Hiking - Hard Version

By kathrin-inaka

A few years of office work had left me somewhat out of shape, but by now it was quite obvious that I would make it to the summit, just later than planned. Everything else would have been somewhat embarrassing, because it wasn't about rock climbing or anything, just about walking a decent path up a medium sized hill to get a nice view of the surroundings.

But even walking as slow as I did, I still caught up meter by meter to a girl walking in front of me. From a distance, she looked in decent shape and even when I got closer, that impression did not change. So that wasn't the reason why she was making even slower progress than I did.

However, by getting closer, the reasons for her slow progress go more and more apparent.

On first glance, she was properly dressed for a trip like that: Jeans shorts, a tank top, backpack and solid boots.

But on a close look, when I finally caught up, things were about as wrong as they could be. I don't even know where to start.

Ok, let's start with her boots. They were brown suede leather and laced tightly, as good hiking boots are supposed to. Not quite typical for hiking boots were their height: Knee length. But most out of place was their shape. They had heels so high, she was literally forced to walk on her tiptoes, much like a ballet dance. Well vested in fetish fashion, I promptly identified them as ballet boots. Only the pencil thin heel and a bit of shoe about the size of your thumb touched the ground. Mind you, the thumb-sized piece was made from thick rubber and had a decent profile, but she still had to very carefully place each foot to not stumble. Her ankles wobbled a bit, not as much as I would have expected, so either she was used to the shoes or the boots were properly reinforced at the ankles.

To make matters worse, she had thick steel bands around her ankles and above and below her knees. Each pair of bands was connected by about a foot long piece of chain. Even in ballet boots, she was probably able to take longer steps, but the chains prevented that. Besides, they made quite a bit of noise each time she moved.

Her shorts were actually hot pants, stretched to the breaking point by her incredible bubble but, but that was just a minor detail. More importantly, her tank top was actually a corset, crushing her waist down to a size that was anatomically impossible. But more on that later. A solid steel belt was wrapped around her waist, making sure she did not open or even loosen the corset. I could not see any fasteners or other ways of opening the belt, it appeared to be a length of seamless chrome pipe.

After I noticed that, I had another look at the bands around her legs, and indeed, there were no seams either. And the chains also had no padlocks or anything similar, they just appeared to be welded to the bands.

Back to where it became anatomically impossible. Aforementioned steel pipe had about the diameter of her neck, probably just a tad larger than what I would be able to reach around with the fingers of both hands. As if that wasn't enough, it was also about as long as it was wide, maybe even longer. The corset began at her armpits and went down to about the point where her ribcage ended. My last detailed study of human anatomy had been quite a while ago, but I guessed that she might even be missing the lower two or three pairs of ribs.

Anyway, where her ribcage ended, the corset bend inwards at about 90 degrees and went on horizontally to the upper end of aforementioned steel pipe or belt. A couple of inches of chrome steel pipe further down, the corset extended back out, again about horizontally, to the highest points of her hip bones. In short, she had a rather literal wasp waist. Not only didn't I have the slightest clue how she was able to breath, I was absolutely sure that between ribcage and hips there was never enough space for a full set of normal human intestines.

Further down, below her impressive bubble butt, I could see two handles sticking out of what was obviously her pussy and her asshole. Her hotpants must had holes at those spots. The handles were long enough for a solid one handed grip and rather thick. Obviously I couldn't see what was inside her, but judging from the handles she seemed stuffed like a turkey. Quite a surprise that she was able to walk at all. And, thinking about it, the things reduced the available space for intestines even more. I was beginning to wonder how her body worked at all.

Each handle was connected to her backpack by a reinforced hose, much like those used in showers. The backpack itself was a locked steel box, apparently welded to her steel belt and to a solid steel collar around her neck. More reinforced hoses went over her shoulders to something at the front of her body.

From what I could see from behind, underneath hotpants and corset, she was clad in a full body latex catsuit with no apparent openings except for a hole high up the back of her head to let her hair out, forming a ponytail that nearly reached her buttocks. The catsuit was transparent and nearly colorless, just giving her skin a nice suntan impression. It was so tight, it looked vacuumed on, but there was still sweat pooling underneath it. While walking, I could see the sweat bubbles making their way down between skin and latex until they vanished in her boots. Each time she lifted a leg, there was a small damp spot where her toes had touched the floor, so whoever put her into that outfit had thought about excessive moisture.

Around her head I a could see a multitude of rubber straps whose purpose wasn't clear at that point.

