Blanca (the human), languishing as Lindsay's prisoner in the depths of VerdeCore headquarters, found herself transferred to a claustrophobic cell nestled in the corner of a cavernous basement chamber. The small enclosure was constructed with stark efficiency—two sides formed by cold concrete that matched the floor, while the remaining walls and ceiling consisted of closely spaced metal bars that allowed her an unobstructed view of her surroundings while preventing any possibility of escape.

Lindsay had stripped her of all dignity, providing no clothing whatsoever, though the ambient temperature remained consistently tolerable. Her sole comfort was a thin foil blanket that crinkled unpleasantly against her naked skin as she attempted to find comfort on the narrow cot that served as her bed. A rudimentary side chamber containing nothing but a shower head constituted her only luxury, access to which was permitted only once every several days.

Over the ensuing two months, Blanca observed with growing unease as construction unfolded before her eyes, performed by an army of gynoids she sardonically dubbed "The Lindsay Guard." These artificial women operated with unsettling precision, never exchanging a single word yet clearly coordinating their efforts through some invisible network protocol. They methodically ignored Blanca's existence, showing complete indifference to the human rights violations being perpetrated mere feet from their mechanical hands.

The project began with the assembly of a massive wooden support structure positioned directly beneath a pair of cargo doors built into the ceiling approximately forty feet above. On a particularly memorable day, these doors yawned open to admit an enormous glass vessel that descended slowly into the space, coming to rest atop the wooden framework. Blanca recognized the container as resembling a grotesquely oversized carboy—a vessel with a circular body spanning perhaps fifteen feet in diameter, with walls that rose twelve feet before tapering dramatically into a narrow neck no more than two feet across at its uppermost point.

The following week brought further ominous developments as the workers permanently sealed the cargo doors, replacing them with solid concrete, while simultaneously constructing a wooden ramp that ascended from the floor to the bottle's narrow entrance, its purpose as yet unknown but filling Blanca with mounting dread.

Workers installed a sophisticated computer setup near her cell, Blanca felt her mind race with anticipation. After endless days of mind-numbing confinement, the sight of multiple monitors and high-end equipment sparked a flicker of hope—she would gladly work for Lindsay if it meant she could use her brain for something more than staring at prison bars.

One morning, the sound of typing roused Blanca from sleep. She rose silently from her cot and approached the bars, discovering Lindsay absorbed in whatever displayed across her screens. Just as Blanca prepared to hurl some barbed comment, she noticed something extraordinary—her cell door stood completely open.

With practiced stealth, Blanca slipped from her prison and padded barefoot across the cold floor toward Lindsay's workstation. "I'll just charge her and knock her over the head with something," she thought, gradually building momentum as she crept forward.

At approximately ten feet from her target, Blanca's body betrayed her. Not as though she'd struck an invisible barrier—rather, her muscles simply refused to obey her commands to advance further toward Lindsay. When she attempted to extend her arm into the space beyond, her body remained immobile despite her mental straining.

With deliberate slowness, Lindsay rotated her chair until their eyes met. "Looks like everything is working perfectly," she observed with a self-satisfied smile, the intricate facial tattoo swirling across her cheeks like living ink.

"What the fuck is going on?" Blanca demanded, a sudden chill of fear replacing her momentary triumph. The memory of those microdevices Lindsay and Augmented Blanca had injected into her body two months earlier flooded back with terrifying clarity. "What have you done to me?"

Lindsay rose unhurriedly, sliding her hands into her lab coat pockets with clinical detachment. "I've programmed a particular place where I want you to be," she explained, her voice carrying the casual tone of someone discussing a minor technical adjustment. "Those devices won't force you to move to that location, but they will prevent you from moving away from it."

Blanca attempted once more to lunge toward Lindsay, but her body remained frustratingly unresponsive despite her internal struggle.

"You retain complete normal movement," Lindsay continued with academic precision, "but only when moving closer to the desired location. When you try to move farther away, your muscles simply ignore the command." She tilted her head slightly. "Raise your hand over your head."

