HatChick and Commitment Girl, and their faithful sidekick Jeff, were the first breakout superstars of the "Reality Television" (as opposed to "Reality-Based Television") trend of the early twenty-first century.
I have obtained transcript libraries of all their taped activities -- those which made it to the small screen, those which did not, and especially the stuff that was edited out for content (this was, if you'll recall, aired during the "Family Hour").
Attached is the unedited transcript of the Episode (# 12) which ignited the prolonged public speculation in the media about Jeff and HatChick, which of course led to the Jeff and Commitment Girl debacle, with the attendant tragedy of Episode 32.
The Adventures of Hatchick and Commitment Girl
Episode 12: At Precovia's Indiscretion
Jeff lounged against the railing, idly looking down to the first floor of the Blimmercrest Mall. From the corner of his eye he could see one of the new network Fly-Cams, hovering between the Weird Tales bookstore and the Precovia's Indiscretion lingerie store. The Fly-Cam's tiny crystal lens was directed at him.
The presence of the camera was a good sign; it meant the network, at least, thought the tip was legit. While the network claimed they never tried to direct the activities of supervillains, Jeff didn't completely buy it. At they very least, they would have their own teams of analysts working to determine the most fruitful directions to point their cameras. With limited broadcast resources and seemingly unlimited super-activities, it only made sense.
So the presence of the unobtrusive camera (and there were sure to be more) gave the anonymous tip posted on HatChick and Commitment Girl's secure website just a little more credence. Someone was going to rob the Precovia's Indiscretion store at the mall; HatChick and Commitment Girl, the pre-eminent superhero team in the country (at least in the ratings) would be there to stop it; and Jeff McNabb, boy sidekick, would be there to figuratively hold their coats.
Jeff spent a few moments trying to spot all the cameras the network would have placed around the area to capture the action. Nothing was scripted, so anything could happen, and you never knew where things would end up, so the nets liked to flood any possible action-site with lots of cameras. He got so involved in camera-spotting that he was startled by the voice at his side.
"Jeff! Hi! What are you doing here? Are you shopping?"
He turned, and bit back his reflexive sarcastic retort when he saw the smiling, open face of Hillary Stone. She had been in his English class at school, and he knew her for a sweet, open, and somewhat na�ve kid.
"Hi, Hillary. No, I'm not shopping; just hanging out." He cast a quick glance into the Precovia's Indiscretion store - no action yet - and then back to Hillary. She was tall - a little taller than he - with broad, expressive shoulders and generous hips. She was a big girl, but with smooth curves and a dancer's graceful, effortless way of moving. She was sexy in a nice-girl-next-door sort of way; she made you want to protect her, in a very close, hands-on sort of way. As far as Jeff knew, she wasn't spoken for.
"Oh. Well, I'm just hanging out too. Can I hang with you a while?
Jeff smiled; everyone in school had known (or should have known) the role he played in HatChick and Commitment Girl's crime-fighting activities. Even though he was contractually prohibited from watching the show himself, he knew from overheard conversations that he made at least a brief appearance in most episodes.
"Sure, Hill. You can hang with me a bit. I'm just thinking what to do first."
Hillary unsnapped her varsity jacket and leaned with her back against the railing, facing the Gepetto's Closet store and stretching her long legs out.. Jeff couldn't help stealing a quick glance at her breasts, small but very nicely rounded, high and firm. She was wearing a black t-shirt tucked into her slightly snug jeans. He let his gaze wander from her lovely breasts, down the taut flatness of her stomach, then looked away.
"Well," she said. "We could go in there - " pointing to Precovia's Indiscretion. "I need to get a few things, and you could help me pick something nice. But not too nice." She leaned close, teasing: "I could model for you . . . "
Jeff felt his face redden, and Hillary laughed, not unkindly. So she had caught him checking her out, and she was letting him know it was okay with her. He smiled ruefully. She leaned back, pert and perky.
"As much as I would enjoy helping you try on lacey things, I kind of have to stay out here for a while."
"Oh - are you on a stake-out?"
So she did watch the show. "Well - I'm really not supposed to say. But, yes. I'm kind of on-duty right now."
"That's exciting." She leaned toward him again, slightly breathless. Her eyes were deep brown and her mouth was eminently kissable. He was about to lean forward to test this theory . . .