The collar, to which the backpack was welded as well, seemed to be about as anatomically inappropriate at the belt or corset. It seemed to be significantly too small and to long for her neck and it was again just a straight tube, with no allowances for the normal shape of a human neck. I could see it digging deep into her shoulders and her collar bones and equally deep into the back of her head and her chin. As far as I could tell through the catsuit, the skin of her head had a bit of a red-/blueish tint, so I wasn't sure that enough blood made it past the collar. She held her head straight ahead and tilted backwards by about 45 degrees. Any other position or any movement of her head must probably feel like the collar would cut off her head. Obviously, that meant that she wasn't able to see the floor in front of her feet. I did not have the slightest clue how she managed to manoeuvre at all.

On top of the steel box backpack, at the back of the collar, a steel bar was welded on, extending horizontally beyond her shoulders. She held her arms parallel to that bar, stretched out to both sides. Not that she had any choice, because her arms were fixed to the bar by heavy steel bands above and below her elbows and around her wrists. In a way it looked like she had her arms stretched out to keep her balance, but the way everything was welded together, they probably did not help at all. Like that, it simply made her arms utterly useless. Not only useless, but a major hindrance, because she had to stay away from any obstacles far enough or she would hit them with her arms or hands.

To add insult to injury, she had three inch long, bright red artificial fingernails attached to her fingers. They would probably be quite annoying, if she'd be able to use her hands at all, but like that they just wriggled uselessly at the end of her outstretched arms.

When I finally caught up, I was able to see her side and her front as well. Most obvious items were a pair of boobs, even more incredible than her butt and her waist. They swung freely, visible to everyone and protected only by a thin layer of latex, right above the corset. Well, not quite freely, because the base of each tit was squeezed down by a tight steel band that was fixed to the top of the corset. The bands basically tied off her boobs at the base, forming each one into an individual sphere that bounced around in front of her chest. Like that, her tits had about the size and shape of footballs, but the bands had only a diameter of about three inches. To me, that looked much too small to support her tits, and indeed, they had a distinctive blueish tint as well. The catsuit was tailed such that it conformed perfectly to the weird shape of her tits.

The reinforced hoses that went over her shoulders continued all the way to her nipples, where they were attached to something that resembled suction cups. I did not know what they were meant to do, but given that similar hoses went to the plugs in her nether regions, I was able to make a good guess.

The catsuit, as it turned out, had three more holes, not counting the one for the ponytail: One larger one for her mouth and two small ones at her nostrils. Not sure if there were holes for her eyes, because that's where all the straps around her head came into play. They formed a head harness with three obvious purposes. Most obviously, they fixed something that looked like horse blinkers to her cheeks, making sure she wasn't able to see anything left or right of her. That was also the reason why she was still not aware of my existence.

Secondly, it held a blindfold in place. Well, not exactly a blindfold, it looked like heavily tinted, but still transparent latex, so probably it acted more like sunglasses than like a true blindfold. She probably wasn't able to see very clearly, but the way she moved she wasn't blind at all. Probably still better to wear sunglasses like that than constantly staring at the sky with unshielded eyes, that high up the mountain.

And at last, the harness forced a ball gag deep into her mouth. It seemed to be made from rather soft rubber and also not particularly large, but she was still chewing on it constantly. The ballgag was framed by lustrous bright red lips, too large to be natural, quite like her tits and butt.

Taking all that in, I had slowed down to match her speed, always staying at her side, where she could not see me due to the blinkers. Finally I said: "Hi!"

She started, gasped, nearly stumbled, stopped and tried to turn her head to look at me. When the collar tried to rip of her head, she grunted in pain and finally turned her whole body to face me. Then she blushed deeply and mumbled: "Hey!"

I had spent the last ten minutes thinking about an opening, but her situation wasn't something very common, so I could not think about anything to say about it. I retreated to useless small talk: "Nice day for a walk up here, right?"

She looked around, apparently aware of her surroundings for the first time: "Oh, yes!"

Obviously, her speech was somewhat garbled, no one speaks clearly with a mouth full of rubber ball. But she was surprisingly easy to understand, so communication and even conversation was possible. I'm not going into the trouble of trying to write the way she spoke, so please just use your imagination.

Both somewhat in lack of words, we just looked at each other for a couple of seconds, until suddenly both her tits seemed to bounce once while the rest of her body kep mostly motionless. At the same time, her backpack beeped. About the moment I noticed the movement, she flinched and said, "Ouch!"

