The sleek car pulled away, leaving the woman alone on the concrete. The large warehouse rose up before her, imposing, a towering structure of brick and metal. The exterior walls were decorated with thick swathes of graffiti and in places they had fallen in completely. She looked an alien sight in the old warehouse district, her crisp business attire juxtaposing the dusty, forgotten place. Smoothing down a ruffle in her skirt, she made her way into the building through a small metal door.
The room beyond seemed to have been built in completely the wrong building. All marble, mirrors and chrome, it was lit by thin strips set into the walls. Clinically clean and refreshingly cool after the beating sun, it could have been easily mistaken for the reception of any high-rise office building in the city. It was an entrance to the market of which few knew, and even fewer were permitted use. Fortunately, the woman had her contacts.
As she entered, the sole occupant of the room turned to face her. Deep auburn locks hanging down, she was wearing a tight grey dress that clung to her supple curves. It was rare to see her in such a reserved choice of attire, and the woman longed to see more exposed flesh: she knew from experience how soft and tender it was to the touch.
As she entered, the sole occupant of the room turned to face her. Deep auburn locks hanging down, she was wearing a tight grey dress that clung to her supple curves. It was rare to see her in such a reserved choice of attire, and the woman longed to see more exposed flesh: she knew from experience how soft and tender it was to the touch.
‘Mistress Vixen,’ said the receptionist, approaching with a martini in hand. Her wide hips swayed as she moved, her voice soft and delicate. ‘A pleasure to see you, as always. On behalf of your hosts, I would like to welcome you to the Market.’
‘Miss Rouge. The pleasure is mine.’
The receptionist smiled. In the old world, before everything had changed, that smile might have dragged a man to his knees, had him begging simply to gaze upon her beauty. He would have given up all he owned just to see that smile. Now the world was different, and of course the men were no longer an issue. Instead, the smile sparked a desire in Mistress Vixen, a lust to have Miss Rouge bent over her own desk begging for mercy.
‘Will you be needing assistance today, Mistress?’
‘I think I will, thank you.’
Obediently, Miss Rouge set down her glass and began to remove the woman’s clothing. Beneath it, slick, tight latex glistened. Mistress Vixen, like countless women after the Spread, would be found wearing nothing else. Like a drug, it set her heart racing, her blood roaring. The scent of it in her nostrils was the smell of lust and dominance, and she could feel her groin quiver as she ran her hands down her tight curves. A sensual piece of plum and black, it clung at her smooth thighs, her perfect, soft breasts. A satisfied smile painted her features as she caught Miss Rouge staring at her cleavage.
‘See something you like?’
Miss Rouge glanced away quickly, staring vacantly into one of the mirrors as she slipped a delicate beaded choker around the neck of her client. Leaning in close, Mistress Vixen turned Miss Rouge back to face her with one hand, the other sliding up to gently squeeze the receptionist’s large breast.
‘I like yours too,’ she said, pulling Miss Rouge in for a long, sensual kiss. The receptionist moaned into Mistress Vixen’s mouth, unconsciously pressing her body closer. When the latex beauty slowly pulled away, she left the receptionist standing breathlessly with closed eyes. She left her there for a moment, before clearing her throat purposefully. ‘Might you let me in, Miss Rouge?’
Shaking her head quickly as if to clear away a persistent thought, Miss Rouge nodded and crossed to a door beside her desk. Swiping her key card on an adjacent panel, the door hissed open, revealing a small room in which sat a plush leather chair. She gestured for Mistress Vixen to enter, her ample chest still heaving with passion. Sinking into the chair, Mistress Vixen crossed her tanned legs and sighed happily as the door slid closed behind her. With a whirring of gears, the entire room began to descend and she let her thoughts wander.
Barely five years had passed since the Spread had taken hold, but already it was as though the old world had never existed at all. At the times there had been many names for the epidemic: the Black, the Domme Virus, the Ruining. By now most of those had faded away, although she had, on occasion, heard it referred to with the old names. Whatever one called it, the facts of the pandemic remained the same: the virus had touched every corner of the planet in less than a week.
