Gromet's PlazaPackaged, Encasement & Objectification Stories


by Lobo De la Sombra

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© Copyright 2013 - Lobo De la Sombra - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-F; M/f; encase; mould; display; climax; cons; X

She woke slowly, her mind climbing with grudging effort toward consciousness. As awareness grew, she slowly became aware of the fact that, for some strange reason, she couldn’t move.

Sluggishly, then with increasing effort, she struggled, but it soon became evident that movement of any kind was impossible. It was as if she lay immersed in something soft, smooth, something that touched every inch of her body, gently but firmly refusing to allow even the slightest movement. Not even her mouth could move, not even her lips, she discovered, allowing nothing but muffled hums to emerge, no matter how loudly she tried to scream.

For long moments, she lay in her helpless immobility, mind struggling to understand. Gradually, she began to feel something pushing against her skin. It was as if fingers were kneading the skin at the base of her breasts. Slowly, the sensation climbed, until she could feel the kneading at her nipples, which responded by quickly growing hard, pushing out against whatever it was that held her. That whatever, though, refused to allow even that much. Her nipples, expanding slightly as they hardened, quickly began feeling pinched as they overfilled the already tight space allotted to them. Between her own helplessness and this new sensation from her nipples, she soon found herself growing aroused.

Slowly, the kneading sensation worked its way down her body. It seemed as if whatever this was holding her were being pressed even more firmly against her skin. Helpless to stop this strange process, she could only lay quietly, her mind tracking the feeling as it moved.

Eventually, the sensation reached the juncture of her thighs. As the soft sensation of pressure made itself known to her mound, she felt her arousal begin to increase. Slowly, tortuously, the feeling worked its way along her most sensitive place. Suddenly, she felt something slip between her nether lips, pushing slightly inside her. Instinctively, her hips tried to buck, but her helplessness remained complete, stifling any attempt at motion. She could only moan as she felt herself penetrated, the sensation stopping, maddeningly, just before it reached her clit. She moaned again as the sensation slipped out of her to begin working its way down her legs.

When the feeling reached her feet, she was sure she would go mad. She’d always loved having her toes sucked, and the gentle kneading she felt now, coupled with the sensations already imposed on her helpless body, seemed to magnify her arousal in ways she’d never dreamed of. Almost desperately, she drew air in through her nose in shallow, panting gasps, the firm hold on her upper body allowing no expansion for breathing.

Slowly, maddeningly, she could feel an orgasm build. Still feeling something within her, and with her nipples being pushed into their confining space with each panting gasp, she could feel herself driven toward what she knew would be a tremendous orgasm.

When it finally exploded through her body, the orgasm was even stronger than she’d anticipated, blasting through her in seemingly endless waves of pleasure. Still held immobile by whatever it was that held her, her very helplessness seemed to amplify the sensations, as if they were being reflected back into her. When the waves finally receded, they left her limp, sated, yet, strangely, still needing.

How long she lay in her helpless stupor of unfulfilled arousal, she never knew. Eventually, though, she felt a slight tugging against her skin. It seemed to come from all over the front of her body. There was a soft sucking sound, and light suddenly filled her eyes.

“What do you think?”

Andrea stared with wide eyes. There, atop the entrance to the building, stood…. her. Standing with legs together, arms hanging straight with palms flat against her hips, the figure was an exact replica of Andrea. Painted in realistic tones, it could have been Andrea herself, standing poised and naked above the entryway, her long auburn hair waving in the soft breeze. Between the smooth thighs, if you looked closely enough, you could just make out the shape of feminine lips. At the sight, Andrea shuddered slightly, remembering the feel of something slipping between those lips now so chastely pressed together.

“Well?” Andrea turned to look at Malcolm, the owner of the building, who stood beside her, gazing proudly up at this new decoration.

“It’s amazing,” she said. “It looks like me standing up there.” She suddenly grinned sheepishly. “As if,” she continued, “I’d ever get drunk enough to stand up there naked.”

“I’m glad it turned out so well,” Malcolm remarked, then turned to look at her. “And,” he went on, “I’m sorry the process required you to be rendered into such a near coma state. It was imperative, though, that you not move even the slightest bit until the form had begun to set. Not to mention the final process of molding the form to every curve. I would imagine that would have been quite unpleasant, had you been awake.”

Carefully, Andrea hid her smile before it reached her lips. As far as Malcolm knew, the timing had been perfect, with her coming awake just as the form was being separated from around her body. True, she had slept through the first part, when the form was molded to the rear of her body. As for her experiences during the front molding, she preferred to keep that part to herself.

Now, glancing up at the form waiting to greet visitors to this building, she frowned slightly. Seeing this, Malcolm eyed her with some concern.

“You don’t like it?”

“No,” Andrea replied quickly. “It’s fine. It just looks a bit lonely, standing up there all by itself.”

Malcolm nodded. “I agree. Unfortunately, it was necessary to destroy the mold in the process of removing it from the figure.”

“In that case,” Andrea said, struggling to hide the grin she felt forming, “we’ll just have to make another one, won’t we?”


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