Le Club Plastique

by Robotdoll

[Originally posted to the House Of Living Dolls yahoo club, captured and edited here. Maybe too edited, RD, let me know.... Ed.]

  "It's completely safe. You never get too woozy to know what's going on."

   Pamela still seemed wary. "I don't know, I've had some bad experiences with these clubs before."

   "Well, all I can tell you is it's like nothing you've ever done before, and once everybody's in on it, you'll regret missing it." Mike was more earnest about this than she'd ever seen him. "They clear three grand a night!"

   Pamela was impressed, she had to admit. "Okay, when is the presentation?"

   "Friday night. They don't have a dress code, but something clubbish will put you more in the mood."

   "Okay," she relented. "Will you be there?"

   "Not for the presentation, you'll probably catch up with me later."

   She took down the time and address, promised she'd be there, and hung up. The whole thing seemed weird, but not dangerous. Hell, Mike had a good eye for the coming 'in' thing; maybe she was just being too prudish.

   Besides, she had come twice just from what he'd told her. And the only thing that got her that hot had to be either really sexy, or really profitable. So either way, it looked to be a nice night out.

   "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to thank you all for attending, and welcome to Le Club Plastique." The young man was well dressed and fresh faced. "We'll start the presentation now." He thumbed a remote, the lights went down, and what looked like a piece of modern art was projected on a large screen.  Consisting of several multicolored balls all connected by black rods, the object had a certain purposeful mystery.  Pamela recognized what it was just before the presenter spoke.

   "What you're looking at is a model of the chemical compound that we call Plastique, after which we've named the club. This compound, and all of its chemical cousins out to 15 levels, are patented exclusively to the Silidyne Corporation, our parent company." The model rotated on two axes as he spoke. "We license the compound from them, manufacture it ourselves, and distribute it here at the club. It is currently only allowed to be taken here at the club, to reduce our liability. The club is also staffed with medical professionals in case of an emergency, which..." he added hastily as he saw a hand rise in the back "I'm happy to say, has never even happened! The worst we've had to date is the odd bruise from people who've lost their balance and fallen over." There was some light chuckling as he continued.

   "The club is divided into a number of areas. There are private suites for those who wish to enjoy themselves alone, or with a partner or partners," he clicked the remote, and the display showed a series of several doors in an expansive hallway. The camera tracked into one room, where there was an enormous circular bed, some fittings on the wall and an assortment of sex toys in a glass cabinet. "Or, there is the exhibition room..." click, and the scene switched to a large dance floor arrangement. Glass booths dotted the landscape, each surrounded by couches and chairs with deep seats and wide backs. The booths each contained a vertical metal pole like strippers use, but these additionally had an assortment of probes and dildos jutting out from various heights. "...perfect for the use of guests who wish to be seen, but not touched, and..." Click. Another room that contained no booths but more couches. Not just the wide varieties from the other room, but long flat ones, more like massage or examination tables, and curved divans that seemed to invite lounging. "...the participation room. Here our guests may interact with each other freely. A guest will usually dose themselves, pose in the position they prefer, and if anyone should find themselves in the mood, they... get… together."

   "As an example of the clientele we attract, I've asked the boys to bring in Rebecca..." He motioned to the door, and on cue two young men brought in a young woman. Literally... they carried her in on a cushioned dolly. She was leaned back on it, one hand cupping her bare breast, the other fingering her sex. She wasn't moving at all; in fact it was if she was frozen solid. A living sculpture. "Rebecca is a regular customer, and has consented to be displayed for this presentation. She has dosed herself with Plastique, and after a brief period of limited movement, has become paralyzed. As you can see, all voluntary muscle activity has been completely blocked. She is fully aware of her surroundings, but is incapable of responding." He waved her hand before her lovely still face, with no response. "The shiny cast of her skin is another side effect of the drug. The skin tightens and grows glossy as the chemical enters the sweat glands, forming a sort of protective coating. It flakes off easily once motion is possible again."