Then she looked around angrily and once more: "Ouch!"

Her tits had bounced again. And the backpack had beeped again.

"Ok ok!" She sighed, turned back to face the way and started walking again.

Somewhat confused, I caught up again and asked: "What was that?"

She shrugged, as far as possible with her arms the way they were, and explained: "I cannot stop. When I do stop, I'll get shocked."

She continued walking at a rather slow pace. Even given her current situation, she seemed to be moving more slowly than needed.

"What happens if you fall?" I asked.

She shrugged: "Don't think I wanna find out!"

"That's why you're so slow?"

She blushed again in the cutest way I've ever seen: "Uhm, well, not quite."

"Why then?"

"Well, the faster I move, the faster they move?"

"They?"

"They!" Her fingers wriggled uselessly and she tried to look down, being painfully stopped by the collar again.

"What?"

She grunted, then burst out: "Fuck! Man! The fucking dildos!" Then she blushed again.

"Oh!" Now it was my turn to blush.

"Looks like he doesn't want me to stop and he doesn't want me to move too fast, either."

"He? The he who put you into that?"

"Yes, HIM! With capital letters. Whoever he is."

"You don't know him?" I stuttered surprised.

"No," she frowned, "I don't even know how I got here. Or where >here< is in the first place."

"What?" I felt like I was asking too many stupid questions, but what should I do?

"I just woke up a couple of hours ago, sitting on a rock, because my nipples were on fire. Took me quite a number of shocks to figure out what he wanted."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"What?"

"That someone you don't even know did this to you? And why do you know it's a him?" I started to wonder how much about her body she actually knew already. She wasn't able to look down or use her hands to feel her shape. And obviously there were no mirrors.

"Must be a he. Don't think a she would do something like that. And it does bother me. Or at least did. Somewhat. Not so much anymore."

"Not anymore? How's that?"

"Well," surprisingly enough, she blushed even deeper, "I kind of like it. I've been dreaming about stuff like that a lot."

"Oh," I looked away and blushed as well.

"Wait!" She said and stopped suddenly.

"What?" I stopped as well and turned around.

She glared at me and said accusingly, seriously out of breath: "We've been walking a lot faster than I've been allowed to before."

"Uhm, yes?" I was confused, again. Or maybe still.

"So it's not that he wants me to go slow all the time, he merely wanted you to catch up. Are you him?" she asked and frowned at me.

"Uhm, no," I shook my head, then smiled: "On the other hand, if I'd…"

"Ouch!" The backpack beeped again.

"...be him, that's what I would say, right?"

"Ouch, fuck!" she shouted as the was another beep and started walking again, "You stay right there!"

"Uhm, ok," that wasn't what I wanted to do, but I could see her point and stayed put.

"Ouch," she picked up speed as the backpack beeped again. I wasn't sure, but it seemed the beeping was somewhat higher pitched this time.

"Ouch! Ouch!" she walked even faster, the beeps coming faster as well.

"Aaaargh!" She stopped, her body jerking, then turned around unsteadily.

The beeps of the backpack had turned into one single long tone. I could see her tits rippling and bouncing all over the place. Utterly confused, she took a step back to me. The tone changed back to beeping and her tits rippled less frequently. She took another step and another back to me. When she was about an arm's length away, there was no more beeping and she relaxed.

"Apparently I'm not allowed to leave you." She glared at me accusingly.

"Don't hit me, I don't have anything to do with all that. I'm just here by chance."

"By chance? With that hardon?

I blushed again, but did not do anything to hide it: "Well, can't say I don't enjoy it. But I did not plan it. Or make it happen. Or anything."

She shrugged: "Can't make you confess anywa...ouch!", Beep, "What the fuck?"

This time the beep had been the deeper tone as well. Nevertheless, she did not move and the inevitable happened: Beep - "Ouch!"

"Walk!" I said.

"What? Ouch! Ok!" She started walking again and I fell into step. The beeping and the shocks stopped.

"What do you know that I don't," she asked accusingly.

"Not sure," I countered, "but there seemed to be two different kinds of beeps. Let me try. Just keep walking."

I stopped and she continued. At least, until there was another high pitched beep: "Ouch!"

She stopped again and I resumed walking.

"Keep walki…" I began to say, but there was another deep tone beep, followed by the customary "Ouch!"

She followed me again.

"What was that?" she complained.

"One moment, just one more test."

