© Copyright 2013 - StrangeHobbies - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-F; cocoon; encase; enclosed; machine; messy; wam; mud; gel; float; sen-dep; climax; cons; X
As far as she could remember, she'd always been attracted to spa treatments and other alternative therapies. She never refused to try out new kinds whenever she got the chance. Over the years she'd experimented quite a variety: mudpacks, body wraps, various sorts of baths… When planning her vacations it wasn't rare for her to take into consideration the kinds of treatments available wherever she might be going. This had been a good excuse to visit somewhat distant places. On occasions she's been covered from neck down in thick clay or seaweed paste, wrapped tightly in plastic film and reflective foil, and left to lie for a while as her body was purified by the process – so it was claimed. Her slimy body quickly heating up due to the layers of insulation, the feeling of sliding around inside the plastic sheath had proved most tantalising.
She'd travelled all around the world in the search of first class mud baths, reaching the paramount in Colombia where she was able to wallow in public pools of volcano mud, which the locals had used from ancestral times as a cure to many ailments. She had so much enjoyed squirming in the thick grey goo and getting dirty from head to toe in public, without the fear of being looked upon as a freak. This had been one of the most fun things she'd ever done in her life. If it weren't for the cost, she'd happily go back there every year. Generally, she went on these ventures all by her own, though from time to time she managed to convince good friends to join in. Usually it was her female friends that were most likely to play along. The guys on the whole tended to be too shy, even if they rarely admitted it, finding other excuses not to take part in the fun.
Nevertheless she was always a bit under the impression that her friends did it more to please her or to have a good laugh than out of real interest. Of course she didn't need any of these treatments for medical reasons, and this always made her feel a little guilty. She actually had very little faith in the benefits they claimed to offer. Most of them allegedly had detoxifying virtues. To her this notion was in itself merely a hoax invented by greedy pharmaceutical companies, totally lacking in scientific evidence. Anyway, her curiosity for these activities was purely for the enjoyment they provided her; it was all a matter of experiencing new sensations. True she'd had some disappointments, such as fish pedicure and enema-therapy; she'd not much cared having her toes nibbled at by the small critters; and though not unpleasant in itself, enema-therapy had proved just too intimidating even for her. However, she always remained open to experimentation.
The latest addition to her list was sensory deprivation. Not the kind, of course, that war prisoners where sometimes subjected to as a form of torture – though she shamefully had to admit that seeing on the news pictures of those bound individuals dressed in orange jumpsuits, blindfolded and wearing earmuffs, somewhat excited her in a perverse way. The kind of sensory deprivation she'd tried was achieved by isolation in a floatation tank. She'd done this several times while away on vacation; it had been a most enjoyable experience. Unfortunately there was no float-centre – as the facilities that provided the service were called – close to where she lived. Therefore, she was understandably very excited when one day she got an advert in her mailbox announcing the imminent opening of one nearby. It claimed to be equipped with the latest sensory deprivation technology. And moreover they were offering a free trial session for the first hundred customers who sent back the answer card. This was too good to be true!
When she'd first tried floatation, on vacation the previous summer, she'd been guided to a dimly lit private room that contained little more than a shower cubicle and a pod-shaped water tank. After having showered and inserted foam plugs into her ears, she'd immersed herself naked in the warm water. The tank was large enough for her to float on her back without touching the edges. The water was saturated with salt – Epsom salt actually – therefore she'd been able to float, legs slightly apart and arms to either sides, with her face well above the surface, like when bathing in the Dead Sea, in no risk of accidently drowning. The water and the air were heated at body temperature, this way she no longer was aware of the boundaries between her body and the outer world. A typical floatation session lasted around one hour.
Once installed in the isolation tank and having lowered the cover of the pod, she'd pressed a "start" button as instructed. Relaxation music had played for a few minutes accompanied by slowly changing coloured lights, which then had faded away leaving her in total darkness and silence. At first she'd found the experience agreeable but kind of uneventful. Then as she began to let go and relax, her mind had drifted into a semi-meditative state. When the lights and the music had come back, signalling the end of the one-hour period, she'd been surprised it was over so quickly. Time had flown by. The whole experience had been incredibly soothing and left her feeling rejuvenated and stress-free. Not that she cared much, they said it was also good against arthritis, migraines and high blood pressure, and improved mental activity.