"Where are they now - Hatchick and Commitment Girl?" Now Hillary was looking all around excitedly, and his moment was lost. Jeff contented himself with admiring her posture as she stretched on tip-toe, arching her back to all three levels of the mall. She had wonderfully fit dancer's legs and a beautiful ass. Jeff wondered if he should just give up on HatChick - Kaivee - and settle for this sweet, fit and athletic dancer.
"Oh, they're around here somewhere," he said, putting a hand on the waistband of her jeans and pulling her down. "But don't blow this for me - I'm not supposed to even be talking to anyone now; you could get me in trouble. Matter of fact," he continued, dropping his voice, "it could get dangerous."
She shuddered very prettily, grabbing his arm with both hands and huddling close. "Maybe I could stay near you? Who's the bad guy? Is he around somewhere, too?"
"Not he - them," he said, enjoying the feeling of her breasts against his arm. "And if you look now, you can see them going into your favorite store." And indeed, two young women were at that moment entering Precovia's Indiscretion. One was tall and slim, with black hair cropped short, wearing black leather jeans and a black cropped top. The other was average height, with a generous fall of honey-blond hair. She wore black slacks, slung low on her smooth hips, and a black leotard top.
"Who are they?" Now Hillary was very close; her legs were virtually wrapped around his, and Jeff was having a hard time not being hard.
"They're - uh, Kat burglars. Or in this case, Kat robbers. They work in gangs -- packs - or prides, I guess. They ussually work by stealth, but they also rely on speed and teamwork to pull off their jobs. Kats are usually athletic and graceful - martial artists or dancers. That's how they came by their m.o. - their cat-like speed and grace."
"What happens next?"
"They'll intimidate or threaten the manager, getting him to open the safe. If they have to, they'll use force." Jeff put a hand on Hillary's shoulder, ready to push her out of harm's way if need be. "Got to concentrate now," he thought. "This is for real."
"Where are HatChick and Commitment Girl - are they going to move in now?"
Jeff could see Commitment Girl now, her trademarked black shades and pony-tail in place, easing up toward the entrance of the store. HatChick was on the other side of the entrance, casing the mall side for ambushes.
Inside, he could see the two Kats on either side of a frightened-looking woman at the register. Both had their hands on the woman's shoulders - near her throat. And both had extended the claw-like nails so typical of Kat gangs.
Thinking of claws - Hillary was so excited, or so scared, her own fingers were dug into the meat of his arm. "Hillary," he said, pushing her back away from possible danger, "I have to do my job now." His job consisted mostly of watching the backs of the trained and talented crimefighters, but he didn't feel the need to go into that. Besides, the danger could become real, for him and for this pretty, sexy dancer in black.
Something tickled at the back of his mind, even as she whispered into his ear, "Jeff, you're so sweet and so nice, but I have a job to do, too."
What happened next seemed to occur in slow motion. He turned to look at her as she twisted his arm up and behind his back, stepping smoothly behind him; her forearm came across his windpipe, cutting off his air. As he struggled for breath in her suddenly iron-like grip, the words "dancer", "athletic" and "wearing black" finally struggled to the forefront of his mind.
"Hillary?" he choked out, trying to turn his face into the crook of her elbow and gain some breathing space, "you're one of - "
"Jeff," she said with good humor as she swept her choking-arm around and down, capturing his free wrist in a grip that had suddenly developed claws. "I do like you - a lot. And maybe we can get together some time when this is all over. But for now -- " she spun around, lifting him over her hip and twisting, and he slammed hard against the railing overlooking the lower levels. His head spun for a moment as the air was forced from his lungs. He thought, "she's good; really good" as she bound his hands behind him. Then she pulled him back against her, turned, twisted again, and suddenly he was flying over her hip with no arms to break his fall. She kept her hold on him as he fell, guiding him to a gentle landing on the tile floor. He lay there on his back, his arms now bound and underneath his body.
Hillary dropped onto his chest, facing his feet. Before he knew to react, his feet were tightly bound together. She twisted around to face him, leaning over to get very close; her lovely and expressive breasts pressed down against him. She wasn't even breathing hard, but if this kept up, he thought, he soon would be.