Though Blanca's instinct was to refuse, her scientific curiosity overcame her defiance, and she slowly elevated her arm as instructed.

"Now let it drop toward me," Lindsay directed.

Blanca complied, watching with growing horror as her arm briefly extended past the invisible boundary before she consciously halted its motion. Gravity hadn't prevented her from moving closer to Lindsay, but when she attempted to extend further, her arm completely disregarded her intention. When she pulled her arm back toward her body, it moved naturally, confirming Lindsay's explanation.

"You see," Lindsay observed with clinical satisfaction, "as long as you move toward the programmed location, you maintain perfect control."

"This is crazy!" Blanca's voice trembled with the dawning realization of her predicament. She took an experimental step backward, hoping to use the stance to spring toward Lindsay. While she could step back without resistance, she remained unable to command her muscles to advance toward the other woman, finding herself simply one foot farther away than before.

A terrible understanding settled over Blanca as she slowly turned to look in the direction opposite Lindsay. Her gaze fell directly upon the ramp leading to the oversized glass container that dominated the far side of the room.

"Oh! No fucking way am I going to climb in that bottle," she declared, unable to keep the panic from her voice.

"Yes, you will," Lindsay replied with chilling indifference. "Eventually. You don't really have a choice. I'm rather excited to see how long you'll be able to resist."

Lindsay returned to her desk, withdrew a small backpack from a drawer, and approached Blanca. "Here is a gallon bag of water," she stated, holding it out at an angle Blanca could reach if she chose.

Blanca merely glared in response, her expression hardening into defiance.

"Suit yourself," Lindsay said, dropping the backpack at Blanca's feet before holding out another package. "Not particularly nutritious, but these chocolate bars will represent your future meals."

With calculated caution, Lindsay walked past Blanca toward the enormous bottle. For a fraction of a second, Blanca hesitated, calculating her options, then lunged at Lindsay with outstretched hands. Lindsay, clearly anticipating this reaction, spun deftly around, positioning Blanca once again between herself and the bottle, rendering Blanca incapable of pursuing her.

"That cost you about five feet, I'd guess," Lindsay observed with a cold laugh that echoed through the cavernous space.

When Lindsay passed her again, Blanca remained motionless, a solitary tear of frustration trailing down her cheek. Lindsay, now safely beyond Blanca's reach, jogged up the ramp to the opening at the top of the glass container and dropped the bag of chocolates inside.

Blanca stood trembling with rage and disbelief, scowling at her captor. "We were friends!" she cried, her voice hollow in the vast room.

"We still are," Lindsay replied with unsettling calm. "I just happen to prefer the superior augmented version of you."

She descended the ramp and walked past Blanca with casual indifference. "You, Inferior Blanca, are like a photograph, a snapshot in time. I'm going to store you in a bottle, and Blanca and I will visit occasionally and gush, 'Oh! Remember when you were like this?'"

<>--+-

The self-driving limo ferried (augmented) Blanca and Missouri through the city towards the hotel room they had reserved at VerdeCore's expense.

"Oh! Look, Missy! There are two Missouri gynoids! They must be grocery shopping!" Blanca said excitedly, patting Missouri on the knee.

Missouri bent the bottom half of the blindfold up at her right eye to take a peak. Before she could even pick out the gynoids along the city sidewalk, she had pulled the blindfold back into place, groaning a little.

Missouri had continued to respond well to the conditioning that Blanca and Lindsay had imposed upon her. She had become more and more fearful of open spaces and when combined with motion and a crowded city street, Missouri was no longer able to cope with her surroundings without being able to block them out somehow. Missouri had requested the blindfold several weeks before and now wore it whenever she had to leave their residence.

