I stood in the lab, with my hands behind my back. I put a finger up to my mouth, losing time and disassociating deep into thought. Their data, their histories poured into my mind. Detailed histories became clear, my understanding only limited by my conclusions. Every new sentence made me more curious, had me jumping to conclusions and associations. And then I'd read a new line, and more possibilities became clear.

The only thing keeping me from descending deep into data-depths was the occasional sounds they made. Mewling. Squeaking. Rubbing. Begging. Wheezing.

I smiled every time it happened, focusing on understanding who they were first. Context was going to be everything.

Clara and Johanna were their names. C-137 and J-19 were their designations, categorized by history and powerset and use. Clara was of means and education; a Chilean with powers that defied explanation. I had dedicated several of my best advisors to study the supernatural effects she had created, and even more to studying the applications. Mana flowed through her soul and body, giving her access to physical and mental feats that were not well defined.

More concerning were reports of a very literal 'dark passenger,' an entity that saw from behind her eyes. I was curious if it felt what she felt as well.

Both of the women were suited up, and beyond that, vac-sealed in place. Oh, how I just adored seeing them packed and coated and fully rubberized. She had barely room to twitch, trapped in a thick latex sheet that hugged her curves and mounted on the wall. Bright lights illuminated the both of them; my trophies, my beauties, my oh-so-valuable test subjects.

They were flies in my web; and, like flies, they had come to me. My chief interrogator had learned that Clara had met her partner Jo during her travels. Jo was an expert thief of indeterminate origin, and possessed her own curious powers - the ability to manipulate wind, sound, and air.

Hence why I ensured that, once they had arrived in my domain, I had them both vac-sealed in airless vacbeds to prevent such manipulation, and of course overstimulated to ensure that there would be no concentration, no communication. With L+ chemicals, the two of them were kept oxygenated and plumbed even within their squeaky, shiny prisons.

Both of them had been drawn in by rumors of MirageCorp; a hidden city, my campus of tunnels and tombs and laboratories and playspaces. My own sandbox domain, filled with data and scientists and collegial associates.

I stepped forward, watching them mewl and squirm. Wands between their legs went up and down in intensity, keeping them from adapting. Later on, I'd bring it to a more relaxing thrum or even turn it off to give them some rest. But that was later. For now, I stood an arm's length away, hearing them gasp and moan.

I moved a finger over Clara's face, watching her twitch and gasp. She was utterly, completely subsumed by my latex; it was across every fiber of her body, within her, pressing tight, yielding nothing.

Four days of intense testing had shown that not only were the two ladies lewd latex lovers, they possessed an intense stamina and seemingly limitless desire.

"You two are just so VALUABLE to me. Precious. Unique. I could **never** let you go. It's a harsh world out there, ladies. And you... you can be so useful to me here. "

"Don't worry... you'll be BEGGING to be my rubber sluts after a few years of testing."

After all, they were nude - their clothes sealed up and undergoing surface-level studies to see if their costumes had had any impact on their power suites. Assuming they weren't, though, I'd be the only one designing their outfits for the rest of their servile existence.

I turned the vibes down, slowly at first, before finally having them removed. A half-dozen guards each were manhandling them, making most certain that any attempts to wriggle free would be met with a sedative gas in their face followed by a latex sheet over their heads. Just to make sure they knew how to behave.

Clara was hesitant, but Jo was busy kicking and screaming. I was almost envious of the guard that sprayed her down before sealing her up. It must have been gratifying.

That evening, the two women had been dressed up and locked up in a rubber-padded cell. I took my time before visiting them; they could wait, they could stew. And besides, I had other friends to entertain. When I finally did pay them a visit, the two of them looked absolutely pathetic.

All of their gear was my own generation-after-next smart latex, designed for all the things that I enjoyed. Comfort, temperature, the snug hug against the body... all of those were benefits even the most ascetic individual would have appreciated.

Then there were the ancilliary benefits. The shine. The reflectivity. The smell. The oiled, glossy exteriors.

And finally, there were the features of their suits that existed only for the pleasure of the most depraved, perverse rubberists. The thickness; the inescapability. The way that it hugged her body, showing off her muscles and curves. The way that every little feature of her body - her bones, her muscles, her imperfections and features - were all beautifully ensconced in black rubber.

Just because I knew they'd be less-than-appreciative, though, I also had to make sure my two test subjects were restrained. Heavy steel shackles clasped their thighs and ankles, each connected by stainless chains. Every movement was therefore a blissful mix of squeaking rubber and clinking metal.

Similar shackles featured over their biceps and wrists; the wrists especially were important, as they kept their inflated mitts on. I didn't think test subjects needed much manual dexterity for their current regiment, so I had both of their fists locked up in double-layered inflatable spheres. The gold-colored chains locked her wrists just an arm's length from her heavy collar.

