It's dead at night when they storm into Kate's lab.

Not that Kate's sleeping. The bed she's sprawled out on is metal, wheeled, wrench clenched in her teeth as she monkeys with the undercarriage of a Mk IV Tiger. She hears the door slide open, steadies an engineer boot onto the cement and pushes herself from under the armored vehicle, only to find herself staring up at a pair of stormtroopers. "Fuck... she mutters under her breath.

Fuck is right. There's a reason they have the nickname they do, and it's not just the uniform: chrome black power armor that still manages to cling to the curves of the soldiers, insectoid helmets that cover any semblance of humanity they might otherwise have. Statuesque, sadistic bitches, the lot of them. They're the Directorates equivalent of the worst military contractors you can imagine. A riot boot cracks against Kate's rib cage. "UP!" growls one of them, filtered through the alien-sounding speakers in the helmet. She pushes quickly to her feet. If they're busting in to her place at this hour, she's got to be in serious trouble. These cats don't play. "Just let me get changed..." But they aren't hearing it. One of the troopers grabs her by the hair, flinging her towards the door. It's followed by a hard slap on the ass, the power gloves shooting a jolt of electricity through her body. She arches forward with a yelp, spark leaping through the length of her body.

"The Colonel wants to see you." and despite the filtering of the headset, she can hear satisfaction in the soldier's voice. And that's the real deep shit right there. Because however vicious these women may be, they have nothing on Colonel Givens. She's hard-bit, a soldier with a service record that could respectably fill out five lifetimes. Now she operates a substantial portion of the ADD's standing army. The stormtroopers are her personal guard, all-female soldiers hand-picked from the most ruthless soldiers she can find, the majority of them kicked out of the ADD proper, now paid personally out of the Colonel's pocket. Around the canteen, countless stories are whispered about the officer's sadism. Suffice to say, half the soldiers on Antares are more frightened of her than they are of the monsters they hunt. And if she feels the need to call Kate in at three in the morning, well.... "Terror" is a word for it, certainly. Through corridors, up elevators, weaving through the labyrinthine military complex of Antares. Her armed escort murmurs almost-heard depraved promises to each other behind her back. She dares to look over her shoulder once, only to be menacingly shown the barrel of a trooper's assault rifle. She doesn't dare look back again.

At the penthouse of Antares' highest tower, she's abruptly pushed through a door into the Colonel's office. Medals, weaponsry, trophies hang from her walls, a full wall expanded to a window, overlooking the training grounds below. A panel of monitors is set along one wall, and Kate swears she can catch glimpses of the showers and private dormitories flickering through the rotating surveillance. The Colonel sits behind the desk, in full formal uniform. She stands a good six foot, lean wolfish muscle showing even through the uniform. She's Colombian, light-skinned, her head shaved bald. A mean scar runs from her left temple to her nose, eye lost in battle, replaced with an unnerving white globe. Her lips twist upward in a sharkish smile as Kate comes tumbling in. Her one good eye eats the nubile woman's body right up. "Captain Mercury. How very 1950's sci-fi. Your name I mean. Sit down."

Kate feels underdressed: boots on her feet, and other than that just a simple pair of black bicycle shorts and a camo tank top. Her hair's pulled back into a ponytail, supple skin smeared with automotive grease. She could be a street mechanic. Obediently, she sinks to a seat across from the desk.

Fingers tap over a manila file. "You've been a very bad girl, Ms. Mercury." In any normal circumstance, that would be beyond cheesy, but the way the Colonel savors the words in her mouth sends goosebumps prickling up Kate's body. The Colonel pushes a glass of water her way, which she nervously gulps off of.

"I wasn't trying to be, Ma'am."
Before her sentence is done, the Colonel is listing indiscretions. "You're reckless. Your combat training is sub-par, which has been calamitous for you on more than one case. Worse, it's endangered the lives of other soldiers. Your scavenging missions bring back less technology than is acceptable. Girls in the engineering bay have suggested you've been hoarding the best equipment for yourself." Her lips twist distastefully at the thought. "Despite being given command of a well-trained cavalry unit, you've shown little to no leadership capacity. The soldiers under your command are arrogant, dismissive of authority, highly prone to acts of insubordination. Quite like yuorself, mm?"