"Test?" she asked.

"Just keep walking. Don't speed up, don't stop."

Instead I sped up, walking ahead. A couple of seconds later, I heard "Beep - Ouch!" behind me. It has been the high pitched beep again.

I stopped until she caught up again, then explained: "There are two beeps. One high pitched and one low."

"Oh, ok," she nodded, then groaned as the collar dug into her chin.

"The deep one means: Keep walking. The high one means: Close distance."

"Huh? What does that mean?"

"If you stop, you get the deep beep to tell you to start walking again."

"Yes, I got that."

"Good. The high pitched beep comes when we're more than about a meter or so apart."

"Ah, damn!" she smiled at me.

"Yeah, looks like we're stuck with each other until we can figure that out."

"Indeed."

We walked for a while in companionable silence, then there was a double beep, but only one "Ouch!".

I turned to look at her: "Huh?"

She had stopped and gestured towards another way that we had passed a couple of step before: "I know that already. It tells me to take that way."

"Ah, I see," I nodded.

Beep - "Ouch!"

"Oh, sorry, let's move." We backtracked a bit and took the other way.

I checked on my smartphone, then concluded: "Looks like it's leading us to the summit on the shortest way."

For the next hour or so, until we reached the top of the hill, we got to know each other, talking about this and that. And mostly about our personal sexual preferences, which turned out to be a surprisingly good match. And both involved situations like she was in. In her case, with her being the victim. In my case, with someone else, preferably a girl, being the victim.

When we reached the summit, the view turned out to be rather stunning. Though not as stunning at looking at her. She continued walking, apparently expecting more shocks if she stopped to admire the view. I followed her around, wondering what she had in mind, until she found another way of the hilltop. However, as she tried it, there was another double beep and she turned around. She tried all three ways that lead down, but was not allowed to use any. She continued to walk in a circle along the small wall that secured the viewpoint.

"Uhm, what now?" She asked confused.

"Dunno," I shrugged.

"Am I supposed to run in circles until I fall asleep."

"Hm, did you try stopping?" I suggested.

"Ah, well, I'll try. You just want me to get shocked." She winked at me, but nevertheless stopped.

We waited for a couple of seconds, but nothing happened. Just as I raised an eyebrow, there was a hiss and a click coming from her backpack. She sighed and visibly relaxed: "Oh, wow!"

"What happened?" I asked.

"They just deflated."

I blinked: "They? Oh, the dildos. They were inflated?"

"Yes, apparently. Though I didn't know, either. I just thought that they were too damn large." She grinned. And frowned, because something made a metallic clanking sound at her backpack as she moved. She turned her back to me and asked: "What going on back there?"

"A small door opened with a large red button behind it."

"Oh, finally!"

"You think it'll let you out?" I mocked her. Not seeing any seams in her bondage, I highly doubted it, but I kept that to me.

She shrugged and smiled lopsided: "Well, yes and no. But do it anyway, please!"

I shrugged, too, "Ah, well."

I didn't know what to expect, but the button at least partly did what she expected. I pressed it and the backpack detached from collar and belt. Apparently it had been magnetically fastened. Also there was a double pop and the armored hoses disconnected from her nipples. That left me standing somewhat uselessly with a metal box that was still connected to her crotch.

"Pull them out, please!" She suggested.

I did so, wondering how they'd fit in in the first place, when I finally had them in my hand.

That left me even more useless with my hands full, while she dropped on a nearby bench with a groan and flexed her feet, as far as her stiff boots and bonds allowed. Leaned back against the backrest, she was now staring right the sky, because the was the only position her collar allowed.

I was just about to decide what to do with the backpack when it beeped and then burst into flames. Well, not actually burst into flames, but nevertheless burned my hands. Well, not actually burn my hands, either. Probably it just had shocked me as well. Anyway, I dropped it and it went down noisily.

She did not even flinch, resting her back on the bench, visibly relaxing in her bonds and corset.

Then she struggled back to a sitting position and looked at me: "That's all?"

I shrugged, checked her cuffs, collar and belt, but still could not find a seam.

"Dunno, to me they look welded on."

"Welded?" She gasped, trying to look down or around, again painfully stopped by her collar.

I sat down next to her to relax my feet as well. Which did not feel particularly good, either, and I was wearing sensible shoes. I couldn't imagine how her feet felt still in that sky high torture boots.

"That, or some cleverly hidden fastener I can't find."

She sighed and tried to relax again.

