. The back wall contained more specialist equipment. A free standing, heavy duty drill, secured to the floor by an impressive cast iron base, stood next to an expensive looking lathe. Another workbench, placed near the doors, supported a milling machine, while a large steel cabinet, in the corner of the workshop, housed the power tools and gauges that were portable enough to be tempting to a thief. Needless to say, the security within this Mecca to the automobile, was second to none and a top of the range alarm was housed in the kitchen, along with a television monitor that fed to the three security cameras that tracked Alex’s’ every move from their perch on the ceiling.

All in all, Alex was happy with the way his investment in E-commerce had enriched his life, especially since he had managed to sell the majority of his companies before the bubble burst. He still maintained one or two web companies that provided him with a steady income. But if he was to continue with the lifestyle that he had become accustomed to, he would need the occasional supplement to his income and so he had diversified, using his web based contacts to identify market opportunities and provide what people wanted.

Alex had been surprised by some of the things that people wanted and were prepared to pay large sums of money in order to secure. Eventually, after a little research, Alex was able to nail down a product with a very healthy demand curve and had then set about organising the supply of that product and ensuring that potential buyers were aware that, for an extortionate sum of money, he could deliver it. Unlike other e-commerce enterprises however, Alex had found a very nice niche market that paid high dividends, where he would not have to justify his actions to share holders, or the Inland Revenue.

Alex sipped his coffee and walked towards a partially assembled packing crate that sat by the garage doors, almost ready for shipment. All that Alex needed to do was to ensure that the goods were still secure, finish the packing, secure the lid and place the shipping order on the crate. He had already arranged a collection time, which was only another hour away, but that was more than enough time, or so he considered.

The product in question, Katie, was staring at him with a pair of gorgeous, clear, jade green eyes. Normally, Katie’s’ eyes held a smile and portrayed their love for him and the wonderful joy to be gained from life. Today, however, they portrayed the hurt, anger and confusion that all of his packages displayed as realisation dawned of them. Katie was, of course, gagged. A large, thick, penis gag ensured that her tongue was pressed in to the floor of her mouth. This was attached to a rubber head harness, with a thick, black, rubber cover that pressed tightly over her lips and hugged the lower part of her face, from just under the nose, under her jaw, right up to her throat. Although the rubber tightly hugged her face, Alex could still make out the cupids bow of her perfectly formed, thick, pouting lips that she had loved to cover in bright pink, glossy lip stick. Lips which had been the focus of so much of his recent attention.

When he had first started, Alex had not gagged his packages until much later. In fact, it had been the last thing that he would do, after explaining the new life that awaited his new acquisition. It had amused him, at the time, to listen to them prattle on. But after a while, he grew bored of this. The initial thrill, as they realised their betrayal and the desperate hope that they could somehow talk their way out of their fate soon lost its’ pleasure. The same questions were asked. Why being the most common. However, without fail, they always came up with the same response as their true position dawned on them.

“But I loved you.”

Stupid cows. Young, idealistic and easily trapped with a few baubles and promises. However, Alex did not need to remove Katie’s’ gag in order to hear the same tired mantras. One look at her eyes, as the first tears began to run down her face, told him everything that he had already heard before.

Scanning the package with a professional, well-practised, eye, he ascertained that the bonds had not started to come loose. He would be surprised if they had, but one could never be too careful. She was lying on her back, curled in to a ball, and with her knees strapped to her chest and her ankles tied together. Although, because of the moulded foam padding, he could not see her arms, he was confident that she had not escaped from the tight arm binder that pinned her elbows and wrists unmercifully together, since the chain that was attached to the bottom of the arm binder was, as far as he could see, still taught and connected to the thick rubber straps that bound her ankles. In addition to this, he doubted that she would be able to escape from the steel bands that encircled her wrists and elbows.

The foam used to secure his package was the product of many nights’ work. Initially, Alex would buy a large foam block, which formed a three-foot cube. Using hot wire, he would then divide the cube in to three sections. He would then take a heated wire loop and hollow out the foam blocks in to the desired shape, utilising a plastic dummy, formed by attaching limbs that were, approximately the correct size for the package. He had confirmed these measurements, initially from Katie’s clothing and later by measuring her while asleep. The end result was a woman shaped, cut out of the foam that could be slotted together like a mould, and contorted in to a shape that was best suited for transit. He had then used hot wire to cut out sections of the foam that would house catheter bags, air filters and piping. Once he was satisfied that he had a good approximation of her shape, he had drugged Katie, bound her and placed her in to the packaging, using the hot wire loop to make any last minute adjustments. The end result, when fitted together, would ensure that his package was held securely and did not move about during transit.