Kate's shaking. She can't help herself. Her vision starts to swim. Words try to break free but get stuck in her dry mouth. Ravenously, she chugs the rest of the water. "I never intended to--"

"I don't care about your intentions, Captain. I care about results. And you've proven again and again to be more of a problem than you're worth. I can guarantee that if you're father weren't such a valuable commodity to us, I would have had you stripped long ago." A capricious, dark curl of her lips, lingering on the word stripped. "We're giving you one last chance. Sending you back to retraining immediately."

Kate can barely focus. Her body shakes, swimming vision fading from color to gray to black. She feels like she's about to hurl, voice a-slur, finding difficulty piecing words together. "You can't send me back to boot camp!"

"Oh, we're not doing quite that. We've got a different regimen in mind for you."

The words seem distant now. Something's terribly wrong, but all she can manage to squeak out is, "When---?" She's only vaguely aware as the glass falls from her grip, shattering on the floor at her feet. Her body is numb.

"We've already begun, darling." The Colonel's voice echoes as if carrying from a long corridor. By the time the words reach Kate's ears, the meaning is already lost, a gibberish mantra repeating again and again in her head as her consciousness fades to

BLACK

((Dom, I took a lot of discretion building the scene. I hope I didn't step on too many toes, but I wasn't quite sure what you had in mind))

Dominique was escorted roughly through the hallways towards Colonel Givens' office, seven sadistic stormtroopers ready to use the stun-wands on her if she so much as stumbled or coughed. She had brought the rough treatment on herself, she supposed - after knocking out the first three that had been sent to retrieve her.

The proud woman held her head straight and strode confidently, flushed with ego after easily trouncing the three "elite" troopers without even a weapon. In her mind, she deserved a medal. She knew, however, that the colonel had something else in mind.

"Get in there, you insubordinate waste of space," one of the troopers ordered in their strange robotic voices. Dominique was prodded roughly forward, through the doors to Colonel Givens' office. She strode forward and stood at attention in front of the intimidating woman's large desk. Domi's arms were crossed behind her back, forcing her large breasts out against the white cotton tanktop she was wearing. Her legs were spread widely in her military stance, with tight camouflage material hugging the curves of her hips, butt, and thighs.

"Of course, in my presence, you are the picture of obedience," Colonel Givens began, "That has always been the way. Well-behaved around me, but a menace and a rule-breaker in the field.

Dominique opened her mouth to defend herself, but was silenced by a harsh look from the colonel.

"I am not interested in your excuses. Your superiors tell me you are reckless, over-confident, won't take orders from men or 'weak' women, and won't work with a partner." The colonel shook her head as she flipped through the pages of complaint reports on her desk. Dominique's muscles were tense as the criticism continued.

"You are not giving the ADD all that you can. You are not the agent we want you to be. You're going to have to be retrained."

Again Domi started to protest, but she stopped when she saw the Colonel pull a small, strange-looking pistol from a drawer in her desk. The Colonel raised it and, without warning, fired a dart that pierced Dominique's muscular thigh.

"Sweet dreams, Dominique. I hope that when you are finished with all this you'll be the soldier I know you can be."

Dominique's head swam, and she crumpled to the floor, completely unconscious.

Murmured voices in the darkness.

"I'll show this cocky bitch there's only one good use for her big mouth."
"No you won't. Colonel wants her here. Do you really want to get sent to her private chambers for disobedience?"
"..."
"Once this is all over, we can use her however we want. Maybe Givens will let us keep her as a pet."
"Have you heard about the other one? The big bull commando they're bringing in...?"

Voices fade, and there's black again, for a while.