She had been living on the streets when it started. It had come in the rain. On the outskirts of the city she had been alone in a backstreet when it fell, and her screams of pain and euphoria had gone unheard as she was changed. She could still remember that pain – bones shifting, muscles growing and contracting. It had felt like what she might imagine being thrown into a jet engine would feel like. But it was a pain unlike any she had ever felt, laced with sexual desire and dripping with arousal. Each cracking bone had felt better than the best climax of her life, each stretch of her skin like an eternity on the edge of orgasm. And then had come the latex, sweeping across her flesh like a cool wave, encasing her in a godly, shining outfit of black and pink. Just the touch of it had made her cum so hard she was left trembling. It was as though it had come from the rain itself, each new drop spreading out to clutch her newfound curves. Her ruined nails had become perfectly manicured claws; her flat-chest had heaved out into large, gorgeous breasts; her entire figure had grown full and stunning; and her stinking rags had been replaced by sultry latex attire. Her new form could have rendered any man putty in her hands, and she had tugged at her wet latex dress in the rain before her flesh had taken on a tanned hue and fresh orgasms had driven her to the ground.
She had lain in the rain, cum dribbling down her legs for some time before making her way into the city. The streets had been filled with women, some freshly transformed, some in the throes of the process. The men meanwhile stood helpless, panicking, staring in desperation at the women they had so recently known as their wives, their daughters, their lovers and colleagues. Those women were gone, and in their place latex goddesses now inhabited fresh bodies, minds irrevocably changed for the better.
The following months had been chaos. As the new women of the world banded together, so too did the men until it was sex against sex across the globe. It was a short conflict: as the men squabbled and bickered, fracturing into factions everywhere they were to be found, the superior race of latex goddesses banded together to break them apart. The women who had not been turned by the rain were given their choice of fate – be infected and release their true selves or be reduced to obedient slaves of the new world order.
The men, of course, faced a less favourable fate. A lucky few had been transformed into dumb muscular bulls to satisfy their mistresses, the remainder either enrolled in sissification programs, transformed into additional female slaves, or having their minds stripped entirely and programmed to complete whatsoever task their mistress desired, no matter what it might be.
The infected women had still retained elements of their old personalities, and it was the street smarts of her former self that had led Mistress Vixen to the high position she now occupied: a position which allowed her undisturbed access to the Market, and the luxury of the reception staff to fuck whenever she desired. Miss Rouge was her favourite, for she looked the most innocent when suspended naked from Mistress Vixen’s dungeon ceiling.
At that moment, she felt the elevator slowing. Rising from her seat as it stopped, she strode through the door and out into the loud, bustling market. Built some time after the new world order had been established, it was the prime location to find everything from new sex slaves to personal transformation tools. A massive underground space set up with stands and stages, it was not unlike the conventions that one might have found in the old world, though of course with a distinctly different array of products on show. Sometimes she wondered why it had been built so far away from the city, but then of course the city itself needed all the room it could claim for the countless orgy dens, sissification schools and sexual science laboratories, not to mention the sprawling homes of the goddesses themselves.
Mistress Vixen was a regular customer of the Market, and therefore she knew her way around well. The Main Stage was particularly popular, always demonstrating some new impressive product or another, however she had some stress to relieve herself of before attending the ranks of that particular crowd. The day had already seen her have to whip her sissy slave for misbehaving and book an appointment for him to be re-conditioned into obedience, and her encounter with Miss Rouge had left her craving release. Working her way between the stands she quickly found the sign she was looking for: Madam Sensual’s Pussy Loving Girls.
Madam Sensual’s stand was an open area dominated by half a dozen luxurious leather seats, each one tended to by a naked young woman. Madam Sensual herself was a tall, blonde woman dressed in a tight leather corset, gloves and nothing more, and she spent the time conversing with her customers as well as the voyeur crowd surrounding the stand. As Mistress Vixen arrived, Madam Sensual was pushing the face of one of her girls down into a customer’s waiting pussy.
