Enter Batgirl, Exit Micha (F/self) (Complete)
Posted: Fri Feb 23, 2024 9:27 am
It's been a month since the Dick Tracy roleplay, and life has settled back into its familiar rhythm. When I returned from the office, I found the house eerily quiet. There was no sign of either of the boys, but my eyes locked onto a neatly wrapped brown parcel adorned with a label bearing my name. Excitement bubbled within me as I tore away the wrapping, revealing a full-length purple and yellow Batgirl costume.
The label read, "Wear me!"
"Holy Lewis Carroll," I thought to myself, intrigued by what awaited. Racing upstairs to my bedroom, I quickly shed my rumpled business suit and eagerly slipped into the snug-fitting costume. The tight fabric sent a thrill through me as I added the cape and cowl, fully embracing the superhero role.
As the purple and yellow fabric clung to tight to my ample frame, I couldn't help but feel a surge of self-consciousness. Being something of a plus-sized woman, I was rather more accustomed to concealing, rather than flaunting my figure. The idea of donning a costume that showcased my curvy figure to such an extent gave me pause. However, reason prevailed – John had chosen this outfit for me, believing I would look good in it. His intention was clear: to celebrate my body, lumps and all.
Emboldened by this realisation, I stood before the mirror, taking in the image of Batgirl staring back at me. The snug costume accentuated my bust-line, and I felt suitability emboldened.
You know what they say, "Chin up, tits out,.."
My cape billowed behind me as I eagerly descended the stairs, a newfound confidence replacing any lingering traces of self-doubt.
To my surprise, a large, gift-wrapped box awaited me in the front room.
Suitably intrigued, I hastily tore away the wrapping, uncovering a pair of steel handcuffs, a roll of brown parcel tape and two brightly coloured bandanna's. A note, meticulously composed of letters cut from a newspaper ('it must have taken them ages' I thought to myself) accompanied the peculiar gift.
"The Joker" had penned a sinister invitation, claiming that Robin, The Boy Wonder had been kidnapped. The only way to secure his safety, the note declared, was for me (aka: Batgirl) to willingly take his place. A series of instructions followed, outlining how I should bind, gag and handcuff myself, leaving me in a state of utter helplessness.
"Tick-tock, Batgirl. The fate of your beloved Robin hangs in the balance.
Yours in mischief,
The Joker."
A sly grin spread across my face as I put down the note, amused by the unexpected turn of events. John, very much attuned to my newfound desires, had orchestrated a surprise roleplay game. The memories of our previous escapade as Dick Tracy and Tess Trueheart were still fresh, and the thrill of playing the damsel in distress had resonated deeply with me.
I began by dragging a dining chair into the hallway and placing it in front of the full length mirror.
As per the instructions, I began with my ankles.
Now, I don't know how many of you have tried to find the end of a roll of tape whilst wearing elbow length gloves, but trust me, it was a uniquely maddening experience. After several, frustrating minutes, I finally succeeded and was able to firmly tape my feet together, wrapping the sticky brown packing material around my thick ankles a total of four times before tearing it it free from the roll.
Kicking out my legs I found myself marvelling at the sight of my bound legs stretched out before me.
Even though I would have been able to get free any time I chose, it still felt strangely thrilling to have, even a small part of my body restrained.
Now, for the next part of my act,' I thought to myself as I shook out the purple bandanna and placed it over the lower half of my face and pulled it snugly (but not too tightly!) around my mouth.
I then watched myself in the mirror as I knotted the material behind my head and under my ponytail.
However, whilst this certainly looked the part, it wasn't terribly effective in keeping me quiet and I found I was able to talk quite freely, despite the gag.
"Help! Help! Somebody help little old me!" I intoned, in what I felt was a more than passable Southern accent.
Then, almost immediately, the solution presented itself - I would tie the handkerchief in my mouth, just like they do in the movies!
With exaggerated determination, I folded the cloth into a thick band before nervously placing it between my teeth and pulling it as tight as I dared and double knotting it behind my head.
"Mmmphh! Mmmph mpphh!" I heard myself yelp with mounting excitement.
I was now securely gagged, however in order to make myself truly helpless I would need to restrain my hands.
Taking the handcuffs, I placed my hands behind my back, and closed the shackles around each wrist in turn. The satisfying click echoed in the room, locking me in place.