Naturally, she'd applied for the free trial offered by this new facility. She just hoped she had responded quickly enough and would be among the first hundred. In the meantime she tried to keep the matter out of her mind. Anyway, she was going through a tough time at work, which kept her focused on other issues; so much so that she'd nearly forgotten when a few weeks later she received a phone call from the float-centre's reception telling her they were ready to make an appointment for her free session. They asked her if she wished to book a regular isolation tank or if she wanted to try one of their new ones. They were very reluctant to explain over the phone quite how these differed from the regular kind, claiming it was something that was best experienced firsthand. This itself was enough to arouse her curiosity and she made the only possible choice.
The centre was located in the basement of an impersonal office block. The only sign of its existence was a small nameplate in the lobby. She took the elevator down to the lower level. At the other extremity of a long corridor with bare concrete walls lit by harsh fluorescent tubes, some of which flickered annoyingly, she pushed a door also bearing the sign of the float-centre. The contrast with the corridor was startling. The lighting in the lobby was dimmed and of a pleasant colour. The interior decoration was sleek with no sharp angles. Actually it felt a bit like being underwater. The employees were all uniformly dressed in white jumpsuits. She gave her name and asked for some details about the session.
The person behind the desk explained that their new isolation tanks didn't contain salty water but a synthetic isotonic solution that had been especially devised by their research lab. Also she would not be strictly floating, but completely submerged. As this was still a somewhat experimental technology, she was asked to fill-in a question form. Another one would be given to her after the session for customer feedback. Some questions concerned her previous experiences of sensory deprivation. Others where more general; she was surprised at how personal some of them were. For instance she was asked her sexual orientation. But the survey being anonymous she completed it as truthfully as possible. An additional sheet served as a waiver. She certified that she was not claustrophobic and did not have any heart or breathing conditions.
She was then given an instruction card to read through. Everything looked pretty straightforward, though somewhat more complicated than the regular floatation. She hoped all this extra technology would not be too distracting and prevent her from reaching the proper state of mind. She had showered and was now standing naked in her private room. She was petite – a little too short in her own eyes – but had pleasing features, a tight waist and shapely hips and breasts. The tank consisted of two hinged shells made out of perfectly transparent Perspex. The lower half was filled with a clear liquid. She inserted in her ears the pair of silicone plugs that were provided. She'd also been instructed to put-on a plastic nose clip and to protect her eyes with low-profile self-adhesive goggles. Connected to the inside of the tank was a respirator tube with on the end a mouthpiece similar to that of a snorkel.
Having lowered herself into the liquid, she put the respirator in her mouth and took a couple of breaths. The air came easily; she would have no problem breathing. The liquid had a different feel to it than the salt saturated water. It was a little thick and slimy. It was also less buoyant and she floated with her face half under the surface. Lying on her back, a little nervous with anticipation, she punched the start button that was to her side. Slowly the upper half of the tank automatically lowered itself, hermetically sealing her in a transparent cocoon. Her only link to the outside world now was the breathing tube.
She quickly started to relax and must even have dozed off because she came back to her senses with a start and the weird sensation that the liquid was thicker than before. Indeed it now had the consistency of a gel. She could still move her arms and legs, but only with an effort. She could feel that her long hair was caught in the thick substance; when she tried moving her head, it tugged at her scalp. Then as it continued to thicken, to the point of nearly solidifying, she gradually became irremediably trapped. She had a moment of panic. To calm herself down she took a couple of deep breaths and told herself this was no more distressing than the time when she'd been totally immersed in thick mud with only her head showing, hardly able to move a muscle. It was just that her past experiences of floatation tanks had not prepared her for this. They really ought to have warned her, but maybe the element of surprise was intended… She was conscious that the upper shell was being filled up too; now entirely submerging the little of her face and body that up to then had still remained exposed.
