Clearly the woman was disappointed in what she was seeing, and though he had only just stumbled from the fetid confines of the delivery truck – a place worse than any he could think of – her iron glare already made him wish he had stayed on board. She was encased almost head to toe in black latex, a tight corset pulling in her waist, with the only visible flesh that of her claw-tipped hands and her stern yet beautiful features. She was clearly Asian in descent and her dark hair was pulled back tightly, her arms crossed over her chest and her features carved into stony disapproval. Her eyes bored into him as though she were hoping that if she stared hard enough he might fall down dead.
She stood alone in the warehouse, eyeing her property with disdain as they were unloaded from the stinking truck. It reeked of piss, shit, sweat and vomit, and the people that were being dragged off of it by hefty, latex-clad female attendants wearing gas masks and red catsuits were smeared with filth and bodily excretions. They had been in there for a week, the implanted sustenance chips ensuring they did not starve nor dehydrate, and he was reminded of cramped cattle trucks that had driven the roads prior to the Spread. Only containing in excess of three hundred naked prisoners.
More attendants used whips and painful electric prods to herd them out of the vehicle, and once they were all out, the man found himself at the head of the group. Though it was almost entirely male, there were about a dozen women amongst them who had not been turned during the Spread. The woman stared at him and her lip curled, before she turned to one of the attendants and nodded. Taking up heavy-duty hoses connected to the floor around the men, they flicked them on and battered the gathering with barrages of water. As it struck them they cried out in pain, and a number slipped to the ground, where they struggled to cope with the torrents of water.
He felt the wind leave him as one of the jets caught him in the chest, and shortly after his vision was marred as he was blasted in the face. For a few desperate seconds he thought he might drown as the water swirled up his nose, coursed down his throat, but then the jet had moved on and was battering him in the flank.
After a few minutes all of the livestock were suitably clean and bruises were beginning to darken on their naked bodies, at which point the hoses were turned off and a quartet of attendants dragged him from the rest of the group. Manhandling him across the room they subdued his struggling with a few sharp blows to the stomach, bringing him up before the woman as a shivering, soaking, spluttering mess. She glared at him icily.
‘You are the leader of these creatures, I understand?’
‘I was,’ he gasped, ‘before your kind found us. What did we ever do to you?’
‘Existed,’ she replied bluntly. ‘I am told that you elected to put up a fight against our liberation party when you were located. I am here to show you how much of a mistake you made, and to serve you your due punishment. I confess I am impressed you lasted so long without being located, however I am of the opinion that the longer any Original survives in this world, the more extreme their punishments should be for resisting their rightful places under our feet. Come, creature.’ She began to turn away.
‘I have a name.’
The woman wheeled around so fast she was a blur of motion and he did not realise she had slapped him across the face until he was on the floor with an agonising sting burning across his skull. She leaned over him with a face of loathing. ‘No, you do not! I have a name. I am Mistress Severe. You are an Original and thereby are permitted no such luxury. You are worth less than the shit you left in that truck! The closest to a name you have is Prisoner 13, and if you so much as open your mouth again without me authorising it I will personally ensure that you spend the rest of your days impaled on the dick of the biggest bull I can find.’ The attendants dragged him to his feet again. ‘Now, come.’
Nodding, he followed the woman as she stalked off towards a large set of double doors. Glancing back, he noticed that the shivering men were being split into three and marched off through different exits at the mercy of the attendants’ whips and electric prods, with the women separated into a fourth group and shoved along with a little more respect. Then he was through the doors and in a long corridor and they were lost to view.
At the end of the corridor was a bright light, and once they reached it Mistress Severe led him out into a colossal, thronging room teeming with activity. Everywhere he looked there were women, dressed in a massive array of different attire. Some wore full body latex, others no more than a latex thong; some showed flesh through their harnesses, others chose to go for corsets and nothing else; some wore latex business suits, others preferred birthday suits. The sheer variety of attire was mind-boggling. In amongst them were more men than he had expected. Most of them were obedient and sissified, scurrying after their mistresses or dragged along on leashes, though there were a few who were the very image of masculinity. These, he knew, were the bulls that Mistress Severe had mentioned, and they mostly walked around naked, every inch of them rippling with muscle and no single one sporting a dick less than ten inches in length.
