Author Topic: The Isolation Tank (story)  (Read 597 times)

Offline AmyAmy

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The Isolation Tank (story)
« on: August 07, 2017, 01:15:00 AM »

I was in complete darkness and silence, and I couldn’t breathe!
I wanted to scream and panic, but it simply wasn’t possible.
All I could feel was the housekeeper painstakingly sealing up the hood at the back of my head.




© Copyright AmyAmy 2005, 2010, 2012, 2017 - all rights reserved by the author. This work may not be reproduced for profit, or without this attribution, except with the author's explicit consent.

The Isolation Tank
A story by AmyAmy


We entered a white room with every surface treated with rubberised paint. It seemed dazzling after the darkness of the maids’ quarters. There was a large glass cylinder with some sort of electronic control panel in the centre of the room. It looked like something from Star Wars. A steel gantry stretched overhead, with all sorts of complex looking cables hanging from it.

I didn’t look around much as I felt very tired. I had hardly slept. My muscles all ached. I felt enormously dehydrated, and my bladder was bursting. I could still feel every stroke of the cane on my bottom.

The housekeeper quickly directed a maid to secure me for fitting.

My arms were forced into a kind of baggy single-sleeve made of heavy rubber. Straps tightened around my arms and over my shoulders, locking it in place. My arms were held uselessly behind me, and my hands were trapped helpless inside a thick rubber bag.

A metal ring on the end of the hand pouch was hooked to a chain and then raised up. I was powerless to resist being bent uncomfortably forward as my arms were hauled into the air. I had an inkling of arousal, but fear and tiredness killed it.

“Now, I’m going to remove your foundation garments. Don’t get too excited,” Housekeeper Four said, with a smirk.

She removed my breast top first. It felt very strange without it. Next she removed my underpanties. This was painful, as it was not at all easy to remove my penis from them, even with the considerable amounts of lubricant gel that she used.

I was now completely bald and naked, apart from a pair of stick on eyelashes. My fear at this point was that she intended to dress me in something unpleasant. This was a good prediction.

I was fitted with a pair of very heavy black rubber pants. They zipped into place and had several special fittings around the genital area.

I felt something slippery press at my sphincter. I tried to resist it, but it pressed inside me anyway. It moved in further and showed no signs of narrowing like the enema nozzles. When it seemed I could accommodate no more of it, I felt it snap into a fitting in the pants, locking it in place.

With my head hanging down as it was, I had a good view of the housekeeper inserting a thin plastic tube into the end of my penis. This hurt like hell. The burning pain was severe. It felt like she was scraping the inside of my penis off with a knife made of fire.

Finally, it was in far enough for her, and I felt a sharp painful pressure in my bladder as she inflated something. This was also crippling because my bladder was already very full, with the anal probe adding even more pressure to it. It felt like something was going to give way down there.

“Oh, does that hurt? It’s just a balloon catheter. Your bodily functions are now under my control,” grinned the housekeeper. “Almost all of them, but I’m not finished yet. When I’m done, you will cum, eat, drink, piss, shit and breathe by my order. You have to realise that there is nothing I can’t take away from you. The sooner you stop thinking that you have control over any part of your life, at any time, the better for all concerned.”

I felt her slide some kind of fitting over my penis, which was now embarrassingly erect. It was a very strange sensation, like sliding into a soft vagina. My penis was gripped with gentle softness at every point. This too snapped into a fitting on the pants.

The next strange component was a rubber top, like a simple tank top. It was thick black rubber, and inside, at the front where it fitted my chest, I could see myriad tiny electrodes. There were humps on it in the area where my nipples were. The housekeeper positioned it very carefully and made several checks. It sealed up tightly at the back somehow.

Next she levered my jaws open with a cruel stainless steel inspection clamp. It was similar to the one that had been so uncomfortable the day before. She ratcheted it open until my jaw felt it would break.