With my transformation into a captive Batgirl complete, I sat in enforced silence, the thrill of anticipation coursing through me. The world became a realm of heightened sensations – the snug costume, the tightness of the scarf around my mouth, and the metallic coolness of the handcuffs.
The rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock seemed to synchronise with the excited fluttering in my chest
As I strained to hear any sign of my captor(s), time seemed to stretch. The minutes felt like hours, and the muffled sounds from the street outside only added to my excitement. I felt like a captive superhero who had been stashed away by an arch villain - it was my every wish come true.
I'm not sure how long I'd sat there, trussed up and gagged, but eventually I heard the phone ring.
For obvious reasons, no one answered and after a few rings, the call went to voice mail.
I tried not to laugh as I listened to our answer machine message, which had been recorded shortly after our Dick Tracy game:
"Hi, you've reached Micha and John, we're a bit tied up right now, but if you leave your name and number after the Beep, we'll get back to you just as soon as we're free"
"Holy Robert Louis Stevenson Batgirl!" Came John's cackling voice.
Channelling his inner Cesar Romero he continued,
“Oh, oh the look on your face must be priceless, all trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.
Now, I suppose you're wondering about your precious ally Robin. Fear not, my dear Batgirl, the dynmaic dunderhead is safe and sound.
Of course, you'll have to trust me on that,..
(Cue more manic laughter)
Oh well, you know what they say, 'What Doesn't Kill You, Simply Makes You Stranger!'
Ciao-for-now!"
A few minutes later John called back, no longer in character this time
"Hi, Micha, it's me. Just calling to let you know I'm going to be a few minutes late getting home, I'm stuck in the worst traffic jam. I hope you're not too uncomfortable. ETA 30 minutes. Sit tight and I'll see you soon. Love you!"
[End of message]
Oh well, I thought to myself. half an hour isn't too long to wait to be rescued.
Settling in for the long haul, I shifted my bulk in the chair to try to get comfy.
But then came the fateful third phone call,..
"Hi, Micha, it's Diane. I hope you're doing well. I just wanted to let you know that Jessie forgot his soccer boots, and we'll be swinging by your place in the next half hour to pick them up. Hope that's okay. We won't stay long, just a quick in-and-out.
Let me know if you need anything or if you'd prefer us to wait until a better time. Hope to see you soon!"
[End of message]
Oh no.
Oh, goodness me no.
Not Diane.
Not my Mother-in-Law Diane.
My only hope was that my husband would arrive home before she did.
Oh crap, I thought to myself. I’m trapped in my very own sitcom.
The label read, "Wear me!"
"Holy Lewis Carroll," I thought to myself, intrigued by what awaited. Racing upstairs to my bedroom, I quickly shed my rumpled business suit and eagerly slipped into the snug-fitting costume. The tight fabric sent a thrill through me as I added the cape and cowl, fully embracing the superhero role.
As the purple and yellow fabric clung to tight to my ample frame, I couldn't help but feel a surge of self-consciousness. Being something of a plus-sized woman, I was rather more accustomed to concealing, rather than flaunting my figure. The idea of donning a costume that showcased my curvy figure to such an extent gave me pause. However, reason prevailed – John had chosen this outfit for me, believing I would look good in it. His intention was clear: to celebrate my body, lumps and all.
Emboldened by this realisation, I stood before the mirror, taking in the image of Batgirl staring back at me. The snug costume accentuated my bust-line, and I felt suitability emboldened.
You know what they say, "Chin up, tits out,.."
My cape billowed behind me as I eagerly descended the stairs, a newfound confidence replacing any lingering traces of self-doubt.
To my surprise, a large, gift-wrapped box awaited me in the front room.
Suitably intrigued, I hastily tore away the wrapping, uncovering a pair of steel handcuffs, a roll of brown parcel tape and two brightly coloured bandanna's. A note, meticulously composed of letters cut from a newspaper ('it must have taken them ages' I thought to myself) accompanied the peculiar gift.
"The Joker" had penned a sinister invitation, claiming that Robin, The Boy Wonder had been kidnapped. The only way to secure his safety, the note declared, was for me (aka: Batgirl) to willingly take his place. A series of instructions followed, outlining how I should bind, gag and handcuff myself, leaving me in a state of utter helplessness.
"Tick-tock, Batgirl. The fate of your beloved Robin hangs in the balance.
Yours in mischief,
The Joker."