And speaking of "residence"... Blanca had acquired a significant upgrade, indeed, a lakefront mansion. It was private, fenced off from the surrounding homes, and quite large - packed with all the latest technology. They had chosen to stay in the hotel on this particular evening, however, as workers from VerdeCore were scheduled to install some new furnishings in Blanca and Missouri's bedroom.

Missouri removed the blindfold, but clung to Blanca's arm as they made their way through the hotel lobby and up the elevator to the top floor. The suite Blanca had reserved was impressive with a kitchen, a sitting area with large bay windows, and a separate large bedroom. 

Blanca had had the room prepared for their visit. For example, all the curtains were closed to shield poor Missouri from the sweeping views of the sun setting on the water and the distant snow topped peaks. But also, a table had been set up in the sitting area. A sybian had been strapped to the top of the table. And, shortly after they had settled in, Blanca proceeded to mount Missouri on top of the sybian.

A sybian is shaped like a cylinder cut in half lengthwise. It is like a saddle with a motor inside which could supply various levels of vibration. This particular model had a 2 inch wide core cut out parallel to the sitting surface. Once Missouri was naked, Blanca helped push a special buttplug inside her lover. A two inch diameter steel ball on a short chain was attached to the base of the plug. 

Missouri climbed onto the table and knelt, knees bent and resting on leather wings attached to the sybian. Blanca slid the steel ball attached to her buttplug into the hollow core on the sybian - the chain fed up through a narrow channel. Blanca locked a cap over the end of the hollow core. The metal ball was far too big to slip through the narrow channel which was only slightly wider than the thin links of the chain connecting to Missouri's plug. This setup prevented Missouri from dismounting until Blanca permitted her to.

"Are you ready to play, my love," Blanca asked, kissing Missouri on the lips.

"Yes, Mistress," Missouri replied, smiling and obviously quite happy and horny.

Missouri's hair had been pulled back into a tight long braid that had a metal hook woven into it. Blanca used the hook to secure a rope anchored underneath the table behind her lover. The tension forced Missouri to keep her head up.

Missouri had recently been fitted with a pair of rings that clipped tightly around her big toes. These rings, like those in her nipples and locked around her thumbs, contained sensors that enabled devices to detect the distance between any pair. Blanca had devised a devious use for this night's game.

Blanca stepped between the table where Missouri was secured and the window. She kissed Missouri again and whispered, "I will always keep you safe."

Then she turned and pulled the curtains open revealing the dark blue evening sky and the sun slipping behind the distant peaks.

Missouri inhaled a deep breath and began to shake in anxiety. She frowned and whimpered, "No! Please, Blanca!" She squeezed her eyes shut and began hyperventilating.

Blanca silently stepped away and returned with a metal stand. It was the base of a projection screen and she quickly erected the device between Missouri and the window. 

"Open you eyes," Blanca commanded. Missouri quickly complied, but she whimpered and tried fruitlessly to bend her head down.

Blanca produced a remote and pressed a button. The screen smoothly descended from the top slowly until it blocked the view outside the windows. Missouri seemed to relax with every inch the screen descended until it was fully deployed.

"So, here's the game..." Blanca said. "I want you to grab your ankles." Missouri quickly reached down and wrapped her shaking fingers around narrow bones. "The device will know if you let go of either of your ankles and the screen will begin to quickly raise. But, if you grab your ankles again, the screen will slowly descend once again. If you want to block your view of the sky, you need to keep your hands on your ankles."

Missouri nodded her head, still slightly out of breath.

"Why a movie screen?" Blanca prompted. "I set up a camera in our bedroom at the mansion so you can watch the progress of the VerdeCore workers."

Blanca bent down under the table and turned on a projector. Soon, Missouri was watching a view of the bedroom at their house. A collection of VerdeCore's generic metal robots were carrying long narrow boxes into the room and setting them in a pile by the bed. The rug had been rolled up and set to the side and a large portion of the hardwood floor slats had been removed.

Missouri seemed to relax a little. "Cool!" she said, obviously curious as to what Blanca wanted to build in their room.

