The Cheerleader Takeover
It was a big day for Drake Industries. The corporation was about to demonstrate some of its’ latest technological developments. A small group of media would witness quite the little show. Mr. Carl Drake, the 53 year old founder and chairman of the company had just shaken his chief scientist’s hand when Rod Crane, his publicity man initiated a conversation. “Well Carl, we should be in for quite a performance.” Rod was a good guy, but he always reminded Carl of a sleazy car salesman. “I hope so, we could really use the investment dollars a media frenzy would generate.” Carl answered. Rod’s lips formed a sly smile, “Don’t worry boss, this little demo will amaze ‘em all, and it’s got just the right amount of sexy interest to grab everyones’ attention.
Mr. Drake walked over and rejoined his wife and daughter, who were here for the show. Marcia was a lovely woman at 47 years old, with platinum blond hair and a dynamite figure. His daughter Anne was a beautiful 19 year old getting ready to head off to school in the fall. They were great assets to Carl during these little public events. A camera crew and a knot of reporters surrounded the family in there seats. As they all settled in and got comfortable, Rod approached the microphone. “Good afternoon ladies and gentleman, we’re so very glad you could come out for our little demonstration.” Rod cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, “Let’s begin by introducing you to a small group of volunteers, please come out ladies.”
Four women walked out from behind a curtain. An attractive woman of perhaps 50, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and her graying black hair in a bun lead the procession. She was older, but still quite attractive, with a slim athletic build. She wore a simple green pantsuit. Next in line was a short, pretty Latina, who looked to be in her early twenties. She had her brown hair tied in a pony tail and wore a jogging suit. The third woman was a strawberry blond with bright blue eyes. She was pretty and fit, with a little bit of a belly. The final woman was a teenager in a fast food restaurant uniform. She was pretty, with stringy blond hair. Rod smiled and gestured towards them, " We found these women at a local mall and asked them if they would mind participating in our little demonstration.” Looking toward the gathered audience Rod continued, “They graciously consented to do so. The only thing they have in common is reasonably good health. Other than that they are unremarkable save for their willingness to take part in this little activity.” A woman in a lab coat moved up toward the group of girls as Rod continued, “Please follow Dr. Edwards ladies, we’ll wait for you out here.” The women followed the Dr. out of the Room.
“While we wait, the ladies are being in Drake Industries’ latest development, Sense-sheath.” With this, Rod held up what looked like pantyhose material, tan, and somewhat shimmery. “Sense-sheath is a skin tight, soft, muscular enhancer that can be controlled by a computer system, making computer precise actions possible for the wearer.” The crowd murmured a bit as Rod continued, “right now, the ladies are putting on body suits make of sense sheath, and special uniforms.” Rod grinned as he went on, “None of them have any special training or experience in dance, gymnastics, or movement, which will be startling because of what you are about to witness.
Slowly, the four women walked back into the room. Each was dressed in a flesh colored body suit, apparently made of the Sense-sheath material. The body suits covered their entire bodies, save for a V-neck plunge at their chests, and their heads. Over the body suit, each wore a Cheerleaders Uniform. Each woman wore a blue tank top with a white star on the chest, a white vest, matching white hot-pant shorts, and a pair of white knee-high go-go boots with 4-inch chunky heels. The strange shimmer of the Sense-sheath gave the women’s exposed skin a strange sheen. In each woman’s hand was a white pom-pom.
As the women stood in a line, Rod addressed the audience, “Now, our facility’s computer will take over for the ladies, providing it’s precise control.” The girls looked a little confused as each of their bodies shook a little. “Don’t worry girls, just enjoy the ride.” Rod offered. In response each of the cheerleaders smiled nervously.
“Now let’s go!!!” Rod bellowed. A fast moving techno beat come on over a sound system. Simultaneously, each of the women began to perform in unison. With looks of surprise and wonder on their faces, they went into a serious of perfectly synchronized dance steps and cheering routines. The audience was awe struck. Carl Drake smiled from ear to ear as the media people talked amongst themselves excitedly. It was mind-bending to see these normal women perform with such precision, to see them move with such skill and grace. The act went on for almost 15 minutes, just as the women began to look a little tired an flustered. As the act reached it’s climax, all four women did simultaneous splits, landing in a perfectly timed progression.
“Let’s hear it for our volunteers, and Drake Industries and new Sense-Sheath!” The small audience erupted into applause. As they crowded around Mr. Drake and his family for comment, no one took notice of the Cheerleaders. Each was panting slightly as she got up. Reaching their feet, they all walked in unison over to a tool box. The older woman in glasses asked, “Shouldn’t we be able to control ourselves again, why are we still moving according to the computer?”