"Nobody's gonna get hurt, Jeff - this is just a snatch job," she whispered. "My job's to watch the backs of the advance team - nothing personal, just business, you know?" She leaned forward, delicately placing a sweet and lingering kiss on his lips. "See you in the funny papers," she said, and dashed toward the store. Jeff watched the young Kat run to do battle with his two partners, admiring her lithe figure even as he rued his own stupidity.
Feeling utterly ridiculous, Jeff struggled to break free of the cords knotted around his wrists and ankles. In front of the store, he could see HatChick and Commitment Girl, busily engaged with four - no, five, six - black-garbed young women, including the two who had robbed the store, and Hillary. Commitment Girl was a flurry of whirling limbs, hands and feet lashing out at the quick-moving Kats. HatChick was a study in fluid motion, her baseball cap turned backward on her head, as she slipped punches and slid through holds to subdue her attackers. The odds were three to one against them - not bad, all things considered. Jeff worked to free himself of his bonds before the two heroes finished with the bad guys, hoping that his failure would go unnoticed. At least, until this episode aired for the entire country to see.
A soft voice interrupted his efforts: "are you hurt?"
He looked up.
The voice asked again: "are you helpless?"
"This fight feels wrong", HatChick thought as she flipped the blond Kat-girl over her back and to the floor. She spared a look for Kristal, who was trading karate chops and kicks with three Kats at once, and holding her own nicely. "The odds are just right for a good fight, but not enough for a successful robbery - not at their skill level," she thought. "And they were too easy to engage - the whole thing is too weird."
From her position near the entrance to the store, Hatchick had watched the two robbers enter the store and accost the manager, a tall, slim woman. The claws had come out almost immediately, and the manager had responded with the usual indignation and fear - but she had done the right thing, giving in to the robber's demands. Within minutes, the two slim and leggy bad guys were on their way out of the store with a bag of cash, leaving the distraught manager sobbing.
HatChick and Commitment Girl had converged on the two just as they cleared the store entrance, catching them in a open section of the mall. It was going so easily - "too easily," HatChick had thought - that she was not surprised to find they had walked into an ambush. The other four Kats had come out of nowhere, but HatChick and Commitment Girl had a precious few moments to turn into the fight.
As she merged with the first attacker's charge and guided the Kat's body to a soft landing, HatChick had looked around for Jeff - he was supposed to have warned them about just such a sneak attack, that was his job. When she saw him, healthy but tied hand and foot, she understood; he'd been taken out first. The fact that he was physically undamaged was a good sign. That meant the Kat gang was in it strictly for the money; they didn't want to hurt anybody too badly if they could help it. They would fight to escape, not to kill.
But this gang was strictly amateur-hour; their fighting skills were not that good, and knocking over a lingerie store in the mall didn't sound exactly lucrative. And it sure wasn't boffo network ratings material. "There's something I'm missing here," HatChick thought as she ducked a punch, throwing her attacker smoothly over her hip.
"Maybe I'm getting too paranoid," she thought as a big brown-haired girl in jeans caught her in a bear-hug. She peeled her attacker's fingers off her grip, stepped away, pivoted and twisted. The girl, strong though she was, flew into a rolling fall several feet away. She rose to her feet unsteadily and started running without a glance for the bag of money. "They're melting away," HatChick thought. "Strictly part-timers."
Indeed, five of the six had taken opportunities for escape, and Commitment Girl was busily engaged with the sixth. "We'll have to hang onto this one," HatChick thought, "so she can identify the rest of the gang for the police." HatChick turned to watch her partner, ready to lend a hand in the unlikely event Commitment Girl couldn't handle this last Kat.
Commitment Girl toyed with her last opponent ("fitting behavior, when you're playing with a cat," she thought), getting a feel for the other girl's skill level. She was big - almost as tall as HatChick was, and maybe a little broader than HatChick in the shoulders - but she was extremely graceful and smooth. Still, within moments Commitment Girl knew this one would present no problem.
"You were the one who tied up Jeff, weren't you?" Commitment Girl asked conversationally, circling left.
The girl nodded, keeping a good fighting stance at the ready. Commitment Girl was impressed. "That was nice work you did on him - and I'm grateful you didn't hurt him. Except," she chuckled, "maybe his pride."
