The Vinyl Solution

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Added Date:1/22/2022

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The Vinyl Solution

A Detective Comic strip style of story. B&D

PROLOGUE

"You shouldn't go there," Arlene said for the umpteenth time as she helped me pull on the shiny black thigh-high boots. "You know
they're waiting for you."

I smiled down at her and tugged the cuff to within an inch of my crotch. Kneeling, she concentrated on fitting my foot into the boot's
shoe, using the 6-inch heel as a handle to work it about till it was snug and comfy.

"Darling," I murmured, sheathing my left arm in the shoulder- length vinyl glove (also black, of course). "If I avoided all the places I
shouldn't go, I'd never go anywhere at all. What fun would that be?"

"Fun!" Arlene snorted. "Here, let me do that."

As a consolation prize (because there was no way she was going to talk me out of this) I decided to let her dress me the rest of the way.
She enjoyed the smell and feel of the gleaming black plastic almost as
much as I did. So much so that getting me dressed for action
sometimes ended up repeating the process.

With her usual crisp efficiency my assistant (and more) pulled up the other arm-sheath, then went about snapping snaps and zipping
zippers while I flexed my hands in the snug cool gloves. Each snap
and zip tightened the ebon vinyl catsuit a bit more about my body, till
it fit me like a second skin, especially tight over my boobs. When you
have breasts the size of bowling balls like mine, everything is tight,
and that's the way I like it.

"Mmmmmm." I couldn't help the moan as she sloowly (the minx) zipped the last zipper, the front-to-back one over the bulging mound of
my cunt, between my legs and up amidst the big round globes of my
ass. My plastic-snugged pussy softened a bit. Skintight vinyl does
that to me, that's why I call myself Vinyl Vixen. My enemies, now,
they call me Plastic Puss - but not to my face. To my ass, to my
snatch, to my gigantic tits, whatever part of me they happen to be
binding and/or abusing at the moment, but not to my face. I try not to
enjoy it, I really do, and I even succeed - sometimes. That's what
Arlene was snorting about.

"And as for them waiting for me, I wouldn't be going if they weren't." I kissed her.

Arlene wasn't swallowing my blithe carefree act. "She might be too tough for even you - if she shows."

My rather absurdly overdeveloped body can take a lot of torture, and frequently has to, but this was the first time I was counting on it.

"She'll show. She's wanted my ass for a long time."

"And now you're delivering it to her on a silver platter."

So that's how policewoman (and then some) Petra Veronica Carlson (c'est moi) found herself at the entrance to the most notorious
stretch of darkened alleyway in Vegas - and that covers a lot of dark
alleys, despite the city's reputation for lights. The word was out that
Big Bad Mama and Her All-Girl Gang needed a tall gorgeous blonde
for sale into prostitution and training for various kinds of Kinky Sex,
and I wanted to be the one.

I wasn't surprised that my informant hadn't shown. I'd selected and cultivated her because I knew she would set me up at the first chance.

Mind you, that's not to say I was alone as I walked slowly into De Sade Alley's total darkness. The only question left was whether BBM
herself would take me on, or if I'd have to go through a few of her pet
bitches first.

That question was answered before I got more than 50 feet into the narrow squalid passage. A jet of freezing water slammed into my back
like a cannonball and sent me staggering forward to crash into a bunch
of garbage cans, scattering them.

Dazed, I got a quick glimpse of Ardra, Big Bad Mama's main squeeze, manning a firehose like a stalwart of Engine Company 69.
Dazed and half-drowned after swallowing a liquid lungful, I was too
busy for the next few minutes getting bounced and battered around by
that pounding stream to wonder when BBM had gotten into water
sports. Over the roar of the hose and my own cries I could hear
Ardra's merry giggle as she smashed me this way and that around the
alleyway, finally pinning me to a wall like a bug.

Then the battering hammer was gone. The sudden silence echoed, broken only by the squeak of my catsuit as I sank to my knees against
a wall. Water sluiced out of my thighboots across the pavement and,
without much choice, I joined it, face down.

I probably would have stayed there longer if a huge gloved fist hadn't taken me by a fistful of my sodden blonde mane and hoisted me
up again. All I could see were stars but I knew who it was.

"Hello, Mama," I managed to groan, and added, wittily, "OOOMMPHHH!!"

This inspiration came to me when I was taken by the back of the neck by fingers like leatherclad hooks, lifted off the ground, and
slammed against a wall.

