Beth Wilson, WPC, was out on her normal patrol. She liked her neighbourhood, chatting to people, getting to know everyone’s problems. She took her job seriously, trying to keep the traditional police values alive.

In her late fifties, nearing retirement, she had trust in her neighbourhood, and her people; she always patrolled alone; she felt it made her more approachable, as well as not too intimidating.

She had seen the robed woman a few times, now; her abaya flapping gently in the breeze. She nearly always kept her head in shadow, deep in her hood. On this occasion, however, Beth could see she was having trouble, struggling to move. Being the caring person that she was, Beth went over to assist…

As she asked the woman if she was alright, the woman reached out to her. Reflexively, Beth grasped her hand to help her…

She felt a small sting on her hand, from the woman’s ring. She went to move and suddenly found she couldn’t do anything for herself…!

The robed woman, suddenly stronger, took hold of her and, making it look like the WPC was assisting her, not the other way around, went into the nearby disabled toilet.

Once inside the toilet, the woman quickly completely undressed Beth from the waist down. Beth hissed, trying to call for help, but the paralytic had completely clamped her mouth shut.

“Lovely little thing, isn’t it?”, the woman said. “It’s a chemical variation of tetanus that we’ve designed. It completely paralyses the victim’s nervous system, whilst still letting her breathe and see. You can forget about moving and talking, though…”

The woman folded up Beth’s slacks. “You won’t be needing these anymore”, she said, putting them in her bag. She then fished a few items out…

Rubbing some lube onto the plugs built into the latex knickers, she fitted them onto Beth. Once she had pushed them into place (they fitted quite tightly; she had made sure they were a size smaller than her usual wear) she pressed hard on the waistline of the knickers. That glued them to Beth’s waist and made them non-removable.

“There’s a hole over your urethra, and a hole in the anal plug”, the woman said. “You can still go to the toilet without removing them. I’m not completely heartless, you know, I just got told to teach you a lesson.”

As she liked Beth’s tights, she then put them back on her.

Then she brought out a black latex skirt…

Beth frantically tried to move as the woman fitted the skirt onto her. She then fitted a silver belt round it. Waggling a padlock under Beth’s nose, she reached round behind her. There was a click.

“The skirt is now locked on, and booby-trapped”, the woman said. “Let me assure you that any attempt to remove it will be very unpleasant for you…”

“The records at your precinct have been updated, as well”, she said. “They show you are now permitted to wear skirts because of a medical condition in your legs. If anyone complains when you get back, refer them to the records.”

“Also, from the outside”, she continued, “The skirt you are wearing looks like a normal dress skirt. Only you and I know it’s latex.”

She then put a business card into Beth’s top pocket.

“When you want to talk, ring me. Don’t try tracing the number; as I said, the skirt is booby-trapped…”

Smiling, the woman kissed her, then packed up her things.

“Oh well, nice to meet you! I’m off now, the drug will wear off quite soon, and you can return to work. Thanks for the slacks, by the way; I needed a new pair.”

The woman walked off, leaving Beth helpless sitting in the toilet.

Shortly, her hands began to move, then her whole body shortly after.

With a few dejected tugs at the skirt and knickers, Beth sadly headed back to the station…