‘Good girl,’ she said, ‘that’s right, show Miss Dark how good you are at licking, there’s a good little slut. Ah Mistress Vixen, what a pleasure to see you again.’ Abandoning her customer, Madam Sensual greeted Mistress Vixen with a sensual kiss.
‘And you, Madam. Might I trouble you for the services of one of your girls?’
‘Of course, Mistress. How about number one, here?’ She gestured to an empty seat, beside which knelt a tiny blonde girl.
Mistress Vixen shook her head. ‘If it is all the same to you, I shall wait for number five to come free. I prefer her… enthusiasm, shall we say.’
‘Of course, Mistress, I shall be sure to call you when your chair comes available. In the meantime, if you would like to prepare yourself.’
In Mistress Vixen’s opinion, Madam Sensual’s girls offered the best of their service in the business. Judging by the ever-growing crowd – all of whom were either waiting their turn or caressing their bare pussies while they watched – she was not alone in her opinion. Of course, Madam Sensual had spent time and energy perfecting the service her girls could provide. She took pride in having perfected a process all of her own that had her girls’ tongues laced with a potent orgasm balm, said to make the sensation ten times as powerful, and it was a process she kept utterly to herself.
Removing her latex dress, Mistress Vixen hung it on a rack beside the chair she was waiting for, marking herself as the next in line. As she waited, naked, she chose to browse the nearby stands, and quickly came upon one that caught her eye. A small stand, it consisted of three cubicles, each fronted by a clear plastic pane. Residing in each was a woman.
The first two contained the perfect example of a bimbo: long blonde hair, enormous false breasts, large ass and the perfect tan. A large dildo no less than ten inches had been attached to the plastic pane, and the naked woman rapidly bobbed her head up and down the length, taking it all the way to the base every few seconds or so. Her eyes were rolled back in her head and she fondled her clit desperately. Mistress Vixen could not tell how long she had been working the toy, though it must have been some time: the dildo was dripping, her features were coated with spit, and she knelt in a puddle of her own spit and cum. With every bob, her throat bulged down to her collarbones and fresh strands of saliva burst from her lips to drip to the ground. The brunette slut in the second cubicle was in a similar state.
The saleswoman – a fiery-headed individual with her breasts on show – was explaining her product by demonstrating it on the third girl. She was clawing desperately at the sides of the cubicle as if trying to find something.
‘So you see, without a dildo to satisfy herself, this little slut has no purpose. Look at her as she searches for a new dildo to work. Let’s see how she responds to this.’ Producing a third, shorter dildo, the woman opened the plastic pane door and tossed it into the cubicle. The girl snatched it up frantically and immediately forced it down her throat, leaving it there for almost a minute as if savouring it. Unlike the other two girls, she was not naked. Instead, she wore a tight sports top that hugged her petite form. To further differ her, she had significantly smaller breasts, a piercing through the bridge of her nose and shorter, partially dyed hair. By the time she removed the dildo her eyes were streaming, though she seemed not to notice, for she immediately began sucking it once more.
‘There you go, you see,’ said the saleswoman, ‘she is positively desperate for it. Look at her go, taking it all for as long as possible. My deepthroat drones are completely empty save for one thing: the desire to take a dick as deep as they possibly can. Each drone is tested to ensure optimum product quality and come with a guarantee of being able to service twelve-inch dildos and under without issue. Whatever your preference of slave, they will not stop sucking morning, noon or night. Here we have two of the bimbo slaves and one alt slave. See the catalogue for our full range. We also take requests: have you grown bored of your old foot slave. Bring her in and we’ll condition her into a deepthroat drone for you within three days.’
As the woman spoke, the girl continued to plunge the dildo deep into her throat. Soon her top was slick with spit and false cum, and as Mistress Vixen caught her eye she squirted across the floor. Mistress Vixen smiled and approached the saleswoman.
‘I would like to order your on-display alt slave madam, if at all possible.’
‘Of course,’ she said with a wide grin. ‘I see you have a keen eye for a good product, Ma’am. If you will just enter your name and delivery address into the book here, I will have her delivered for you first thing in the morning.’