I almost wept when she sprayed my throat numb again. Any chance of speech disappeared once more. My mouth and throat now felt like they belonged to someone else, and I was simply holding onto them.

Housekeeper Four made a special point of showing me the hood. It was heavy black rubber with solid parts moulded into it like a gas mask. It was an intimidating device. I couldn’t imagine how I would bear wearing it.

She pulled a tube from inside the hood and began to force it down my throat.

“Swallow!” She demanded, “You can swallow or choke, I don’t really care which. If I can do this while you’re unconscious if I have to,” she said, with a gloating tone.

I swallowed the tube. It was a horrible sensation. I could feel the housekeeper feeding it down inside me. I heard her inflating something, and I began to feel sick.

“That’s a balloon in your stomach so you can’t vomit up the tube. It’s for your own good,” she explained.

Two more tubes were inserted into my nose, one in each nostril. These were uncomfortable, but the least awful thing so far. She followed this by detaching a component from the inside of the mask and slotting it into my mouth: it was a kind of large ring gag.

She released the clamp, trapping the gag in place. She now took hold of the mask proper and pulled it up and over my face. It engaged with the ring gag and soft rubber sealed onto my eyelids and around my eyes. Rubber plugs pressed into my ears and all sound except the rush of blood in my head disappeared.

I was in complete darkness and silence, and I couldn’t breathe! I wanted to scream and panic, but it simply wasn’t possible. All I could feel was the housekeeper painstakingly sealing up the hood at the back of my head.

Suddenly, something opened up and I could breathe again. The air tasted rubbery and stale. My panic eased a little. It felt like I was breathing through the length of hose that had been connected to the mask.

It was disorienting to be immersed in darkness and silence. I have only a sketchy idea of what happened next.

I think my arms were released, and then I was put into a rubber suit that opened at the shoulders somehow. It sealed up to the bottom of the mask.

I then felt myself lifted up by the shoulders, and then lowered again. After that the character of my air supply changed. The air got cleaner, but had an odd chemical scent or taste to it. It reminded me of hospitals somehow.

My suit began to tighten, and it did so in a very controlled and methodical manner. I felt a strong pressure applied evenly to my body. It became so strong that there was no way I could move my arms or legs.

The temperature began to change, from my feet up, gradually rising up my body. When it was finished I couldn’t really sense any temperature at all. The air had been oppressively warm, but now I couldn’t feel it.

The pressure continued to increase on my waist, and I felt my breathing restricted as if I was wearing the corset again. The sensation increased again to a stronger grip, but somehow it wasn’t painful.

Suddenly, and without warning, even the sound of rushing blood in my head vanished. I had never experienced such silence before.

I heard a voice in my head. It was perfectly reproduced. I could hear Housekeeper Four’s breath on the microphone.

“Hello Twenty-two. You are now suspended in our isolation tank. We have total control over all your senses. The noise cancelling effect even drowns out sounds that would be transmitted through the liquid you are now floating in.

“I want you to know all about your situation so that you can properly appreciate the experience. You will be two weeks in the tank. This is the start of your punishment for touching yourself without permission, cumming without permission and disobeying the orders of a superior staff member. I know it’s been a little while, so I wouldn’t want you to forget why you are here.

“During this two week period, you will experience only the sensations that we wish you to. We can feed you through the tube in your stomach, or through the IV lines. We have no need to let you out for any reason. You will remain in isolation without a break for that period.

“Extended isolation without stimuli can lead to coma. Luckily for you, we have a special program of stimulation for you during that time. We don’t want to overdo things with the mental conditioning, but the physical conditioning will take its toll. I’ve seen it work before, so don’t imagine that you will be special.

“You’re going to lose a lot of muscle mass while you’re in there, because you won’t be able to move, and we won’t be giving you much in the way of protein. Your waist will be powerfully compressed and your breasts and nipples will be aggressively stretched, amongst other things.