When I was just about to ask her if she needed anything, like a drink or so, she struggled back to her feet, turned around and bend over, resting her spread arms on the backrest of the bank. While I was still horny as hell and did think about fucking her quite a lot, I was still sufficiently in control that I had decided to postpone this for a later date. If there was going to be a later date. I still had to ask her if we could meet again after we made it through this.

Not sure if she was even hornier and less in control or simply decided to screw it, well, screw me, well, get screwed by me, anyway I did not get it right away.

"Now, do you need an invitation?" she finally asked and wriggled her butt.

I did not need an invitation, opened my fly and took her from behind. And then...well, dunno, I zoned out at one point.

When I came back to, I found myself lying on the bench, naked, with my clothes as a cushion. She was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bench, softly fondling my neck with one hand. Her other hand was stretched out pointlessly the other way. I turned to look at her and found her, obviously, still fully dressed and bound. So it wasn't a dream.

While I dressed, we discussed what to do. Obviously there was no way to remove anything from her outfit with the tools we got, that is, no tools. After talking about that for a couple of minutes, we were both horny enough to have sex again.

Then, with me dressed once more, we started down the mountain. We had resolved to walk until we reach the first road a car could drive on and then take a taxi. It would be OK for her to walk for a bit longer, but not for too long, not in these shoes.

It turned out that we, oddly enough, were staying in the same hotel. And even stranger, neither of us payed for it, because we both had won our holidays in an internet giveaway. Obviously, we had been set up, but for the life of us, we could not figure out by whom. And why, in the first place.

It turned out to be quite an adventure to fit her into the Taxi. Her arms stretched to both sides, we were barely able to close to the doors with her sitting in backseat center. And getting her there wasn't easy in the first place, stiff and helpless as she was. In the end, the taxi driver and me just took one end of her arm-bar each and manhandled her in like a piece of luggage. I could see the questions in the taxi driver's eyes, but he was polite enough to not ask. Not sure what I would have answered anyway.

I wondered how she would take the attention once we reached populated areas, but she took it in stride and with her head high. Not that she had a choice, with the collar still around her neck. She even walked up to the hotel reception and demanded her room keys as if her outfit was the newest fashion and nothing to be excited about. The hotel boy nearly fell off his chair when he saw her.

I took her keys and mine, but she pulled me along into her room and we had sex again.

"Can you at least do something about that stupid mask? I can hardly see a thing in here with that lighting." she finally asked, spread out on the bed.

I fetched my swiss army knife and freed her from her confinement, as far as possible. Which turned out to be nearly nothing. Only her mask and the attached ballgag turned out to be soft enough to be cut by a knife.

Her face was flushed and damp, but about the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life. Her skin was light and flawless, her raven black hair falling down to her buttocks, after it had been freed from the mask.

We could have cut of more of her catsuit, but she simply refused. And without heavier, maybe even powered tools, there was no way to get her out of her bonds. And on a Sunday, there was no way to get tools quickly.

"Please, get me back on my feet!" She demanded, struggling to get up, but not even able to get her shoulders of the mattress.

"Ok." I did so, not sure what she had in mind.

Once back on her feet, she minced to the full sized wall mirror, where she stopped, stared and gasped. And there where I lost her. At least I tried to talk to her a couple of times, but she was lost staring motionlessly at her reflection.

After a while I gave up and went to take a shower.

When I returned from the bathroom I found mind to be back in this world and we had sex again. Not quite what I expected. Panic would have been more appropriate. I tried to talk to her about it, but she refused.

Smiling at me, she stated: "You do not discuss a lady's body shape."

"Uhm, ok." I grinned and nodded.

I hated to dress in my grimy clothes again, but I had to get back to my room to fetch my suitcase, which turned out to be empty. So I checked in the wardrobe, maybe the hotel staff moved my stuff. But no, my clothes were nowhere to be found. However, the wardrobe was actually of the walk-in kind and quite large at that, too. And it was chock full of fetish gear of all kinds of shape, form, material and purpose.

I stood there dumbfounded for a while, the smiled, shrugged and started browsing for something to wear. I finally opted for latex PJs and a long trench coat to hide them while walking back to her room.

Back in her room, I found her sitting on the bed, her spread arms resting against the headboard. She was fighting for air, obviously getting there had been quite an exercise. Her right hand grabbed the TV remote and she was trying to use it one handed and unable to see it, trying not to drop it, while her long fingernails kept getting in the way. When it finally slipped from her grasp, she cursed and looked at me.