Alex bent down and, grabbing her tits firmly in his palm inspected the nipple rings that he had inserted. Although inflamed, Alex was pleased to note that there was no sign of infection. Smiling, Alex caressed her large, 34D breasts, before running his fingers down her shapely waist and hips, whose curves had been emphasised and compacted down to a crippling sixteen inches, by a heavily boned, glossy, black waspie, that forced the girl to take shallow, panting breaths.

Following the line of the suspenders, his fingers found the top of her rubber stockings, before running down the length of her leg and idly fingering the straps of the shiny black, patent leather platform shoes, which forced her feet in to a crippling en point, due to their seven inch stiletto heels. Having toyed with these, his fingers moved upwards, tracing the curve of her legs until his delighted fingers found the soft flesh at the top of her thighs and then followed the line of the high cut, rubber panties, before he hooked one digit under the skimpy garment and pulled to reveal her recently shaved pussy and, with some effort, the new piece of jewellery that adorned her swollen clit. Again he inspected his handiwork and was satisfied to note that, apart from a little swelling; the wound was free of infection. The catheter was still in place and did not appear to be leaking.

Stepping back, he picked up the large foam shape that would form the rest of her packaging and balanced it on the side of the crate. Flicking a stray blond hair from her face, he grabbed the two rubber hoses that protruded from her nose and fed them in to pre drilled holes in the foam. As he pulled the hoses through the packaging, he was forced to lower the foam toward the girl’s terrified eyes. While he still had enough room, he bent down and kissed the frightened Katie’s’ tearful cheek.

“Goodbye dear. Its been fun,” he said before pulling back and lowering the foam the rest of the way in to the crate and pulling the rubber hoses clear.

As the packaging slid home, to form a seamless white expanse within the crate, Alex thought he heard a muffled cry from the occupant. This made him smile as he reached for the wooden top of the crate. The inside of the top contained a hollow metal pipe, which was secured, flush with the wooden planks. Two bayonet fixings protruded from the centre of the pipe and Alex connected the rubber hoses to these. Positioning the lid carefully, he then aligned the lid, so that the two bayonet fixtures at each end of the crate, slid home to their female counterparts at opposite sides of the crate. These pipes ran down the inside of the crate and lead to a filter box at the base, which would enable Katie to draw fresh air in to her lungs from outside. The bayonet mounts produced a satisfying click as the lid was placed on the crate.

Alex gave the crate one last look before walking over to his work bench, retrieving a large pump action screw driver and a bag of six inch screws. He then proceeded to fit the screws in to pre-drilled holes in the crate lid, before tightly screwing them in to place. Lastly he took the address label, peeled off the back and stuck the clear envelope on to the side of the crate and checking, before he did so, that he had placed the correct address label on the package.

Alex smiled again.

“Put not your faith in Princes Katie,” he mused as he confirmed the address and the fate waiting for the twenty three year old woman.

Alex had several customers, but the one he did the most business with was Porto den Botha. Some of his customers merely wanted to own a playmate, or to live out a fetish dream. Not so for Katie. She was headed for a small port in South America. The country were she was headed was in financial ruin. Inflation was running out of control and the only currency that was worth a damn was always foreign. Consequently, in an effort to attract this elusive commodity, gangs of drug lords and pimps had sprung from every corner. Exporting death and misery to the west, while enticing the foreign sailors to part with their money through prostitution and cheap drink.

Porto den Botha, although being the major focus of these activities, was such a garbage tip, that very few local hookers could be tempted to work there. Which was where Katie came in. The local gangs would expend a great deal of money on importing women to ply a trade in the dockside bars and brothels. This, in itself, would not ensure the sort of funds that the gangs would consider a good return on their investment. Upon her arrival at the port, Katie could look forward to participating, in the leading role, in a rape video. Her life would then consist of either working the docks, or being filmed while tortured, raped, sodomised, or participating in similar situations. All the while, her loyalty would be assured by her growing addiction to heroine, her first taste of the drug already circulating around her system. Eventually, once she had exceeded her usefulness and the gangs had extracted a sufficient return on their investment, she would either star in a torture/snuff movie, or be sold on. If she were lucky, she would die shortly after her arrival in a hotel room, or alley, at the hands of a Tom. If not, the future did not look promising.