‘Welcome to the Market,’ said Mistress Severe with a smile.
He would have known where he was without her saying, though her words struck him with knives of ice. To the pockets of people who had survived this long unnoticed by the new world order, the Market was infamous. And a nightmare. No prisoner had ever been known to be taken inside and come out alive, and the stories of those lost to it were used as cautionary tales to those who might wish to stray too close to the new civilisation that had spread across the planet.
The group of survivors he had led for the past five years had been holed away in the depths of the forest where they had just about been able to survive. None of them knew how the goddess scouts had located them, but once they had the attack force had come down on them with overwhelming numbers. Though Mistress Severe had been correct that they had put up a fight, it had been entirely futile: not a single goddess had been taken down by their short-lived attack, and barely half an hour after the assault began, every last one of the three-hundred and forty-six survivors had been in shackles. Stripped of their clothes, they had been dragged from their homes, had their chips implanted and tossed into the transport truck which had, at length, delivered them here.
Despite the overwhelming quantity of exposed flesh and outright nakedness, his own lack of clothing still felt deeply embarrassing. Not least because as Mistress Severe led him through the crowds, he was met by all manner of abuse. Many of the goddesses retched as they saw him, while others took the opportunity to flog, whip or otherwise beat him as he passed by. A few of the bulls shoved him to the ground and spat on his head, while a few of the sissies even broke into tears as they spotted him. The rest of the crowds would hurl verbal abuse at him, and there was barely a single individual who failed to notice him: after all, Originals were rarely seen anywhere in the market besides on the Main Stage or being used in some form of demonstration, much less walking around without shackles.
As he soon discovered, however, it appeared Mistress Severe carried with her an impressive reputation. The crowds parted before her, and while he was met with perpetual abuse, almost every goddess she passed proceeded to congratulate her on her many victories over the Originals, and wish her good luck in giving him his comeuppance. From what he could understand, Mistress Severe seemed to be one of the driving forces in uncovering and imprisoning remaining Originals. She seemed to be the goddesses’ equivalent of a war hero.
His body stinging from countless physical blows, he was relieved when Mistress Severe led them to a small building among the stands. Above the entrance was a sign that declared it as Mistress Buxom’s Stimulating Pets, and the walls were plastered with posters that looked not unlike adoption flyers that one might have found in an old pet shop, but that depicted scantily clad girls instead of fluffy friends. Knocking on the door, she entered at the approval of the occupant, and he followed her inside obediently.
The room was fairly small, dominated primarily by a wide wooden desk. White curtains lined the walls, dissipating the light that shone behind them so that the room was evenly and softly lit, while a series of wooden, decorative false walls encircled the middle of the room. Before the desk stood two comfortable-looking leather chairs, while another was situated behind it occupied by a beautiful woman.
He could see why the woman had taken the title she had. She had a full, curvaceous figure and large, plump breasts that dominated her chest. Everything about her spoke of beauty and dominance, from her plump lips to her black-painted nails, and she was dressed in a deeply arousing fashion. Her legs were wrapped in thigh-high fishnet stockings capped with killer black heels, one of which was lifted up onto the desk. Beyond this she wore only a black corset, leaving her bare pussy and magnificent tits on show, and she had carefully applied a face of sultry make-up that could have struck a man down with lust.
If her appearance alone was not arousing enough, then her slutty moans and the enthusiasm of the girl between her legs certainly was. The girl was dressed in a cute, see-through white piece that clung to her curves and ended at her hips so that he could see little dribbles of her sexual juices running down her thighs. On all fours, she lapped at Mistress Buxom’s exposed pussy happily, circling her tongue over her clit and staring up into the eyes of her owner.
For all that he had tried not to focus on the women outside, he had been unable to ward off all of the sexual feelings that naturally arose, and when they entered he was semi-erect. Seeing the obedient girl licking the pussy of the dominant, beautiful woman was more arousing than he would have liked to admit, but his rising dick did that for him well enough. In the old world he would not have been deemed particularly small in his manhood, however when Mistress Buxom noticed him she laughed through her moans.
‘Well, well, Mistress Severe, it seems you have tainted my place of work with an Original who cannot keep himself under control.’