Mistress Vixen often forget how much better life was now that there was no need to worry about affording one thing or another. After the Spread, the economy had collapsed, but with the new world order established there had been no need to rebuild it: crime was a thing of the past, work was primarily completed by sissy slaves, programmed bimbos or mindless cloned male drones, and there was no need to purchase anything directly. Of course, contacts could provide you preference from the vendor, but other than that, the world had become a place of free products and single-minded peace.
As she finished writing down her details, she heard her name called by Madam Sensual. Crossing to the chair, she smiled: not only was Number Five her favourite girl, but the chair was one of two set up with a large butt plug for the customer to enjoy. It had already been applied with liberal amounts of lube. Positioning herself over the plug, she eased herself down onto it. She could not hold back the moan of pleasure as it spread her tight ass, the pain euphoric. Passing over the widest part, her ass shrank back down around the stem and she gasped at the sudden thrust up into her body. The plug filled her completely, and she felt it press against her insides. Reaching down to the side of the chair, she pressed a button and a scream of passion tore from her lungs as the plug vibrated her insides hard. Manicured claws clutching the leather arms, she felt her pussy begin to drip, and a murmur of lust passed through the crowd watching her.
Number Five sank to her knees before Mistress Vixen and without pause slid her tongue between the woman’s waiting lips. Mistress Vixen’s breath came in short, shuddering gasps as the orgasm balm lacing Number Five’s tongue set her groin tingling. Tracing her tongue up the woman’s wet slit, Number Five teased it over Mistress Vixen’s throbbing clit then pulled away. Almost immediately she descended again, this time sinking her agile tongue deeper and dragging her supple lips over her client’s clit. Glancing down at the girl, Mistress Vixen felt a tingle of pleasure electrify her spine as Number Five stared up at her, a strand of spittle stretching between their differing lips. A picture of innocence, Number Five teased a little longer before burying her face between Mistress Vixen’s legs.
As she felt the girl’s tongue explore her insides, she began to writhe in her seat. With the orgasmic sensation of the slave’s balm-soaked mouth on her pussy and the large vibrating plug in her ass, it was a struggle to stay still. Her moans grew louder and more passionate with each passing moment, and before long she could hear the crowd matching them as they approached climax around her. A few leaned forwards to smack Number Five’s ass, which the girl waved lasciviously before them.
Mistress Vixen, however, barely noticed. Her mounting orgasm threatened to explode through her at any given moment, but Madam Sensual’s girls were the best of their kind for a reason. Number Five was alert to her client’s every movement, every twitch and quiver, and she could detect the approaching climax with an almost superhuman accuracy. As it approached, Number Five would lick harder, deeper, faster, until Mistress Vixen was at her very limit. Just as orgasm was ready to break across the woman, the girl would ease off, return to a rhythm of light, teasing licks up the thighs, across the clit with the very tip of her sensual tongue. Mistress Vixen would be left trembling, her pussy slick with a mixture of spit and sexual juices. Only when her moans had died down, her shaking stopped would the girl pick up the pace again, bringing the woman even closer to edge.
After five such denials, Madam Sensual came up behind the girl. Crouching down beside her she whispered something into her ear. Nodding, Number Five renewed her efforts with more vigour than ever, and Mistress Vixen could feel her climax finally approaching. Her skin was electric, every brush against it an explosion of lust, while her legs were bucking almost uncontrollably against the chair. She groped her breasts until it hurt, squeezing until she left bright white handprints on her tanned flesh.
All at once, the orgasm crashed through her. At the same moment, Madam Sensual forced Number Five’s head between Mistress Vixen’s legs, while flicking a switch on the side of the chair. As Number Five was buried to her nose in Mistress Vixen’s pussy, the vibrations of the plug doubled in strength and the orgasm swelled even further until Mistress Vixen howled aloud. She squirted across Number Five’s face and bucked on the chair until, as soon as it had arrived, the orgasm was complete.