Satisfied that his package was secure, Alex finished his coffee and walked back in to the house to await the delivery vehicle, whose driver was in the pay of the mob.

Three Years Later

Alex inspected his collection of cars. Over the past few years, his collection had grown to include two more cars. One had won the 1968 F1 championship, while the other was a limited edition Cadillac. His motorcycle collection now included a Ducati 966 that had been ridden by Carl Foggarty.

However, he would be using the DB4 tonight. Activating the garage door, he placed his jacket on the back seat of the car and got in. Having started the car, he gently drove it out, on to his drive, before using his alarm key fob to close the garage door and re-set the security systems. This done, he climbed back in to his car and sat for a few minutes while the engine idled. One of the major causes of engine wear was to drive the car before it had fully warmed up. It also gave him the chance to listen to the tick over and note any potential problems.

Once satisfied, he placed the gear stick in first, balanced the clutch to biting point, lowered the hand brake and drove off. Despite the careful preparations, the reverence with which he moved the controls and the price that he paid for the car, Alex sped off of his driveway accompanied by the sound of screeching tyres. Alex had distinct ideas upon how a car like this should be driven. It was made for a specific purpose and style of driving and so he floored the accelerator and imagined himself a secret agent and that his car came complete with ejector seats, rockets, machine guns and bullet proof panels.

Alex was beaming when he stepped out of the car, collected his jacket and walked towards the door belonging to his date for the night. He had been going out with her for some months now and had already measured her for her crate. But whenever the opportunity presented itself, he found that he could not slip the drug, which he always carried, in to her drink. He was not sure why that should be, but Ann was different from anybody he had ever known.

As he expected, when Ann opened the door, she was dressed for the occasion and was everything and more that he could have dreamed of. She wore an understated, but obviously expensive, full length evening gown, that caught the light in rich colours of blue and purple, tastefully hinting that the garment was made from silk so expensive that its price tag would have solved the international debt issues of a small third world country. Tonight she had chosen to wear her hair up and, by so doing, revealing the understated diamond ear rings and necklace that would have put the same third world country decidedly in to the black. Three inch, strappy, sandals and just the right amount of make up a testament to her success within the medical profession. Clearly indicating, in an understated way, that if you have to ask, you can not afford.

Alex was rapidly coming to the conclusion that she was perfect for him. She represented the lifestyle that he enjoyed and the sort of man that he would like to become. Alex was momentarily taken aback as his thoughts sought out the words “Trophy Wife.” But he recovered quickly and, within the blink of an eye, was complementing Ann on her appearance and smiling as he stepped over the threshold.

Alex had had a pleasant evening, he reflected, as he sipped his brandy from the comfort of Ann’s’ living room. The tenor had given a wonderful performance and the opera had been everything that he had hoped it would be. The meal afterwards, at a restaurant of Ann’s’ choosing, had provided exquisite food in a comfortable, cosy little restaurant. The food had been expensive and worth every penny that he had paid, if for no other reason than for the company he was with. She had been charming, funny, elegant and intelligent.

His thoughts drifted and he imagined life with Ann. He had considered his thoughts from earlier and decided that marrying her would probably be the best thing he ever did. True, he would probably have to concentrate on more legitimate businesses; one can not really keep secrets of the sort that he had, especially while naked women were being crated up in his garage. But it was a small loss. His other companies were now proving profitable and the specialist demand that he had catered for was beginning to dry up. True, there were the occasional rich enthusiasts, but overall the call from the underworld was growing faint. It was time to move on. Time to re-invent himself.

Alex finished his port and, as if on cue, Ann returned from her bedroom, having slipped in to something more comfortable and clutching a bottle of wine and two glasses. The something comfortable being a dark blue, silk dressing gown which showed off the perfection of her green eyes and dark folds of hair.

Ann nonchalantly swaggered over to join Alex on the sofa, putting just enough sway in to her hips to set his pulse racing with the implications of her body language and the smile that she wore on her perfect lips. Ann placed the glasses on to the low table, in front of the sofa and then opened the bottle. He was not sure how Ann could turn such a simple act in to a statement of pure lust and sexual promise, but he was immensely pleased with the performance. Leaning forward, she poured the wine in to both of their glasses, ensuring as she did so that he had a clear view down the top of her loosely belted dressing gown and the delights of her firm, well rounded, 34D breasts. Leaning back, she picked up his glass and passed Alex his drink with the most seductive smile that he had ever seen.