The girl smiled, and Commitment Girl struck, spinning and sweeping the her feet out from under her in one smooth motion. The girl fell, cat-like, landing soft and rolling to disperse the impact. The Kat lashed out with a desparate hand, clasping Commitment Girl's ankle as it came around. "I was too slow - getting lazy," Commitment Girl thought.
Commitment Girl quickly jerked her knee up toward her own chin, drawing the young robber up to her, and catching her swiftly in a scissors-hold. Commitment Girl/Kristal rolled, slamming her captive against the floor, then continued the roll, ending up on top of her, consolidating her hold. When she rolled back down to a sitting position her strong legs were wrapped completely around the girl, pinning her arms to her sides.
"Gotcha," she said. The girl struggled briefly but fiercely, rising to her knees before Kristal levered her back to the ground. Kristal tightened her hold, and the girl winced. For a moment, she almost thought she could feel the girl's heart beating, a labored tattoo in her breast.
("Do it," came the voice. Kristal frowned and shook her head.)
The girl tried again to rise. Kristal let her get to her knees, then flipped her back to the ground, pulling the girl's body right up between her thighs - the strongest muscles in the body. Now the cat could not escape.
("Do it," came the voice again - inside her head, she knew, although it sounded so real. "She's helpless. She's prey. Squeeze the cat, crush her bones, own her. . . ")
"Commitment Girl," the girl gasped, "I give up. You're hurting me." She looked terribly frightened and suddenly very young, not at all the nearly-competent fighter who had captured and bound her sidekick. Kristal felt an irrational surge of contempt for this weakling, and a triumphant power surged through her. Her legs felt already as if she were applying slow killing pressure; she could feel the desperate squirming against her skin, feel her victim's heart pounding between her thighs as she bore down . . .
"Commitment Girl!" HatChick said as retrieved her cap and pulled it on her head, smoothing down her disheveled blond hair. "Remember yourself!"
Kristal's legs, of their own volition had begun the constriction, rhythmically gathering the Kat's body hard against hers, grinding the soft body with each labored exhalation, inexorably tightening around it, subduing its very breathing; the black-dressed girl's breath was coming fast and shallow, now . . . ("so close," came the voice in a seductive whisper. "A little tighter and the little bird in her breast stills its fluttering. . . ").
"Commitment Girl," came HatChick's voice again, softer now. HatChick was kneeling beside her, one hand on her thigh, now rock hard with crushing power, all bearing down on the helpless creature trapped in her coils -
"Kristal," HatChick said, using her real name - but the girl/Kat/victim was now barely conscious, ("close, so close to consumation . . .")
Kristal looked at her friend ("HatChick? Kaivee?"), and suddenly her head cleared and she became once more Commitment Girl, a good guy and a hero; the killing urge ebbed away and she eased off her hold on the girl ("could I have thought of her as a 'victim'"? Commitment Girl asked herself; but she knew the answer, how thin the line between crime fighter and vigilante; and between vigilante and predator).
"That was a near thing," Kristal breathed as the girl collapsed and lay gasping between her legs, gulping in great draughts of air.
"You didn't give in to the impulse," Kaivee said. "That's the important thing. You maintained who you are. You're not a killer."
"I know I'm not - but I nearly was. And I know the only reason I didn't give in to the urge was you."
And well she did; for Kristal's commitment to justice was second only to her loyalty to her partner. And they both knew that, were it not for Kaivee's steadying influence, Kristal could easily slip over to the vigilante side of the ledger, never to return.
HatChick could see her partner was about to lose herself in recrimination. "Back to business," she said, straightening up. "Why don't you go return the money and see to the victims; I'll untie our poor helpless sidekick. I think our Kat friend here can be trusted not to run off."
Commitment Girl picked up the money bag, and was surprised to find it was extremely light. "There's nothing in it," she thought. "HatChick's right - this whole caper is odd. Why would the network devote so many cameras to an amateur heist with no take?"
The compact crime-fighter walked into the relative darkness of Precovia's Secret. The manager was still standing in the front of the store, quietly sobbing and being attended to by three of her employees.