Noticing his boner for the first time, Mistress Severe rolled her eyes. ‘I apologise, Mistress Buxom, but I had need to bring him here. I wish to do business with you.’ Indicating for him to wait, she took a seat before the desk and in response Mistress Buxom rang a small bell. A door set into one of the walls opened, and beyond it he could see stacks of cages filled with luxurious blankets and pillows, each containing a beautiful young woman curled up like a sleepy cat. Through it came another girl, similarly dressed to the one between Mistress Buxom’s legs, and she crawled over on all fours to Mistress Severe who had unzipped the latex between her legs and exposed her pussy. Without a word, the girl settled down before the goddess and began to lick her.
As both women were pleasured, they conversed casually, hands occasionally straying to grip the hair of their pets and pull them in closer.
‘I trust business is good?’
‘Nothing to complain about,’ Mistress Buxom nodded, ‘my pets are the talk of the Market if I do say so myself. Just last week I perfected a new conditioning process that will have them chase after a ball of yarn. Delightfully cute, if I do say so myself.’
‘You always were one to innovate. As a regular customer of yours, might I ask what you plan to roll out next?’
Mistress Buxom raised an eyebrow and smiled. ‘You’re not here to collect information for my competitors are you, old friend?’
Mistress Severe smiled back. ‘You know me better than that. If I wanted information from you, I would not be so coy about it.’
He noticed an expression pass between the women – one of desperate longing – and noted the shiver that ran up Mistress Buxom’s spine. ‘I suppose you are right. Even if you were an informant, however, I do like some healthy competition. After all, these days we do what we do for the love of it not the financial gain, do we not? My next development is what I call wake-up protocols. It is taking some time to perfect I will confess, but once we have it working you will be able to wake up every morning with your pet nestled under your bedsheets with her head buried between your legs.’
Mistress Severe stroked her girl’s head idly. ‘Hmm, that sounds as though it will be a lengthy job. No doubt you will need a lot of test subjects, eh?’
‘A good number, yes.’
‘And what would you be willing to offer me in exchange for supplying a large number of said subjects?’
Mistress Buxom leaned forwards a little. She shivered as the movement allowed her pet to tease her clit at a better angle. ‘That all depends, Mistress, on what quantity you are able to offer.’
Concealing her mouth from the naked man beside her, she mouthed something to the other woman, whose face broke into a wide grin. ‘You always treat me well, my dear. What is it you wish for in exchange?’
Mistress Severe allowed herself a small smile and her eyes strayed to the enthusiastic girl between the other woman’s legs. ‘You know,’ she said. ‘Years you’ve withheld her from me, but I think an offering of this magnitude requires a payment of equal weight.’
Mistress Buxom seemed for a moment as though she were about to ask her latex-clad visitor to leave. Then she let out a long sigh and nodded. ‘You have won your prize,’ she said before leaning down and whispering something into the girl’s ear. Obediently, she turned and crawled beneath the desk to relieve the other pet of her duties and lapped happily at Mistress Severe’s dripping pussy. The other girl replaced her between Mistress Buxom’s legs.
Leaning down, Mistress Severe ruffled the girl’s hair and grinned. ‘I can assure you, Mistress, the trade is worth it. If you would be so kind as to have Kitten delivered to my mansion in her cage I will organise the delivery of your product immediately.’ With a cold smirk she knelt down in front of the girl and kissed her passionately, smearing their faces with the juices of Mistress Buxom and herself, all the while staring at her prisoner who fidgeted uncomfortably and could not prevent his boner hardening yet further.
He was thoroughly pleased when she pulled away, bid Mistress Buxom good day and led him from the room.
In the thronging crowds his erection attracted even more abuse, and he tried his best to conceal it with his hands but to no avail. Mistress Severe even slowed to allow him to be insulted and beaten, and a number of times she even stopped completely so that one woman or another could bend him over and flog him hard. As they moved on, they passed what she called the Main Stage, and he could not help but stare at the latex clad woman being almost violently eaten out by two sluts wearing black catsuits. The primal nature of the women scared him as it seemed like they would stop at nothing to taste the stunning woman, even if it killed them to do so.