“The more we hurt you, the more you will be rewarded with orgasms. You will come to conflate pleasure and pain at the most basic level. Consider it a gift. We have some scripts and videos for you to watch too. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them.

“Goodbye now Twenty-two. I’ll talk to you again in two weeks time. The computer will be looking after you for the duration. Remember, you are being punished. Don’t enjoy it too much.”

I was terrified.

I floated in the silent darkness for a lifetime. Nothing happened. No voice whispered suggestions in my ears. No video appeared. I didn’t feel any pain, or stretching, or food pumped into me, or for that matter, any orgasms. My bladder was painlessly evacuated.

At first I was bored beyond belief. Then I began to enter a strangely pleasant dream-like state. I felt as if I had left my body altogether and was floating in outer space. It was the universe before the big bang, or after it, or both at once.

I flew forever at infinite speed through the empty space, but there was nothing there but darkness, darkness and silence. Except I couldn’t really call it darkness. It was a place of lights. Lights moved somewhere. I could never quite catch where they came from.

This strange state continued for some time. Eventually, I began to find myself turning into things. I became animals, insects, water, snow, fire, wind, earth, men and women. I passed through everything like a universal field. Somewhere at the back of the mind I knew I was in some sort of trance or dream. It really wasn’t that bad, not much of a punishment at all.

Then it began.

The hood pulled my eyes open. Video was projected into my eyes. I saw an image of Housekeeper Four’s face, smiling. There was a pleasant tingle in my crotch. From time to time it recurred.

Then came Housekeeper Four’s angry face. Searing pain in my genitals, nipples and anal passage burned through me.

Then it added voice. Housekeeper Four praised me for being a good girl while erotic tingles ran through my nipples, while her angry shouting came with more pain. So it continued, numerous combinations, other faces, I lost track of it all.

In between I would journey to outer space, or drift off imagining I was a dolphin living in a strange empty featureless ocean.

Videos of rubber lesbian sex connected with pleasure, images of conventional sex connected with pain.

I knew this sort of conditioning wasn’t really effective. It never worked on Michael Cain in the Ipcress File but I still couldn’t help the feeling that it was getting to me.

What I feared the most was what they were doing to my body. I had no idea what drugs were flooding into me through those IV lines. I could feel my chest being regularly stretched, as if being sucked out into cups. I also felt my nipples pulled out by a much smaller version of the sucker. Sometimes there would be pleasure, sometimes not.

The pressure on my waist never let up, and combined with the odd feelings of pain or cramp, or itching from my poor constrained limbs, I feared for what I might end up looking like.

At my best I convinced myself that this was all just designed to scare and punish me. At my worst I feared that I would emerge from the experience a skinny stick figure with stretched out bullet breasts and giant nipples.

My anal sphincter was held wide open the whole time, and I feared for that most of all. I was terrified that I would simply be unable to close it ever again. I would be reliant on the daily enemas to keep from continually soiling myself.


* * * * *


Isolation became my whole life. I began to forget I had ever been anywhere else, or experienced any sensations from the world before. The videos and the electrical stimulation became the real world. The dream-state became my entire past, present and future.

I no longer worried about what was happening to me, because I no longer believed I existed. My other life, my history, became a dream. Everything I once thought had been my past now seemed just as unreal and strange as all of this, or more so.

It became impossible to believe that there had ever been anything else.

I don’t know how long I’d been like that when they took me out. Perhaps it had been two weeks, as the Housekeeper had promised. It could have been two years.

When the mask came off my face and I found myself pale, bald and naked in the overpoweringly bright room, the worst thing was the stench. It was the rotten stench of layers of my own dead skin.

I was thankful when the maids roughly scrubbed me with flower scented soap, but I still couldn’t get that awful smell out of my nose. They were scrubbing me raw, but I didn’t mind what they did as long as it got rid of that horrible smell.