After filling her glass, Ann placed it on the table and leaned forward, placing a kiss on his lips before slowly unbuttoning his shirt and caressing his chest with her immaculate fingers. Neither spoke. Words, at this point, were unnecessary.

Alex sat, transfixed, as if hypnotised by a snake, as Ann planted kisses around his nipples and caressed his chest with her fingers.

“Not thirsty Alex?” Ann pouted. “After all of the trouble I went to selecting the wine.”

Alex, coming to life as though suddenly brought out of a trance, remembered that he was holding a glass of wine and takes a gulp, as Ann forces him back on to the sofa before moving her hand down his chest to his belt, which she caresses with her finger tips, before undoing it and gently unbuttoning his trousers. Sliding his fly gently down, she caresses his manhood through his silk boxers. Alex’s’ mouth was suddenly very dry and he downed the rest of the wine as Ann places kisses around and on, his organ through the material, while easing his trousers down.

“Finished your drink? Have mine,” she whispers as, having pulled his trouser down to his ankles, she leans back and takes her glass, which she passes to him before resuming her exploration.

Alex gulps the wine down, before being forced back in to the soft embrace of the sofa by Ann’s’ firm, but insistent hand. Taking the cold glass from his hand, she rolls it over his body, before rubbing it up and down his concealed manhood.

Alex’s’ mind starts to wander with excitement and the most X rated mental imagery that he has had in a long time. As Ann’s’ fingers find the elastic on his boxer shorts and hook around the top, he feels her nails dig in and slide down his thigh as the silk of his underwear brushes against his rough member.

Thoughts jumble about his head like starbursts as he mentally follows the movements of his lovers’ hands and lips. If this is a taste of things to come, Alex could definitely get used to the idea of being married to Dr Ann Turner. Alex closes his eyes and relaxes as Ann’s’ mouth finds his intimate regions, while her hands explore his buttocks. He begins to drift, lost in the moment and the dreams of things to come, as the drug that Ann has slipped in to the wine gradually takes effect.

Alex groans as he wakes from a troubled sleep. He can not remember much from last night, but images start to form, like glimpses through smoked glass, before sinking back in to the depths of his mind. Tantalising glimpses of memory that disappear before he can attach meaning to them. Gradually, however, he begins to surface from his slumber and awareness gradually follows. It is morning. Daylight plays on his eyelids and causes patterns to form on the inside of his still closed eyelids. He aches and has fallen asleep in a very uncomfortable position.

Opening his eyes, he peers blearily around at his surroundings. He is in a large windowless room and the light that he had awoken to come from bright fluorescent strip lights. He tries to get out of bed, but finds it impossible. Applying more effort to the task, he finds that he is unable to move at all. His arms are pulled uncomfortably behind him and have been tightly wrapped by something. He is aware of other straps that force his head backwards and force his legs together. His breathing is also laboured and there is tightness around his chest, forcing him to breathe in short, desperate breaths. All other movement is impossible since he is restricted by something all around him. Foam? Also, he soon realises he is in pain and there is something wrong. He is not sure what, but something feels different, or at least wrong. He is also standing up and his feet are hurting.

As Alex is exploring these issues, he realises that he is not alone. Opposite him, against the other wall, is another captive? She is strapped in to a tall wooden crate and surrounded by moulded packing foam, standing in her prison like an Egyptian mummy in a sarcophagus. As his eyes begin to focus, Alex realises that she must be in a similar position to him. She is tall and while he would not call her good looking, she is definitely striking. She is also dressed in a very familiar fashion. A bright red rubber waspie constricts her waist to impossible proportions, emphasising her wide hips and generous, naked breasts. Suspenders outline her naked pussy and are joined to bright red rubber stockings. Her feet are forced in to an agonising en point by a pair of severe looking, red patent leather boots that must have at least a ten-inch heel.

Although she is at least twenty feet away, he can still make out the tell tale signs of body jewellery on her nipples and clitoris. He notes that she is also wearing a catheter. The way that her shoulders are arched behind her indicates that she is being held in very tight bondage and he would not be surprised to learn that, behind her back, her elbows would be touching. She is also wearing a tight posture collar, which focuses attention on the face and the gaudy make up that has been applied to hide the effects of her thirty plus years. She has long dark hair, judging by the end of a pony tail that snakes its way out of the packing foam at her shoulder and that she is wearing some sort of harness on her head. She is also looking at him.