Humiliated, terrified and stinging, he was relieved when she led them away from the main crowds and into a less populated area. Eventually, a large building rose up which she directed him into, and he found himself in a dimly lit corridor. On either side the walls were dominated by glass viewing windows, and beyond them were a wide array of depraved scenes. Walking him through the building, she stopped at several specific ones and forced him to watch. If he tried to turn away she would bark abuse at him, and the assorted visitors to the building would converge on him and manhandle him until he was pressed almost to the glass with somebody holding back his eyelids so he could not help but watch.
The first window she stopped at looked into a room lit by purple lights. It was a simple bedroom, decorated largely in a purple theme and with a bed of black and white sheets. With so little inside, there was little else for him to focus on besides the shemale doll who was being pounded by a huge black bull on the bed.
As he watched, her face contorted with the expression one gives when the pleasure is too much to process; her eyebrows flew up, she appeared to be gasping, and it seemed that all she could do was attempt to ride the waves of lust that were cascading through her. She reached out to grip the pillow behind her, apparently purely to find something to anchor her to reality, and he could see her struggling for breath with the black man’s large hand enclosed around her throat. Her little tits bounced as she was fucked, and her small dick flopped between her legs. He could not imagine how she must be feeling: the bull was enormous, his dick stretching her tight ass to its limits, and he growled as he fucked her, his simple mind ignoring the little figure he was using and focusing only on his own pleasure. She could have been a sex doll for all he knew: all he knew was that there was an ass at his disposal, and he was programmed to fuck it.
Beside every window stood an attendant. For the most part, they stood watching the scene beyond their respective window, however they wore a collar – and only a collar – that stated ‘HERE TO HELP’ in silver block letters. Skirting around the collection of goddesses who were rubbing their pussies watching the pale toy get fucked, Mistress Severe tapped the attendant on the shoulder.
‘Excuse me, but might I trouble you to explain exactly what is happening here to the creature in my company?’
The attendant looked as though she was about to throw up when she noticed him, and she quickly spat in his face. ‘Filth,’ she muttered, ‘the only reason I would even address you is because your Mistress wishes it. If you must know, what you are witnessing is a first class example of semi-transformation sissification. As I hope you are aware by now, your kind are suitable for absolutely nothing in your natural form. Sissified Originals are popular amongst our society, however some goddesses like to take the sissification process a step further. They like to give their sissies the bodies of cute little girl-next-door types, with one notable exception. As everyone but you is likely to understand, the superior genitalia is a divine gift, and it does not do to grant one to your breed without ample need. For those who wish to burden their sissies with limp little dicks, semi-transformation sissification is the way forward and is incredibly popular in our sissy schools. We engineer Originals into what the old world called shemales, or more accurately traps, and these are most often used to satisfy the constant sexual needs of our enhanced bulls. As you can see here, the bull has no interest in what he is fucking, and therefore the trap has no need for the superior genitalia, only a tight little ass for him to ruin. Personally, I find it delightfully fitting; we are able to rob the Originals of the masculinity they so adored, while reducing the genitalia they felt granted them dominance over our immaculate forms to nothing more than a limp nub, able to cum only from a good anal fuck. Sooner or later their personality settles into that of a happy little sissy,’ she indicated the shemale in the purple room, ‘I mean just look how much she is enjoying it.’
The attendant was right. The trap’s face was twisted into an expression of deep pleasure, her eyes rolled back up into her skull. The bull had taken her by the hips and was pulling her down hard onto his dick, slamming his massive length into her hole without a passing thought for the screams she was emitting. Though to the prisoner’s horror, those screams were deeply slutty, and he could hear her begging for more.
As though reading his mind, the attendant went on. ‘Indeed, sometimes the sexual needs of the trap can surpass those of the bulls they are primarily designed to serve. We have a set of five bulls for this particular room, and the moment this one is done with her, he will be replaced by a fresh one. She never stops.’
‘How long has she been in use?’ Mistress Severe asked.
‘This one? Hmm, just over six months I believe. Her provider engineered her so that she has no need to sleep, and she gets all the sustenance she needs from bull cum. No waste either. The perfect toy, really. Are you in the market, madam? Our provider takes special orders if you were wanting this one engineered.’