   "Rebecca was masturbating as she froze, as you can see;" he draws the audience's attention to her fingers. "the drug also acts as a potent aphrodisiac, and right now, she is experiencing a very pleasant series of sensations." He stroked a finger against her breast, and the nipple drew even tighter and harder. "I said voluntary reactions were paralyzed... as you can see, involuntary reactions are still in place. Or enhanced, as some users claim." The audience was notably interested, and even Pamela leaned forward to get a good look.

   "The effects last about an hour; upon awakening Rebbeca will be able to enjoy all that she's felt, but has not been able to do anything about, since taking the Plastique." He looked at his watch. "She's still got about twenty minutes left."

   "Gentlemen and Ladies, you have the prospectuses, you've seen what we offer; we invite you to spend the night at the club as our guests. Free of charge. Our representatives will be available throughout the evening to answer questions and arrange fund transfers for investment opportunities."

   The audience applauded lightly and meeting broke up. Several gentlemen went up to examine the beautifully frozen woman, some went straight to talk with the money people, but Pamela decided to visit the club proper. They had opened a short time before, and the place was filling up nicely.

   Several people with small glass vials were making their way to the private rooms. Pamela opted for a glass of chardonny instead and walked into the exhibition room. There were already several people in the glass-walled booths, by now frozen in an assortment of poses ranging from mildly surprised to outright horny, and ready to show the world. She watched as one woman climbed into a booth. The clubgoer was a fit young lady, wearing a little two-piece red silk outfit. Pamela sat casually down at one of the couches and watched with interest. This seemed to please the woman in the booth, who looked down and smiled coquettishly. Popping the top of the small vial, she lifted it in a toast and quaffed it down. Pamela lifted her own glass and toasted back. After only a few seconds had passed, the woman took a few deep breaths and quickly grew flushed. She began fingering her breasts through her sheer top with one hand, and rubbing her silky sex with the other. She looked out at Pamela and became even more excited caressing herself. Pamela got a bit flushed too, just from watching. The woman slipped off her top and took another languid deep breath. A light sheen of sweat was breaking across her full breasts. Then with a little wiggle of her hips, she slipped down out of her skirt, baring her sensuous body completely.

   Pamela was quite interested now. She began stroking the rim of her wineglass and licking her lips. The woman in the case brought herself to orgasm quickly, moaning and leaning against the glass. After she did, she began to appear a bit different to Pamela. Her sweat took a shinier cast, making her look more varnished than sweaty. Looking backward briefly, she maneuvered her way to the pole, sliding her shapely bottom down onto one of the probes with a moan. All of a sudden, she began to have trouble moving. Her actions grew ever slower, but the energy behind her movements grew more frenzied. Like a person trying harder and harder to move a weight that was growing progressively heavier, she kept trying to pleasure herself with her fleeting final fragment of mobility. Her fingers tickled slower and slower across her body. At the very last moment, she forced her eyes open, locked her gaze onto Pamela and... froze. It took Pamela a few moments to notice the woman wasn't moving; she couldn't draw herself away from those eyes. It was an enduring look of such complete... ecstasy.

   She stood up and walked to the glass. The woman had not moved in the slightest; she was still staring at the spot on the low sofa where Pamela had been sitting. Her ass was touching the polished bar, the probe thrust all the way in. Her chest was moving...but barely. She did not blink or make a sound. It was the most arousing thing Pamela had ever seen as she felt a dampness between her legs.  She looked back at the couch and saw that a young man had hastily taken the spot she had vacated, and was raptly staring at the frozen woman. Without a hint of embarrassment, he opened his pants, exposed himself and began masturbating. The totally motionless woman did not respond, but he did. He stroked himself to stiffness, never breaking gaze with her, giving her ad good a show as she was doing for him.  It was an oddly decoupled coupling.

   Pamela left them to themselves. She walked carefully into the participation room. That room was likewise filled with people in various states of dress and mobility. Some were lying in chairs and draped on tables, already frozen in solo erotic poses. Others had already partners. In the back of the room, a woman was being vigorously ridden by a man, and both were starting to stiffen up together. He was sliding into her with some difficulty, and she was straining to say "Ffffffaasssssterrrr...."

