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From: RamAirIIII@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} Celia's Pet Project, pages 1-6 by Scott
Date: Tue, 14 Aug 2001 20:10:02 -0400
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Celia's Pet Project
By Scott
    
    Celia was a lab rat. At least that's what she and the other scientists 
and technicians called themselves; the Biotronics Corporation lab rats. The 
name probably came from the anonymity and dehumanization that were byproducts 
of their uniforms and the enormous size of the Biotronics facility. 
    Hundreds and hundreds of Biotronics staff milled around like ants; or 
perhaps more like rats in a maze. Each looked much like the others, dressed 
in his or her unisex white lab coat and scrubs. It was almost difficult to 
tell the women from the men. The sterile environment was made even more 
Orwellian by the countless stainless steel tables brimming with the equipment 
and wires and tubes of science.
    Ironically, in this most antiseptic and featureless environment, pieces 
and parts of humans themselves were being created. Different departments 
developed and refined artificial bits of bone, cartilage, tendon, and 
ligament. A battalion of scientists were trying to reproduce nearly all the 
internal organs, with varying degrees of success.
    Celia's department was that of the largest human organ, the epidermis. 
Her team's goal was a strong, natural appearing, synthetic substitute for 
skin. The application was especially targeted towards burn and large abrasion 
victims, or those with degenerative skin diseases. 

    Celia's private life was, to put it gently, unorthodox. She was the only 
thirty-six year old that she knew who wasn't a mommy; Nor was she anyone's 
wife, lover, or even girlfriend. It was not that she was unattractive; her 
height was proportionate to her weight, her skin was clear, and her face 
could be considered pleasing. It wasn't that she was particularly antisocial, 
psychotic or a deliberate loner. The reason for her extended "singleness" was 
her unique (for a woman) sexuality.  Celia was an utter pervert; so much so 
that she believed in her heart that there was no real chance of finding a 
true soul mate.  
    Celia's interests ran from leather to rubber to corsets and very high 
heels, bondage, humiliation, and above all, a deep, wide, masochistic streak. 
She owned all manners of fetish related pornography, piles of bondage goods, 
and a closet full of tight, uncomfortable, punitive fetish wear. She would 
spend hours and hours every evening in front of the computer. Her waist would 
be cruelly cinched into a leather corset, her legs sheathed in seamed nylon 
or latex stockings, and her feet forced into a ballet "en pointe" position in 
locked-on eight inch heels. Her ankles would be separated by a five inch 
chain, hanging between rubber lined steel cuffs. Her mouth was invariably 
occupied by a jaw-stretching penis gag, held in with a myriad of thin locking 
straps. Shoulder length latex gloves were almost always part of the nightly 
wardrobe, as was the merciless steel posture collar and a gem of her 
collection- Very rare, locking nipple clamps. 
    The clamps were ingenious in that they tormented the wearer, yet allowed 
circulation into the nipples. This feature permitted them to be locked onto 
the wearer/victim indefinitely. Celia had previously enjoyed playing a little 
game of locking the clamps in place on her tortured nipples, and then mailing 
the keys to herself. She would be trapped in the hellish little devices until 
the mail delivered the keys back to her, a day or two later. This little game 
continued until once when they didn't turn up when they were supposed to. The 
clamps hurt terribly, and there was no escaping them. They worked in 
conjunction with piercings in Celia's nipples, holding the nipple stretched 
and clamped inside a conical shield. She could not touch any part of her 
nipples once the devices were in place. Removing them would have involved 
painful, costly, disfiguring surgery. Six agonizing, awful weeks went by 
before the keys showed up. The envelope was marked "insufficient postage".
    Celia's evenings were always spent quickly changing into her fetish 
clothing, locking her bondage keys into their timed-release box, scarfing a 
little dinner, doing her household chores, and then going straight to the 
computer. There, she would cruise the web looking for stories, pictures, new 
devices and fetish items, and stopping off briefly at the occasional chat 
room. As she browsed the world's perversions, she would masturbate, bringing 
herself off dozens of times a night. She met lots of people online, but 
refused to let anyone get really close to her. She had things just the way 
she wanted them. 