The woman was tall, with auburn hair pulled back in a bun at her neck. She wore a professional skirt, blouse and blazer, but Commitment Girl's trained eye could tell she was slimly muscular and fit. The three employees were, like their boss, very tall and toned - "uniformly tall and toned," Commitment Girl thought. All three young women were wearing the store's products - one a satin teddy, one a skintight and low-cut bathing suit, and the third a long, clinging nightgown. Commitment Girl studied their faces - they might have been duplicates of each other ("they look just like Betsie dolls," she thought, remembering the improbably-proportioned fashion dolls she had played with as a girl).
"I'm sorry," the woman said, "I've just had such a scare. I owe you a debt of thanks." She walked to the sales counter, one of her her employees (Silk Nightgown, as Commitment Girl named her) taking her by the arm and the other two falling into place on either side of Commitment Girl. The two ("Bathing Suit and Satin Teddy," Commitment Girl internally named them) were exactly the same height and the same build ("they even have the bodies of Betsie dolls," she thought with wonder). They were a head taller than she, with extremely long, slim legs, tiny waists and large busts. But these girls weren't plastic - they were definitely flesh and blood.
The woman sat on a stool behind the counter. Silk Nightgown picked up a shimmering black satin garment and carelessly draped it over her shoulder, stepping away and out of sight. "I'd love to show my gratitude in some way," the woman said. "Perhaps in trade - we have many items that would make smashing costumes for your - er, line of work."
"I prefer to use the term 'uniform', but thanks," Commitment Girl said. "I'd like to ask you a few questions -"
"This outfit you're wearing now," the woman interrupted, reaching out to touch Commitment Girl lightly on her shoulder. "Is it specially-tailored?"
"Not exactly. Now, about the robbery -"
"I see it's cut high in the hips - a good idea, since your legs are a trifle 'chunky' -"
"Now, wait a minute -"
"Oh, no offense intended, this is strictly professional interest on my part. Perhaps it's just an effect of the pattern - are you sure such a busy design is good on you? Hmm . . . cut low in the back, but high in the front - I would think you might like something that, um 'accentuates' your breasts. They're not large, but they really nicely formed. And it would take attention away from your masculine shoulders."
"I've been told my breasts are 'pert', and they're just fine the way they are, thank you, and I am told I have very nice legs - they're sculpted, not 'chunky'. And having a strong back is important in my line of work; plus, it enhances good posture. Now if we could just please focus on the robbery -"
"Please bear with me, Commitment Girl. I've just had a terrible scare, and this is how I deal with such things; although I will say you have a very defensive tone in your voice. Now, if I may?" A hand came past Commitment Girl's head from behind - Silk Nightgown, handing the black satin teddy to the manager. When the woman took the garment from her hand, the employee withdrew the hand only far enough to rest it on Commitment Girl's shoulder. She turned her head to look pointedly at the offending hand; the girl did not take the hint.
"Now something like this," the manager said, holding the teddy up, "might be a better fit for you. It's cut generously in the hip, to allow freedom of movement" -- Commitment Girl felt a touch on her left arm; it was Bathing Suit, listening intently, leaning against her - "while the bust, while low-cut - you have such lovely breasts, you know - offers just as much support as that poor thing you have on" - a touch on the right; Satin Teddy had grasped her arm in rapt attention to the manager's dissertation - "and the cut here, and here, will help accentuate your small-waisted figure and long - if chunky-- legs" - and now Silk Nightgown was entranced, her breasts pressing against Commitment Girl's shoulder blades from behind - "and of course the material is of my own design; silky smooth, satiny soft, extremely strong; and, when it gets wet, it contracts to one-fortieth of its size!"
Commitment Girl started in surprise. "But then -"
"Precisely. It would constrict around your body mercilessly until you had asphyxiated, or it had ripped you apart."
Suddenly the arms resting on her were no longer resting, but moving, circling her throat from behind, grasping her arms on either side; and long, firm legs twined around her legs, coiling tightly, drawing her legs together. Commitment Girl started to struggle against them, but too late, already she could not raise her arms, could not free her legs of the long-stemmed entanglement as Bathing Suit and Satin Teddy coiled around her, snakelike, constricting their bodies around hers. The choke-hold on her throat tightened until she could not draw air; "I'm helpless," Commitment Girl thought, struggling futilely to escape the crushing hold on her. "They're like a gigantic snake."