"Uhm, ok, where did that come from?" she asked, staring at my outfit.

"Lo and behold!" With a grand gesture I opened her wardrobe.

"Uhm, ok." She said, looking past me.

I turned and indeed, her wardrobe was quite similar to mine.

Except that it was even larger, because it had an additional wall full of restrains of all kinds. And another, somewhat smaller wall full of power tools. We ordered room service, because we were both starving, and then I picked an angle grinder with a metal cutting disk and started to cut her out of her bondage. Very, very carefully and very, very slowly. Nevertheless I slipped a couple of times, but most of the times the thick rubber of her catsuit saved her skin. In the end, she only had a couple of rashes here and there.

It took ages. Well, at least hours, but finally the last piece of steel dropped to the floor and we cut her out of all the latex that still embraced her. We had sex again, why not, and then she took a shower, too. Her body was, once free of all that impossible items, slightly less impossible. But only slightly. Her waist expanded by about three inches or so and it lost some of it's ridiculous stem shape, but only some. Her tits did not change shape much, only the point where they were attached to her chest expanded somewhat, maybe by two inches or so. And the unhealthy bluish skintone vanished and returned to normal, both on her tits as well as her head. But her boobs they still looked like someone had glued a pair of footballs to her chest. And her butt looked like the same someone had taken a basket ball, cut it in half and pushed the halves under her skin over her buttcheeks. Her neck actually looked rather normal, once the collar was off. Maybe a bit too long and a bit too thin, for the rest of her body. But her feet refused to go flat and her heels remained about four inches above ground.

In total, with long fingernails and smooth, hairless skin, she looked like a sex doll. Pronounced by the fact her heavy makeup, which we found under her mask, was probably tattooed on. At least she was unable to wash it off in the shower.

After we did a detailed check up of her body, we had sex again. Because, as she put it, that seemed to be the purpose of her new body. And anyway, she had never been hornier before. Maybe whoever did this to her, also changed something about the chemicals in her body. Or maybe it's just been the fact that this was how she had always dreamed of being. Because, as she told at that point, sex hadn't been a high priority before in her live.

We browsed her wardrobe and found all kinds of clothes and gear, none of it even remotely normal or boring. Every single item was designed to either show of her body or be a nuisance. We found clothing that could hide the unusual form of her tits, otherss could make her butt less pronounced and another that made her waist look remotely normal. But none that hid more than one at a time.

Did you ever had diner in a latex tuxedo? Accompanied by a girl dressed in a latex evening gown? Quite an experience, I can tell you. Especially, if the gown had a built-in corset that showed her impossible waist to the world to see. And breast cups that pronounced the glued-on-ball-look of her tits. And a skirt so tight, she was hardly able to place one foot in front of the other. Actually, the only reason she was able to place one foot in front of the other were her ballet boots, which reduced her foot length to just a couple of inches. Yes, she had decided that ballet boots were the right footwear, even after she'd been in them for most of the day already. Besides that the dress forced her to take steps no longer than about four inches, it had a two meter long train attached to the hem, making sure she would only walk forwards. While it left her shoulders free, it had long sleeves with attached gloves. The gloves had cleverly designed holes at the tip of her fingers for her long nails, making them look a bit like they were attached to the gloves. Or that her hands were made from black, gleaming rubber.

For jewelry we had chosen a locked collar, which again was too tight and too long, forcing her to hold her head up proud. Only this time we had the keys. Tough we left them in her room, to avoid temptation. A very similar collar, or to be precise, belt was around her waist. Her wrists were adored by heavy wrist shackles that were connected by about a handwidth of chain. All made from chrome steel with inset sparkling gems. I didn't know they made restrains that, well, decorative.

We had a nice dinner in the hotel restaurant. While she did not eat like a trucker, she put away a decent sized dish.

At that point, it was quite surprised me where she put that. Years later, she suffered from a cough that refused to get better for quite a while, until we finally decided to had it checked by a doctor. Who turned out to be rather amazed by her body and insisted on a full body x-ray. Being rather curious anyway, we agreed. Turned out that her hip bones were modified as well, repurposing a larger part of her huge butt as space for her intestines. In total, she actually had a rather normal set of intestines, just not where they were supposed to be.

Up to now, neither we nor the doctor have any ideas how they did what they did to her body. Or how she survived it. Anyway, they apparently did a very good job, because her health was about as good as that of any regular person.