What do you remember?
I remember.... I remember..... I'm in trouble.
What kind of......?
I don't know....
WAKE UP

Gasp! As black fades to gray. The heat from the room is unbearable, body hot in a fever. She's foggy still, the room rolling across her eyes in a blur, sweat-slick body squirming on a damp, lumpy mattress. It's a moment before she realizes her hand is between her legs, buried deep in her sex, slippery slick, thighs sticky. Oh.... God.... Has she been touching herself the whole time she's been out? Eyes catch on a mounted camera pointed right at her. She groans, pushing herself to a seat on the edge of the bed. Sex juice drips from her fingers to the floor.

It's a cell. Well, technically, they call it a holding room for training. But it's a cell. She knows where she is: the old training facility on Antares' moon. Once a vast prison for ADD's worst captives, it was since turned into a training camp. But that was also relocated, and for the last few years, it's been desolate, abandoned. No one goes to Antares' moon, except, apparently, the Colonel and her personal guard. And whatever unfortunate girls get on their shit list.

Once her consciousness it together, she gets a good look over the room. There's not much to it. A thick steel door is the only portal out, no windows looking in. The room's stone, aggressively humid, with only a lumpy cot and a faucet pointed towards a floor drain. A dusty, cracked mirror shines a dirty reflection back at her: slick skinned, nubile body spotted with automotive grease here, bruises there. She groans, rubs at her eyes, moves to her neck.... Cold steel collar secured around her slender neck, red LED blinking slowly. It runs from her collar to her chin, severely restraining the ability to move her neck, lifting her head upward. "Oh.... fuck...." and she remembers.

She finds her new uniform carefully folded beside her on the cot. Not that there's much to fold. It takes her a good little while to figure out how the straps and buckles even fit, but a few minutes later she's looking at herself in the mirror again. She looks like a gimp. Like a plastic toy. They clearly took great care in designing a new uniform for her, a completely humiliating equivalent to the body suits she typically wears. Petite feet are slid into painfully high heels, rising to just above the ankle, patent black and laced, tipped to razor pointed 12 inch heels. Toes are pointed straight downward, leaving the impression of hooves, making it nearly impossible for the sneaker-wearing Kate to walk. It's compounded by the hobble skirt, matching latex, hugging her firm ass, tight thighs, down to past her knees, plastic-wrapped like a sex doll. It laces up the back, exposing Kate's rear all the way to the upper curve of her round derrierre. Here, a brief gap exposes tight belly, before proceeding to her corset, this laced in the front, offering the inverse view of her front end that the skirt gave to her back. Like the heels, the corset thrusts her body upward, straightening her up, restricting mobility. Round breasts are pushed upward, mangled in the cross-hatch of the lacing, pouring out of the top, which cuts far below her shoulders. Cuffs adorn her ankles and wrists, matching the collar around her neck. She stares in the mirror, horrified.

Dominique thrashes on the unfamiliar bed, her mind plagued by nightmares. In the dream she is surrounded by people who are twice her size, and they are pushing her around, sending her on errands that she is helpless but to obey. One humiliating and degrading chore after another, making her more and more tense until -

"No!" She shouts as she sat up in bed with a start, sweat dripping off her nude form. She looks around, confused for a moment, until everything comes back to her. The fight with the guards, the visit with the colonel...so now she must be here for "training." Great.

She gets to her feet and begins to pace her cell like a caged tiger. The walls were obviously too thick to break through, there were no windows, and the ceiling -

She sees the camera mounted in the corner, its red eye trained on her naked body. She scowls and covered her large breasts and pubic bush, looking around for any clothing. Her regular suits of armor and camouflage are nowhere to be found, so she has to settle for what seems to be her training "uniform."

Dominique picks up the pile of strange fabric with a look of disgust. It's humiliating and ridiculous, and she wants to tear it to pieces in disgust. Another look at the camera makes her feel even more exposed, and she begins to dress angrily. Despite the pride she has in herself and the amount of hours she spends working out, Domi is still very private about her body and doesn't like to be seen nude or in revealing clothing. That seems unavoidable today, however.