    Morning would bring release from her self imposed punishments; the key 
box would buzz and unlock, allowing her to change back into her daytime 
persona. Celia had another little game she played, one that helped carry her 
through the boring hours of work and public responsibilities like grocery 
shopping, auto repairs and so on. Under her boring external clothes, she 
would always wear some sort of fetish apparel, often in conjunction with some 
discipline device(s). The rule was, it had to lock onto her; The keys would 
stay at home, and she would be helpless to stop the torment going on just 
under her lab coat or street clothes.
    Corsets had long been a favorite item, and they were a daily ritual for 
Celia. Through years of tight lacing, usually both day and night, she had 
achieved a remarkable eighteen inch waist. It wasn't the incredible 15 inches 
that "Spook" displayed on her web page, but Celia was still quite proud of 
it. On a typical day, Celia would lace into a leather long-line corset, 
pulling it tight to the point of dizziness. Her more extreme corsets started 
with a low collar (locking) and carried down over the shoulders and all the 
way to two inches past her hip bones. There were two, small round openings in 
the front of the heavily boned leather sheath that Celia would have to pull 
and massage her D-cup breasts through. The effect was a pair of perfectly 
round, bright red orbs, protesting at the cruel root-cinching. Getting 
dressed for work always involved bringing herself to at least one climax!
    Instead of conventional panties, Celia would lock her privates away 
behind a steel chastity belt; often with the addition of a painfully large 
intruder that would stretch her abused anus stretched wide around it's girth 
through the day. The belt's wide, impenetrable front panel effectively 
stopped her practice of sneaking away to the ladies room to masturbate, a 
habit she was trying to break, due to suffering job performance. Another 
daily torment was her practice of wearing a small chain that ran from one 
nipple ring to the other, routed up behind her neck. This chain was 
deliberately too short for comfort, and the result was the weight of her 
round breasts being supported by her nipple rings. She called it her "chain 
bra". She would complete her undergarments by adding a pair of shiny, white 
"extra control" stockings which were held up by her corset's eight garters. 
She loved the way they felt, squeezing her from thighs to toes like her latex 
ones did. The medical scrubs and lab coat covered everything. She wore (ugh) 
white, low-heeled medical shoes, which were comfortable and practical, but 
she hated them. She counted the moments until she could be back "en pointe" 
in her ballet toed stiletto punishment pumps. Flats were for men!
    While she was at work, she had to put her sex on a back burner, where it 
would quietly sizzle through the day. It had taken years of practice to learn 
to focus exclusively on her work, ignoring all the stimulus that her body was 
frantically sending. The certainty of the unyielding chastity belt helped; 
since she had begun wearing it every day, her work productivity had increased 
threefold. 
    

    Celia, and the other eight members of the epidermal research division, 
had developed a number of amazing prototypes. They had artificial "skin" to 
match every color of human, and all the different textures and thicknesses to 
match as well. They had a 94% success rate in overcoming host rejection of 
the new patches of skin, and that number was improving. The most remarkable 
thing to come out of the computer-driven chemical vats was the "carte 
blanche" genetic program. This new skin was "alive" for about twenty hours 
after being generated, and had the unique and amazing ability to mimic the 
host's own genetic code. Over a period of 12 hours after application, it 
would actually become part of the person. Nerve endings would generate, hair 
follicles would form, and the edges would meld with the undamaged parts of 
the host skin. It was their crowning achievement. 
    Along the way to their present success, the "skin team" had many dead 
ends and produced a lot of material that didn't work. Some artificial skin 
had dissolved, some had been rejected (nastily) by the host's bodies, much of 
it didn't look at all natural, and some of it even shrunk and became stiff 
and super tough when subjected to heat.  Over the years, Celia had covertly 
dabbled with some of these materials. She kept aside a number of samples of 
one of the dead ends that had unusual properties. She had an idea in mind; 
what if she could create a shiny, rubber-like product that she could make 
into fetish apparel?
    After work, sometimes on a weekend or holiday, Celia would work on her 
pet project. Her masterpiece was to be an all-in-one fetish costume, one that 
would fit her exactly; a second skin, but one you could still remove. The 
material she was working with was glossy, patent red, somewhat stretchy and 
supple. She found that by increasing the thickness of the material in key 
areas and applying heat, it would become stiff and unyielding. After much 
programming, she was ready to give her latest effort a try. She had 
previously had the computer scan her body, using it's precise measurement 
lasers. She had used the CAD program to create a three-dimensional model of 
what she wanted the skin generation unit to create, down to exact 
thicknesses, material compositions and selected "cook" areas, that would be 
subjected to high heat to alter their makeup. The only thing the machine 
didn't create was the titanium alloy insteps with their attached eight inch 
high heels. Celia had these made for her (at considerable expense) at a metal 
fabrication shop. 
    The "skin machine" was left to it's task overnight. It would take hours 
to generate and shape Celia's request before it could even begin to heat 
treat specific areas per the blueprint. The "add prosthetics" function of the 
machine's program made it possible to include the titanium stiletto heels. To 
avoid discovery, Celia would come in early and collect her finished prize 
before anyone else arrived. Her hopes were high, but her realistic 
expectations of success were more limited; there had been dozens of failures 
attempts at this project. All the previous efforts had come out too soft, too 
stiff, brittle, or had torn too easily. One early failure had shrunk to half 
the necessary size, and had the texture of beef jerky! 