The prisoner recoiled in horror. He thought about running, then thought better of it. He was overcome with relief as Mistress Severe shook her head. ‘No thank you,’ she said, ‘some other time perhaps. Come on, creature, I have more to show you.’ Before he could look away, the trap was suddenly on her knees, the black bull removing the condom he had been wearing which was now heavy with his cum. To the prisoner’s horror, the trap snatched it from his hands and tipped the contents down her throat before gorging herself on his dick in the hopes of a fresh load. The concept that the cock-addicted sissy had once been a man like him turned his insides: the only identifiable thing left was the trap’s limp, forgotten dick.
He could not decide if the next window they came to was better or worse. On the one hand, all the occupants were fully female, but on the other the scene they built up was distinctly more brutal, and while the previous room had held an air of at least vague sensuality, two of the three involved in this one were far from happy about their inclusion.
The room was all concrete, the only furniture within being a padded bench. Bent over this bench were two beautiful women, one with auburn hair, the other platinum blonde. Their beauty was marred, however, by the red ball gags stuffed between their teeth, the silver cuffs that held their hands together and anchored their feet to the floor, and the thick leather collars around their necks that were attached via knotted rope to metal rings on the walls. The resulting effect of their various restraints was that they were bent over the bench and unable to resist as the third woman in the room – a tall individual with long ginger hair, bouncing tits and a massive double strap-on – fucked them hard against the bench.
As they arrived, the goddess was pounding the woman with auburn hair, the strap-on hammering mercilessly into both ass and pussy. Her victim was screaming around her gag, desperation written across her face, and though she tried to resist, she could do nothing to escape. The goddess gripped her by the hips and fucked her rough as voyeurs on the other side of the glass egged her on, masturbated or – in the case of one particularly raunchy couple – intermittently fucked one another with a large black dildo.
As Mistress Severe explained the room to him, the prisoner soon decided that it was in fact worse than its predecessor.
‘You might be thinking about now that those girls look a little unhappy. You would be right. What you are looking at are prime examples of memory retained transformation subjects. You see, our new world is not so different to the old one. We still have our differences in opinion. Some of us feel that Originals are not worthy of being transformed and granted access to the superior form, and that they should solely be sissified and conditioned while retaining their male form. Others believe they should be engineered like the trap you just saw with an entirely female body save the genitals. And yet more think they should be purged entirely and that transforming them into obedient female slaves – beyond the bulls, of course – is a small price to pay if it rids the earth of your filth.’
As she spoke, he could not tear his eyes away from the two slaves. In particular, he was focused on the blonde woman. For her counterpart, the desperation was laced with desire; despite the fact she was being used, part of her was enjoying the experience. Her body had been engineered to respond to the pleasure with slutty moans that she could not hold back, and though she never looked as though she wanted to be at the mercy of the woman, she had a level of pleasure in it and shades of lust passed over her face. The blonde, on the other hand, could only watch and wait until she was used. She had no silver lining, no passion to dull the fear, and as he watched she intermittently glanced down at the woman’s thrusting hips and the huge dildo strapped there, then looked away and fought off tears as she was forced to wait her turn. He imagined she must have been feeling something of the fear one might feel if tied to a railway line with a train fast approaching.
‘That final option presents a host of different options in how it is conducted,’ Mistress Severe went on, ‘each of which results in a different end product. For example, Mistress Buxom’s girls start out as Originals, are transformed into girls and are then heavily programmed into obedient pet-like behaviour. Other vendors give their girls slutty personalities and – if they are really lucky – permit them to join society as latex goddesses themselves. What you are looking at now is another option: fully transformed slaves who are fully aware of who they were before. Those two, they know they were men once. They can remember that power and superiority. But now they are trapped in the bodies of those they once deemed inferior and are used as nothing but fuck meat. This is nothing. In the cities there are entire buildings dedicated to the use of sluts like these. Floor after floor of women who were once men locked up in every different position you could imagine, ready for sexually frustrated goddesses or bulls to come and fuck the living daylights out of. Slave brothels we call them. And all the while they are haunted by the memory of the bodies they were torn from and the knowledge of how far they have fallen. It is enough to make even the hardest goddess smile.’