Big Bad Mama proceeded to pound my kidneys to kidney pie. It felt like she was trying to punch right through me into the wall. My
immense rigidly-confined boobs, crushed vastly between a wall and a
soft place, were doing their best to collapse my ribcage into my lungs.

So far, the plan was going perfectly.

"Are we having fun yet, Vixen?" Mama bellowed.

Somehow I managed to gasp out, "As (unh!) long as (oooh!) I don't have to (aggh!) look at your (unfh!) ugly face ...."

She reacted as painfully expected: turned me to face her and held me by the throat while she battered my by-now-less-than-gorgeous face
till I must have looked like I was watching a tennis match.

"Take her with us." Ardra made the suggestion I'd been waiting too painfully long to hear. "Finish her at the place."

To encourage Mama, I hawked and spat blood into her face.

She smiled, big and ugly and happy. "Plas," she murmured, "I've finally found something even more impressive than your tits: your
nerve."

I was sort of hoping she'd go after my mammoth boobs - they make easy targets since they take up most of the space in front of me. And
they can absorb a lot of punishment, as they are constantly having to
prove.

But she hung me from a fire escape and I became her vinyl-clad Amazonian boxing bag. Here I discovered the knuckles of her gloves
were steel-reinforced. They made loud and (to some, I suppose)
satisfying crunches as they smashed my jaw and crushed my lips till
the tears waterfalled down from my eyes and diluted the blood
splattering my chin.

I put on a good show for her, sobbing my torment, begging her to stop, which only enflamed her sadistic nature even more, as I figured.
Not that I was totally insincere - I meant every groan and gurgle and
cry.

But I'd realized it was time for Plan B - if I had enough strength left.

"I'm tired, Vixen, think I'll sit this one out."

So Mama did - on me. But the song remained the same, and I sang it loudly for her: a wailing grunting aria of agony. A normal woman's
jaw would've been splintered by now, her face an unrecognizable mass
of bruises, probably her neck broken. Thanks to my alien heritage, I
felt much worse than I looked. Which was bad enough. Also thanks
to being born on another planet, I was strong enough to remain
conscious during the entire nightmare, just not strong enough to do
anything about it.

Finally, when she got bored with redecorating my face in black and blue, Mama and Ardra carried limp moaning me to a dumpster and
draped me over the edge like so much bloody laundry - fitting, since
the dumpster was behind a Chinese restaurant.

My face was only an inch or so from the garbage and it stank in there, of fish heads and rotting cabbage. I've never liked Chinese and
this did nothing to change my mind. I grunted when she slammed the
lid down on my back, then quickly forgot the foul stench when what
felt like a baseball bat smashed into my outthrust asscheeks.

And proceeded to get the the living bejesus spanked out of me.

"You've been a very bad girl, Vixen," came Mama's voice into the foul darkness, barely audible over my own cries and howls of
humiliated suffering. Each butt-busting whack of the club made my
slack body jerk and thrash wildly but I was too weak to do more than
hang there and bawl.

Half conscious from the pain, I don't know how long that went on but my throbbing battered ass felt swollen to twice its size when the lid
was lifted and I was flopped bodily into the dumpster and its
nauseating contents. I swallowed a bellyful of disgusting waste before
floating to the surface again, too numb and beaten even to throw up.

The bitches gloated down at me. Ardra confirmed a growing suspicion: "Yeah, not only bad but stupid, Plastic Puss! This whole
thing was set up just so Mama could give you the lumps you deserve!"

"We couldn't get a dime for you on the open market, Vinyl," Mama sneered. "You look like shit."

BANG! Down came the lid. I was left in wretched fetid darkness - and, when their laughter faded away, silence. Inside and out.
Thankful at least for the bouyancy provided by my enormous breasts
that kept my head above the surface of the awful offal.

But if I thought the ordeal was over (I don't remember what I thought, if anything), I was wrong. Suddenly there was a roar outside
and the dumpster was hoisted up, its contents (and me) sloshing about
wildly. I didn't think I could swallow more of it. All that kept me
from drowning in waste was being dumped into the belly of a garbage
truck ....

Which then proceeded to try to grind me up! Again, I was strong enough to remain conscious for the torture as my body was mashed
and crushed and chewed like a mouthful of food. But that was all ....

Till finally I was disgorged at the landfill with the other refuse. I found myself in pitch darkness, planted to my gloved elbows and
booted knees in a quagmire of filth, and too weak to extricate myself.

