Dale’s house, set back from a lonely dirt road just off I-78 out in rural Pennsylvania, was full of plaster and ceramic sculptures of wildlife. He had a workshop studio in his basement with sculpting tools and supplies, and he had long since converted his garage into a gallery and store. People would drive all the way from New York and Philadelphia to buy his works. He wasn’t wealthy by any means, but his hobby provided him a modest income.
Unknown to anyone but himself, Dale had a fetish of sorts. He liked to encase small animals within plaster sculptures. Though, he wasn’t a monster; he would break the sculpture open after a few hours and release the creature. He would never even consider selling a sculpture that was created by engulfing a living thing.
But fetishes, as some of us know, can be very compelling. After giving it some thought, he ran the following personal ad in a fetish magazine published in New York City:
WANTED: Female with engulfment fetish to be
turned into a living human plaster statue for
a weekend–48 continuous hours. The base
that you will sit on will house a small pail
for you to do your dirty into, which I will
empty daily. And you will be able to drink
and breathe through a rubber tube.
Weeks went by and Dale didn’t really expect to get any applicants, so he was surprised to receive the following e-mail in reply to his ad several weeks after it had ended:
> Wow! I’ve been searching for someone like you for
> some time now! My name is Mindy and I’m a female
> who has always had an engulfment fetish for as
> long as I can remember, but never acted on it until
> I saw your ad. I was diagnosed last year with
> muscular dystrophy. My symptoms are starting
> to get worse. I am very intelligent, my
> mind is sharp, and always will be. I dread
> being bedridden and helpless. So I might as
> well give in to my fetish now.
> I saw your ad and have been giving my desire serious
> thought ever since. Please engulf me in your
> sculpture PERMANENTLY! It is a far preferable
> alternative than the fate I will soon face.
> I beg you!
At first, Dale thought this girl must be some sort of kook–wanting to be engulfed permanently. Or else she is teasing him. He almost clicked on DELETE, but saved her message instead. He returned to it every day for a week to re-read it.
He replied a week later asking her if she was still interested in being engulfed permanently. Her answer came back within an hour:
> I BEG YOU!
So they set a date that he would pick her up from the bus station in Easton just across the NJ/PA border.
So one Wednesday afternoon, Dale drove his old beat-up pickup truck into Easton and returned home with a passenger.
She looked around his heavily wooded back yard and said, “I love it! It’s so beautiful here!”
“Thanks! I like the privacy.”
“I bet you do! Where’s your studio?”
He led her into the house through his store gallery and into his private studio.
“Wow! You did all these? You’re very talented.”
“Is this where you’re going to do it to me?”
“No. I’ll have to do you where you’ll stay. I’ll never be able to carry you upstairs from my studio.”
“Show me where I’ll be!”
Dale took her upstairs into his living room. He pointed to a corner that contained a large houseplant. “Right there.”
“So where’s the base?”
“I wanted to make sure you were serious before I built it. It’ll be easy enough to build. We’ll go on a shopping trip tomorrow at _Home Depot._
“You doubted my sincerity?”
“You said you wanted to be engulfed permanently. Wouldn’t you be a little bit skeptical if you were me?”
“Yeah, I guess. But I’m totally serious! I’m okay today, but my symptoms are getting worse. There are days my whole body feels numb, and I can’t do anything because my hands shake so much.”
“Okay. But don’t you have friends and family who will wonder where you went?”
“My parents and best friends know of my prognosis. I told them that I want them to remember me the way I am now and that I’m going away and never coming back.”
“I see,” he said.
“I told my mom and dad to pay my rent until my savings account runs out, then sell all my stuff in a garage sale or give it to charity if I don’t come home.”
“Oh, so you are allowing the possibility of it being temporary…”
“Well, how could I know for sure that you’re for real before I got here?”
“Anyway, I bought my bus tickets with cash, changed buses a few times on the way here, erased all my e-mails, and made sure it would be impossible for anyone to track down where I went.”
“Okay, I’ll get working on the base tomorrow. For now, I have a spare room with a cot you can sleep on.”
The next morning, Mindy came out of her room while Dale was buttering a toasted waffle. “Morning, Dale.”
“Morning, Mindy. Sorry about that little cot. I hope you slept well.”