Horrified, yet unable to tear his eyes away, he watched as the goddess pulled out of her first victim. Leaning down, she unhooked a pair of weights from the side of the bench, which she swiftly attached to the folds of the woman’s pussy. Setting them swinging wildly, she cackled as the woman screamed, sending dribble flying around her gag.
As she continued to scream, the goddess plunged her strap-on into the blonde woman’s holes and laughed even louder at her wails. She used her even more roughly than the first slave, pulling her back onto the dildos by her hips until they were buried in her to the base. He could hear her shouting insults at her victim as she used her, the rope on her collar bucking wildly, and all the while the first slave continued to scream as her pussy was weighed down.
He was glad when Mistress Severe decided to move on, though by now he felt as though he was ready to throw up, and his mind whirled as he tried to conceive what else this house of horrors could possibly contain.
The answer was not what he expected.
The blonde woman had been forced to her knees by numerous hands, and while she was held there more hands were wrapped around her face and neck. The resulting effect was that she was kneeling at the mercy of a quartet of women, her head tilted back and her mouth open wide, into which was being thrust a thick, lengthy dildo. She was dressed in a white robe, and to his great surprise the women who surrounded and restrained her were dressed in the attire of nuns. They stared down at her with the soft fondness that one might view a small child with, though the woman who was gripping the dildo itself had a face of stern severity and appeared to take her role very seriously. The room they were in was no more than a padded cell, the type one might envision in a stereotypical asylum.
As he and Mistress Severe came to the window, the attendant there was already explaining the scene to an interested crowd.
‘Of course,’ she was saying, ‘as most of you may know, the Spread was not an all-encompassing event. It is estimated that roughly one woman in every one-hundred thousand possessed a natural immunity to the effects of the Divine Rain, and as you are most likely aware there were notable locations in which the Rain itself did not fall at all, leaving an estimated seventy million women never even exposed to it in the first place. It is common knowledge how those who avoided exposure altogether are handled in our modern world – infection or enslavement in one capacity or another – however it is not so well known how the immune are treated.
‘That is where the Nuns of Truth come in. The Nuns are of the firm belief that while the unexposed are able to decide upon their future, the immune should not be forced into enslavement purely based on their inability to be affected by the Rain. As such, all of the immune are handed over to the Nuns who work to replicate the effects of the Rain through other means.
‘Here you can see an example of their intense training sessions. It may seem strange to us that to artificially create a goddess the Nuns would train them in such arts as deepthroating given that we goddesses rarely engage in such practices, but it is in fact a key step in the process to instil a mindset of intense sexual focus in the women, before moving on to develop their affinity for dominance and latex. These sessions are often a very private affair and as such the Market is deeply thankful to the Nuns for demonstrating their practices to educate our visitors on this topic. The entire process of artificial Rain-effect replication can take upwards of years – this subject, for example, has been under the care of the Nuns for over ten months and still has a good way to go – however once the women complete it they are perfect examples of the modern goddess and serve as a testament to the advancement of our society that we can provide freedom to those who otherwise would have been doomed to a life of sexual slavery.’
As the attendant had been talking, the nuns had moved on from the deepthroat training. Now, the woman was down on all fours, her ass raised up ready for use. The dildo had been inserted into her ass and one of the nuns thrust it rapidly, another leaning over the blonde to pull her cheeks apart. While the two of them were focused on using her ass, a third had crawled in front of her to kiss her passionately. The blonde woman did not resist, however it was the nun who provided most of the vigour to the kiss. The fourth nun – the serious one – stood over the scene with a keen eye.
Mistress Severe’s prisoner got the impression that the woman was in a transitionary stage. She was not outright resisting the women who tended to her, and indeed she seemed to follow their orders with a level of willingness, to allow them to move her without objection. However, she was not so far gone from her original self that she was rocking on the dildo like a whore, moaning into the mouth of her kisser. That goddess persona that the Nuns were trying to develop within her was not yet fully rooted, yet the woman she had once been was long gone.