As Commitment Girl wriggled in the constricting hold of the three identical hench-girls and fought the rising tide of unconsciousness into which she was sinking, the manager came very close to her. "I could have you killed right now, Commitment Girl. Even your explosive strength is no match for three man-sized Betsie dolls. They could crush you to a boneless mess. But I have a slower death in mind for you - and for your partner, too." And then the grip around her throat tightened, darkness closed in, and Commitment Girl knew no more.
Commitment Girl awoke to a pounding headache, aching shoulders and tingling in her fingertips. She experimentally moved all her limbs - lying on the ground, check; hands tied, check; feet tied, check. Absolutely helpless, and the prisoner of whom she now realized could only be the infamous and cruelly psychotic Big Hair Lady.
"On the plus side," she thought, "I'm still alive."
She opened her eyes to a world of yellow. Lifting her head, she saw that she as lying on a beach - or a simulation of one. She was still in Precovia's Secret, in the swimwear section at the back. She was lying in the center of a ten-foot wide sand "beach", with a fiberglass palm tree curving over her. To her left, a suspiciously familiar mannequin modeled a very revealing, but not very practical, swimsuit. Remembering the crushing strength of those sleek arms and long legs, Commitment Girl shuddered. But for now, the life-sized Betsie doll was still as a statue.
"Awake, are you?" Commitment Girl looked up. There was the store manager - Big Hair Lady - now in costume. Her wild mane of auburn hair played freely about her shoulders. She had discarded the conservative suit she affected for her disguise, and now wore a man's dress shirt, stockings -- and nothing else. "I'm afraid I'm not really dressed for the beach, Commitment Girl," Big Hair Lady said; "but you will notice that you are."
Of course. Commitment Girl looked down at herself - they had removed her hero's uniform and put the black teddy on her. It was indeed very soft against her skin, and she had to admit the high-thighed cut was flattering. But - "black's not a good color for me," she said dryly. "And it's riding up a bit on my butt."
"It'll do much more than that before you're through, Commitment Girl," Big Hair Lady promised. She knelt on the sand over the helpless heroine; Commitment Girl had to look up from between her thighs to see her face. "So many men would have died to be right were you are now," Big Hair Lady observed. "A few of them have been where you are - and found it's 'to die for'. As will you - but in a different way, I assure you." She signaled with her hand, and suddenly Commitment Girl found herself suspended upside down, her head three feet above the sand. She looked up - the silk cord which wrapped her shapely ankles was attached to a rope leading up to the faux tree high above her.
Big Hair Lady's face was now at the same level as hers, albeit upside down. "There are mist jets embedded in the trunk of the palm tree," she said to the captive crimefighter. "When your partner finally finds her way in here, she will trigger the mechanism that will spray you with water. As soon as it gets wet, your new outfit will start shrinking - and it won't stop until it's only big enough for - well, for a Betsie doll; a real one. There are enough surprises in this place to keep HatChick occupied for a long time before she finds you. And, just to keep you honest" -- she stuffed a silk scarf in Commitment Girl's mouth, tying it off behind her head.
"I have one more preparation to make, so I have to take my leave of you now," the beautiful bad-guy said. "You may not be alive to see it, but rest assured I have special plans for HatChick as well - she won't leave this place alive, either. It's too bad I won't get to see you go from a size six to a size minus-14, but I can always catch it on television when they air it next week."
A metallic screeching came from the front of the store. "That would be your cavalry now," Big Hair Lady remarked. "Goodbye, Commitment Girl; rest in pieces."
Another loud screech, and then a clang, came from the front. Then a cold mist enveloped Commitment Girl, chilling her. Instantly, she felt a creeping sensation over her body, wherever the black teddy touched her. "It's started," she thought. "I don't have much time." She performed an inverted mid-air situp, trying to reach the bonds around her ankles. To her annoyance, the teddy was so tight even before shrinking that it rode up between her buttocks.
But the cord wrapped around her ankles was thick, and tightly knotted. Even if it had not been, the scarf in her mouth would have kept her from using her teeth on the knot, she realized. "That's a no-go," she thought. Then she realized with despair that she did not have many other options open to her. "I'll just have to muscle my way out," she decided, "and hope that Kaivee gets here in time."