   There was a man with his back to Pamela. His shiny rigid skin showed he had already stiffened up. She had to see... walking over, she stroked his hard back. It was as smooth as it was shiny, like glass. The musculature was firm, but still gave to a gentle squeeze. She grew aroused by the feel, and stroked and massaged the man's dense shoulders with both hands. Looking down, she noticed a beauty mark on his shoulder blade, and gasped. She came around to face him and gasped again.

   "Mike!" she said, for indeed it was. He was laying on a low-back chaise lounge, legs open, hand at the base of his member, which was swollen to a level she'd never seen him at before. He had a come-hither look on his face that practically dared you to use him. Well, Pamela thought, I've never passed on taking a dare before. She leaned down to look him in the face. "Hi there; you said I might meet up with you later. I'm glad you waited up for me…" She stroked him a bit. God, even his cock has that smooth feeling!  It felt wonderful. She went down on him before she could think of not doing it. He didn't react at all, visibly, but the sharp salty taste on her tongue told her he was silently enjoying what she was doing.

   She pulled away momentarily and looked at him. His cock was all wet now, making it look shinier than before. She took hold of his stiffened hand and pulled at it tentatively. It moved in her grip, with an effort. She slowly eased the rigid fingers off his cock and moved his arm to the side. Mike's hand stayed posed as if yet wrapped around himself. Without saying anything more, Pamela climbed up on the chaise, straddling him, and lifted her short skirt. Her panties were already wet, practically transparent with her juices. She fingered herself, both through and under the cloth, making sure she was within the range of his fixed gaze as she did so. Finally she pulled the soggy cloth aside, exposing her nether lips, and slid down slowly onto him. God he is so big...she moaned quietly and almost lost her balance in a swoon. Her hands flew forwards, onto his chest. His nipples, hard as diamonds, tickled her palms. She took him in all the way, riding him happily. After a few pumping motions, she quite forgot it was a man she was fucking, now just using him as a big plastic sex doll. It was an amazing feeling. When he finally came, enormously, she had completely forgotten that he could. She screamed at the throbbing gush inside of her, and responded in kind. She kept riding him long after the climax faded. He still stayed hard… obviously, she thought to herself. Better loving thru chemistry! She pleasured herself a bit longer, leaned down to kiss him, and slid up and off.

   Well, she'd watched, she'd used; now… in for a penny, in for a pound. Straightening her almost soaked-through garments, Pamela walked back to the entrance and asked one of the attendants for a vial. He provided it with a knowing smile and a wink. Thinking, Later, stud, she thanked him and made her way back into the club. She saw that Rebecca (the girl from the presentation) had been brought back into the exhibition room. Several of the investors had been watching her intently as she suddenly took a long deep breath. Her long-paused hand jerked back into life, rubbing and fingering herself with increasing speed and dexterity. She brought herself to a welcome climax quickly and moaned happily. Only then did she seem to take any notice of where she was and that she'd had an audience. There was a light smattering of applause as she opened the door to the booth and stepped out. She was swamped by questions; how does it feel, how often do you come here, would you like to go to a private room? Pamela decided to leave her alone, and made her way to the back again.

   Mike was still there. She saw there was a couch right across from him. She stripped slowly, set her clothes neatly on a table and lay on that couch, facing him. She popped the vial open and sniffed it. It smelled like very strong cream soda. Pam sipped it down, neat. It felt warm and glowing going down, like a glass of strong brandy. The warmth hit the bottom of her stomach and spread quickly. She felt the blood rush to her sex, and an uncontrollable urge for pleasure. She instantly became flushed once more and started fingering herself urgently. All she had seen and done tonight had gotten her aroused already, but now it reached to another level. Her whole body tingled all over; she was already building to another orgasm. She glanced across at Mike. He had not moved, but through her swirling fog of excitement, he looked even more alluring than before. As she drove herself to further ministrations, Pamela realized slowly that she was having a progressively harder time of it. She looked down at her breasts. They were starting to grow shiny. The realization of what that meant both frightened her and at the same time aroused her further. She looked at Mike's engorged member and tried to keep going. The drug was taking control of her body and her consciousness, and it was wonderful. She moved less and less, but she was by now so aroused, the merest touch was enough to drive her on to the climax that was just seconds, moments, away. But soon, she couldn't even muster that motion. Like the last tick of a clock, she made a last little shivering moan...and stopped.