    Celia's arousal had been at full throttle the entire time she had been 
working on the final programming for her latest attempt at the perfect fetish 
suit. The potential, the mental images had her at the edge. Would this be the 
one? She had even shuddered with a small climax as she had activated the 
"generate" code. She drove home carefully, focusing on the road. She couldn't 
afford to get into an accident, in her present state of bondage. She had to 
get home and get the chastity belt off, and get some blessed relief!
    Thirty minutes later, Celia was writhing on her living room rug. The 
chastity belt lay nearby, as did her surgical scrubs, lab coat, support hose, 
and those accursed low-heeled work shoes. She squirmed into a pair of shiny 
red rubber ballet-toed thigh boots. They fit her very tightly from toes to 
crotch, and she had ensured that they wouldn't come off by snapping on her 
rubber lined steel ankle cuffs, the ones with the five inch chain. Celia's 
right hand was pulling cruelly at her nipples and their chain bra, while her 
left was frantically spanking and fingering her clean shaven pussy with it's 
myriad of piercings. Her sphincter clenched convulsively around the thick 
plug that had stretched it through the day. Her head thrashed back and forth 
as her hips bucked. She screamed with the intensity of her orgasm.

    As she recovered, she wished she hadn't been in such a hurry to put on 
the ankle cuffs, or at least that she hadn't hurled their keys into the 
time-lock box for the night. Now she was trapped in them, "en pointe" in the 
toe boots till morning, and she had lots to do! There were bills that had to 
be dropped off tonight, and... Then a bigger problem occurred to her; She 
needed to be back at Biotronics at five a.m. to collect her latest creation, 
before anyone else came in. The time-lock box that held the only keys to her 
restraints wouldn't open until six a.m!
    