So Commitment Girl wriggled the bunched material out from between her buttocks, and then concentrated on the bonds around her wrists, trying to calm her racing heart as she felt the material around her body begin to creep. A slight fullness in her crotch indicated tightening there; a kneading sensation on her breasts - "lateral shrinking," she thought. She continued her work.
She knew she could not break free by herself, but the effort made her feel better than just hanging there waiting for rescue and feeling the soft constriction around her body. She started to notice details; how it felt tighter already between her thighs than around her ribs, and how the fabric was already bunched and forcing its way back between her buttocks ("so much for comfort," she thought).
Then she realized the final diabolical detail: the fabric was shrinking at different rates! Already she could feel how the material creeping between her firm buttocks was pulling up against her womanhood between her thighs. "It's shrinking fastest where I'm most sensitive," she thought. "Big Hair Lady wouldn't let me just suffocate, she'll want me to suffer - she's designed it to torture me before it kills me." She renewed her struggles with extra vigor, swinging in slow circles above the sandy beach, racing the inexorable invasion of her sexuality.
Stolidly she worked her hands, trying to force freedom, as the material continued its one-way encroachment.
Soon the pressure on her intimate parts was constant, and strangely stimulating. Kristal was tempted to give in to her helplessness, to luxuriate in the sensation; why not accept the inevitable, take the pleasure, as long as the outcome was out of her control? But she knew pleasure would turn soon enough to pain, and the idea of surrender - especially to helplessness - was unthinkable. So she struggled on.
She flexed her arms, but there was no leverage to be had; and still the constricting teddy increased its claim on her body.
The wrist bonds were too tight, too well-formed; in desperation she tried the sit-up again. Her stomach muscles screamed, but she made it - halfway, before the fabric tightening around her pulled her up short. She flopped back, swinging giddily over the sand like a pendulum, her breasts tender to every movement of the soft fabric across her nipples, her pudenda under constant sensuous attack; she moaned, losing herself in a wave of pleasure for a moment - just a moment - but in that moment she felt the first twinge of pain as the corded material pulled cruelly between her buttocks, touching her tender skin there for the first time. "The prelude," she thought through a haze of pleasure and pain. "Soon it will begin tearing." Only her super-heroine's discipline kept a sob of helplessness and frustration from escaping past the silk scarf gag.
Commitment Girl worked grimly to free herself, as the fabric continued its constant, mindless contraction around her.
The pressure between her buttocks became intolerable - she arched her back, gaining a tiny moment of relief, but at the expense of even greater pressure against her privates; she struggled to maintain her arch, her back and leg muscles quivering, as the pressure grew greater and greater until all of her being was concentrated on the small area between her thighs - the area under constant unrelenting attack with waves of pleasure and pain alternating, rocketing through her limbs and up her spine, until she was overwhelmed by an explosive wave of pleasure which rocked her again and again, the convulsions of her body sending her swinging wildly over the faux beach as the killer mannequins looked on; and as the intense wave of pleasure subsided, the pressure did not subside, turning instantly to cutting pain as the fabric bunched between her tender lips as it had between her buttocks, and continued its slow, inexorable constriction against her most sensitive parts.
And then she felt it - the first breath she took which was shallower than the one preceding. The fabric across her breasts and torso had been shrinking more slowly, but shrinking nonetheless. She twisted involuntarily to free herself from this new pressure, and a giant hand clamped on each tender breast, bearing down cruelly, as an iron band fastened itself around her chest and began squeezing. "Of course," she thought. Her pelvic bone would keep the fabric from ripping her apart long enough for the compression on her torso to reduce her organs to pulp, collapse her lungs and stop her heart. In the meantime the constant one-way sawing between her thighs would continue. "Of course - the maximum pain for the longest time. Classic Big Hair Lady."
The constriction along her body was pulling her shoulders and her hips toward a common center, threatening to rip her in two; now the constriction across her body kept her from bowing or bending, applying constant pressure from all sides inward, crushing organs together, squeezing her lungs against her heart until none could expand. It had taken fifteen minutes to get this far, she calculated through a red haze of pain and rising darkness; she had perhaps ten minutes more of increasing agony before she lost consciousness. Perhaps another five after that before she would be crushed beyond recognition.
"Hurry, Kaivee," she implored silently, swinging gently over the damp sands under the impassive eyes of the Betsie dolls. "Hurry -- you're my only hope."
By B. Ferrett