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About Literature / Hobbyist Member PhantomFemale/United States Group :iconmiragecorp-intl: MIRAGECorp-Intl
When bondage meets industry!
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Grabgrass Garden by phantomdotexe
Grabgrass Garden
Grabgrass Garden
Story is light on the sex, heavy on the plant bondage. Some organic rubbery enclosure. 

Original image by :icongreat-dude:, commissioned by me. 

Featuring the very talented Natasha Zhukov, courtesy of :iconbullittblank:

Also available in fully-enclosed flavor. -> Grabgrass Garden - Fully Encased

There was a shark. A glassy stare; sharp features; grinning teeth. She was circling her prey, staring at nothing in particular and only soaking in the circumstances of a doomed mark.

The target, of course, thrashed, which only made things worse for the captive and all the more exciting for the hunter.

Phantom's predatory gaze moved up and down her catch, and then again.

"Miss Zhukov. It would appear that you have, again, tried to escape. To attempt this once is to be expected. But a second? A third time?"

Natasha's arms were busy digging tight at her legs. She had a fairly formal outfit on; a skirt, long, dark pantyhose, pumps, a slowly rising black-and green plant...

"Phantom! What the hell?! I told you that I had a meeting with-"

"With your bodyguard?"

"With a friend! I have my own life, too. You can't just spring this crap on me. I *told* you that I was leaving."

Phantom's glassy gaze never changed. She continued to circle Natasha. She pretended not to hear her.

"I really cannot show you the same mercy I did when you last attempted escape."

Natasha's eyes rolled so hard they could've knocked out a strike. "What - what is wrong with you? Are you still having fun playing supervillainess? You - you've got a conference or something, is that it? And you want me there as eye candy?" She smiled, eyes wide, speech fast, hands gesticulating wildly. "You know, I invent like... a measurable percentage of the stuff you show off at those conferences, and most of the time you just have me there like a bimbo. Or sometimes, not like a bimbo, *as* a blonde bimbo! Oh, and one last thing, "Mistress Phantom," being your vacbed wall-art - while nice - isn't exactly my definition of "merciful." Nor is being used as the flag in "capture the flag" in the holo-training rooms."

Phantom's upturned smile turned flat.

"So. Are you going to let me out of this grabgrass, or what?"

Natasha Zhukov, super-scientist, had found herself in a situation that Tarzan would have found familiar. After trying to leave MirageCorp's headquarters without permission, she had triggered the 'grabgrass' - synthetic plant life to... grab.

Even now, it continued to wrap her helpless body. Enzymes dissolved hose and the spandex uniform she had worn. The grass itself consisted of an exceedingly thick layer of rubbery membrane. It fed off of her warmth, and the more it  coated her, the warmer it grew.

When she had first been snared, she thought she could simply remove the grass - but the moment she tried, the grabgrass tripled its efforts. It emitted a gooey sap that seemed to harden into jet-black resin. Within a few minutes, her legs had been thoroughly glued in place and then rooted into the soil. It was comedic.

Or at least, it *was* comedic for a time. The plant grew onto her by 'slapping' her with thick, ribbon-like vines. It sent a shock down her spine every time, for sure; the sensation of being flogged and shortly after a tight compression. Each vine that 'slapped' on to her tugged against another vine, increasing pressure - which in turn created a chain reaction. Every time she made leeway against her rubbery enclosure, another slap would adjust itself.

She was starting to move from the 'struggle' to 'squirm' phase. As Phantom stared at her, two thick vines finally took her by the arms. Ribbons of membrane shoved her fingers into balls, and with an inhuman reflex, compressed. She was now bagged up to her forearms, with hands balled up behind her back. Every flogging slap was another nail in her coffin.

Speaking of such grotesque thoughts, she was now quite rooted. In the time it had taken Phantom to monologue, the grabgrass has dug her into the soil. Presumably, it was a way to 'store' the victim; bury them partially, encased by a loving, living rubber plant and left to wait until MirageCorp came. Well, the cavalry was here, and all she was doing was thinking.

"Hey. Phantom?"

Phantom's eyes finally settled. She had spent so long eying up her target, she hadn't taken the time to empathize. Neurotransmitter levels were elastic. Judging by her horomone levels, Natasha seemed to have past 'exasperated' and saw some degree of humor in her situation.

Phantom sighed. It was a genuine sigh. Maybe she had been playing with Natasha too much; she was only human, after all. Phantom giggled, thinking of the Posthumans still wriggling in her lab. Maybe some time apart would do them good.