Pulling away, Number Five’s face was slick with spit and Mistress Vixen’s juices. She licked her lips noisily and smiled that innocent smile of which Mistress Vixen was so fond. With tremulous fingers, the woman reached down to turn off the plug, before sitting there shivering with ecstasy.
‘Good girl, Number Five,’ Madam Sensual cooed, ‘you always know how to work Miss Vixen don’t you?’
‘Yes, Goddess Sensual,’ replied Number Five. ‘Mistress Vixen is my favourite, Goddess Sensual.’
‘Now clean up our customer before she leaves.’ Obediently, Number Five licked up the juices that coated Mistress Vixen’s legs and, once the woman had removed herself from the plug with a sucking pop, proceeded to lick the remaining lube from both the woman’s tight asshole and the plug itself.
A little unsteady on her legs, Mistress Vixen redressed in her latex dress, relishing the claustrophobic tightness over her tingling body, and thanked Madam Sensual. Leaning over to kiss Number Five on the forehead before leaving, she left the girl still sucking on the plug as she made for the Main Stage through the crowds.
The closer she approached, the thicker the crowds became. Throngs of latex-clad women and their pets hoping to gain a view of the huge stage. Some were encased head to toe in luscious catsuits, complete with heavy duty has masks to fill their nostrils with the heady scent of sweaty latex, while other wore nothing at all, baring large breasts and shaved pussies for all to see. Though some were alone, others moved about in groups, never going more than a few steps without fondling their companions. On several occasions Mistress Vixen passed small groups spread out across the floor engaging in everything from gentle kissing to rough, sweaty scissoring. Fighting her urges to join, she continued on and the crowds parted to let her pass: anybody who came to the Market knew of Mistress Vixen, and they stepped aside with reverent compliments.
Soon, the Main Stage rose above her. A huge structure, the brick walls surrounding it swept back, ascending to the rooftop also, while the stage jutted out into a sea of expectant onlookers. Beneath it half a dozen rows of leather chairs contained the who’s who of the Market, consisting some of the highest officials in the city, the most ruthless dominatrixes in the country and even the founder of the Market herself, Goddess Temptation. Taking her seat upon one of the empty seats, Mistress Vixen relaxed into the warmth of the leather.
Initially, the stage was empty, but mere moments after her arrival five figures emerged from the rear. Two were large, muscular, Asian women, encased in lipstick red latex catsuits; each of them wrestled their charge across the stage in the form of two naked men fighting against their unyielding grip. The fifth figure was the announcer, a sultry black woman with outstanding curves wearing a microphone headset and a rubber three-piece suit.
As soon as the men became visible they were met with hisses of disapproval from the crowd. By now, men had reached a level of disdain amongst the goddess society that they might as well have been rats. Or cockroaches. Mistress Vixen had heard of a few pockets of male resistance that remained in some distant corners of the world, but for the most part the men had been rounded up and enslaved. Nevertheless, they still had their uses – even if only to provide the goddesses the pleasure of torturing them, or breaking their minds over and again – so to keep up with demand, most men nowadays were cloned products. Originals, as surviving men were now referred to, were rare indeed.
‘Ladies, sissies, and slaves of all kinds, welcome to the Market. Today is a very special day for all you lucky goddesses out there, as I am thrilled to announce a new and improved transformation serum for your viewing pleasure. Before I continue, I would like to invite our cock-sucking girls onto the stage for the purposes of this demonstration.’ On cue, two beautiful, blonde young women arrived on stage, each clad in nothing more than a latex G-string. They were greeted with polite applause. Taking their positions in front of the men, they sank to their knees and began sucking them off.
Though gagged, the moans of the men were soon audible. Mistress Vixen heard a few women retch behind her, and in truth she could not blame them: the only dicks any goddess sucked any more was limited to those of the hung bulls that they owned, and the mere thought of sucking off any filthy Original made her sick to her stomach.