With speed and precise action, the three of them opened the top drawer and pulled out pistols. At the same time, the strawberry blond with the slightly pronounced belly reached into the bottom of the cabinet and pulled out a large stuffed animal. It was a white and blue armadillo, with a speaker grill in it’s mouth, and camera lenses in it’s eyes. The girls shouted hysterically, trying to get someone to help them. This drew the attention of the audience, who all turned their attention toward them as the girls blocked the exit and aimed their guns toward them.
A gunshot rang out, as the Latina fired into the air. “Everyone silent now, or somebody dies!” a metallic voice echoed from the armadillo cradled in the cheerleaders arms. The room went dead silent with fear. The older woman with glasses had a look of horror on her face, the Latina desperation. The other two cheerleaders were crying quietly. “Everyone on their knees, I am in control of this facility.” the stuffed armadillo announced.
While the Latina held her gun steady, the stringy haired teenager and older woman walked toward the kneeling crowd. Their guns leveled, their boots clicking on the floor. As they reached Carl Drake and his wife and daughter, they motioned the ladies to stand up. Carl instinctively protested, as he was doing so the teenage cheerleader smacked him over the head, her strength magnified by the Sense-Sheath. “Down and quiet Carl, or your little ladies will suffer for it.” the armadillo snarled. Slowly, Drakes lovely wife, and beautiful daughter were ushered out of the room by two of the helpless, over-ridden cheerleaders.
Carl could help it no longer and shouted out, “Who are you? What do you want? How did you do this?!?!” A static squawk crackled from the armadillo’s speaker box, “Just consider me an entrepreneur Carl. A clever fellow who hacked into your computer system.” Slowly, the Cheerleader holding the armadillo advanced towards Carl, heeled boots smacking against the floor. She stopped a few feet from him, tears streaming quietly down her cheeks. “I’ve spent a lot of time preparing for this Carl, and now I am to see my investment pay off.” The speaker box crackled again, “I have taken control of everything here, and used my own computers to assume control over these lovely ladies, and now, Carl, you will drive to your bank and accept the 4.5 million in cash that I have told the bank you wish to withdraw from them. Saying nothing to anyone while doing so, you will go there and bring it back to me.” The bellied strawberry blond held the armadillo out and used it to gesture towards t he door, " and to make sure your doubly inclined to cooperate, I’ve decided to add two more tasty ladies to my little cheer-leading squad.”
The older woman in glasses and stringy haired teen came back in, guns leveled at the small crowd. Behind them, dressed in the same white vests and shorts, blue tank tops, and white knee high zippered go-go boots were Carl’s wife and daughter. Their arms and legs had that Sense-sheath tone. Marcia looked pale, with her mouth open ever so slightly, and Anne struggled to keep back the tears welling up in her eyes. In perfect rhythm, the four cheerleaders walked in, chunky heels clacking against the cold floor. “Oh god...” Carl gasped. Cutting him off immediately, the armadillo screeched, “No talking Carl, no one!” The blond hugged the stuffed animal to herself as it continued to speak, “before I send you on your way Carl I wish to demonstrate Sense sheaths’ effectiveness, in case you think about defying me.” Again, the techno music came on, it’s volume assaulting them all. “Take it away Drake ladies!!” the armadillo laughed.
Marcia and Anne immediately went into a combination dance/cheer-leading routine. In perfect sync, the ladies went about their directed actions. The did so for a good 5 minutes before the music changed. Suddenly, Motley Crue’s ‘Girls,Girls, Girls, came on. Mother and daughter’s cheer routine changed into a lurid, tandem catwalk dance. Like two strippers, they massaged and caressed each other. Both could contain themselves no longer and freely balled their eyes out, humiliated and disgusted. As his daughter rubbed her ass into her mothers crotch, Carl could remain silent no longer. “All right you bastard, Stop it! I’ll do what ever you want just leave them alone!” Carl’s face was beet red, his eyes teared with anger and frustration.
The music stopped, and the two women returned to a calm, standing position. “Okay Carl, calm down, they were just having fun.” the armadillo laughed. “Now, go get my money, and don’t let anyone know anything that might make them think something is up here.” A rapid tempo marching band song came on as Carl’s wife and daughter began to perform a cheer-leading/dance routine yet again. “Better hurry Carl, they might get tired if you take too long.”
Carl left the eerily quiet industrial building and drove rapidly to the bank. After exchanging pleasantries he took the money, loaded in a large duffel bag and headed back to the lab. He desperately wanted to tell someone to get help, to give some indication that things had gone terribly wrong. But, he couldn’t risk the safety of his wife and daughter.
Walking back into the room with the case, Carl saw the crowd still under threat of firearms by the helpless cheerleaders. His wife and daughter, flushed and sweating, nearly overcome with exhaustion continued their cheer-leading routine. They, and the accompanying music stopped as he walked in. “Excellent Carl, now give that bag to chubby here..” The woman holding the armadillo shifted her “master” to a one handed grip and extended her other out for the bag. “Wait just a damn second, let my wife and child go first!” A low giggle reverberated from the stuffed animal, “I’m sorry Carl, but that can’t happen yet. Now be a good boy and give chunky my money or you’ll get to watch a lot of this” Carl’s wife smacked his daughter with tremendous force. Marcia cried with abject terror at being forced to strike her little girl. Tears streaming down his face, Carl passed the Bag to the armadillo’s cheerleader.