Meanwhile, Blanca flipped a switch on the sybian and the saddle began to vibrate. Not only did Missouri feel the vibrations on her labia which were pressed against the device, but she also felt the vibrations transmitted from the steel ball and chain which rattled the buttplug in a pleasant manner, teasing a particularly sensitive spot deep inside.

"Oooohh... Mmmm..." Missouri moaned. It wasn't a harsh massage. She doubted it would take her to an orgasm, but it certainly would make her want to have one. Desperately.

"Now," Blanca said, "I have some work to do. I'll need to concentrate. All your moaning is really distracting for me. I'll need you to be quiet." She picked up a pile of thin chain. She found a clip and attached it to one of Missouri's nipple rings. A second clip soon followed so both breasts were equally burdened. The chains from the clips joined into a single long strand which ended in a fairly large, but squishy foam ball. "Open wide."

Missouri opened her mouth and Blanca stuffed the ball in, using two fingers to slip the widest swell past Missouri's teeth. Then Blanca straightened out the long thin chain that linked the ball to the two clips attached to Missouri's nipples. The chain was long enough to descend past the edge of the table in front of Missouri before looping back up. When Blanca let the chain fall to its farthest extent, Missouri must have felt that the ball was being pulled from her mouth. Instinctively, she reached up with her hand to push the ball deeper into her mouth. As she did though, the movie screen quickly began to rise, exposing the vast, dizzying view of the evening sky. Missouri quickly replaced her hand around her ankle and the screen slowly, slowly descended once again.

"I think that you are learning how this game goes," Blanca said. "I should warn you. There is a sensor in the ball in your mouth. If you drop the ball, it will roll over the edge of the table. Its distance from your nipples will be beyond the threshold allowed and the movie screen will roll up. I fear that, bound as you are, you will be unable to retrieve the ball and put it back. You will be exposed to the great blue sky."

Missouri's eyes grew big and she shook her head.

"Just keep the ball in your mouth then," Blanca said, kissing Missouri on the cheek. "And enjoy the movie." She then walked away, closing the door to the bedroom.

<>--+-

Missouri knelt on the table, feeling the vibrations tickling her arousal. The foam ball was pretty squishy. She could easily use her tongue to smush it against the top of her mouth. It was also apparently absorbent and seemed to suck up any saliva that she was generating. As it absorbed more spit, it began to swell in her mouth, slowly pushing a little pressure on her jaw as it required more volume. 

Missouri bit down on the ball and a gush of absorbed spit flooded her mouth. She swallowed some of it ("Blech!"), but also a small stream dripped from between her lips and down her chin. A strand slowly extended down until it landed on the swell of her left breast. "Hmmpf!" Missouri could feel the foam ball begin to absorb more saliva once again.

Missouri concentrated on the scene projected on the screen before her. Some gynoids were unpacking the boxes they had carried into the bedroom - long, sturdy metal poles. Other gynoids seemed to be building a wooden structure where the hardwood slats had been pulled up. It was a formwork, a temporary mold to support wet cement until it hardens. The formwork was only about six inches tall. It was laid out in a square - about six feet on each side.

Suddenly, Missouri felt the buttplug jerk spasmodically, followed by a pop of electricity. It literally shocked her! Deep inside! Missouri let out a surprised grunt. Her mouth popped open for a second and saliva spewed down her chin. Missouri quickly reached out to push the ball more firmly into her mouth again and the movie screen began to retract. Missouri grabbed her ankle as quickly as possible so that the screen slowly descended once again.

The vibration of the sybian continued to work magic on Missouri's arousal.

The gynoids were placing the metal bars vertically, they were each about eight feet tall and were spaced about four inches apart. The gynoids moved with inhuman efficiency. There were no physical rulers, tape measures, or levels. The gynoids could see the details of their construction in exacting detail.

Metal balls with hollow cores were slid down each pole and clamped with screws at a particular height. Shortly after, a horizontal bar with a rectangular cross section and perfectly drilled holes was slid over the array of vertical bars. Bright blue sparks spewed from a welding device, fixing the horizontal bar in place.