Much too weak and spent to let out more than a long wailing squeal when the huge roller that compacts the trash rumbled over me!
I felt myself squeeezed in my vinyl catsuit like toothpaste and pushed
down into the garbage till it all but covered me. Even as resilient as I
am, if the refuse hadn't been so soft (and foul tasting), I would have
been left a human pancake.

The moon was up by the time I was able to push myself out of the putrid morass, coughing up about a gallon of it before I managed to
stand - shakily. My feet sank to within inches of the cuffs of my hip- high boots. I literally waded out of the bog, the sludge filling my
gloves and boots till every step squelched. Covered in stinking filth
from matted blonde mane to spikeheels, I smelled like -

"Shit," Arlene gagged as she hosed me off (keeping carefully upwind). "Did you have to go swimming in it?"

"Well, you know how it is. The party gets a little wild and first thing you know, everyone's in the pool."

I'd given her a very edited version of the night's festivities while she clad herself in apron and rubber. I could tell I was on the mend
because I was angry and getting angrier.

"So, what're you gonna do about it?" She tossed me a sponge.

"Cream their cellulite-laden asses, that's what! Don't forget Plan B. But first, a looong hot bath with serious bubbles."

She wrinkled her pretty nose. "What makes you think I'd take a bath with you like this?"

"What makes you think I'd ask?" I pulled her to me.

The next day I was back to 100% as expected, but this time I donned a lightly armored bodysuit complete with cowl. Plan B was
even more dangerous than Plan A.

Arlene did what she could to dissaude me, fondled my enormous boobs in their skintight vinyl. "Shouldn't the cops do this?"

"I am the cops!" I pointed out.

Her gentle fingers felt sooo good, and so did she. "But not the only cop."

"The only one for Big Bad Mama."

Plan B involved a micro-tracer I had planted on BBM while she straddled me and used me as a huge-busted punching bag. She'd been
too involved in her sadistic fun to notice, which was what I'd wanted.

I followed the signal to a huge supposedly abandoned estate on the outskirts of Vegas. It was, as I expected, well guarded, but there's
always a way in if you look hard enough. And "hard" was the way to
describe this one: a big sewage outlet pipe under the back wall. It was
still in use, and smelled so bad they probably figured no one would
ever use it.

As badly as I wanted Big Bad Mama, they were almost right.

I was getting tired of wading through filth, and doing it on all fours was even worse. I wanted to get out of that disgusting pipe
ASAP, but I couldn't crawl too quickly or the vile sewage would swash
up into my thighboots and armgloves.

The stench was awful. To keep my last meal down I breathed as shallowly as possible and occupied myself with worrying about
whether it would give me away once I was inside. Even so, my mind
swam as I crawled and sloshed through the reeking darkness. After 50
yards or so - with the light from the far end still just a dot - I was even
fantasizing I heard distant girlish giggles.

They were waiting for me. My head swimming in nausea from the crawl through the sewer and my arms and legs weighted down by the
freezing sludge that managed to slosh up into my boots and gloves
anyway, I put up about as much of a struggle as Arlene would've.

"You should be honored, Vinyl," BBM chuckled as she tried to pound my right breast back through my ribs.

"Yeah," Devina chimed in, giving my cowled head a blackjack rolfing. "Mama doesn't greet everyone personally."

"Especially when their personal hygiene is as wretched as yours." Mama held her nose and kicked me squarely on the pussy. My clit
went from an outie to an innie and I made a sound like the bulb horn
on an old Model T. "You smell even worse than yesterday!"

"Don't you ever bathe?" Devina asked, pounding me down the rest of the way from my vinyl-booted knees to the floor.

Sooo, they took me to the bathroom to wash me down.

Their way.

First Devina bound and gagged me and pounded a huge dildo into my swollen gaping twat, worked it around till it was slimed with my
juices. Then she and Ardra and several others lined up. Two at a time
(one to each boot) the bitches pissed into my thigh-highs till they
overflowed with foul yellow urine. I couldn't help moaning into my
gag.

Devina, ever the obliging hostess, went last. "I've always admired your porcelain complexion, Plas," she cooed as she unzipped the
crotch of her leather suit. "You make a perfect toilet."

Ardra, of course, said that Blunder Broad had made a better bathroom fixture and Devina replied my tits were way bigger but
Ardra didn't think that was relevant, so they made a bet. While Ardra
guzzled a six-pack of beer (Foster's in the BIG cans), the blonde bitch- well, you can see what they did to me. Let's just say I was extra
specially uncomfortable, and that was before Devina knelt down and
ate me to a couple of humiliating climaxes, then spat a mouthful of my
own cum into my face!