   It was like being asleep, with her eyes open. From her frozen point of view, she could see people moving around the room. Their actions seemed sped up, like she was watching a film at just a slightly wrong speed. If someone moved quickly, they actually left ghostly trails. She felt disjointed and out of phase with the world. It was like being drugged or just a little drunk, but gloriously different. Of course there was also the lingering almost-orgasmic feeling to peg her pent-up desire.

   She saw a few people awaken from their frozen spells, jerking stiffly and almost always going straight to masturbating, to relieve the sexual pressure that was trapped inside them. A few people came by and examined her frozen figure, squeezing her skin and probing her. She expected to feel shocked, but she didn't. It was more like she was flattered, honored that they found her position sexy. Perhaps that was the waves of sexual pleasure their touches gave her doing the talking.  Whichever way, I'm all ears! she thought as her suspended interlude stretched on and on, seemingly forever.

   After a while (a long pleasant while) she saw Mike inhale sharply and stir. She watched him carefully as he sat up from the pose he had held so long. He did some stretching exercises, working every muscle he could. The shiny coating on his skin cracked and flaked. He rubbed it off where he could; it fell off him like Christmas snow, glittering to the ground. He looked at Pamela and smiled. He moved towards her slowly. "I see you couldn't resist," he said smiling. His voice echoed in her head. "I hope you don't mind if I break you in."

    "God, YES!" she wanted to scream. The sight of him above her, stroking himself, inches from her wet warm sex was maddening. She watched him slide into herself, and in her mind, she screamed. The stuff made her lips firmer, and as he entered her, the walls of her sex were forced aside. It was the pleasurable opposite of when you stretch out a cramp -- the cells of the muscles screaming to remain locked in place, stretching, stretching, and then the warm rush as they give up and relax, exhausted. Plus, he was still as big and hard as he was before, which didn't hurt. Maybe he poured some extra Plastique on his dick, the sadist, she thought to herself. That was about all she was able to consider before he started pumping in earnest, using her stiffly frozen body in the same selfless, I'm-all-alone way she'd used his. It was indescribable. She couldn't even think coherently, just in fractured animalistic sound effects. He came after an eternity, and for an eternity. She responded in a feeble way physically, but in her mind she thrashed and screamed and begged for more and laughed and cried and so much more.

   Mike smiled and pulled out, wiped off and sat in a chair. Some minutes later, Pamela burst out of her shell, forcing herself to massive action as soon as she realized she could move. She dove for him... slipped, and fell to the richly carpeted floor, weak and exhausted.

   Mike knelt next to her smiling. "I should have told you," he said, stroking her hair, "it's a good idea to move slowly first. Act like you just woke up."

   "You...little...shit." She panted, trying not to laugh. "Wait till...I...can hit you."

   "Come on, you saw how everybody else was doing it." He lifted her up and lay back on the couch. He started massaging her, outward in; hands, wrists, arms, feet, calves, thighs. "Let me get the blood flowing again."

   This feels wonderful. Pamela felt better already, and didn't even notice she was fingering herself again. He did, and helped. Together they brought her to climax one more time, and this time she was able to vocalize her joy, and so she did. She even got some polite applause from some onlookers. She blushed, rose, and collected her clothes.

   Even though investors were able to visit the club free of charge, Pamela always insisted on paying, even after she became a full partner. She had a simple rule about not mooching off the company, whether it was pencils or nights of illicit sex. "Besides," she joked to Mike, "if I came here as often as I wanted, I'd run this place into the ground single handed."


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