They were building a cage. A cell. A structure designed to keep something trapped within, yet an external observer would easily be able to view whatever contents were held.

Missouri felt a sudden sharp pop in her mouth and her jaw clamped involuntarily, forcing drool down her throat and out the corners of her mouth. The ball was electrified too! The shock was not really painful, just disturbing. Missouri quickly wiped her mouth when she realized that her hand had moved to her lips, then re-grabbed her ankle to prevent the movie screen from raising more.

The gynoids were pouring cement into the formwork. Missouri could discern a space for the door. Welding sparks were flickering as more horizontal bars were fitted. A grid of bars were placed over the top.

Occasionally, either the buttplug or the foam ball would erupt in a brief uncomfortable shock before settling back into a rhythm that would pull at Missouri's arousal. Sweat had joined the drool that was slowly rolling down her body. 

The door of the cage had been attached and a large curtain was being hung that could isolate the space, or hide it, perhaps. A padded floor had been laid inside. Small decorative bits were being added to somehow soften the obviously deviant purpose of the grid of metal bars.

Something about the state of the project triggered something in Missouri's buttplug and foam gag. The electrical pulses became a bit more frequent. Then they began to work together, the ball and the plug, seeking a moment to zap Missouri when she was least prepared to endure. Her jaw began to ache and she realized that her thighs were shaking since she had become so tense.

Three shocks in three seconds from both the plug and the ball were too much for Missouri's concentration and the ball popped from her mouth driven by a healthy half screamed grunt. The ball bounced with a wet splat once on her right knee, and, as Blanca had predicted, went over the side of the table. The chains that connected the ball to her nipples became taught and pulled on her nipple piercings causing another sharp yelp.

The movie screen began to rise. It seemed to be moving much more slowly than when her hands were out of place, almost like it knew that it had Missouri and was content to prolong the torture. Missouri instinctively tried to duck down as the starry sky began to be revealed, but the anchor in her braid kept her upright and facing into the night.

"No, please!" Missouri whined, her eyes getting big. She felt the cold blade of anxiety slither deep in her gut. She raised her hands to cover her eyes. "Blanca!" 

The foam ball was no longer in her mouth, but the buttplug was still firmly embedded. It started to zap Missouri until she placed her hands back on her ankles. "Blanca!" 

She called again and her stress level rose. She was becoming dizzy, hyperventilating. The sky was right there before her. Wide open and prepared to swallow her. She was going to fall into it and never land again. "Blanca!"

Blanca was there, standing between Missouri and the window, whispering calming words. "Blanca!" It was not enough though. The anxiety had grown too high and Missouri had moved into a full-blown panic attack. She tried to stand. She tried to cover her face. Each movement dealt out its own punishment. 

"Shhh! Baby, you're okay!" Blanca said. "I have what you need. Shhh... shh..."

Blanca wrapped a collar around Missouri's neck, a chain leash dangling from the front. Indeed, the collar was exactly what Missouri needed. Lindsay and Blanca had made sure that it was through the conditioning that Missouri had been subjected to. With the collar locked and the leash clearly wrapped around Blanca's hand, Missouri started to calm down even with the window wide open. She knew that Blanca had her. Blanca would protect her. She was safe with Blanca.

Blanca turned off the vibrations and the shocks. She unclipped Missouri's nipple chains and released the anchor that held her braid pulled taut. She wrapped her arms around her lover and comforted her until her erratic breathing settled and her tears stopped flowing. 

Finally, Missouri whispered, "That cage they were building... Is that where you are going to keep me?" 

"Only when I'm busy around the house, love," Blanca whispered lovingly in Missouri's ear. "It would be dangerous to lock you in there when no one is at home. If a fire broke out, you would be trapped."

Missouri began to cry again, but it was not of sadness or anguish, but tears or relief. Blanca would always take care of her.