As for my body, when I could finally dared to open my eyes, it saw it had changed. I had at least B-cup breasts. My nipples had enlarged considerably and were now much more girlish. I had lost muscle from my arms and legs, from my whole body in fact. Somehow I’d also put on fat, padding out my hips and bottom.

They had strapped a short underbust corset onto me as soon as they’d finished scrubbing my waist. It hadn’t been released since. They were able to cinch it down to what seemed previously impossible dimensions. I now had the upper body of a skinny girl, albeit one with slightly broad shoulders.

They soon added a strap through my crotch that secured a big rubber plug in my bottom. I felt grateful for something to stop me up. It felt wrong not to have anything up there.

The noise, the sights and the smells of everything were overwhelming. I was continually helpless in the face of sensation. I had to close my eyes to try and get things under control. It never even occurred to me to speak.

At last, when I was washed, dried, perfumed and dusted with soft talc, I found myself alone again. I sat down on the bench and hunched into the corner of the small, white, rubber coated room. I closed my eyes and tried not to hear the cacophony of background noises that never seemed to stop.

After a few hours I was beginning to feel a bit better about light and sound. I also felt extremely hungry. My stomach was rumbling. I fell asleep anyway.

A maid shook me gently awake. I followed her to the medical examination room. Nurse Five was waiting for me.

“You’ve been a bad girl Twenty-two. I’m very disappointed that we will not get to play for such a long time. If you could have behaved yourself, what fun we could have had. Instead, you had to go too far,” she said, ending with a sigh.

“Anyway, you are here so I can fit your chastity control. You won’t be playing any naughty games until it comes off, no matter how hard you try. Those orgasms you had in the isolation tank will be the last you’ll experience for a long time.”

She ordered me onto the table, and I settled into place. I meekly let her fasten me in place. Since I’d come out of the tank, the world seemed too harsh. I couldn’t contend with it. It was easier to give in.

She removed the strap holding my butt-plug in place, and then the plug. I felt so empty without it. She fitted a new metal cover over my penis, which seemed to have shrunk somewhat. I surmised it was probably out of fear.

The cover fitted to a metal grille, which also trapped a new butt-plug in place. The grille was then attached in front directly to a tight fitting metal belt, and in the back with flat chains that came from the belt. The whole thing was secured with a single lock, flush and circular in my front.

The edges of the metal were covered in soft rubber, but this assembly was uncomfortable in the extreme. That it went over my waspie was a relief of sorts. However, it was blatantly clear that my corset would not be coming off any time soon.

Nurse Five made many adjustments to the belt. It was removed and refitted several times. Finally, she was happy with it, and I found it a good deal more comfortable. I could even have an erection within the tube without any pain, though there didn’t look to be enough room.

Just as Nurse Five seemed to be finished and was ready to send me away, the Doctor entered.

“Good morning Nurse,” the Doctor said, in German.

“Good morning Doctor,” the Nurse replied.

My blood ran cold. Terror was gripping my guts and I didn’t even know why. It had to be the conditioning from the tank. I fought to control my emotions, but my heart was racing furiously. I was shaking.

“Ah, I see this troublemaker is in for her belt,” the Doctor said. “While she is here, let us see to her implants. I have the time to spare this morning and I think it will be good for her.”

“Yes Doctor, an excellent idea. The preparation has already been done.”

“I had originally expected to continue with the hormones for longer, but after her stay in the tank, I think she is ready. Any additional growth will be acceptable.”

They went off to prepare themselves. Later, two maids transferred me to a new trolley. I was wheeled into the main clinic area. I was given anaesthetic. The next thing I knew was waking up in a hospital bed with my chest bandaged. Yet again, the event was over so quickly, but the after effects lingered.

I still hadn’t eaten, but apparently my stomach was now used to subsisting on practically nothing. An IV fed fluids into my arm. My wrists were strapped to the side of the bed, but I felt woozy and calm. I had no urge to move.