‘Yes, unfortunately these ladies drew the short straw today,’ the announcer said in response to the retches. ‘We took no pleasure in asking them to complete this service, but I can assure you it is for a good cause. Now, to business. What, you might ask, could possibly be worth putting our girls through such torment? Well, our good friends at the Combined Lesbian Institute of Transformative Sciences have recently broken new ground to create the new and improved serum I am able to present to you today. By reverse engineering the original Spread virus and combining it with modern advances, the scientists at CLITS have developed a new strain of the virus targeted specifically towards the inferior sex.’ The woman held aloft a small vial full of crimson liquid. ‘This miraculous substance is packed with incredible capabilities. I need not explain the effects the Spread had on us all,’ her words were met with knowing murmurs, ‘but now we can use the virus that made us into goddesses to further push the men who once ruled over us into utter humiliation. Up until now, the transformation process used when transforming these pathetic creatures into our lesbian slaves was lengthy and exhausting. Furthermore, it required us to then enrol them into additional brainwashing programs to strip them of their former minds. This new serum combines these processes and speeds them up tenfold. Not only will it transform these men into beautiful female slaves before your very eyes, but it will leave them desperately horny in a way never before seen without extensive brainwashing. What is more, combined with the serum itself is an additional programming system that can be toggled on and off at the owner’s leisure. When activated, this highly-advanced feature will program a brand new slutty personality into the slave, stripping them of their memories and personalities. But we know that a number of you goddesses take great pleasure in seeing your slaves cry as you torture them, knowing they were once men, that they could have overpowered you with ease but now are locked in a tight slutty body at your mercy. With you in mind, the program can be reversed, and you can hear your sissy sluts scream as they realise what they have become.’
As the announcer spoke, the men writhed around violently, desperate to escape. Mistress Vixen could not imagine what they thought they might achieve: the Market was swarming with latex goddesses in every direction. If they weren’t beaten to a bloody pulp, they would no doubt be wrestled to the ground and fed enough sissy pills to wipe their mind utterly blank. Their eyes bulged with a mixture of pleasure and terror, though none of their frantic movement could shake off their captors: the muscular women did not so much as break a sweat holding them in place, and the cocksuckers were latched onto their dicks like limpets, luscious lips tight as vices around their dick and balls.
Mistress Vixen analysed them with a combination of deep interest and utter revulsion. The first was a fat gentleman, his large gut hanging down and thick thighs wobbling as he moved. She would have put him in his early-fifties, likely a little older, and he was covered in thick, greying hair. Mistress Vixen shivered: the thought of body hair was horrific to her. The Spread had robbed the infected of their ability to grow any such substance anywhere besides their succulent pussies, and even then most had undergone procedures to prevent the growth of even that. When contrasted with the smooth, perfect flesh of their captors, the hairy men looked heinous, enough to spring bile into her throat.
At least the first man had a small manhood. Mistress Vixen hoped the girl sucking him would have little of his repulsive seed to swallow once he climaxed. The other man, unfortunately for his girl, was more well-endowed, and Mistress Vixen pitied the girl on her knees before him: though she had never tasted it for herself, she had been informed that the cum of Originals was like drinking mud, a far cry from the perfect, genetically-enhanced seed of the obedient bulls she had experienced herself. The second man was taller, somewhere in his mid-thirties. In the old world he might have even been attractive, but it took only a glance around at the twisted grimaces of discuss throughout the crowd to see that his observers did not hold such an opinion of him.
‘Unfortunately for our girls,’ the announcer was saying, ‘there are some drawbacks to the serum in its current state. Though the scientists at CLITS are working to remedy the situation, at present the serum is most effective immediately after male ejaculation, and unfortunately the use of fleshlights or other such tools does not have the same effect as a warm female mouth.’
Just then both men finished in quick succession, an event met with loud groans of disgust from the crowd. A few members of the audience audibly vomited.
Both men were rock hard as the girls stood and left. Mistress Vixen shivered again: not a drop of cum leaked from their mouths, nor was there so much as a drip of it on their dicks. The girls must have swallowed it all.