“I slept great thinking malatya escort about being engulfed inside your statue forever. And thanks for, like, not expecting me to sleep with you or anything.”
“Sure,” he said with a shy grin.
“So, when are we going to get started?”
He took a last bite of his waffle, drank the last sip of his coffee, and took her into his studio and showed her some hand-drawn sketches. “This is how it’ll work. You’ll sit on this wooden box with a pail under a hole in the top.”
“Oh? Like I’m sitting on a permanent toilet?”
He laughed. “Something like that. There’ll be a jug in the base that I’ll keep filled with water, and another holder for a jar of baby food and one for a can of soup. Five rubber tubes will run from the base and up your back embedded inside the plaster. Three of the tubes, the ones from the water and the food, will go into your mouth. The other two will go into your nose so you can breathe.”
“Yeah, so I just have to keep your water jug filled, replace your food each day, and empty your poop pail every day. Any questions or requests?”
“Well, you’ve thought this out pretty thoroughly, but can you put the food and water in a separate compartment from the waste pail?”
“Yeah, I guess I can do that. Anything else?”
“Can I have another straw for some kind of juice to drink?”
“Okay. What else?”
“I guess that’s it. When do we start?”
“I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
They drove to _Home Depot_ and bought some plywood sheets, some 1x2s, a large pail, some rubber tubing, plaster mix, and a big bag of cotton rags.
Then they stopped at _Shop Rite_ on the way home. In the soup aisle, he said, “Pick out what kinds of soup you like.” She tossed a variety of cans of soup, but he rejected the Double Noodle. “Remember, you have to be able to suck it through a long straw.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said.
They stopped at the baby food aisle and she picked out a slew of brands and flavors, and she picked out some grape juice and apple juice from the juice aisle.
He said, “When we get back home, maybe you can make a list of the flavors that you like, and what flavors you don’t like. Okay?”
“Yeah, sure!” she said.
Then they returned home and he got to work with drill and power saw. She helped him saw and drill and build, and by evening they had what looked like a 2×2 foot wooden box with an oval hole on top, mounted on one end of a 2×4 foot wooden sheet of plywood on the floor.
That evening, she helped him carry the base upstairs from his studio into his living room, displacing his fichus tree.
“So, will I be your statue tonight?”
“Tonight? No. It’ll take a few hours to encase you in plaster. And you need to be able to hold the pose while the plaster dries for several more hours. We can do it tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” she said with disappointment in her voice.
“Oh, and we have one more important detail to work out.”
“Once you’re engulfed with tubes in your nose and mouth, you won’t be able to communicate. We need some mechanism for you to let me know that you want to be broken out. Maybe a button attached to a finger wired to a buzzer…”
_”NO!”_ she screamed.
“No!” she said with some anger in her voice. “This is permanent! I don’t want a way out! I don’t want you to break me out! Ever! No matter what! I’m serious, Dale!”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mindy, not to have some way to signal me that you’ve changed your mind.”
“I don’t care! I don’t want a signal! I want to be trapped forever! If I change my mind after a week or a year, then I’m fucked, but I won’t change my mind! That’s the way I want it! End of discussion!”
Dale put his hands up, “Okay, Mindy. If that’s the way you want it!”
“Anyway, it’s late. I’m going to bed. You’ll have to endure the cot one more night.”
A little later, Dale was in his room in his pajamas pulling his bedding down, ready to get into bed. He heard a noise and turned to see her leaning against the door frame to his room.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Say–you do like girls, don’t you?”
“Well, you haven’t even tried to get anywhere with me.”
“I didn’t know if you were interested.”
“Really, I’m not, but aren’t you?”
“Well, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’d enjoy sleeping with you, but I don’t expect you to. You’re doing me a big enough service by being my living statue.”
“Thank you for that. But I’d be lying too if I didn’t say I might like to get laid one last time before I become a living statue for the rest of my life–while I can still feel my body and enjoy it.”
He smiled at her. “Well, come here then, Mindy!”
She entered his room and walked into his arms.
He stepped back falling onto his back on his bed, pulling her on top of him. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and they took turns tongue-fucking each others’ mouths for a while their desire for each other built.
He rolled her onto her maltepe escort back, rolling on top of her. “You like your nipples sucked on?”
“Oh, yeah! I love that!”