A heavy metal collar binds her neck, and red cuffs are locked around her wrists and ankles. She feels like a prisoner. The rest of the outfit seems designed to mock her strength and ego. Beneath the collar her neck and chest are bare, her breasts exposed almost down to the nipples, where a corset-like garment of black latex is strapped around her stomach and lifts her large breasts up and out, emphasizing their size and barely covering her dark nipples. Every small step she takes makes her tits jiggle wildly, and she tries to hold them still with her hands. The hands themselves are covered in tight leather mittens, which bind her fingers together, making them almost useless.

Below her waist she has been given a short, lacy, PINK skirt to wear. It is lose and airy and, due to the size of her ass, barely covers her rump and crotch when she holds absolutely still. Any kind of moment will reveal too much, and they didn't even give her any panties! Just a garter belt to go on under the skirt and long pink stockings that covered her legs and toes, which had embarrassing girlish ruffles at the ankles. What was the reason for all this!?

"Hey!" Dominique shouted once she was dressed, her dark complexion hiding an angry blush, "Hey, let me out of here! I'm going to kill whoever designed this outfit, you hear me!?"

The raging agent looked around for anything to throw at the camera, but found nothing. She stood, fists clenched helplessly inside the mittens, breasts heaving in the black corset, full of impotent anger.

At the precise moment, the cell door hissed open, and she stepped out into another chamber.

Kate's already in the room by the time Dom barges in, knees curled to her chest in the corner, hair hanging in her face, curvy cream of her legs open for Dom and the cameras to see. She's just been... waiting. Eyes dart up wildly as she hears a door open, pushing quick to her feet, body taking a defensive state. Breasts heave in the tight latex, waiting to strike. There's a moment of unbridled terror as she sees the size of the.... is that a woman? Oh god.... It's just a second before she grins. Dom strolling in, proportions surreal. Her thick ass and breasts bounce wildly in the tiny outfit. Kate giggles, she can't help herself, watching as the bull of a woman tries to keep her body in check, hands trying and failing to hold her enormous tits. "I think the ballet class is down the hall," she greets her, amused despite the situation. Eyes drift to the camera on the ceiling, nodding its presence for Dom to see, her back still against the wall, hesitant about the woman's response, despite the clownish nature of her wardrobe.

((I changed Kate's outfit. Tell me what you think!))

((I added the mittens to Dom's outfit, inspired by your great ideas!))



Dominique scowls at the insult the stranger sends her way as she enters the room. Her instinct is to slap the woman at once, but the uncertainty of the situation makes her pause. She holds her mitten-wrapped hands in front of her in what would be a ready-for-combat stance, if she wasn't wrapped up in this ridiculous outfit.

Domi looks upward, taking in the camera on the ceiling. She scowls and looks back at her companion. The girl is much shorter than her, and looks just as uncomfortable in her extreme heels and tight clothing as Dominique does in her mittens, corset, and childish skirt. Obviously the two women are both here against their will - but for what purpose?

"Who are you? Do you know why we have been brought here?" Dominique asks brusquely, trying to act composed and in-charge despite her get-up. She attempts to slow her nervous breathing, painfully aware of the heaving and jiggling it is causing in her breasts, thrust up by the tight corset.

Kate stays in the corner, too worried to stand up, fairly certain she'll end up flat on her face. Getting seated in the first place was rough enough, scrambling on all fours, the tight long skirt making it awkward and discomforting to try and maneuver her limbs in more than the most basic ways, finding it nearly impossible to gain traction with the needle-point heels. She's left with her knees pulled up to her chest, strappy heels holding her legs uncomfortably straight. Muscles ache from her thighs to the soles of her feet, but she doesn't let it show. She watches, bemused, as the humiliatingly dressed woman poses like a gladiator, shaking her head. "I don't understand anything the lunatics in command do. But I bet Mz. Givens has a hand down her panties right about now."

