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The plot was simple.

She had managed to get her hands on a nurses uniform from the Adra research facility. A tight white latex catsuit, the Adra medical research logo over one breast, and a tight, open face hood to go with it. It was extremely tight, except a bit.. loose, in one particular area. She had managed to find padding that would help her pass for one of Adras employees. Her slender body matched the other nurses well, but that area.. It was very strange how they all had such big breasts. The Journalist herself was no slouch, with pleasantly large d-cups, but even the smallest nurse was bigger than her! Hopefully she would find out about that as well..

Anyway, the journalist righted her thoughts, simple plot. Disguise, padding, slip into the facility, find files on the strange nymphomania virus spreading around, and if possible, find Phantom, the missing CEO of Mirage Corp. Then sneak back out and blow this story out for all to see. What could possibly go wrong?

Standing, she slipped out of her clothes and struggled into the tight, tight suit, her short, dark brown hair disappearing under the hood as she pulled it down over her head, outlining her face, her bright blue eyes and plump lips, her cheeks blushing a little red. The suit was really tight.. and felt quite good in truth. When this was over, perhaps she'd keep it.

She checked her makeup in the mirror, pulled a large coat around her, and stepped out. She had a story to find. And nothing would stop her.

****

Phantom struggled. She knew it was pointless of course. How many days had it been since her commitment? How long since she had foolishly told them to seal her in this seemingly permanent rubbery prison? It was torturous. Completely blind, unable to smell anything through blocked nostrils, her sense of taste and touch overwhelmed by thick rubber, the wide tube and its inflated outer leaving her mouth nothing more than a wide O through which she was forced to breath, and her hearing, while not blocked, was permanently assaulted by white noise, only helping to dull her mind further! Very occasionally she felt someone touch her, but it was dull, distant the straitjacket and vacuum suit over that leaving her sense of touch rather limited.

Sometimes her mind would simply blank, and the worst part was.. She had no way of knowing if it was that damned gas, or if it was her own body trying to cope with the total isolation. Sometimes she tried grinding against the walls, as gassed or not, her body was full of desire. But everytime she was reminded of that metal belt, deceptively simple, but incredibly effective and totally impossible to remove, there was no keyholes or anything to unlock it!

But perhaps the worst part of it all was.. She couldn't help but admit it, but she was *enjoying* it! The rubber felt good, the utter helplessness, knowing that nothing she did could possibly work, knowing that anytime she felt even the slightest give in the rubber, chased it and struggled valiantly, it was for naught.. It sent thrills up her spine, and to her very, very full holes! And when they turned those toys on.. She just melted. Sometimes they would leave them on for hours and hours, leaving her in orgasmic heaven.. Other times they would tease and torment her for what felt like days on end, keeping her right on the edge.

Perhaps the most thrilling part was remembering the tube forced into her mouth, at her own demand.. Knowing that, influenced or not.. She had asked for this. Sometimes, even when been teased and kept on edge, that thought was enough to send her over into climax..

She hadn't given up hope of course, but Phantom was intelligent, and had no way of communicating at all. No one out there knew this was a ploy, that she wasn't infected, and who would risk removing her gear even if it was possible, to find out?

All she could do was try to endure and.. Then her mind went blank again, her hips rolling as desire filled her again.

****

The Journalist eyed the figure nervously, her tight suit squeaking as she fidgeted. What hung in front of her was brutal. She had been introduced to the patient as a traitor, the one who had tried to kill Dr Adra. Far gone was the collected, intelligent assassin. Suspended cruelly by elbows and knees, which were folded up, hands at shoulders, feet against her rear. Tight rubber covered her from neck to toe, except for her breasts. Her enormous, basketball sized breasts. Far from free however those orbs were severely tortured. Tight straps around their base made them bulge out dramatically, turning them a shade of reddish purple. Attached to these straps were two ore per breast, one that cleaved vertically and the other horizontally, with an O-ring around the nipple to expose the delicate bud. Her poor breasts cleaved into four quadrants, the flesh bulging around them, while those little nipples poked out like little rockets, with cruel, weighted camps pulling them down towards the floor several feet below.