Alex tries to speak, but his mouth is dry and his words come out as a croak. He tries again.

“Hello. Can you hear me?”

It is a lame question, but he is starting to get a little scared.

“Ah, good you’re awake. I wondered when you would come to.”

Although the voice was female, it had not come from the woman in the crate. It had come from off to his left somewhere and it was a voice he recognised. As if to confirm this, a woman steps in to his line of sight. Ann is dressed in what could only be described as causal clothes. To the untrained eye, she would be considered scruffy, but Alex knew that it took a great deal of money to achieve that particular look. He had seen a more extreme version with the horsy set that he occasionally crossed paths with. They would greet him having emerged from clearing a stable and would wear, what appeared to be old clothes. The reality of the situation was that the mud encrusted work boots would cost more than a pair of designer trainers. While the average shopper would have bought four, or five, jumpers for the same price as the one being worn by the woman emerging from the stables. The price, however, was worth the investment, since the expensive garments would still be serviceable in twenty years time. Ann had achieved the required look with the ease that suggested she was born to it. She was, Alex realised, old money.

“What’s going on Ann?” Alex croaked.

Ann did not answer straight away, but bent down to the side of the crate to retrieve a bottle of water. It was the type used by cyclists, with a straw in the top. She placed the straw in to his mouth before answering his question.

“I would have thought that was obvious Alex.”

Alex sucked deeply on his drink before indicating that Ann could withdraw the straw.

“I know a…”

Alex stopped in mid sentence. That was not his voice. I was higher, lighter somehow.

“What’s wrong with my voice?”

“Nothing, as far as I can tell,” Ann quipped. “In fact, I think it sounds pretty good. How does it feel? Is there any discomfort in your throat, or pain?” Ann asked as she undid his posture collar.

“No. It’s fine,” Alex answered after a second. The water had helped and, once that had lubricated his throat, he felt fine. “But what has happened to my voice?”

“I have tightened the vocal chords. I have also done some surgery on your Adams’ apple. I must say that the results look and sound pretty good. But that’s one of the benefits of not having to consider the question of consent, or legislation. You can experiment. Try out the sort of surgery that would normally require all sorts of paperwork and field tests before you were allowed anywhere near a patient. But I am very pleased with the result,” Ann beamed as she examined his throat, before re-tightening the straps of the posture collar.

Alex was dumbstruck. The implications of what she had said raced through his brain. He could not think of a reason for her actions, or a response. He just opened and closed his jaw wordlessly. Before he could say anything more, Ann interrupted his chain of thought.

“What do you think of the breasts? They're pretty impressive aren’t they?” She beamed as her immaculate, professional hands cupped two large mounds that were somehow sticking out of his chest. “Of course I can’t really claim credit for these. They are the product of eighteen months of intensive oestrogen therapy, mixed with a rather useful growth hormone. Of course, it has not been licensed yet. That won’t be for another four or five years, once the trials are over. But I think you will agree that it is definitely going to be in high demand when it hits the market. After all, in only eighteen months you have developed double D breasts. Most patients who rely on conventional hormone therapy would normally have to wait years to achieve these sorts of statistics.”

Alex listened, dumbstruck, as Ann described how he had been violated. But eventually he could stand it no more.

“What have you done to me?”

“Why, isn’t it obvious? It’s called gender re-assignment surgery.” Alex stared blankly at her and so she continued. “I have turned you in to a woman Alex.”

Alex felt numb. Again, for the second time since he had woken up, he was speechless and so, having waited for a moment or two, Ann continued.

“Although you won’t remember it, because of the medication that you have been on for the last year and a half, we have been through a lot together. You have had a complete hip replacement, using the latest keyhole surgery. Using a hormone that softens bone, I was able to re-sculpt your existing bones, giving them more female characteristic. You have also had extensive facial surgery. Although you have received regular treatment, there has been some muscle wastage, which is not surprising. Consequently, you may not be as strong as you used to be. But that’s in keeping with your new persona. Then there is the actual gender re-assignment surgery itself. I wanted to try out several options. Did you know that cloning technology has advanced to the state that I could have actually grown you a pussy? Since it would have been made from your own cells your body would not have rejected it. But in the end, I opted for a more traditional approach. After all, we can not have you enjoying yourself too much, can we?”