Carl and the entire crowd were herded into a large vault that was used to store sensitive and protected materials. The Latina cheerleader efficiently punched in a code sequence that sealed them in. All six cheerleaders walked into a circle as the chosen cheerleader held out the armadillo. “Now be good little girls and remain silent.” a low laugh preceded “if you don’t I’ll never release you, and make you do horrible, horrible, things.” The circle was broken as all six filed out in perfect unison. “If you behave, this ordeal is almost over.”
The clicking boots carried the helpless women out into the facility’s garage. All six climbed into one of the company’s white vans and drove off. They traveled for an hour, silence only broken by the occasional sob. Suddenly, the Van pulled off the road and entered a Barn. Inside was a green van. Each cheerleader boarded it and continued on their way. Occasionally the Armadillo would inject some talk. He mostly mocked them, and sang little off-key songs.
Finally, after two hours of this the Van pulled into a seemingly abandoned warehouse. Turning it off, the girls climbed out and walked into a patch a light cast by an overhead lamp. They stood there shoulder to shoulder as the slightly pudgy girl set the money and armadillo down, across and facing them. A gloved hand emerged from the darkness and snatched the bag of money. Angrily, Marcia Drake spoke to their tormentor, “All right, you have your damn money, now release us, let us take off these ridiculous and humiliating costumes. Again the armadillo produced a now familiar laugh, “on second thought girls, money is fine, but my very own squad of cheerleaders!!! How can I pass up that!?!?!”
Again a techno beat erupted from speakers unseen. The girls interlocked their arms and began high kicking, like some horrible chorus line. Each of their tired faces revealed equal parts terror, humiliation, resignation, and exhaustion. They performed very well.
A Cheerleader’s Recollections
Gloria Abernathy sat quietly in the Law Offices waiting room. She wore a pair of dark sunglasses, a large sun hat, and a long buttoned and belted trench coat. Her legs crossed, the hem of the coat gave way to her white booted feet. Gloria noticed the receptionist casually glancing at her boots. Those white, chunky heeled go-go boots with zippers on the inside. They had very tall 4 inch heels. Despite the weeks of disappointment, Gloria still held out hope that the woman behind the desk would take note of those damn boots. If only she could take of the blasted trench coat!
Underneath, one would find a woman in her 50’s with black graying hair. Though into middle age, a viewer would note Gloria was quite fit. Her jogging through the years, to say nothing of her recent “physical fitness regime” had provided her with a toned, trim body. Some one taking in the sight of Gloria beneath the trench coat would also find her dressed in a most unusual manner. Gloria’s body was covered in a strange nude body stocking. Arms, hands, legs, torso, all save her cleavage and head were enshrouded in a strange nude material. Over this, Gloria wore a Cheerleader’s uniform. It looked like some bargain basement Dallas Cowboys’ Cheerleaders costume. It consisted of a blue tank top with a white star on the chest, a white vest, white short-shorts, and those aforementioned ridiculous go-go boots.
If someone were to see her dressed this way, Gloria was sure that they would be able to deduce that she was one of the “Cheerleader Hostages” mentioned so often during the past month on television. Gloria reflected back on the events of the past month.
A company called Drake Industries had developed a remarkable new technology called Sense-sheath. It allowed a computer to control the actions of those who wore it, allowing tasks of incredible accuracy, precision, skill, and synchronization to be performed. The companies P.R. men dreamed up a fantastic way to demonstrate the technology. It was guaranteed to get media attention, using just the right amount of sex appeal to peak the publics interest. The P.R. department had found four volunteers at a local mall to act as demonstration subjects. Gloria bitterly thought back to that day. She was a retired teacher out shopping. Listening to the man who made the offer compliments on her fitness and attractiveness even into advancing age, she had been flattered. After listening to his proposal, Gloria’s ego pushed her into agreeing to take part. She and three others had went to the company’s headquarters for a press conference. Putting aside her better judgment, Gloria dr essed herself in the rather silly cheerleader uniform like the other three. At first, everything was an exercise in wonder. Gloria and the others performed cheer routines and dance numbers of startling skill and precision. The computer had guided them in every way. Gloria had been uncomfortable with such a total lack of control, but had pushed that concern out of her mind. In the hours that followed, she had found that her concerns were well founded.
A mysterious hacker had seized control over Gloria and the others. Holding the crowd hostage, they had been forced to dress the founder of the companies wife and daughter as they were. Following their captors orders, orders that were issued through a speaker equipped stuffed armadillo, they forced the founder to go and retrieve a vast sum of money. Then, after locking the crowd in a vault, the squad of slave cheerleaders had made their way to their “master’s” warehouse hideaway.
