III-II: Unteachable EXTENDED

Vicky was out of her taekwondo sensei’s favor. She was impatient and careless, and received punishment in the form of sorting the martial arts school wares. It must have been a while since the last spring cleaning, because she was finding some memorial tournament kimonos, accessories and trinkets from decades ago. The most peculiar find, however, was the blue outfit.

At first its bright colors suggested some ceremonial purpose to it, but further inspection brought up more questions. The blue bodysuit with red details was to be entered through the rear seam. It had a hood, a massive white bow and, to some extent, a skirt.

With matching colors, a pair of very unusual boots were clearly a part of the set as well. They were ballet boots that required a continuous tiptoe for wearing and walking in them. Ready for a challenge, but not patient or careful enough to learn more about the suit, Vicky stripped and started getting inside.

First, she put on the boots. The fit was close, but still far from perfect, and avoiding some immediate cramps required perfection. Cursing and frowning, Vicky sat down as soon as the panty part of the dress was more or less pulled up to her hips.

The texture of this weird dress was remarkable. It was light and soft, but therewas totally a middle layer of harder, more durable, armored material. Shivers were running up Vicky’s spine, as if she was undergoing some secret, heretic initiation while getting deeper into this pristine, well-crafted costume.

Her limited understanding of what was going on failed her completely when it dawned upon her that these arm sleeves were not just folded in somewhere, but were completely sewn to the chest of the suit, right under her breasts. Her unsuspecting hands swam into the inner gloves and, as soon as the two clicks went off around her wrists, the point of no return was crossed.

The back seam rapidly closed itself with metallic whirring and clinking, and no amount of resistance could get Vicky out of the situation she dressed herself into. The ballet boots produced a series of clicks as well, sealing tight around her ankles and calves, providing a desired perfect fit.

Standing up provided very little discomfort, but Vicky took no satisfaction in it. Her arms were uselessly bound to her, like in a straitjacket, and her legs were trapped in the most freakish of footwear. Something as simple as exiting the storage through a normal door was now an elaborate puzzle.

Vicky’s grunts and yells have caused her sensei to check in there. The initial angry frown was dissolved in clueless confusion as he, too, failed to open the silly dress up again. Then he remembered the story, and, as any good teacher would, told it to Vicky in its entirety.

“This uniform is a replica of the armor worn by Setsudankanja disciples, designed to squeeze a combat advantage out of not using either hands or feet. To prevent it falling into wrong hands, the suit is made from indestructible materials.”

As soon as Vicky heard “indestructible”, her heart sank and her fists within the eternal gloves unclenched for a moment. Her wet eyes stared into her sensei’s.

“Although it cannot be anything other than a replica, its qualities scarily resemble the real thing. I cannot know how it made its way into my wares. Not through my doing, I’ll insist on that. Its fabric takes care of your bodily routines, but learning how to use it is beyond anyone’s expertise.”

Vicky shouted: ”How so?! Taekwondo is all about legs, is it not?”.

Sensei could only shake his head and frown harder. With the setsudankanja costume taking the choice out of her hands, he had to try and teach what couldn’t be taught to a student that wasn’t showing too much promise.