“Good!” he answered as he pulled her shirt up over her breasts, and slid her bra up, exposing her pretty red nipples on pert round breasts, and sucked one into his mouth. He licked and sucked on the little red bump, while she moaned and gasped, until he got it hard and wet. Then he did the same to the other.
“You liked that?”
“Of course I liked that, you silly boy! Now, are you going to use that talented tongue farther south?”
He crawled further down her body and began to lick her bellybutton. “OH! That feels weird!”
“You like that?”
“That’s not what I meant, but, yeah, I like that! No one’s ever tongue-fucked my bellybutton before.”
“I love to eat a girl’s bellybutton.”
“But what about all the gunk? Isn’t that disgusting?”
“I don’t mind swallowing the gunk.” He leaned down and continued to suck her bellybutton.
He finished, sat up, and swallowed. “What next?” he asked.
“Do you have to ask?” she asked back as she unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans.
He pulled them down and off her, along with her pink panties, as she lifted her butt up.
She kicked her shoes and jeans off onto the floor and spread her legs, using her fingers to spread her pussy lips at him as if to invite him in.
“You want me to…”
“I want you to eat me, yes!”
At that request, he buried his face in her crotch and licked up and down her slit, from her asshole to her clit and back again.
“Ohhh, tease me, you bad boy!” she moaned.
He continued to lick lightly up and down, sometimes licking outside her twat along the seam of her mound and her thigh.
“Okay! Enough!” she moaned. “Stop teasing me and make me come!”
He found her clit with his mouth and sucked the little nub into his mouth between his lips. He began rhythmically sucking it in and out with his breath while his mouth slowly filled with her juices.
A moment later, she grabbed him by the hair, pulling his face even tighter to her pussy and began bucking in rhythm to his sucking while moaning, “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!”
After a while, she released her tight grasp and gasped, “okay, enough! I can’t take any more.”
He stopped sucking and just held her clit in his mouth with his suction and slowly licked the little wet nub with his tongue ever so lightly.
Making her come with his mouth was tiring, so he released his suction. He crawled up onto her body and settled onto her, kissing her.
“Are you going to fuck me now, Master?”
“Master?” he asked.
“Oh yes,” she moaned. “Right now, you’re my Master and I’m your worthless slave. Do what you want with me!”
“Then let me quick go put a rubber on so I can fuck you.”
She smiled and said, “You can use a rubber for your own protection if you want, but I don’t need you to wear one.”
“No?” he asked.
“I had my tubes tied years ago. I can fuck as much as I want with gloves off.”
“Really? Okay, then let me in, slave!”
He pulled his pajamas off, rendering himself as naked as she was, and then mounted her. He slid his hips downward, and slid his hard member into her soft flesh, feeling it enter her soaking pussy.
He pounded her as he felt the pressure slowly build in his loins. He reached a plateau for a moment, then the floodgates opened as he filled her pussy with his seed while they both moaned in ecstasy together.
She drained him with her pussy muscles until he went soft, and then rolled off her.
“Wow! You’re good!” he said, and kissed her.
“So are you!” and she kissed him back.
“How many kids do you have? Will you miss them?”
“I don’t have kids.
“I knew back in high school that I wasn’t cut out to be a mother. I never wanted kids. Even back then, I knew I had this fetish. I’d let guys wrap me in rubber suits with a tube to breathe through, and keep me tied up all day, and fuck me at their whim, but it wasn’t what I really wanted.”
“All my life, I was in torment over my desire to be trapped and engulfed forever vs. the rational desire to live a full, productive life.”
“I think I understand. People with all kinds of fetishes, like toilet slaves for instance, long to be enslaved in permanent captivity and servitude, dehumanized and used as a mere object by others, but they know that their fetish isn’t really practical as a permanent station in life.”
“Yeah, that was my dilemma alright! Then I was diagnosed with this horrible disease. And then I saw your ad. I realized, ‘My God, if this guy is for real, I can really live my fetish for the rest of my life–I have nothing to lose’.”
“Ah, so here you are…”
“Yes, here I am: your human statue for the rest of my life.”
“Well, good night, my human statue!”
“Good night, my sculptor!”
The next morning, he had set up a work area in his living room next to the mamak escort base. He was sitting next to large metal pot full of wet plaster and a huge pile of rags, and was applying a plaster surface to the base.