The news media was abuzz with the story. The hostage cheerleaders and the crime they had been forced to pull was the number one news item. Stories on Drakes Technology, pleas from the women’s families for their safe return, the airwaves and papers were full of it all. But, despite the media circus, and despite a vast mobilization of law-enforcement, no one had seen hide nor hair of the cheerleaders. Worse, no clues had been able to point toward the direction of their captor’s identity.
While the media pondered the mystery of where the Cheerleaders had gone to, and what they were up to, Gloria and the others knew all to well the answers to those questions. Their captor, never showing his face, had put them to work. Issuing commands from his Armadillo mouthpiece, he had used his computer control over their Sense-sheaths to force them to dismantle his labs equipment. With skill, and incredible strength, they had dismantled it all and packed it into four box trucks. The work was only broken up by enforced cheer-leading and dance sessions. It never ceased to amuse him to put the ladies through their paces. He told them it would keep them fit and sexy. He only let them sleep for about four hours a day. Every midnight, they would go into a room and lay like mummies on a concrete floor. They would drift off ever so briefly before being awakened by the armadillo, to begin a day of work and dance again.
The girls each dealt with things in their own ways. Some would sob occasionally. Some took conducting themselves in mute silence. Gloria merely stewed in anger, seeking any opportunity to escape. Nothing ever materialized. If a girl spoke out of turn, or too often, They would be forced to place a bondage play ball gag in their mouth. Gloria by far had been the one subjected to that particular punishment the most. The one bright spot was that none of them had been used sexually. The armadillo’s voice would chuckle and make crude jokes about how their naughty bits were inaccessible to him due to the Sense-Sheath. Other possibilities either didn’t occur or interest him.
After a few weeks, when everything had been loaded the girls were gathered by the trucks. Each girl was forced to don the sun hats and trench coats. Additionally, each was forced to put on a pair of sunglasses that allowed the wearer no vision. Effectively blind, the women felt their bodies climb into the trucks, start them up, and drive off. Their captor’s voice over the C.B. told them that their blindness would ensure their ability to be released later. He also said not to worry about the lack of vision, his computer and their clothes would do the driving. It was a terrifying experiance, having all the sensation of driving a vehicle without seeing anything. Gloria had been one of those chosen to actually pilot one of the trucks. Her Sense-sheath coated hands deftly guided the steering wheel while her right boot worked the gas and break.
After hours of travel, with Gloria’s constant hopes that someone would stop them dashed, they arrived at a secluded mansion. As the women stood before it, their captor spoke through the stuffed animal. “Ahhh, but this little caper has been kind, eh ladies?” after a short burst of static he continued, “This is my new home. Time for you gals to set things up.” Over the next day and a half, the women, guided by their Cheerleader uniforms assembled their captor’s equipment. Exhausted on finishing, they were sorely disappointed when their tormentor rewarded them by having them perform more cheers and dancing in his new ball room.
After a few days, Gloria’s body walked her into the library. Seated in a large leather smoking chair was the armadillo. “Howdy Gloria. I have a job for you. I’ve registered this house in the name of a Ms. Pettygrew. I need you to go into town, sign the necessary paperwork and come back.” Gloria’s booted feet carried her over to a table, their was identification for Ms. Pettygrew with her picture on it, the trench coat and sun hat, and a pair of normal sunglasses. After her body had picked up the i.d. and dressed her in the additional garments, she walked over and stood before the stuffed animal. “And, in case you’re considering alerting anyone, or making any effort to escape, consider your fellow cheerleaders. They will be punished if you act against my wishes.” Gloria stewed in anger, all of it was too much to bear. Her she was, a smart dynamic woman in her prime, dressed as a frivolous sex toy, made to be the errand girl for a man speaking through a stuffed animal. Res ignation overcame her and she answered. “I’ll do as you demand.” The armadillo gave a quiet laugh and continued to speak, “that’s a good girl Gloria, it would be a shame for you to screw things up now when you ladies are so very close to finally being free.”
All of this had led Gloria here. After being shown into the office and producing her I.D., she had signed the necessary papers. It was more than a little tricky to pull it all off, she had to follow her body’s lead. It would act in response to the lawyers indications and questions and she would have to provide fitting comment. Despite herself, she found herself hoping that someone would notice something. The moronic lawyer never did. All he said was, “I like the boots.” To which Gloria replied with a muffled “thank you.”