They dropped the lid and Ardra plumped her fat ass down a few inches overhead. "I know you like Foster's, Vixen," she giggled.
"Hope you don't mind that it's recycled."

And while she gave my face the promised shower (a golden one) and I gagged and retched and drank enough of her piss to confirm that
it really was Foster's, the redheaded bitch worked her bootheel into my
bulging pink cleft.

My mouth tasting like the fixture I was encased in, I was less than turned on.

Then, after a soccer match in which I was the football, came what Devina called "tenderizing time."

"We designed these stocks especially for you," she smiled as they locked me in and I bit back a whimper. I could tell. They fit all of me
perfectly: gloved wrists, vinyl-sheathed thighs-and monstrous boobs.
The huge dildo they impaled my ass on, though, was about six sizes
too large. "We used watermelon as the template-the biggest juiciest
we could find."

Then came the tenderizing-with both hands. A dozen or so enthusiastic whacks with Devina's rod swelled my mammoth milkbags
up till they ballooned out all around the stocks' holes. I'll say this for
Devina: she throws herself into her work.

I figured next they would hang me from my humongous hooters. I was almost right. Ardra-it was her turn with me-made me eat her out
for awhile, then when my tongue was coated with her cum, she gagged
me with a mouthful of her piss-soaked panties and jammed my poor
raw pussy down onto a massive dildo.

While I squirmed and groaned (and worked my way further onto it), she tied my gloved wrists to my spikeheeled ankles, then jabbed a
long thin needle through my titanic tits, clamped razor-sharp rings to
my stiffly protruding nipples

and hung me from a springy wire. I dangled there, the spring amplifying my every struggle till I bounced up and down like a
dashboard ornament and fucked myself on that mammoth dork till it
was coated with my cum.

Then they suspended me from my monstrous melons. Cocooned with rope, my spikeheels swaying a foot from the floor, gigantic bags
of tight-bound titfat stretched up into my masked face and their stiff
swollen teats pierced with nails, it was hard to give Devina an "is this
the worst you can do?" look, especially since I knew it was far from the
worst.

But I managed.

Phase II of the tenderizing involved rope. Lots of rope. Most of it wrapped so tightly around my immense boobs that they were
squeeezed out almost three feet, till they looked like barbells with a
taut crimson sphere at each end. Hating myself for doing it, I started
to moan, so they rammed a fat dildo-gag into my mouth and tied it to
my distended nipples. Ardra liked the effect so much she gave my
poor palpitating pussy the same treatment. Both lip-stretching
appliances were very quickly soaked, as was my face.

"She's a fucking fountain!" Ardra cried.

"I wanna hear her yowl," Devina grumped.

"I have a special bra that'll do the trick."

It did.

"She still too ugly," Big Ebony kept insisting as she slapped the tears from my masked face (replacing it with blood from my lips and
nose). "Lemme give her one of my custom beauty treatments."

Ebony's treatment involved ramming me down onto a spring- loaded steel rod and clamping my thighbooted legs securely thereto,
then battering me about with her bludgeoning fists, till I rocked and
rolled like one of those rubber toys with sand at the bottom. But she
got tired of waiting for me to stop bobbing wildly about, so she
steadied me with a fist clenched deep into a titanic boob.

Between cheers and applause, they made bets on how far that doughy dirigible would stretch. Devina, who had bound my massive
mamms before, took "over 3 feet" and she won.

Finally I found out why they wanted my poor ponderous pontoons softened up, after Big Ebony unclamped my legs and hit me so hard I
flew off the steel rod (with an embarrassing squelch). They kicked me
over onto my stomach (after a little more Vinyl Vixen soccer)

and BBM herself brought the hammer and nails.

They nailed my stiff aching nipples down first and I almost tore them free with my howling struggles. The other nails Ardra and
Devina pounded through my colossal milkbags kept that from
happening.

"No owl-eyes," BBM commented (ever the perfectionist) as Ardra finished driving the last nail and I was securely fastened to the floor.
"Very good."

When I still wouldn't scream (but did a fair amount of sobbing), they ballgagged me. Then all lined up wearing their favorite strap-on
(the smallest the size of a salami) and took turns tenderizing my pussy
and anus (doing a great deal of enlarging in the process).

I tried not to cum, I really did. Which was no more effective than trying not to squish, or squeal, or bleed.