Her cheeks bulged over a very tight rubber strap, so tight she could see the outline of the womans lips and the enormous ball between them, which a pair of padded latex covers obscured the womans eyes and left her totally blind. Not even her hair was free, braided back and attached to a hook that disappeared between the captives buttocks and forced her to keep her head back, or yank painfully on the profoundly uncomfortable intruder. her sex was also occupied, though with what the Journalist could not tell, a steel plate covering that tortured hole and preventing all outside stimulation. Sometimes a powerful hum could be heard from below it, but never for long.

She had been ordered to make sure everything was secure, and had done so. Too scared to even try to loosen anything despite the fact she just *knew* this woman had a story to tell, she was monitored heavily. What could the journalist possibly do but obey? She didn't want to end up like this as well!

Thankfully after that she was sent to do some paperwork, giving her ample opportunity to finally do some digging. ost of the paperwork was.. Boring, to say the least, simple records. But something seemed off.

And then she found Phantoms file, dated three weeks earlier. It described, in minute detail, how Phantom had come to be incarcerated, the sudden onset of the virus, the nurses doing their best to keep the raging nymphomaniac under control long enough to seal her away, even Phantoms words demanding to be sealed away. But oddly enough, there was some pages missing. She idly thumbed the obvious gap, turning the pages back and forth.. Then eyed the nearby computer. Could she risk it..?

Half an hour later she walked quickly towards the exit, trying to appear calm. She hadn;t expected it to be that easy, but what she had found.. Phantom wasn't infected! Dr Adra had been paid to seal the woman away for a very, very long time! Clutched in her hand was the little USB pen that had all the data, the nruses outfit not exactly having anywhere to hide it. She had to get out.

And then another nurse stepped out in front of her.

"You're needed to tend to the VIP, shes riled up again. Come on." She said simply, the E-cupped woman turning on heel and leading the reluctant journalist deeper into the complex. Very deep, into areas she was sure weren't on any blueprint. And then.. She was in the cell with the shiny black figured. It could have been Phantom, it could have been anyone. Slick, shiny black latex covered her head to toe, no openings bar for that obscenely wide tube where the poor womans mouth should be. The hood, perfectly smooth, featureless and thick, left Phantom looking little more than a drone! The only thing that stood out was the belt, the silvery metal contrasting strongly with the sea of black that contained the poor captive. And she rolled her hips constantly, fighting her encasement, that belt, until a powerful buzz filled the air and the black figure seemed to melt.

"That's what you wanted to see, right?" A voice said behind her, causing the journalist to spin around, stuttering. There stood Wisp Adra, the head of the facility, hands in her long coats pockets, eying the journalist with narrow eyes. "Take a good long look, burn it into your mind. You won't be seeing her again."

Before the journalist in disguise could try to make an excuse, she felt a prick on her rear, the nurse from earlier pushing down the plunger on a syringe. Her vision swam.. and then all went dark.

****

The journalist awoke with a low groan, and tried to move.. But found herself very securely strapped to a chair, totally naked. That was rather distressing, but nto so much as the memories that flooded back to her of the poor suspended woman and of Phantom! Frantically she tugged at the heavy duty straps holding her to the chair. But there was so many.. Her hands hung over the edges of the arms, a stout strap at wrist, the top of her forearm, and accross her upper arm on each. A chest harness that wrapped around and emphasized her pert breasts, with a waist strap, kept her upper body pinned in place, while straps around the top and bottom of her thighs, below the knee and around the ankle ensured her legs were going nowhere. She could barely budge!

She looked around the room, but she was in the center of a beam of light, and the rest was pure darkness, leaving her clueless to her surroundings. She called out, several times, but no one responded. For over an hour she sat there, struggling, terrified, until the doctor entered. Dressed rather like a nurse, except with her head free, her long hair tied back to keep it out of the way, and of course her much more slender frame outlined instead of the enormously breasted forms the nurses all had. With her were two other nurses, though their hoods were different, leaving only eyes exposed.

As one, they worked. Grabbed the struggling Journalist and forced her mouth open. Into that poor hole a mountain of padding was forced, her cheeks puffing out more and more, her frantic mewling getting quieter and quieter. Far from finished however, they began to wrap over her lips and head with microfoam tape, very, very tightly, with some kind of shiny black tape that compressed and shrunk over that, severely gagging the woman.