After driving back to the mansion, Gloria walked back into the library. Setting down the paperwork on the table, she stripped herself of the trench coat, sun hat, and sunglasses. Standing before her “master”, she spoke, “I did your little chore.” she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes, “please, when are you going to release us?!?” Another low chuckle came from the armadillo. “Soon Gloria, very soon. For now though, I wish for us all to celebrate my good fortune.” Gloria reached out and picked up the armadillo. Then Gloria’s boots spun her around on a heel. An enforced march led her to the ballroom. Inside the swirling lights of a dance were covering the floor and walls. A slow ballad was playing. She found Drakes wife and daughter slow dancing with each other, daughter’s hands on her mothers ass, mother’s draped over her daughters shoulders. The poor teenage girl was in a slow dancing embrace with the short Latina. As Gloria slowly walked out onto the floor, the st rawberry blond girl joined her. They intertwined and began to sway to the music. Between their bodies was the stuffed animal. “Now this is what I call a celebration...” was what he said before trailing off into laughter.
The Cheerleaders: Freedom in Sight
Maria Sanchez stood straight, her back posture perfect. She had no choice but to do so. Her Sense-Sheath prison held her fast. The cheerleader uniform it consisted of had her locked in that position. She stood there as if at attention. Her arms were at her sides, her go-go booted feet where shoulder width apart. To her left, four other women dressed in the same manner stood, each about two feet apart. They all wore a strange pantyhose-like body stocking, a blue tank top with a white star on it, a white vest, matching white hot-pants, and the aforementioned go-go boots with tall heels.
Just a little over a month ago, Maria had stopped at the mall to browse before heading to the gym. Like the other’s she had fallen for a slick P.R. man’s bill of goods. Her reward had been to have her body hijacked and used to steal millions from the company that had developed Sense-Sheath, the technology that now determined her every move. Maria’s eyes teared a little at even thinking about it. She was so disgusted. Her tiny 5 foot 2 frame had become little more than a robot, serving some unseen master’s designs.
Maria, like the others was beginning to doubt that she would ever be free again. She missed the feeling of the air on her skin, her skin now coated in sense-sheath. How she longed to be able to move freely, to do as she pleased. Maria so desperately wanted her body back!
The familiar clicking of booted feet could be heard approaching the women from the rear. The last woman was approaching. The stringy haired teen, Stacy, who had up until a month ago worked at a food court in the mall, walked around to the front of the group. In her arms was the stuffed armadillo that served as their “master’s” mouthpiece. Stopping, the youngest cheer-leader stood before them and held the toy out in front of her. “Well ladies, I have grown more than a little tired of this little game. Each day, you seem to get a little less resistant as the hope of ever being free dwindles in you all.” As the words trailed off, Maria could hear one of the girls cry quietly, trying not to attract their tormentor’s attention by making too much noise. “So, I have decided to keep up my end of our little bargain. In a matter of hours, you will all be released.” Maria could hardly believe her ears. Was it true! Was her freedom so close at hand!
Each of the girls released happy gasps, muffled “Thank god”s, and “Oh please be true”s
Listening intently, so as to hear every word Maria gave the armadillo her undivided attention. “You have all performed wonderfully, and amused me to no end. But, like all good things, this little exercise must draw to a close. It’s a pity, part of me very much enjoyed having my own squad of cheer-leaders.”
In unison, each woman walked single file from the ballroom. Led by the teen holding the stuffed armadillo they filed through the mansion’s hallways toward the garage. After entering, they each walked in and gathered at a table in the corner. In perfect sync, they each donned trench coats, large sun-hats, and sunglasses that made them effectively blind. “I’m going to have you drive yourselves to a place were you can meet up with the authorities ladies. Soon, your time in my service will be at an end, and you can be with your families again.” Maria, blind like the others walked under her uniform’s control over and climbed into a van. After they had all boarded, Maria, in the driver’s seat, mechanically shifted it into drive, guided the steering wheel, and manipulated the pedals with her booted feet. She did it all without any input from herself.
As they drove the armadillo, still held by the teen spoke to them. “Since you ladies are on your way home, feel free to talk quietly among yourselves.” Maria, like the others loved these moments when she could speak freely with one of the others. Conversation with one of her “sister cheer-leaders” was one of the only things that allowed her to keep her sanity. “Who’s in the passenger seat?” Maria inquired. “It’s me, Sammie.” Sammie was a few years older than Maria. The cute strawberry blond had been a little chubby, but the month of intensive cheering and dancing had made her fit and trim. “I can’t believe this nightmare is finally going to end. I can’t wait to see my husband and kids.” Maria knew from earlier conversations that Sammie, a young mother, missed her family terribly. “I know, I’ve dreamed of moving on my own for so long and hugging my boyfriend Marcus.” Maria chimed in. All of the women spoke quietly to each other. Their relief and happiness evident in their speech. They were all overjoyed in anticipation.