My favorite two items were lit by a small glowing diode in the center of each. Around Clara's waist went a chastity belt, ensuring that with her fat mitts she'd never managed to pleasure herself despite the immense delights of their newfound rubber imprisonment. It glowed red to ensure any lookers would know she'd be denied.

The other was a thick mouth corset, metal and lined with padding. It kept her posture straight, her mouth packed, and her visage almost entirely glossy.

They'd spent the afternoon rubbing and lewdly coupling in each others' company, trying to escape the cell. But now it was time to separate them. It was going to be a long weekend, and I had good uses for them until testing began next week.

That's why I brought some new gear. Jo, the thief... I was going to have some fun with her tomorrow. I was even bringing over a friend so the three of us could enjoy some time with my new 'chew-toy.' Perhaps we'd let the thief try to pick the locks on her gear... a fruitless task, as they were all coded to my voice. Jo was in for a good time, as long as she had the same masochistic streak I'd detected earlier.

"Jo, I think your outfit is perfect as-is. Especially since you're going to be spending the night as my public groping toy. But Clara... hmm, do you think we could improve it?"

I loved so hearing them beg, adored hearing them squirm. I was addicted to it now, just as they'd soon be addicted to rubber servitude.

I slipped a blindfold over Jo's eyes, and for the next thirty minutes, she was in absolute agony. Only sounds, smells, and sensations from the rubber cell gave her information.

It must have been absolute torture, knowing the girl next to you is undergoing such intense, lewd processing. Hearing it. Knowing that soon, I'd be doing something similar to you, too. I envied her. I love a good surprise.

"I've already made preparations for the two of you," I said. They replied back with nothing. I continued, trying to elicit a response.

"I've tried to remove all traces of your arrival, making sure you're going to disappear. Not that your nomadic lifestyle left you many allies, but I'm going to ensure nobody else is going to locate you.

Which is good. After this weekend, we get right to WORK. Your strange, dark power, Clara - I'm going to figure out what it is. That means analyzing every response, seeing if there's someone watching over you. I have plans, plans to test the limits of your body; limits of your brain before you crack under the pressure. You're going to feel much, much better than you ever did while free as I turn you into a rubber-addicted test toy. Begging, moaning, thumping against your cell to ask for more. I'm sure you'll grow to love it.

And Jo... well, you're not quite as powerful, so you'll just end up as my plaything much of the time. While Clara spends her hours trapped in a tube, Jo will enjoy some time as my foot-rest. Not enough?"

"You're right. I'd much rather have you slotted underneath my desk. Your smooth, hooded face in between my legs. When I need your tongue, I'll use you. And when I simply want you as a moaning, air-starved toy... well, you'll be of use to me either way.

If I ever get bored, I'll find a use for you , though. I could never separate you entirely, so perhaps I'll have you both sold off as a pair to one of my friends - I bet one of my friends would love a pair of lovely ladies like you. Alternatively... I could simply lock you up in this little room, where you can be mine, mine, *mine.*"

Jo screamed in surprise, moaning deep into her gag. Clara was gone. I had made her into something beautiful; a glossy rubberdoll in black and red.

Her suit was designed for long-term wear, stasis, and enclosure - in bright red to remind all viewers of the dangers they faced if she ever got free. Her arms trapped in an unending self-hug; straitjacketed and suited and strapped up tight. Metal bands kept her arms below her bust. Metal chains jingled with the same delightful sound with every little gyration.

Instead of chains around her legs, I used carbon spreader-bars. And instead of a simple belt keeping her from reaching climax , she'd been utterly, completely filled. I'd primed her with lubed up beads before filling her with a flared buttplug. An intense pair of egg vibes around her womanhood were on a rotating cycle of orgiastic torment. She couldn't hold on for long. Already, she was trapped in a rubber hell; *my* inferno, just for her.

Clara might as well have been alone. I had her in a thick ultratech hood; a helmet that could make her feel more alone than anyone in a deep isolated oubliette. But for now, I was ensuring she was trapped in that same elevated state- one where she was deeply aware of her lewd sounds, her begging, her moaning, her groaning, all in front of me and her friend Jo.

A fat, pressurized collar inflated around her neck, teasing at her erogenous zones. Over her mouth was a heavy, packing plug-gag - one that kept her dosing on S-gas at all times. Stimulated. Slutty. Unable to shake the mask from her mouth, get the lenses off her eyes, or do anything but quiver and squeak as I held her up.

She was hot. Physically, mentally steamed. I could feel her legs twitching as I held her close, teasing her so sweetly. The most subtle thing I'd done to her all day was gently rubbing my chest against hers, hearing the squeaks, showing off to Jo.

I began to walk C-137 out of the room, loading her thick rubber-sealed body onto a transport gurney. I had to find a good spot to put her... and I had to get ready for my date night with Jo.

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