Even then she could see the room through the clear substance, though her sight was somewhat distorted. After a little while, long enough for the second batch of gel to solidify, a mechanism set her cocoon upright and a whole section of wall opened-up. With the shifting of the pressure on her body, the sensation of going from horizontal to vertical position was oddly disorientating. Her tank now formed a circle with several other identical ones – each of them containing a naked human form, most if not all female, though it was hard to tell; as they were lit from the back, the only thing she could make out was the dark outline of the motionless bodies they contained. She could not help thinking they looked like insects trapped in amber, or embryos in their wombs with the breathing tubes as umbilical cords. Those with long hair had a petrified mane surrounding their head; she guessed this must have been much what she looked like. When she tried to move her limbs, the gel gave way a little, but the elasticity returned them to their original pose as soon as she let go.
It was pleasantly warm and soft. The sensation was very soothing. After the initial surprise, she had no problem letting go and her mind quickly started to drift. The colour of the lighting slowly changed and sounds resembling whale-songs resounded in the vault, reaching her ears in a muted and distorted fashion through the thick material encasing her.
After a while, freaking out a bit, she started to wonder how long the session would last. It must have been more than an hour by then, though she really couldn't have told precisely, having completely lost track. She remembered that the instruction card had said to give a yell if she needed help. Taking this literally she tried shouting into the mouthpiece. Shortly after she did so, the tank smoothly returned to its original horizontal position and the upper half opened with a loud suction noise. She saw a person wearing nothing but a skin-tight unitard of pure white fabric enter the room. Using a blunt blade she was easily sliced out of the gel, though large clumps still dangled from her hair. The assistant helped her get out of the tank and without a word left her sitting on a wooden bench nearby to recover.
Wow, what an experience that had been! She took a shower to get rid of the remains of gel that still clung to her skin and hair; it dissolved easily enough in the warm water. She now wished she hadn't put an end to the experience so soon. Nevertheless seeing a wall clock back in the reception area she realised that she'd been there for over three hours. Having completed the customer feedback form, she enquired about the cost of the sessions. They were priced by duration. She could purchase a card with so many hours worth and the time she actually spent in the tanks would be deducted after each session. Other than that it was up to her to use her credit as she wished. It was by no means cheap but considering how long she'd stayed on her trial run, she decided to get a 30 hours card nevertheless. Before leaving she booked right away a session for the following Saturday morning. In the mean time she could hardly keep herself from thinking of the experience; how awesome it had been! She so much looked forward to her next appointment.
The following weekend she was so agitated when she got up on the Saturday morning that she literally had to force herself not to rush things. Though she'd woken up long before her alarm rang – something that normally never happened on weekends – she'd deliberately stayed in bed a while more, then got up and had a good breakfast. With hardly any recollection of her trip to the float-centre or of completing the formalities, she quickly found herself once again stark naked in front of the Perspex tank. She intentionally took her time to get ready, intending to make the most of every moment and get in the right state of mind. She stepped in the lower shell and slowly lay down in the warm liquid. Too nervous to fall asleep like the previous time, she gradually felt the gel thicken to the consistency of jello.
Only once she was fully encased and in the vertical position did she really begin to relax and drift in and out of sleep, determined to enjoy it as long as she could. Every so often she was conscious of the other tanks in the room coming and going. Sometimes they remained absent for a while but soon enough they returned containing a different naked shape. She couldn't help wondering what the others were making of the whole experience, if they were enjoying it as much as she was; but at the same time it was hard to think of them as actual people, transformed as they were into inanimate objects. She found the sensation of being in an inescapable embrace extremely sexually enticing. Squirming in her cocoon was enough of a stimulation to bring her close to an orgasm. She hoped she wouldn't climax; how embarrassing that would be if ever it happened.
In the past when bathing in thick mud, she'd been in the habit of masturbating, daydreaming she was having sex with a handsome lover, both their slimy bodies writhing one against the other. Somehow doing so hadn't felt wrong then… After a while she started to feel a little hungry, it must have been past her lunchtime, she thought. She eventually realised that all the other tanks were empty. Maybe they had fewer customers during the lunch break. Suddenly, without having signalled for help, her tank was lowered and she was freed. "Closing time!" the assistant announced, releasing her from the gel. She couldn't believe she'd spent nearly a whole day there. No wonder she was getting hungry. She walked out into the warm evening sunshine completely dazed.