After they had traveled for three hours, Maria’s body brought the van to a halt. Each took their sunglasses off and placed them in the trench coats right pocket. Maria was momentarily blinded at the sudden appearance of sunlight. As her eyes regained focus, she could see that they were in a banks parking lot. “Up and and away ladies!” the armadillo intoned. Each woman climbed from the van and walked around to the rear of the vehicle. Maria’s hand reached out and opened the door. Inside were their ball gags. The bondage toys their captor had used to enforce their silence when he wished to. Each woman picked one up and began to place it in her own mouth, closing the clasp behind her head. As Maria’s arms brought hers up she managed to say, “Wait, why are you...?” before she was silenced by the foul tasting piece of foam. “I’m going to need your silence for a little while ladies.” “Stacy..” the armadillo spoke to the teen holding him, “would you be so kind as to hand me to Maria?” Stacy’s lithe arms passed the stuffed toy to Maria. On grasping it Maria saw the ends of a belt pop out of its back . Pulling it close, Maria snapped the bet closed around her midriff, causing it to hold the armadillo in front of her. Then, each Stacy the teen reached into the back of the van and removed a box. Opening it she offered it’s contents to her fellow cheer-leaders. Prompted by their Sense-sheath commands, each woman retrieved an automatic pistol from the case. All five, except for the teen Stacy were now armed! “You didn’t think I was actually going to part with my favorite toys did you?” laughed the voice from the armadillo on Maria’s belly. Sounds of the women trying to force speech through their gags erupted. Maria’s eyes welled with tears. She had seemed to be so close! She was finally going to be free! It had all been some cruel trick perpetrated by their mysterious tormentor. She could see the Drake women, Anne and her Mother Marcia look at each other in tea r soaked disappointment. Gloria, the oldest of the group, had a look of rage in her eyes. Her face flushed red with anger. Sammie had turned pale and was whimpering in her gag. The stringy haired teen Stacy just balled her eyes out. As Stacy walked around and climbed into the driver’s seat of the van the other’s moved toward the bank.
Andy Benedict was incredibly board. He’d been a security guard at his bank for almost two years and nothing ever happened. At home, he practiced a quick draw and fantasized about being a real cop. But his job at the bank just amounted to standing in a corner and watching people walk in and out. As he yawned he noticed a fairly strange little group enter the doors. Five women, each in a long trench coat and sun-hat walked in. Below the hem of their coats white boots with high chunky heels could be seen. Strangest of all, each of the women had a bondage ball gag in her mouth! Deciding to approach this cautiously, Andy ducked behind a pillar and kept an eye on them. With great speed the women moved to positions about the bank. Each threw off their coats and hats, leveling guns on the people in the bank! Andy couldn’t believe his eyes. All five of them were wearing Pro Cheer-leader uniforms! One of the women, a short Latina had some kind of stuffed animal attached to her bel ly. Suddenly Andy realized that these where the hostage cheer-leaders the news channels had been talking about for a month. According to the reports, they were under the control of some mad computer hacker. Looking at the women’s faces, Andy could see expressions of anger, pleading eyes begging for help, and tears. Silencing the gasps and screams of the patrons, a voice came from the armadillo on the Latina, “Ladies and gentleman, this is a robbery. Remain silent and co-operate and you will not be harmed.” Gathering all of the customers and employees in a group the one of the women, an older lady with graying black hair leaped up on the counter, jumped to the other side and trotted back to the vault. Amazing as she had been in those boots. Again the armadillo spoke, " Don’t do anything foolish. I’m sure all of you have heard of the Cheerleader Gang. These woman are quite unable to stop themselves from doing whatever is necessary to get what I want. And don’t worry, I’ve dea ctivated all of the alarms, silent and otherwise.” Returning with two large bags, the older cheer-leader opened the door leading toward the back room. The women then herded the group of people back into the vault. After locking it shut, the five strutted toward the door. Ready to make his move with the patrons in the vault and out of harms way, Andy shot out from behind his pillar, rolling into a crouch with his gun drawn. All five cheer-leaders stopped. “Oh wow, a rent-a-cop who thinks he’s a hero.” the voice giggled from the armadillo. Heart beating and blood flowing, Andy shouted his orders, “Drop your weapons and Freeze!” Laughing, the armadillo’s speaker snapped on, “Buddy, don’t you recognize these ladies? These are the hostage cheer-leaders. I have total and absolute control over their lovely bodies. Go ahead, shoot ‘em if you want. I can get some more.” With that, One of the women began to walk forward. Looking at her face, Andy recognized her as the young daughter of Carl Dr ake, the man who ran the company the women had been abducted from. Her eyes were wide with terror. Her body hadn’t even bothered to level it’s gun at her. Slowly, her booted feet brought her over to Andy. He had no idea what to do. He just couldn’t bring himself to shoot a helpless woman. She was just a pawn in some sick monster’s twisted game. Reaching Andy, Anne Drake smacked him over the head with the back of her hand, made incredibly strong by her Sense-sheath. Walking past the unconscious security guard, the group of remote controlled women strode from the bank.