“What are you doing?” she asked as she walked into the room.
“I have to prep the base and let it dry for about an hour. Want some breakfast?”
They prepared a splendid breakfast together: eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, maple syrup, orange juice, tea, the works! In a way, it would be her “last meal.”
With their bellies full, he said, “Okay, it’s time.”
“What should I do?” she asked as they approached the base.
“Take off your clothes and sit,” he said.
Once again, she got naked in front of him, and then sat on the plaster-coated box. He positioned her feet just so, flat on the tongue of the base. He took a step back, then approached her again and fiddled with her pose. He set her legs slightly apart, arched her back, and positioned her arms above her head with her hands clasped together behind her head.
“Well?” she asked.
“Mmmm, yes! That looks really sexy!”
“Yeah! Can you hold that pose for a while?”
“Once the plaster dries around you, you can relax and the hard shell will hold you in place.”
He dipped a strip of cotton in the wet plaster and draped it over her toes. Then another. Then another. Plaster gets very warm when it dries, so he worked very slowly so as not to cause her any burns.
After about an hour, he had formed a thin plaster cast over both of her legs and up to her waist.
“What about the tubes?” she asked.
“I want to get a thin cast over your whole body first, except for your face. Then I’ll run the plumbing up your back, around your head, and into your nose and mouth. Then I’ll add another layer of plaster over your whole body, including your face.
“Oh! I can’t wait!” she gasped.
“I know,” he laughed.
“But can I put my arms down? I can’t hold them up any more.”
“Sure, but you’ll need to hold them up again when I put the plaster over them to hold the pose.”
“Okay,” she said.
Several hours later, he had encased her whole body in the final pose. Only her face was uncovered.
“How does it feel?” he asked.
“It feels good,” she said. “The body cast feels hard and dry and I can’t move at all.”
“No discomfort? No pinch points? No rough spots?”
“Nope. But is that pail inside the base?”
“Why? You need to…”
“Yeah, I need to pee.”
He opened the little door in the base, slid the pail into position inside the base, and closed the door.
“Do you want me to go out of the room while you pee?”
“It doesn’t make any difference,” she said, and then he heard the sound of water dribbling against plastic from within the box that she was sitting on.
He removed the pail and saw it contained a small amount of yellow liquid, then replaced it. “Okay!” he said. “That was a good test. That worked pretty good.”
He opened another little door on the other side of the base. “What flavor of soup, baby food, and juice do you want to start with?”
She thought for a moment and said, “For soup, tomato soup. For baby food, apple sauce. For juice, grape.”
He placed a brass mouthpiece in her mouth so that she couldn’t chew n the ends of the rubber tubes and slid four tubes through it into her mouth. He then draped the four tubes over her shoulder and down her back.
Next he took two more tubes and inserted each one up each of her nostrils and draped them down her back.
“Ohh, at eelth unny,” she slurred.
“That feels funny?” he asked. “Yeah, I guess it would.”
He snaked the four feeding tubes into the base and dipped one into the can of soup, another into the jar of baby food, another into a small jug of fresh water, and the fourth into the jug of grape juice. The two breathing tubes, he just let them dangle down into the base.
“Can you breathe freely?”
“Yeth,” she slurred.
“Try sucking from each of the tubes and make sure you can drink from each one. It may take a while to suck it all the way up from the base.”
He watched as a line of water drew up one of the tubes and into her mouth. Then the soup, then the baby food, then the juice.
“Ohay,” she slurred
He then prepared a fresh pot of wet plaster and, once again, started at her feet. Over the next couple of hours, he had covered her body up to her neck, covering and hiding the six tubes against her back.
Finally, he placed a series of wet plaster strips over her face and head, carefully following the contours of her face.
It had become pretty late by then, so he stood back and admired his masterpiece: a life-sized sculpture of a pretty young woman in a sultry pose facing into his living room.
At that, he went to bed.
The next morning, the plaster had dried thoroughly. “How are you doing in there, Mindy?” he asked. Of course, Mindy couldn’t answer.
He opened the door in the base. Ewww! Her pail was full of shit. He emptied the pail into the toilet and replaced it. He gave her a fresh bottle of juice, baby food, soup, and water.
He spent the rest of the day sanding her with a block of ultra fine sandpaper. Then he spray painted her with a coat of white primer paint.