Then things got rough. Bianca, Big Bad Mama's resident mad doctor (M.D., F.A.C.S., PhD, C.U.N.T.), had a new contraption she
wanted to try out on me, something she'd ordered from the Stantoony
Corp (their motto: "Nothing good ever came from us"). They clamped
me into it (quite a long process in and of itself) and next thing I knew
I was being pulled in 5 directions at once and fucked from the 6th, in
both raw netherholes together by a peerless pair of pounding pistons.
By now I didn't have much cum left but a lot of blood. I barely noticed
that my newly softened and elongated milkblimps has been stretched
to a record 4 feet.

"I'll make the bitch scream!" Devina cried.

Like it wasn't bad enough being hung upside-down smothered by my own massive mammaries, with stirrups piercing my nipples and a
huge steel dildo screwed down into my asshole that would've given
even my pussy trouble. The blonde slut socketed the business end of
her favorite Louisville Slugger (she's a Mets fan, what more can I
say?) so far into me I thought it would bump heads with the dildo

then climbed on board and started stirring it around my snatch like a joystick.

Slosh-slurp-squish!

"These things aren't soft enough yet," I heard her complain (my masked face filled with burgeoning boob blubber), "I'm only sinking in
a couple of inches."

Finally, I found out what the stirrups were for. They led me to a muddy bridal path, clamped a bit into my drooling mouth, and BBM
herself climbed on board. She fit her spikeheeled feet into the stirrups
and gave her legs a good strrettching.

"Giddyap!" she yelled, and gave my ass a crack with her quirt. I hated the yelp I made even more than the taste of the bit in my mouth.

And talk about cheap! She charged her own minions 50 bucks each for a pony ride-once around the track. And made over a
thousand dollars. By the time I galloped past the $500 mark (I could
tell it was Ardra on my back from the length of the spike heels in my
tit-stirrups), I was wondering if even my resilient monsterboobs would
ever hang above my knees again.

At last it came time for the payoff. The reason I had endured all this torment-and, all right, enjoyed some of it. They'd called it
tenderizing and that was exactly what I wanted. Because of the reason
I'd come here in the first place.

I just hoped none of them were familiar with a pair of old characters named Br'er Rabbit and John Henry.

"I don't (uuunhh!) care what yoooooo! d-do to me," I panted into BBM's pussy as I ate her out for the 4th or 5th time and Devina
plowed my asshole with a forearm-sized studded dildo. "As long as
you keep me (aaaaah!) away from the Lust Machine."

They almost had a fight over who would introduce me into the machine. Finally Ardra got to pierce my enormous mounds with the
spiked bra, while Bianca attached the tongue-mask to my face, and
BBM herself inserted the double vibrato-sucking dildo (with special
clit clip) between my thighbooted legs.

Devina got to turn it (and me) on.

The Lust Machine was everything I'd heard. And way more.

I have been fucked, sucked, vibrated, jolted, kissed and tit-tortured in my life, but never all at once, or as intensely. The tongue rammed
down my throat and the vibra-dildos pumped up into me (all the while
sucking at my tender insides with an undulating vacuum) and the
breast-needles shocked my massive melons with electricity till they felt
about to explode.

It wasn't long before all of me felt like exploding. I swelled up inside my vinyl catsuit till it was drum-tight on my writhing sweating
captive body, then finally started to cum. But that gave no relief,
because of the feedback sensor clipped to my passion pearl. It told the
machine I could take more, so the machine poured it on. And in.
Pretty soon the machine was screaming and chugging and shaking as
much as I was.

Plan B worked better than I'd hoped. All I really wanted to do was try to destroy the horrible device. It was the only one of its kind (its
designer having drowned in a bottle not long before) and Big Bad
Mama had used it to ruin several girls already. And put both Blunder
Broad and Savage Fury in the hospital when they tried this. I knew if
there was anyone who could outfuck the Lust Machine and (hopefully)
survive, it was me.

I don't know why it blew up. Maybe the waterfall of cum shorted it out, maybe it just overloaded. But I was glad BBM and the rest were
around to watch when it did.

Things are a bit hazy after the explosion. I do remember a fire truck. For some reason it swerved violently as it wailed past me and
almost ran right into the flaming ruins of Mama's compound. Cops
were right behind, and two of their cars collided right in front of me.

Not exactly orthodox police procedure, all in all, but then I'm not exactly an orthodox policeman.

Vinyl Solution 12/10