The teen cheer-leader Stacy, was at the wheel of the van with the motor running. After they had all boarded, she took off with incredible speed. Driving away, each woman sat gagged in her seat. Some cried, some whimpered, some sat silently. Maria just sat their like a rock. It was all just to terrible to deal with. “That was fun. " the armadillo announced as laughter echoed out of it’s speakerbox.
The Cheerleader Interview
Audrey Russell had been a reporter professionally for almost seven years now. She was 29 and at the top of her game as an investigative journalist. While working for the Times she had amassed a wall full of awards. She was also known for being a very pretty woman. She wore her black hair very short. She felt it accentuated her gray eyes. Frequent trips to the gym made her fit. As she walked down a trail in a not often visited state park, she tried to keep up her courage. Wearing a sweatshirt, sweatpants, and tennis shoes, the night air made her wish that she had dressed more warmly. She had to be her though. She was on the trail of the story of a lifetime.
The Hostage Cheerleader Gang was all over the media outlets. Those poor women, their bodies hijacked by some mysterious genius, had reappeared almost a month after the initial incident. Over the course of two weeks they had been forced to rob seven banks. Helpless to resist the strange remote control placed on them, they had gone on an incredibly successful crime spree. It was so bizarre to see the video footage. Six seemingly normal women dressed as pro cheerleaders brandishing guns while a speaker equipped stuffed armadillo ran the show. The film of their faces was heartbreaking. Anyone could see the looks of abject terror written on them as they were forced to do the bidding of a madman. The televised pleas of their families and friends made it all that much more tragic.
The quest to understand the hows and whys of it all had led Audrey here. Several days ago a caller had reached her claiming to be the cheerleaders’ controller. At first Audrey thought it was a crazy person, but then, he told her to remember the street names Albacore and Tuna. A day later, a bank was robbed in Tennessee at the corners of Albacore and Tuna streets. Audrey was convinced. Telling her that if she wanted the whole story she was to come alone to this spot, and to tell no one, the caller invited her to hear his side of the story.
After walking two miles down the trail, Audrey reached her destination. It was a clearing with a single large overhead light. Below were three wooden picnic tables. Walking slowly and cautiously into the light, Audrey sat down. After 15 minutes she was startled to hear a voice with a strange electronic echo, “Hello Ms. Russell. So nice of you to make it.” A figure walked into the light. Audrey recognized her immediately. The strange sheen of the Sense-sheath on her limbs, the white vest and shorts, blue tank top, and stripper-like go-go boots would have registered with anyone familiar with the news, but Audrey’s research allowed her to recognize her face. It was Marcia Drake! Carl Drakes kidnapped wife who had been forced with her daughter to join this madman’s little Cheerleader Crime Syndicate. Though her hair was done perfectly, her face had a haunted disheveled look to it. Her eyes had the most heartbreaking sadness to them. Her mouth had a bondage style ball gag in it. In her arms she carried the stuffed armadillo that had spoken. The same armadillo that acted as their captor’s voice.
Setting the armadillo on a bench across from Audrey, Mrs. Drake sat down next to it. Her hands quietly folding themselves on the table before her. Audrey overcame her apprehension and spoke, “Ughhh, Hello. Thank you for granting me this interview.” After laughing softly, the armadillo answered, “It’s my pleasure Ms. Russell. I’ve often enjoyed your work. And, might I say, your even more lovely in person?” Slightly uncomfortable Audrey answered with, " t-thank you.” “You’re probably wondering why I’ve called you here. You see Ms. Russell, I want the public to be fully aware of who I am and what I have accomplished.” Rising to the occasion Audrey responded, “The public thinks your a demented madman. Why exactly are you doing this? When are you going to release these women?” “I’ll respond with a statement in a bit. I thought perhaps first you would like to ask Mrs. Drake a question?” Looking over at the other woman, calmly sitting their dressed like some kind of adolescent boy’s eye candy, Audrey was struck by what a contradiction her body’s actions and mannerisms were in comparison to her haunted face. Marcia’s Sense-sheath coated hands reached up behind her head and undid the ball gag, placing it before her she looked over with trepidation at the armadillo. “It’s all right Marcia, answer Ms. Russell’s questions.” Trying to maintain some professionalism Audrey addressed Mrs. Drake, “Mrs. Drake, how are you? Are you okay? Is there any messages you wish me to relay?” With quivering lips Marcia Drake, former millionaire’s wife, now forced cheerleader spoke. “I-I’m terrible. I don’t even have control over my own actions anymore. Everyday I’m forced to do whatever some monster who watches me from far away wishes. He makes us parade around in these humiliating costumes. He makes us perform dance routines to music. Worse, he’s done the same thing to my daughter.” Tears began to form in the corners of Marcia’s eyes. “My Annie and I are just his littl e toys.” Struggling to maintain her composure Marcia managed to force out one last sentence, “Tell Carl to find this bastard and free us, tell everyone that we need help you can’t imagine...” cutting her off as she grew more angry an forceful, the armadillo spoke as Marcia’s own hands picked up the ball gag once again and placed it in her mouth, “That’s enough Marcia. We don’t need to expose Ms. Russell to your hysterics.” His voice trailed off with laughter.