"Of course, Natasha. It was inconsiderate of me. Please. Give me a moment to free you."

Another loud, squishy 'slap' made Natasha's eyes grow wide. It has quite vigorously spanked her; this grass knew the warmest spots on her body, and that meant making sure her generous chest, intimates, and supple neck were all quite thoroughly enclosed! She gulped, sticky resin now encasing her in a living sack. Green-tinted and shining black now help her sultry figure hostage... and the heat was only increasing. 

Two tiny vines pricked up from soil, coiling their way around Natasha. They performed and exquisite display of synthetic craftsmanship, harnessing and effortlessly tying Natasha's sacked form in endless knots. The finishing touch circled around her vulnerable teats, now visible through the membrane; they coiled, circle, and settled on snugly binding and compressing her chest. She mewled in annoyance and sexual frustration as they prodded and pinched.

From the earth, four massive leaves appeared. These were a vibrant green; an interesting contrast to the black membrane. But they were also much thicker. It sent her a shiver down her spine. Already, vines slapped against her neck, her lips... soon she'd be totally encased - a living source of warmth and life for the plant. Knowing Phantom's ceaseless demands for captives, the plant would keep her alive and well for - well, she didn't want to do the math.

It was time to turn on the charm. As Phantom moved in closer, setting up her projector to give some pheremonal commands, Natasha gave the poutiest, cutest, and most pin-up smile she could. It was a little hard with thick rubbery plant over her lips, but she gave it her all. Blinking her eyes and shuffling, grinding her thighs, she was the very image of pin-up cuteness. 

Phantom moved in close, and stroked her friend's hair. She was just too cute sometimes. White fingers touched the dark, gossamer hair of her chief scientist. Phantom moved in for an apologietic smooch.

She never made it. By the time she felt the second patch of grabgrass beneath her boots, she was already sinking, vines already flogging, membrane already closing.

Within a few minutes, the only thing visible was a forgotten control device and the squirming, curvaceous forms of two women, half-buried in the ground. Gurgling sounds, mewls, and frequent oily rustles echoed through the forest.

It would be hours before Phantom's security would find her, and several more hours after that a backup security team would be sent to find the first.

Soon, more flowers appeared. 

I have several stories coming out soon. After that, get ready -  I'll be opening for commissions this month. 
Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: sexual themes)
Waiting in a line was worse than waiting around. There was no leaning or sitting, just constant standing. There was no possibility of dozing off or losing attention, for there was always the chance that the queue would proceed. It was maddeningly dull.

Except for today. Today, Alashra's wait in a line was the most terrifying, horrifying, and unendingly stressful experience she could have imagined. Her heart raced with every forced step and fingers clenched at the constant sounds emanating throughout the hall. Every sense was overloaded; her eyes flitted across a dark room, seeing shadows against dim light on every wall. Her nose was assaulted with odors of exotic jasmine and spices mixed with oil. And of course, there was the unending chanting; the chanting which seemed to have no end. 

Her day had not started on a positive note. Alashra had spent unending, back-breaking hours slaving - quite literally - on Exemplar Khymrasa's tomb. Gigantic gears, cogs, and machinery that she had no chance of understanding. It had come across to hear as a great surprise, when, on the final day of construction, the gears - which the thought to be part of a religious device or trap  - came to life.

Already, Khymrasa's voice boomed through the hall, echoing with the strange tones and ethereal cues of magic. Strange and supernal words filled the ears of Alashra and the other workers as well. Each of them, in turn, was a person held by an arcane order. 

"To my many loyal servants! Construction is finished, and you have performed admirably. Your payments have already been sent. Please, return to the foyer of the tomb, where I will personally greet you."

She grew suspicious. Alashra was jaded. She, along with the other dozen or so workers, marched back to the foyer. Odd, since there was another exit nearby.

The foyer consisted of a massive stone plinth at the center where Khymrasa's body would eventually lay upon her death. She was relatively young, and the matriarch of a large family. She had no need of a tomb - not yet, in any case. In the center of the room, surrounding the central plinth, were several dozen stone disks, each base slightly raised above the carefully-hewn floor. Alashra could practically see herself in polished rock. She grinned; it had been her own handiwork.