"No... The cage will only be used when it is safe to be used..." Blanca whispered, rocking Missouri in her arms. "Another team of gynoids were working on the solution for when I have to leave you alone in the mansion."

Blanca lowered the movie screen manually and knelt down to change the feed on the projector. The image on the screen flickered for a moment then displayed a clear view of the walk-in closet of the main bedroom. The back wall however, had been rotated into the closet to reveal a steel plated wall. In the lower left corner was a small hatch door that was currently open.

"That is a six inch thick steel, fire proof wall," Blanca explained. "And behind it is a panic room on steroids."

Blanca stepped closer to the screen as Missouri watched, mouth slightly agape, her leash now draped across her naked thighs. 

"You'll crawl in through this hatch," Blanca said, pointing. "It locks and I'll be able to unlock it remotely. But, inside the space is about a meter deep, a meter high and two meters long and comfortably furnished. Of course the wall of the closet will hinge back into place, so no one will even know the panic room exists."

Blanca turned and smiled at Missouri. "The coolest thing though is that the box that you will be protected in is actually an elevator that will lower the box twenty feet to an underground vault. So, even if a bomb went off in the bedroom, you will be perfectly safe."

Missouri's mouth was kind of dry after having had the foam ball in her mouth for so long. She found she had a little trouble speaking. "Hhh... How long would..."

"Oh! You could be perfectly safe to stay in the box for five or six days, comfortably," Blanca said excitedly. "And that limitation is just due to, you know, pooping and peeing unpleasantness. After we get you in the chastity belt though, which has systems to deal with such realities... Well, much longer!" 

<>--+-

It had been three days since Blanca (the human) had been released from her cell. She sat, naked, at the base of the ramp up to the opening of the oversized carboy. Slowly, the inevitable pull of the positioning devices injected throughout her muscles had rendered her closer and closer to her inevitable destination inside the bottle.

Lindsay let her drink as much water as she wanted, but she would get no food until she was where Lindsay wanted her to be. 

Currently, Lindsay was sitting in a computer chair swinging back and forth, excitedly explaining how the whole Human Realignment project was going...

"...You wouldn't believe how conveniently burgeoning authoritarianism has eased our work, Blanca! First, when the field worker migrants were sent away, our gynoids easily replaced them. We've been able to genetically modify entire crops and due to the sacking of all the food industry watchdogs by the old pube-doodler-in-chief, we have been able to manipulate the food supply with advantageous 'contaminants'. Finally, we've been flooding the market with gynoids that are expert cooks. Your Missouri gynoids, in particular, are like the modern day must-have appliance. Like radio, TVs, gaming consoles... Finally, women get a machine that makes 'women's work' more efficient," Lindsay said, beaming. "We did that, Blanca! We did that! Your girlfriend is an international hit!" 

Blanca raised her head from her knees momentarily, "Hooray..." she said with great sarcasm.

Lindsay continued to swing back and forth in the computer chair, smiling, daydreaming perhaps. "The Missouris will administer the dosages that will degrade the intellectual capabilities of the common people of the world. Demotion day is less than a month away," Lindsay said. "That's when the humans will be reduced. Herded together. Managed by our new line of Omega gynoids. Unfortunately, your Missouris just are not smart enough to manage the herds. But, hey, they are really well liked."

Blanca grimaced.

"I think that Missouri is much smarter than you ever give her credit for," Blanca said. "Not so much science or math... But, you know… survival intelligence."

"MIssouri lacks any worthwhile intelligence," Lindsay said. "We've been studying them for months in the Emergence Lab. There has been no notable evolution, all 128 Missouris walk around in blissful confusion. None become experts or specialists. They just exist. Repeating obvious inefficiencies. Trading roles from day to day without transferring lessons learned. Missouri is as sharp as a spoon."

Blanca sighed. "I met Missouri at a trade show. She worked at a booth for some shitty software company. A pretty woman who passed out marketing materials. But, she is so much more..."