Thanking the girls, the announcer strode across to the men who renewed their fight with fresh vigour, their hard cocks swaying from side to side. Wordlessly, the women restraining them shifted their hold on them, removing their gags, holding their heads back and pinching their noses.
‘And now, for your viewing pleasure, witness their transformation.’
To ensure they did not attempt to close their mouths, the black women reached down and crushed their balls in latex-gloved fists. With a manic grin, the announcer poured half of the vial into each of their screaming throats.
Immediately, the two men began to thrash around until even their large black guards could not restrain them. Relinquishing their grip they set the men free, however neither chose to run. Instead, they shook uncontrollably where they stood. Within seconds they were sweating heavily, their hair slick with it. Soon after, their sweat itself began to darken until small patches of black were spotted all across their body. Rapidly spreading, these patches formed themselves into a full body leather catsuit that hugged tight to their skin. Naturally, it was a poor fit for the two men, neither of whom had the physique to pull off the attire. But then that too began to change.
As though moulded by their new outfits, their bodies morphed and writhed. The changes were most noticeable in the older man, for his weight loss was dramatic; in seconds his huge gut had shrunken in to a slender midriff which now gave way to the sweeping curves of his new hips. Bones cracked audibly as his ribs re-organised themselves and his hips grew ever wider, while the thick cylinders of his legs melted away into shapely thighs and delicate ankles. Podgy fingers gave way to slender digits and manicured claws that flashed beneath the stage lights. With his chest flattened, it almost immediately enlarged again, this time bursting forth into a pair tight, perky breasts pressing out against the leather of the catsuit. His skull cracked and crunched as it shrank and changed – the wide chin pinching in, the cheekbones shifting up – while the skin across it softened, shed its hair and took on a healthy golden tan. For a brief moment, the transforming man was bald, but then he ran his new hands across his scalp and luscious brunette locks sprang forth, rapidly descending to his petite shoulders and tangling up in his new fingers.
In the second man it was not the weight loss that was noticeable, but the loss of height. His spine could be seen twisting and turning beneath his flesh as his entire frame shrank. By the time his descent had stopped, he was already growing breasts even larger than those of his counterpart and fresh hair of deep auburn swept over his shoulders. His eyes were wide, sultry, and he licked his plump lips involuntarily.
Throughout their transformation, their screams rolled across the audience, waves of pain breaking across thousands of horny onlookers. Mistress Vixen new the pain well. The ecstasy in the agony as the body expelled everything imperfect and dull to form a new figure of sexual perfection. Even know she could remember her own bones shifting and changing, the explosive pleasure of her inflating breasts and bulging ass cheeks. Combined with the claustrophobic embrace of their leather attire, she knew the pleasure was threatening to send them out of their minds. Her pussy was dripping wet as the unfettered howls of agony transitioned into cries of discomfort and then arousing moans of untold sexual desire.
The rest of the crowd knew it too. As the men neared the completion of their transformation, their new hands beginning to explore their new forms, Mistress Vixen could hear hundreds of them masturbating to the sight. The moans of the men were matched by those of the crowd, and the frantic rubbing of latex against latex as they reached their climax filled the air. She was unsure if it was the sweat of the transforming men or the masturbating goddesses around her that she could smell – although she chalked it up to both – but the scent of it filled her nostrils, combining with the heady aroma of sexual juices and latex to soak her pussy even further. Fighting to restrain herself from joining them, she was nevertheless unable to evade the thought of hundreds of sissies licking up the mess once the Market was empty that night.
The final stage of the transformation saw them lose their manhood completely. The bulge at the groin that had been pressing against the tight latex shrank rapidly, disappearing between their legs, and in its place a large bloom of moisture erupted between their legs where their new pussies creamed repeatedly beneath the material. At that moment they moaned the loudest of all, and the transformation was complete, leaving them breathless, dripping with their own sweat and shaking on the stage.
A moment of silence was swiftly followed with uproarious applause and cheers. Glancing to her left, Mistress Vixen noticed one woman still pleasuring herself with the tongue of her sissy slave, but the remainder of the crowd leapt to their feet to cheer their approval.