He shivered as the Asian dominatrix leaned in to whisper in his ear. ‘You know I visited one of their convents once. Amazing place it was. One thing I learned there was that there is a period of the training they call Twilight. Just before their original persona vanishes forever they resurface with a vengeance, but they find themselves in a body that is constantly horny and already beginning to crave latex and dominance. Seeing what has been done to them drives them just about mad and you always know when there is a girl in Twilight because you can hear her screams all through the building all night long. By the morning though the woman she was has gone, and those screams have devolved into moans of lust as she rides some toy or another until her carers come to move her to her next training session. It truly is a beautiful thing to listen to, I assure you.’
She laughed at how pale he had gone, and when she finally led him from the building she had to wait for him at the exit given that his legs were shaking so much. A few minutes more staggering through the market and she came to a stop in front of a new stand. A sign declared it as Madame Arousal’s Bimbofication Station, and it consisted primarily of four shower cubicles set back to back on a plinth in the centre of the space. Each one was fronted by glass door, and the remaining three walls were tiled. Around the area stood a handful of women, all of them picture perfect bimbos from their massive fake tits, their swollen asses, their unnaturally plump lips and the empty-headed way they twirled their hair and giggled whenever somebody glanced at them admiringly. An additional woman clad in nothing but a latex bikini was strutting around chatting with potential customers.
Mistress Severe turned to face him.
‘Do you know why I showed you all of those things, creature? Why we visited Mistress Buxom and spent so long in the Viewing Rooms? Why we visited three windows in particular over all the others.’
‘To show off how depraved the world has become.’
She sighed. ‘What you have seen is far from depravity, and if you believe I would waste my time trying to open the mind of a filthy Original like yourself, you are both useless and stupid. Though I don’t really know what else I would expect of your kind.’
‘Then why?’
‘Because I want you to understand what you have done to your people by resisting us. You Originals are misguided, as are those unfortunate women you drag into your beliefs. We are not the monsters here. This world has never known peace and prosperity like that we have gifted it with, and we are free to live our lives in sexual bliss thanks to the advancements that have been made as a result of the Spread. But I know you can never see that, and that everything I have shown you makes you sick to your stomach. As I said, misguided. When you took up arms against our people you sealed the punishment of those you led.
‘A third of the men in your party will be handed over to Mistress Buxom. They will undergo physical transformation and then be used to develop her new conditioning program before being programmed and sold off as pets to any goddess who wants one.
‘Another third will undergo semi-transformation sissification to become just like that cute trap you saw earlier. Once they have become completely obedient they will be used to service the bulls both here in the Market and in other public areas where they are needed. Some of the lucky ones might even end up serving the personal bull of a goddess.
‘As for the other third, their future lies in the slave brothels. Just over a hundred men and all of them are facing a life with the memory of who they once were while locked up to be fucked like cheap whores in buildings they will never escape. Thanks to you, once they go in they will never see the light of day again, unless somebody decides to buy them of course. But trust me when I say that the types who buy from slave brothels are rarely the sort you want to be owned by.
‘Then there are the women. As you’ve heard, we have a little more respect for them, and three of the women in your group are extremely lucky since they are fully immune. They will, of course, be handed over to the Nuns and whether it takes six months or six years, they will eventually become a part of our society. The remaining ones will be given the choice of infection or enslavement and appropriate steps will be taken from there.’
Her prisoner could not comprehend what he was hearing. The people he had helped survive for the past several years were all doomed to a life of vile depravity. They would live as slaves, or pets, or even be forced into goddess bodies. All because he could not bring himself to surrender. The resistance had been futile, and now the punishment was horrifying. He struggled to remain upright, though he feared if he fell to his knees she would find some even more detestable fate for his people.
Mistress Severe smiled at his despair. ‘And all that just leaves you.’
He hung his head dejectedly. ‘Just kill me,’ he said, ‘get it over with.’
‘Oh I will,’ she grinned, ‘but not in the way you think. In the past five years we have found so many ways to improve your kind. Personally, I could not care less what process an Original undergoes, what I value is the fear in their eyes when it is happening. And I think this will scare you the most.’
All at once, she grabbed him savagely by his unkempt hair and dragged him over to one of the shower cubicles. Throwing him in roughly, he landed hard on the tiled floor and heard the door lock behind him. When he stood up she was on the other side with her arms folded and a triumphant expression on her face that threatened to tip into a leer of insanity.