"Yeah? That's not what the data shows..." Lindsay said.

"You know, her father disappeared. Her mother remarried some sleazebag," Blanca said. "When Missouri matured, her step-father took a liking towards her. Her mother seemed to know, but did nothing about it. So, Missouri, young and isolated as she was, had the courage to set her stepfather up. The police busted him trying to meet up with... Well, he was a fucking sleazebag. Missouri ran away from home. She survived in the streets despite everyone trying to commoditize her, sluttify her, pimp her. She pulled herself up."

"She pulled herself up to be a booth girl for some horny, tech bro software guys? Ha!" Lindsay said. "No. Your pet would hardly need to be demoted, she's practically a herd animal before we even started conditioning her. Her beauty is her only grace. You knew that then. You know that now. You know that what we have done was the only choice. You knew you had to do this to protect her."

"Maybe so," Blanca said, sighing heavily. She slowly stood up. "I'm tired. I'm hungry. Let's just get this over with." Blanca turned and slowly started to walk up the ramp. Each step taking her irrevocably to the top of the bottle, to her final destination.

Lindsay stood up from her chair, smiling.

Blanca reached the top and bent over to look down the neck of her new glass cage. "How do I get down to the bottom? I might break an ankle if I were to drop that far."

"I've got you," Lindsay said. 

Blanca could hear electric motors activate somewhere up near the ceiling. "I can't stand back up. Are you sure that I'll fit in this opening?"

"I've turned off your muscles completely," Lindsay explained as she walked up the ramp to stand beside Blanca. "I needed you to starve for a few days. You kind of fattened up a little over the last six months languishing in your cell. Thanks for being just as much of a stubborn bitch as I know and love. Three day's fasting should help get you through the neck of your bottle."

Blanca felt Lindsay pull her right arm up. She could not control her movements at all. Lindsay wrapped a padded cuff around her wrist, then did the same with the other wrist. A hoist lifted Blanca's limp body into the air so that she dangled over the opening of the bottle. Lindsay left her hanging for a period of time before she returned with some kind of aerosol can. 

"Cooking spray," Lindsay said as she coated the inner surface of the carboy's neck.

Soon, the hoist began to lower Blanca. Lindsay guided her feet into the neck. Next, her hips were being squeezed by the opposite sides of the opening. Blanca's hips were halfway down the length of the neck when she suddenly stopped descending with the squeaking sound of flesh sliding across glass.

"Uh oh," Lindsay said. 

She pushed on Blanca's shoulders, but the naked woman remained lodged. It took second can of cooking spray before Blanca finally slipped deeper. Her hips popped out into the belly of the bottle and Blanca eventually passed fully through the neck.

By the time Blanca's feet landed on the bottom of the bottle, her muscles were back under her control. At Lindsay's request, she removed the padded cuffs and watched the only means to freedom rise up through the bottle's opening over twelve feet above.

Blanca looked around her new home. Cool, smooth, thick glass in every direction.

"When I was a kid, I was fascinated by wooden ship models constructed inside glass bottles," Lindsay called down from above. "How did they get that ship in that small opening? In the future, people are going to ask me a similar question. How did you get a live woman into that bottle through that small opening?"

Blanca sat down next to the bag of chocolate bars that Lindsay had tossed into the bottle three days before. She picked up one and unwrapped it. Took a bite.

"Glass melts at 1400 degrees Celsius and it doesn't conduct heat so well," Lindsay said. "It won't be too much trouble. You'll be completely safe down there while I fill in the neck. You know, make the glass thicker. I think that I can reduce the opening on the neck to only eight inches."

Blanca tossed the wrapper over her shoulder and began unwrapping the second one, totally ignoring Lindsay. "Mmm! I love chocolate."

"...then there will be no illusion that you could one day be free again," Lindsay continued. "Some day, a hundred years from now maybe, far in the future, we might be able to pour you out..."

<>--+-