Palms push flat onto the floor, trying to push herself up. Heels wobble uncontrollably, and she falls back against the corner, cursing under her breath. "I figured you were here to fuck me or worse. But I know you, don't I? I've heard the grunts," lips curling with the faintest bit of condescension at that last word. "whisper about you. Some sort of uncontrollably militant dyke, right? Jessie the Body Ventura. You're some real mean bitch, right?" Lips twisting as she watches Dom's body struggle against the too-small outfit. At least there's solace in the fact that she's not the only one immobilized here.

Dominique scoffs as the girl's comments - she's heard them all before. Usually they come from men threatened by her physical strength or women jealous over her success. In a place like this, with the two of them dressed as they are, the insults seem ridiculous. But with Domi's pride and short temper, the words have already set a nasty tone.

"Do you believe everything you hear?" Dominique said dismissively as she walked the edges of the small room, looking for a way out, "About you I've heard....nothing. Does that mean you're not worth a damn?"

The tall agent looked the struggles of the high-heeled girl with a smirk. "Maybe it does," she said under her breath.

A voice from an overhead loudspeaker broke the tense silence. It was Colonel Givens.

"Ladies, I'm so glad to see you are both awake. I hope you're enjoying your new 'uniforms.' I know I'm enjoying seeing you wear them!" The Colonel laughed mockingly before continuing. "Save your strength, Kate, and stop trying to stand up on your own: you'll need all your energy for the long day you two have ahead of you!"

Dominique shouted, "Let us out of here, you crazy bitch! We know our rights!" Her fists clenched ineffectually in the crippling mittens, and her angry outburst made her exposed breasts heave over the top of her corset.

"Oh Dominique," the Colonel continued, "You have such a temper! I hope you can keep your cool today. You'll need to, if you ever want to get out of here."

About 10 feet off the ground, the seamless wall suddenly opened. Soundlessly, panels slid back and revealed a platform built into the wall, and the two agents could see a small door on top of the platform. That was obviously the only exit from the room.

"This is your first challenge, girls," The Colonel said, "I'll be watching closely. Good luck!"

The loudspeaker went dead. Dominique looked at Kate, then looked at the platform, 10 feet up the seamless wall.

"Girl, all that tells me is that you must have had your head up your pussy the past couple of years.." but her voice fades to a growl as the Colonel comes in over the speaker. Kate just listens sullenly, head bowed to her lifted knees. White teeth grind together, holding back from shouting out anything stupid. Finally, her eyes drift up to the platform, then back down to match Dom's.

She's slow, careful to respond. "Well..... You going to help me up so I can get onto that platform?"

Dominique crosses her arms across her exposed chest, looking down with disdain at the other agent.

"What are you proposing?" she asks with annoyance. "That I just give you a boost up there so you can run - well, hobble I guess - away and leave me? I don't think so!"

Dominique goes to the bottom of the platform and jumps as high as she can, trying in vain to reach the edge. As she jumps up and down, her childish skirt flares up and out, exposing her dark bush and large ass, uncovered by any panties.

After a few more frustrating attempts, Domi gives up. She pants in anger, not noticing that all the jumping has caused one of her plump breasts to pop over the top of her corset.

"Come over here so I can stand on you," Dominique says brusquely to Kate.

She's not used to moving in skirts or heels, much less the abomination they've wrapped her in for training. So this is a problem. Trying to get to her feet leaves her on her face under the ledge, all fours, ripe ass amply on display in the tight latex, eye level with Dom's thighs as she bounces up and down, smooth soft curves. For a while, Kate just stares, but as Dom starts talking, her vision trails to her face, twisting to horror. "Are you crazy? Fuck no you're not doing that! You'll crush me like a pancake!"

She scrambles up quickly, managing to level on tottering heels, body swaying back and forth as she tries to catch herself, before falling forward.. The soft, ample balloon of Dom's liberated tit smacks across her face as she falls to her knees, the tiny strip of the skirt flipped over her head, face inches from the plump, exposed lips of the other woman's pussy. Palms hit the floor for balance, head awash with the heady smell of sex and sweat.