“But why? Why have you done this to me? I loved you.” Even as he said it, he knew how scornful he would be if the positions were reversed and hated himself for it.

“Why? Well that’s a long story. Do you remember, about four, or five years ago, you were going out with a woman named Katie Turner?” Seeing the bewilderment on his face she continues. “She was one of the women that you sent to Porto den Botha. She is also my sister. Did you know that she kept a diary? No? Well it was very informative. After her disappearance I found out about you. Despite all of the security that you have for your cars, you really should have paid more attention to you business. More specifically your computer files. Very sloppy. Although it took some time, it was not hard to find out about you and your contacts. It goes without saying that they were not happy with you when I contacted them. However, they were open to negotiation. After all, they are only interested in money and I had enough to buy back my sister. I also had something that they could use. Just think how useful it would be to have access to one of the countries leading plastic surgeons to our friends in South America. But most importantly, they don’t like you. They find what you do distasteful. It is one thing to abuse a hooker, but you promise love, happiness and a future. Mobsters have families too, so they willingly gave you to me. They were very generous with their help in fact. After all, the economy was improving, or hadn’t you noticed the drop in orders, so you were quickly becoming obsolete anyway. But don’t worry, they have not completely abandoned you. In fact they have your future all planned out. They will continue to keep you supplied with heroine, they supplied me with a little starter pack for you and will also ensure that you keep up to date with your hormone therapy. Isn’t that nice of them? As for Katie, well she has undergone nearly as much treatment as you have. You shattered her life, you bastard. When I found her after nearly two years, she was a burnt out junkie, praying for death. But she recovered. I got her off of the drugs and she has been in therapy ever since. But don’t take my word for it.” At that, Ann looks to her left. “Katie, you can come in now.”

A young woman strolls in to his line of sight and at last he remembers Katie. He is sobbing uncontrollably as the woman walks towards him, wrapped up in self-pity, only too aware of the fate that awaits him. She has changed a great deal since he knew her. She has hardness about her and her eyes penetrate his soul with a mixture of murder and triumph. This is a more confidant Katie than he remembers, this is a woman who has seen hell and returned to extract revenge.

“Hello Alex. Bet you didn’t expect to see me again. Well, surprise, surprise. Ann wanted to package you up and send you off without a word, but I asked her for this meeting, so that you would know who had done this to you and why. You will have a wild time in Porto den Botha. I hope you enjoy yourself bastard.” With this, she steps towards him, slaps him and then spits in to his face before stepping back and nodding to her sister.

Ann pulls two rubber tubes from her pocket and steps towards him. Ann had done a wonderful job of packaging him/her and so Alex was powerless to resist as she inserted the tubes in to his nostrils and deep in to his nose. Once she has finished, she steps back and Katie approaches penis gag in hand.

“Open wide,” she smirks as she holds the gag up for his inspection.

“Katie wait. I can explain. It was all a misunderstanding.”

Alex shakes her head in denial and so Katie grabs her jaw and forces her mouth open, shoving the gag in to her mouth with some force, cutting Alex’s’ protests off in mid flow, before buckling it to the fixings on the head harness that she is wearing. Alex continues her protests, but these have now degenerated to a series of unintelligible grunts. This done both women leave and Alex is left, staring at the woman he had seen earlier, that he now realises is his reflection in a large mirror.

After a few moments, Ann and Katie return with the remainder of his foam packaging and the lid for the crate. Alex watches in horror as they feed the rubber tubes through holes in the foam and a wall of white advances steadily towards her. Suddenly, the advance stops and Katie angles herself between the crate and the packaging.

“Goodbye baby. It’s been fun,” Katie smiles as she plants a kiss on her cheek, before pulling back, out of sight.

Alex struggles against her bonds, but it is futile and all that she can do is scream, impotently in to the gag as the wall of white slides towards her, imprisoning her in it’s claustrophobic embrace and cutting off all light.

Through the confines of her new home, Alex sobs as she hears the familiar satisfying click of the air hose connections and sobbed with frustration as the sound of nails being driven in to wood reverberated through her prison. There is no hope in Alex’s’ life now. Only terror as she remembers the fate of all new arrivals at Porto den Botha. The staring role in a rape video.

End

10.06.04