And then the doctor held up a syringe, a very, very large syringe. filled with some kind of black liquid. Through the center of the tape, between her parted lips, this was thrust and injected, the black fluid soaking into the enormous amount of padding, absorbed and expanding, causing the poor womans gag to only get stricter, bigger.. and harder, as the rubbery cement like compound hardened into one solid mass, leaving the journalist with a mouth full of something that in no way could be removed.

"First we take your voice." The doctor said simply. Then they took her hands. sticky, squishy balls were forced into them, then she was forced to clench tight. Sticky, wet bandages wrapped her hands tightly, before a rubber pouch was forced over each hand, rather loose and baggy. But instead of inflating them, the nurses hooked up a large syringe to each.. and the journalist felt the mitts fill. Looking down, even fter the syringes were empty, the spheres around her hand grew rounder, the pouch tauter, until finally her hands were sealed away in utterly solid balls.

"Then we take your hands." She continued. The journalist let out a tiny cry as something was pulled over her head, thick and rubbery, forcing earphones into her ears that buzzed with white noise. It had eyeholes, but otherwise covered her head utterly. It was thick, it was tight, and it was unyielding. Every ten seconds or so, the white noise would vanish for five seconds and she would her her surroundings through a mic hidden within the hoods lining, only for the white noise to return for another ten seconds.. Leaving her disorientated and tormented, snippets of sound hitting her and little else.

"Then we control your hearing." She heard in one of those small windows.. Before the second hood was pulled over her head, driving her into panic. It covered her eyes, but rather than blind her, it seemed to have one way lenses, letting her see out, albeit it very dark and dulled, not blind, but leaving everything as little more than silhouettes. On the outside, much like Phantoms hood, it was perfectly smooth, not even a hole for her mouth, instead a pair of tubes forced into her nostrils allowed her to breath.

"Then your vision." The doctor purred, and the journalist found herself straining to hear more, her panicked mind clutching to every word, even the taunts, like a lifeline. She couldn't believe what was happening to her! She turned her head to follow the dark shape moving around, until she forced to look forwards again. Around her neck and jaw something was wrapped and laced, from her collarbone all the way up her neck, until it ended just below her nose, laced cruelly tight, holding her head perfectly still.

"We take away your ability to communicate." The voice taunted, a particularly nasty one to the journalist whos very life revolved around communicating, informing. Finally she ws unstrapped from the chair and forced up. Her feet were forced into some strange knee length boots, like ballet heels, only without the heel, forcing her to teeter on her toes untilshe collapsed to her knees a few moments later, unable to stand in those boots at all.

"We take away your ability to walk" the voice continued, as she was grabbed and pulled back onto her already tortured toes. Something wrapped around her waist, then she felt coolness against her lower lips, gasping silently in surprise, the cool rubber and steel making her realise just how warm she had grown down there, her lips throbbing against the isolating plate.

"We take away your pleasure." the poor journalist all but sobbed at this point, overwhelmed by all they were doing to her. Her head completely rigid, her hands sealed away, unable to stand in those torturous boots.

"And finally.. We take away your dignity.."

****

Several hours later, a rubber covered figured crawled out of an alleyway. The final thing they had done was perhaps the worse. Her body was clad in thick, black latex, a catsuit, with her name printed across one breast, letting everyone know it was her. On her right buttock was a barcode, that when scanned simply stated one thing.

"This is what happens to nosy sluts who poke their nose where it doesn't belong."

Attempts to cut the suit, the hood, anything utterly failed. Even the diamond edged saw losing its edge on the strange rubbery material. They tried to talk to her, but she seemed to barely hear them. Worse, several hours later, a video appeared on the internet, detailing everything that had been done to the poor encased woman. Cleverly editted to hide the nurses completely, even changing the colour of their suits when they did appear, it was impossible to link to the Adra research facility. Naturally it went viral, with competitors and even her own publication soon running stories on the transformation.

Meanwhile, Doctor Adra curled her lips back in a smile as she watched the reports pop up all over, and soon her bank account again began to fill. That journalist had ran stories on many, many companies in the past, costing some of them millions. And to only make it more delicious, a particularly large contribution soon arrived from Mirage, Phantoms own company. Wisp couldn't help but laugh at that, if the plan had failed after all, they'd have realised the truth about what had happened to their CEO!

Lure the journalist in with promises of a story, get her a uniform, let her see the tortured traitor, let her see the files, then finally show her Phantom before utterly and publicly destroying the journalists career and identity.

The plot was simple.