A sly grin spread across my face as I put down the note, amused by the unexpected turn of events. John, very much attuned to my newfound desires, had orchestrated a surprise roleplay game. The memories of our previous escapade as Dick Tracy and Tess Trueheart were still fresh, and the thrill of playing the damsel in distress had resonated deeply with me.
I began by dragging a dining chair into the hallway and placing it in front of the full length mirror.
As per the instructions, I began with my ankles.
Now, I don't know how many of you have tried to find the end of a roll of tape whilst wearing elbow length gloves, but trust me, it was a uniquely maddening experience. After several, frustrating minutes, I finally succeeded and was able to firmly tape my feet together, wrapping the sticky brown packing material around my thick ankles a total of four times before tearing it it free from the roll.
Kicking out my legs I found myself marvelling at the sight of my bound legs stretched out before me.
Even though I would have been able to get free any time I chose, it still felt strangely thrilling to have, even a small part of my body restrained.
Now, for the next part of my act,' I thought to myself as I shook out the purple bandanna and placed it over the lower half of my face and pulled it snugly (but not too tightly!) around my mouth.
I then watched myself in the mirror as I knotted the material behind my head and under my ponytail.
However, whilst this certainly looked the part, it wasn't terribly effective in keeping me quiet and I found I was able to talk quite freely, despite the gag.
"Help! Help! Somebody help little old me!" I intoned, in what I felt was a more than passable Southern accent.
Then, almost immediately, the solution presented itself - I would tie the handkerchief in my mouth, just like they do in the movies!
With exaggerated determination, I folded the cloth into a thick band before nervously placing it between my teeth and pulling it as tight as I dared and double knotting it behind my head.
"Mmmphh! Mmmph mpphh!" I heard myself yelp with mounting excitement.
I was now securely gagged, however in order to make myself truly helpless I would need to restrain my hands.
Taking the handcuffs, I placed my hands behind my back, and closed the shackles around each wrist in turn. The satisfying click echoed in the room, locking me in place.
With my transformation into a captive Batgirl complete, I sat in enforced silence, the thrill of anticipation coursing through me. The world became a realm of heightened sensations – the snug costume, the tightness of the scarf around my mouth, and the metallic coolness of the handcuffs.
The rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock seemed to synchronise with the excited fluttering in my chest
As I strained to hear any sign of my captor(s), time seemed to stretch. The minutes felt like hours, and the muffled sounds from the street outside only added to my excitement. I felt like a captive superhero who had been stashed away by an arch villain - it was my every wish come true.
I'm not sure how long I'd sat there, trussed up and gagged, but eventually I heard the phone ring.
For obvious reasons, no one answered and after a few rings, the call went to voice mail.
I tried not to laugh as I listened to our answer machine message, which had been recorded shortly after our Dick Tracy game:
"Hi, you've reached Micha and John, we're a bit tied up right now, but if you leave your name and number after the Beep, we'll get back to you just as soon as we're free"
"Holy Robert Louis Stevenson Batgirl!" Came John's cackling voice.
Channelling his inner Cesar Romero he continued,
“Oh, oh the look on your face must be priceless, all trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.
Now, I suppose you're wondering about your precious ally Robin. Fear not, my dear Batgirl, the dynmaic dunderhead is safe and sound.
Of course, you'll have to trust me on that,..
(Cue more manic laughter)
Oh well, you know what they say, 'What Doesn't Kill You, Simply Makes You Stranger!'
Ciao-for-now!"
A few minutes later John called back, no longer in character this time
"Hi, Micha, it's me. Just calling to let you know I'm going to be a few minutes late getting home, I'm stuck in the worst traffic jam. I hope you're not too uncomfortable. ETA 30 minutes. Sit tight and I'll see you soon. Love you!"
[End of message]
Oh well, I thought to myself. half an hour isn't too long to wait to be rescued.
Settling in for the long haul, I shifted my bulk in the chair to try to get comfy.
But then came the fateful third phone call,..
"Hi, Micha, it's Diane. I hope you're doing well. I just wanted to let you know that Jessie forgot his soccer boots, and we'll be swinging by your place in the next half hour to pick them up. Hope that's okay. We won't stay long, just a quick in-and-out.
Let me know if you need anything or if you'd prefer us to wait until a better time. Hope to see you soon!"
[End of message]
Oh no.
Oh, goodness me no.
Not Diane.
Not my Mother-in-Law Diane.
My only hope was that my husband would arrive home before she did.
Oh crap, I thought to myself. I’m trapped in my very own sitcom.