The woman in the latex bikini came over and the two of the conversed briefly, then she left once more and Mistress Severe sat back on a chair that was set in front of the shower, beside which was a lever.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, hammering on the glass.
‘Purging the world of one more vile creature,’ she said. She nodded to one of the mindless plastic bimbos stood nearby. As she spoke she unzipped the crotch of her outfit and began to toy with her glistening pussy. ‘Madame Arousal really does offer the best in bimbofication. All of those sluts you saw around here, they were all Originals once. And every one of them have been in those showers. Figure it out,’ she spat.
In a cascade of clarity, realisation dawned, but then Mistress Severe had thrown the lever down. The showerhead erupted and a torrent of water crashed down over him. It was hotter than he had expected and before long the cubicle was filling with steam that swelled up and out of the open top. If he had really tried, he might have been able to jump high enough to grip the top of the walls and clamber out, but already his entire body was beginning to burn. But it was a burning on the inside, as though he had just eaten something that was too hot but the pain had grown out into every inch of his insides. Everything felt like it was about to burst into flames, and in one last ditch attempt to escape he threw himself at the glass door. It did not break and he pressed himself against the glass to try and avoid the main stream.
The last thing he saw clearly was Mistress Severe masturbating hard and laughing at the horror on his face. Then his body began to shake, his mind began to crumble and he stumbled back into the shower, everything lost in the swirling steam…
Mistress Severe started as the new bimbo slammed up against the door. The woman who had recently been Prisoner 13 was breathless, panting as her massive tits pressed on the glass. Her plump pink lips were twisted in a moan of lust and with her arms thrown up high in an attempt to grip anything she was presenting her heaving chest for all to see. Her hips too were oversized, supporting a huge ass and a tight shaved pussy. She had long bleach blonde hair that looked perfect for tugging on, and if the persistent moans were anything to go by she was just as horny and empty-headed as Mistress Severe had hoped.
Madame Arousal approached and admired the slut in the shower. ‘A fine product, Mistress Severe,’ she complemented, ‘you let her cook for quite some time.’
It was true. The dominatrix had loathed the Original ever since she had first laid eyes on him, and she had wanted to punish him as much as she was able. To ensure that the bimbo’s IQ was at the lowest level possible, she had left the shower running for a good ten minutes over the recommended time. The decision to do so had clearly paid off, not only in her mindlessness but also in the heaving ass and tits that had continued to swell in that time. Acutely horny, the bimbo was already rubbing her pussy, and she was so stupid that when Madame Arousal crossed over and opened the door she did not so much as move, instead staying in cubicle and splashing in the puddles of water on the floor, giggling as she did so.
‘Will you require delivery today, Mistress, or will you be taking her away yourself?’
Mistress Severe waved a hand indifferently. ‘Oh I won’t be taking her, Madame. She is all yours, do with her what you will. As much as I would love to lock her up and torture her in my dungeons, I fear I would not be able to ward off the memories of the creature she once was. Besides, I would rather her be of at least a little use to somebody than wasting away in shackles beneath my mansion.’
‘Very good, Mistress,’ nodded the woman, and she crossed over to the bimbo in the cubicle. Not bothering to zip up her outfit, Mistress Severe stood to leave, but before she did she half-turned back.
‘Actually, Madame, if you wouldn’t mind, I do have a condition on what you do with her. If a goddess wishes to buy her for her bull, please be sure his is at least a twelve-incher. I want her to scream when she is being fucked.’
‘Quite right,’ Madame Arousal nodded, and then Mistress Severe had disappeared into the thronging crowds. Turning back to the blonde bimbo, she found her playing with her heaving tits, her lips parted in a half-moan. ‘Right then, I think you’ll sell better without any clothes on. So let’s get you out here and we can write a nice little ‘For Sale’ sign across your tits, can’t we?’
Thanks for reading!
As the first proper second installment of one of my serials, I am super happy with how this turned out. The world of Latex World Order is one I thoroughly enjoy exploring and writing about, and I can’t wait to expand it further. Not only will I be adding full-length new installments to this and all of my serials moving forward (I will probably be doing one long installment to one of my serials per month) but I will also be doing short stories in these worlds as well, so keep your eyes peeled for those!
I would love to hear your thoughts on my work, so please leave me a comment!
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