I slept for a while. When I awakened, the lights were dimmed. It took me a few minutes to remember who and where I was. Eventually it sank in that I was recovering from a breast augmentation. This was hard to miss when it came to it. I was lying on my back with my wrists strapped to the bed and there were two large humps in front of me.

To my eye it looked like I’d been given monstrous tits. They were heavy and tight on my chest. They were part of me, and I could feel them, my own body weighing me down. My chest ached despite the painkillers they were undoubtedly feeding into me. A dull, deep ache, like a lingering fear. Along with all the changes that had happened in what was supposed to be the last two weeks, and the things locked onto me, there seemed to be little hope for my escape.

Now I had time to think, though it was hard to think clearly. Things didn’t look so good.

If I were to run from the hotel now, where would I go? I couldn’t let anybody see me like this. I had breasts like a porno slut. I had a locked on corset, chastity belt and monster butt-plug. I could just about breathe on a good day, and I was as weak as a kitten.

I wouldn’t be able to eat more than a morsel, I probably wouldn’t dare to eat at all, and I couldn’t have a bowel movement even if I did eat because there was a plug locked into my behind.

When it came down to it, I was pretty much screwed. Escape didn’t seem like a realistic option, and if I stayed here I had no idea what they might do to me next.

Then I remembered the maid Nineteen, and I felt a whole lot worse. I could imagine the kind of misery that they were putting her through. I understood now, how they broke people here. At that point I started to cry, and it seemed I had a whole lot of crying saved up from the last two weeks.

I knew, the best thing I could do was follow orders as best I could, try to fit in and be as meek and accepting as possible. If I was lucky I wouldn’t make anyone else angry and my situation wouldn’t get worse. If I was careful, and didn’t do anything stupid, maybe one day a chance to escape would come along.

I was afraid though. If I screwed up again my situation could probably get drastically worse, and perhaps if I stayed too long I would go mad like the rest of them and stop wanting to leave.

As well as the rational fears, there were the irrational ones. I was afraid of the Mistresses. Afraid of Mistress Housekeeper Four, afraid of the Doctor, even the Nurse. I was simply terrified of them. Even thinking about the possibility of disobedience or escape made my chest tight and sent my heart racing. Imagining the Doctor, angry with me for not appreciating her work send a chill down my spine and made my knot of a stomach twist even tighter. It was a terror beyond all rationality. Somehow, they’d put it in me, this terrible fear. More than a fear, a phobia. But fear could be overcome, couldn’t it?

I steeled myself. I would overcome the fear, and the bondage, somehow. Housekeeper Four would think she had broken me, and I would do nothing to make her think otherwise. This was the first stage in my escape plan. I would stick to it, no matter what. As long as they thought I was devoid of hope they wouldn’t feel the need to actively destroy me any further.

I eventually wept myself to sleep, guilty that the Mistresses would be disappointed that I wasn’t happy with what they’d done for me.



This was originally intended to be a scene in The Doll Hotel, at the start of Chapter Nine. However, as that story fleshed out, and the world of The Association became populated with characters, I changed the direction of this story.

I considered a more extensive rewrite, to make it into a 'proper' story, adding a beginning and an end, renaming the characters, and so on. But I think it's fine like this. I really like the way it starts right in the middle of things, and just barrels along, revealing new aspects of the situation as it goes. I should write more like this on purpose!

I had some problems assigning a genre to this. It could equally have gone in Rubber/Latex stories, or in Transformation, or in TG/CD, but I think the core thing going on here is the isolation tank, and the overall immobilization and compression, so I put it here. If that seems wrong, it could always be moved I suppose.
« Last Edit: August 07, 2017, 10:51:08 PM by AmyAmy »

Offline 64Fordman

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Re: The Isolation Tank (story)
« Reply #1 on: August 07, 2017, 03:37:47 PM »
Excellent story packed with classic noir emotion. As I read I could hear Jean Simmons narrating the film adaptation. (The actor, not the rock star) Thank you Amy.