The new women collected themselves, and the screams that followed were of terror rather than pleasure.
‘Oh god, oh god,’ cried the first, the one who had so recently been old and fat, ‘what the fuck have you done to me? You psychopaths! You whores!’ The woman’s horror was met with peals of sadistic laughter from the crowd, and the announcer turned to her with a smile.
‘I simply freed you, my girl.’
‘You twisted fucks!’ screamed the second, the one who had been tall and hideous but was now small and hot. ‘I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!’ Mistress Vixen thought it possible that she might have tried, but she had not taken more than three steps before she dropped to her knees and began writhing on the ground. ‘What the fuck?’ she said as her hands moved unbidden to her crotch and breasts. ‘Why am I doing this? Why am I so fucking horny?’ Groping herself roughly, she stared up pleadingly at the announcer.
‘Weren’t you listening, you dumb little girl? The serum makes you permanently horny. How about you relieve a little of your stress by making out with your new friend?’
‘No fucking chance,’ said the first woman as she too groped herself, having crumpled to the floor as well. ‘You’re going to fucking pay for this!’
The two ex-men continued to rant and rage at the announcer who stood with an expression of indifference. As they did so, the two muscular women returned, carrying between them a black leather sofa, which they deposited behind the two leather sluts. Dragging them roughly to their feet they stood them in front of it. Ignoring their shouting, the announcer turned back to the crowd.
‘And now to demonstrate the programming capabilities of this product. Like me, you might come to tire of their feeble male personalities, and to remedy that all you will need to do is recite the new personality unlock code.’ She turned to the ex-men. ‘Male End, Slut Begin.’
The women did not miss a beat. Immediately turning to face one another, they ran to meet and dropped down heavily upon the sofa, making out furiously with deep, sloppy, audibly wet kisses and ferocious groping that soon had them dragging one another’s attire from their shoulders. In a matter of seconds, the second woman had her breasts exposed and was kissing the first passionately. With the auburn-haired slut straddling the brunette’s lap they both began to grind furiously against one another, the damp patches around their groin’s squeaking against one another.
So furious was their groping that the brunette accidentally tore free a piece of her lover’s outfit, which was promptly torn from her grasp and thrown away, before they both went back to exploring one another’s mouths with their succulent tongues. The brunette’s hands descended to her lover’s ass and squeezed tightly, before they were guided up to her exposed breasts which she clutched with white-knuckled ferocity. Their moans grew louder as they ground against one another even more furiously, before the brunette tossed her lover onto her back and began to undress her further.
The crowds were already masturbating again at the sight of the passionate lovemaking.
‘And now I would like to open orders to the floor. The first to –’
‘I claim the two onstage sluts and three vials of the new formula.’
All eyes were on Mistress Vixen as she surged from her chair, and she allowed herself a satisfied smirk as she observed that most of the crowd had been too busy pleasuring themselves to hear the announcer’s declaration. She knew how the Market’s game worked, and it was often the case that those with lesser strength of will wound up missing out on the freshest products. Her unwillingness to join them in their self-pleasure had paid off. And it was about to pay off even more.
Somewhat shocked at the interruption, the announcer beamed down at her once she had composed herself. The crowd had fallen silent, but the moans of the passionate new sluts were only growing in volume. ‘Mistress Vixen, I acknowledge your claim and accept it. I was about to say that the first to order will have the pleasure of being left to the mercy of these new pussy hungry whores for the next half hour. If you wish to claim that also, I invite you to join them on the stage for our fellow goddesses to watch.’
‘Of course, madam.’ Ascending the short staircase up onto the stage she strode over to stand before the two new women. They were so absorbed in one another that they did not initially see her. Only when Mistress Vixen cleared her throat did they turn to face her, and she could see spit dribbling down their chins. Sinking down between them on the sofa Mistress Vixen looked from one to the other with a loving smile. Swirling in their eyes were glints of lust and passion more ferocious than she had seen in some time. ‘Use me,’ she said and, pouncing onto their new plaything, the women proved to her just how hungry they were…
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