"Stand on the disks, laborers." The voice boomed, and as though it were a vision, Khymrasa appeared. She wore elaborate headdress and a tight, cotton robe that hugged her every curve. Golden jewelry and bangles ringed her arms and the ankles of her bare feet. Shining beads hung from her ears. Her wrap covered her olive skin with a bright white, lit by a single ray of light from outside the tomb. She appeared to glow, with her many golden rings and piercings sending shines and glimmers across the foyer hall.

It was customary to provide a bonus to laborers; usually through some ceremony that dedicates the tomb. Alashra's mind could scarcely predict Khymrasa's cruel streak. 

Khymrasa stamped her staff against the plinth she stood on, and hell broke loose. 

Bandages of softest linen shot from the circumference of all twelve disks. These long lines of soft linen cloth each smelled heavily of spices, dried out in the hot sun of the desert. Magically prepared and possessing incredible strength, the bandages universally wrapped around the ankles of the laborers; Alashra included. Attempts to leave were impossible; all that she could do was fall over. Even as Alashra did so, she was stood back up! Bandages wrapped around her knees and wrists, several times apiece, and raised her magically back into the air to a straight standing position. It gave her the chance to make eye contact with the cruel captor as she began to pontificate.

"As we all know, human sacrifice is illegal in the Kingdom. So be not alarmed. I would never break such a hallowed law."

Bandages moved around Alashra's ankles. They were tight here; extra-tight. They already kept her feet bound to the stone circle; their pungent, soft textures gripped her like glue. 

"Unfortunately, I am in need of slaves and caretakers in the afterlife. And you all have done such a sublime job, I have decided to keep you. Therein lies the rub, though; I am nowhere near death. So, I have a simple solution; preserve you as my royal larder! Each of you, encased in perfect seals and kept alive through my own magic. It should and will be an honor! Each of you, poor laborers, will experience strict and completely inescapable mummification by the hand of a royal Exemplar. What could be greater?"

Grinding stone filled the ears of the shouting captives. Alasrha herself clutched at her ears so great was the din. Chanting of spells, from somewhere deep within the temple, seemed to be on par with the grinding sounds. The single light above closed, and the room was now lit only by the bizarre glow of Khymrasa.

The disks were moving. She couldn't see what was at the far end, but she hear the sound of more bandages, moaning, squirming, and soon after, silence - followed by loud grinding stones. The gears and cogs were powering this room; she just didn't know what it did.

Bandages began their encasement of each victim in turn. As the stones moved, more layers would be added; it was a veritable assembly line, and Khymrasa was at the halfway point. So dark was the room, that she couldn't see what awaited her far on the other side.

The bandages that rooted her were just the start. The layers were horizontal and careful; every inch brought another strip of bandage. It coated her at her ankles - again, just for good measure - up to her knees, her calves, thighs... and her hands. Both arms were forced into a crossed position around her stomach, hugging herself tightly as the first layer continued. Her laborer garments were systematically ripped from her body, leaving only her bare olive flesh to feel the brunt of the encasing assault. It covered her belly snugly, and then wrapped her extremities; each finger was wrapped, then together as a single mitt, then finally back over her similarly-wrapped breasts. The curves of the bandages removed the individuality and created a single, sleek outline; no blemishes or traits of personality were visible as it proceeded to her chin.

"All slaves - ahem,  sorry, you were "laborers" - will be paid handsomely. Each of you is given the gift of magical youth, here, with me! Of course, to maintain said spell - and to maintain your magical wrappings - we need two things. First, the room needs to be completely dry; water and moisture will destroy the magic that makes the bandages as hard as steel, as well as... oh, you'll see. Furthermore, you need to be completely wrapped - a perfect seal. Inside and out alike."

Alashra gritted her teeth and shut her eyes; she didn't want to feel the assault on her body. Bandages filled her up from the inside out, with moistened rolls of soft cotton plunging into her womanhood and rear, expanding and spreading arcane energy through her body. Her lips were spread and mouth packed tight, stifling the pleas for mercy into pouts that exited her lips.

Bandages held her upright as a second layer descended. Though the first had started clean, the many wraps that encased the victims grew messier as they reached the arms and legs. A second layer of wider bandages solved that - stretching over breast, arm, leg, and any remaining flesh. 

The plugged mouths of the captives were gently wrapped; thin layers and strips at first starting at their moaning lips. Then, thicker bandages which wound all the way 'round their heads, proceeding to further layers that concealed their faces. Alashra saw it happen before it reached her; layering over her lips, then nose and mouth, then eyes and short-cropped hair. So tight were her wraps that even her hair disappeared; compressed tight against her skull. A smooth layer of thick off-white was the only indication that a moaning and mewling woman was below. 