Audrey was disgusted. She was getting her story, but she was sickened at being in the presence of this son of a bitch. Her heart went out to the poor women. “Now perk up your ears Ms. Russell, I’m going to give you my statement.” Clearing his throat for dramatic effect, the speaker continued, “I want every one exposed to this tale to know that my genius is unparalleled. I’ve turned others’ technologies to uses undreamed of. What started out as a simple scheme to steal money has turned into so much more. I want it known to all that I will never be caught.” Waiting for a moment, Audrey spoke up, “that’s it. some kind of super villian rant? Surely you can do better. The American public would...” Before she could finish the armadillo’s voice cut her off, “That will have to do Ms. Russell. This television moment will say all I wish to to the American people.” Blinking, Audrey said, “Television? I’m sorry but I’m a print reporter. I’m going to write an article.”
Laughter echoed through the clearing as the armadillo’s speaker box produced it’s sound. " Every television station in the world is going to want a copy of this tape Audrey.” Marcia’s enshrouded hand pointed off to the side. A light came on and Audrey saw a television camera on a tripod. “What is this all about?” she asked. “Well Audrey, I needed someone to interview me, and I didn’t lie, I have always been a fan. You’re so damn cute. And, well..., I did have a spare costume lying around!” With that, the five other cheerleaders rushed in from the darkness. While the armadillo laughed, the five women converged on Audrey. Horrified she sprang to her feet and tried to backpedal away. As one, the four of the five grabbed Audrey’s arms and legs and hoisted her from the ground. “Let me go! You can’t do this!” Audrey screamed. By now, Marcia Drake had picked up the Armadillo and was carrying it over toward the group. Seemingly to give it a better view. As she struggled against the Cheerleaders’ titanic strength, Audrey saw the final Cheerleader, an older woman with sad eyes carrying box toward her. With deft movements, the group stripped Audrey’s pants and shirt off, leaving her only in her bra and panties. As she was restrained, The older woman pulled sleek body stocking from the box. The women slid it up Audrey’s legs, pulled it over her torso, and forced her arms, hands, and fingers into it. The only skin it didn’t cover was a cleavage cut-out and her head. Next, the women pulled a pair of white short-shorts onto Audrey. Fighting with every bit of strength she had Audrey was helpless before their onslaught. The women place a vest on her as they held her arms. Finally two of the women place the boots on her feet and zipped them up. Placing Audrey on her feet, the women backed away from her. Through it all, as now, their eyes had been brimming with tears. It had clearly been terrible for them to force another to share in their fate. Standing there pa nting Audrey didn’t know quite what to do. “Go ahead Ms. Russell, run for it if you wish.” the armadillo cackled. Bolting from where she was Audrey sprinted into the forest.
Scared out of her wits, Audrey ran. Not an easy thing to do when one is in a pair of 4-inch heeled go-go boots. With no thought at all, only instinct, she madly dashed through the woods. She was trying to get somewhere, anywhere. After she had done so for almost ten minutes she slowed down, finally coming to a stop, exhausted from her ordeal. As she bent over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath, Audrey suddenly became aware of her clothing. The damn Sense-sheath was all over her! She was in one of the Cheerleader Slave Suits! Audrey tore at the clothes with all she had. To no avail she tried to remove the shorts, the top, anything. In desperation she clawed at the sense-sheath on her legs an arms. Nothing she did seemed to have an effect on it.
After a few minutes of such struggle, Audrey was overcome with the most terrible of sensations. A rippling wave of a sensation passed through the Sense-sheath body stocking. Audrey convulsed a bit, then shot into a ramrod straight posture. She couldn’t move! Her arms and legs refused to respond. She tried to move something, anything and found it impossible. “Oh my god, Oh my god, Oh my god...” she muttered over and over again. Suddenly, she spun on one of her heels and reversed her direction. With calm precision, her body began to march off. Tears streaming down her face, Audrey tried to stop her errant body. It was now use. Her cheer leading uniform was in charge now. Several minutes later, tears streaming down her face, Audrey emerged from the wood. Walking out onto a roadway she could hear the steady rhythm of her new boots pounding on the pavement. Up ahead, Audrey could see a van parked with it’s lights on and engine running. Coming upon it Audrey was met by Marcia Drake, her mouth still ball gagged. On reaching her Marcia handed Audrey’s enslaved hands a ball gag of her own. Screaming, “Nooooooo!” as she struggled to resist, Audrey found the gag forced into her mouth as her hands closed their clasps behind her head. Following Marcia, Audrey climbed into the waiting vehicle. Seeing the others there already, Audrey heard the voice come from the armadillo, “and now I have seven!” The Van left the side of the road and drove off into the night.