Over the next few weeks she returned regularly, sometimes spending just a couple of hours, sometimes managing to remain encased from opening to closing time. She discovered that if she had a sufficiently large breakfast on an empty stomach before leaving for the float-centre, she did not really feel the need to eat before the evening; remaining motionless for a whole day did not require much energy she supposed, and she could quite easily spend a day without really having to go to the bathroom. Surprisingly she did not feel thirsty. She assumed the air supplied by the breathing tube contained enough humidity to avoid her becoming dehydrated. She feared she might be getting addicted to the experience. She forced herself to wait longer between sessions, to have other activities and spend more time with her friends. She did not tell them about the centre, thinking they would not understand, that they would tell her there were better ways of spending her time and money.
But nevertheless she was always drawn back to the place, especially after a tough week at work. Being unable to move even if she wanted to was so refreshing. While she was in the tank it was as if nothing else really mattered anymore. She could just exist without having worry about anything; not think about the things she needed to do. As time passed she became more daring. First she stopped using the earplugs, the gel dissolved so easily in warm water that she reckoned it would not be that hard to clear her ear ducts. Then she also gave up the nose clip having found she could force herself to breathe through her mouth the time it took the gel to solidify. She'd expected to be reprimanded about this by the assistant who released her, but no comment was ever made.
She also enjoyed moving her arms and legs to feel the substance gradually thickening and inexorably taking hold of her body. Once it became too thick for her to move anymore, she assumed a pose with arms spread out and legs apart, fanning out her fingers so none would touch; this way she maximised the surface of contact between her body and the gel. She loved the sensation of the thick substance gently pulling at her flesh when she tried to move – it was incredibly erotic. A couple of times she even tried not using the goggles in order to have the least distraction possible, but this meant keeping her eyes tightly shut as the liquid tended to sting a bit. Moreover she rather enjoyed looking at the occupants of the other cocoons and fantasising about them. To further increase her symbiosis with her environment, she made sure some gel got between her buttocks and that it fully penetrated her vagina. The suction of the solidified gel on her clitoris was overwhelming. She let herself reach orgasm. When this happened she had to control herself not to shout in the mouthpiece, which would have brought a premature end to the experience. Once she had climaxed she would lay still, her mind drifting in a dreamful state.
Having booked a session by phone a few days earlier, she turned up at the facility to find that the door at the end of the basement corridor would not open. She pressed the bell-push to no avail. She called and banged the door but there was no answer. How frustrating! She wondered if she might have written down the appointment incorrectly. She'd never been aware that there were closing days; maybe they were shut for maintenance. Having returned home she tried phoning but still there was no answer, just a recorded voice asking to leave a message and promising to call back. The following days she phoned again and also returned to the centre to check if it was open. Her phone calls were never answered and the door remained locked. She tried asking around if anyone knew what had happened, but very few admitted having the smallest knowledge that the centre even existed or what its activity was. She now wished she had socialised with the other users of the facility rather than just stare at them while encased.
In the end after a few months the sign in the lobby and on the basement door disappeared. It was as if the centre had never existed at all. She felt a huge sense of loss. She was fully aware that she would probably never experience again something quite as amazing in her whole life. It had all been too good to last. Her disappointment changed into anger. She still had many hours worth on her card; they could at least have given her money back. Maybe they'd run into financial problems. Could the whole scheme have been really economically viable? The investment in the technology and equipment must have been huge. Or perhaps they'd had legal problems; maybe someone had drowned in one of the tanks. In any case there was nothing she could do about it. She'd done all she could and now needed to move on. Anyway it was probably for the best, she tried to convince herself. The whole thing had really become too addictive.
Then one day, more than a year later, she received a letter bearing the logo and name of the float-centre. By then she was no longer obsessed anymore with the whole affair, though it had taken her a while to totally stop thinking about it. She'd gradually given up her pursuit of alternative therapies, having never found anything that topped or even remotely reached what she had experienced in those wonderful isolation tanks. But that day, seeing the name printed on the envelope, her heart instantly started racing and it was with a trembling hand that she ripped the letter open…
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