As the 'production line' continued, a few minor touches - extra wraps around key areas and enchanted runes of wax - were applied. When she reached last stages, she could scarcely detect what was happening.

Resin poured from the ceiling. It slathered over the form of Alashra and each slave that had come before her. In the dry atmosphere of the tomb, it set within a few moments; Alashra moved to the next area, her disk grinding against the stone floor, and more resin poured.

This repeated four times more. Each time, the hardening resin would dribble down, coating the white mummies in exotic shades of amber. By the third, it was no longer clear as to whether the mummy was male or female; by the fourth, it was only a vaguely humanoid shape. Well and truly encased, but messy. 

At the last station, Alashra was motionless. She stewed in her own head, magical energies disrupting her thoughts and sapping what willpower she did have. A granite mold - one that she herself had carved - emerged from the walls. She was 'stamped' ; pressed in a mold that turned the messy resin into the final, outer shell of a sarcophagus. It was an elegant thing, a slim and vaguely feminine casket that held within it one of the 'grave goods' for the sorceress. No sound or movement escaped.

An hour later, all had been completed. Each and every disk now held a mummy, encased and enclosed and molded. Khymrasa grinned; she had taken to luxuriating, enjoying a crystal-clear pitcher of water and a plate of figs.

"Well, I have some time to spend Corbeau - one of my other possessions. Ta-ta." The exemplar casually threw the remnants of her meal to the ground, and strode out of the tomb with a haughty chuckle. Her laughs were the only sounds that echoed through her future tomb. 

Grave Goods
Contains bondage, mummification, encasement.

Mummy bondage isn't everyone's cup of tea. I try to make the content of the stories clear in the comments section, so that users seeking titillation or entertainment can avoid that which is averse to their proclivities. 

That said, I generally try to write for myself; art can be something you hold tight and in secret. Design needs someone else's involvement on the part of the user or reader.

This story is just for me. I enjoy the wrapping, the tightness, the inescapability; it's bondage taken to its logical end. Mummification is the ultimate role reversal; leaving someone snug, intact, but utterly helpless and vulnerable through strict and snug wrapping. It's like being weightless, or in a sensory-deprivation tank. And for me, strict encasement and magic isn't necessarily a bad thing to help establish kink and tone.

This story was inspired by a Sebastian piece, found here.…
  • Mood: Joy
  • Listening to: "The Moth Radio Hour"
  • Reading: "The Secrets of Cats"
  • Watching: Sherlock
I sometimes feel an earnest guilt about submitting others' work on my account. When it's a gift, I submit it so that it gets more coverage; when it's a commission, it's an idea I want to show off. 

First of all, I'm making a declaration; if I submit some visual art, I'll alternate it with something original I've written.

Second, and I'd like to re-iterate this; I don't draw anything. I write a lot. 

There are many artists who draw images to accompany vignettes or chapters; I like to imagine myself as being a competent enough writer to let her work stand without visual accompaniment. 


Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
Time-Traveler, Educator, Hobbyist Writer, Gamer

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sangowarriorslayer Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
Hello, I got a Halloween surprise on my deviantart and it involves one of the dinarangers.
Hiveminder Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Aaand thanks a lot of the watch. ^^ *bows*
(1 Reply)
SinnerDom Featured By Owner Oct 16, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
npr...slide by...the usual jew mafia on npr...woody allen...coping riffs..."oh..I  have to hit them between the porn and the pizza"...
And...*that* is the total lack of substance that will be "eh whateva" of all these guys...
Shennanigma Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for adding me to your DeviantWatch! I hope you'll love what I have in store!
sandertulk Featured By Owner Sep 4, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks alot for the watch :)
(1 Reply)
Whyita Featured By Owner Aug 28, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
OMG why have I never seen you before?! I mean just your tagline alone combines my favorite things: games, anime, and bondage! And in the case of my avatar...bare stomachs ^///^
(1 Reply)
Lolice-Scarlet Featured By Owner Aug 26, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Wow.  Your persona is cute.  >w<  And I do lurves me some bondage from time to time.  >w<
(1 Reply)
sangowarriorslayer Featured By Owner Aug 24, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
Miki Fujiwara from Dinaranger is in my Deviantart.
sangowarriorslayer Featured By Owner Aug 19, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
I got a new zofa soldier pic. please check it out.
SraSomeone Featured By Owner Aug 19, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for watch :D
(1 Reply)
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