    She had to pick up her creation; It would be out on the finish area's 
trays where everyone would see it immediately upon their arrival. The 
humiliation and embarrassment wasn't the real problem; The real problem was 
that she would probably lose her job over the episode! That machine cost 
millions of dollars, and the raw ingredients weren't cheap either. The 
Biotronics Corporation would take a very dim view of what they would consider 
misuse of equipment and theft of materials. 
    The keys to the zipper that secured the leather flap over the laces of 
the corset she had worn all day were locked in the key box, as were the keys 
to her ankle cuffs. Celia thought furiously;. Her car had an automatic 
transmission, so there was no clutch to depress. She could still drive, even 
with her ankles hobbled. She could drop the bills off after hours, through 
mail slots and into drop boxes. And... If she got to Biotronics early enough, 
she could probably make it all the way to her division and back out without 
being seen. She would have to try, although it meant thousands of tiny, 
hobbled, five inch steps while "en-pointe" in her ballet-toed thigh boots. 
She began to get turned on again, thinking about the danger of public display 
she would be risking. 
    Good judgement faltered in the face of sexual urge, and an hour later 
Celia had "dressed" to go pay her bills. The chain bra had been replaced by 
the locking nipple clamps. They were set at "full stretch" and were horribly 
punitive. Their keys were safely in the box for the night. The daggering 
steel nipple cones pointed up and slightly outward from atop Celia's 
agonizingly root-cinched orbs. The anal intruder had been removed, and she 
had used an enema to cleanse herself. Now an even larger plug took it's place 
in her pert bottom. A thick, ribbed vibrator with new batteries had been 
inserted into her glistening, hairless pussy. She gasped periodically as the 
heads of the two oversized intruders would bump, push and vibrate against one 
another through the thin flesh that separated them. She could not remove them 
now, the chastity belt was back in place to ensure they stayed put for the 
night. Shoulder-length latex gloves, bright red to match the boots, and a 
high-necked, totally sheer red latex dress finished the ensemble. For good 
measure, she locked the mirror polished stainless steel posture collar around 
her throat and deposited it's keys through the slot to join the others in the 
timed lock box. 
    The latex dress was stretched sheer across Celia's tormented and bound 
breasts. It was very short, it's hem stopping a full three inches above her 
ballet-boot tops. The steel panel that held the intruders so deeply in her 
was clearly visible below and through the translucent material. Each tiny 
step was wonderful, sexy, delicious agony as Celia tip-toed her way out to 
her car. 
    The vibrator may have been too much, she thought to herself as she had to 
pull to the side of the road for yet another orgasm. It's unstoppable 
vibration was carried through the chastity belt and rattled her anal plug and 
her entire pelvic area with it's loud hum. What should have taken one hour 
took three, due to the forced orgasms and the tiny hobbled steps Celia was 
limited to by her ankle restraints. As she had feared, she had been seen by 
any number of people, all of whom had openly stared at her outlandish rubber 
outfit. Some had even been close enough to hear the loud buzz of the vibrator 
hard at work in her pussy. Her embarrassment had served to fuel her fires; 
She fantasized about walking through malls and into bars and restaurants in 
her fetish ensemble! 
    The vibrator had three big "D" cell batteries powering it. It ran through 
the night, slowing somewhat, but not enough to allow Celia any respite from 
it's constant stimulation. She was on the computer for hours, coming again 
and again from the unrelenting hum of the big vibrator. She got an extra kick 
from turning on her digital camera when she was getting close to orgasm; 
knowing that hundreds or even thousands of strangers were watching pushed her 
right over the edge! She hopped from site to site for hours until exhaustion 
took over. She dozed fitfully, having unspeakably sado-masochistic dreams. 
    BZZZZZ! Four a.m.! Celia lurched awake, sweating, heart pounding. It was 
time to go. She had taken off the see-through rubber dress before passing 
out, but still wore the shoulder-length red latex gloves. They were the only 
part of her outfit that wasn't locked in place, but she decided to leave them 
on; at four a.m. it was chilly out. She paused only long enough to urinate 
through the supplied slits in the chastity belt; fortunately, she had 
purchased the model designed for extended or even continuous wear.  She threw 
on her lab coat over the rest of her punishment costume. The coat was knee 
length on her and had long sleeves, but served only to bring even more 
attention to what she had on underneath it. 
    The cursed vibrator was still running inside her, albeit much more slowly 
now. She wobbled to the car en-pointe, moaning softly as the thick intruders 
bumped and jostled for space within her. A half-hour later, she was at the 
immense Biotronics facility. It took her fully fifteen minutes of determined 
tip-toeing to complete what was normally a two minute walk from the parking 
lot to the building. She used her security card and gained access, praying 
that she wouldn't meet up with one of the security officers. 
    The squeaking and rubbing of her latex-covered thighs sounded very loud 
to Celia as she hobbled her way slowly through the huge building. The 
resulting buildup of friction in her wildly rolling pelvis was too much; she 
couldn't hold back yet another helpless, hip-thrusting orgasm.
    The high, stainless steel posture collar made her turn her torso as she 
craned left and right to make sure she was alone. Finally, she was at the 
finished item trays of her department, and there it was! Celia picked up the 
somewhat supple, somewhat stiff body suit and examined it with her trained, 
critical eye. It looked perfect! The lustrous material shimmered and shined 
like nothing she had ever seen before. It caught and reflected seemingly all 
the lights in the building, almost causing the illusion of a glowing, inner 
light source. The suit's slender leggings terminated at the built-in titanium 
ballet-toed soles and heels. They had bonded perfectly to the dull, silver 
colored metal, and the bond appeared seamless.
    "Identification please, Miss!" a deep, authoritative voice ordered. Celia 
felt faint, and suddenly her heart was trying to beat it's way out of her 
chest! She turned around to face her inquisitor; He was a large man, taller 
even than she was, perched on her toes! His head was clean shaven, and he 
wore a goatee; He looked like that huge wrestler on television! His uniform 
left no mistake that he was one of the humorless, scowling security team that 
constantly prowled the Biotronics facility and grounds. Celia was in deep 
trouble. 
    "I- I'm Celia Foregood, I'm a design technician, level 12, department 15! 
He- here's my I.D., I just came in early, to um," "Design techs and science 
personnel are not allowed in at this hour, Miss Foregood. Furthermore, I'm 
going to have to run a check on the project number of that item your holding. 
I suspect that it's not got a lot designation, or a project approval code." 
Celia was about to burst into tears, how could she have been so stupid! 
"Look, sir, please, um..

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