Sliding out of her inky limousine, Madame Huntress took a moment to smooth down an unsightly roll in her latex dress. Snatching up the briefcase laid in the back seat, she closed the door and watched it ease away from the kerb, the silhouette of her huge bull at the wheel. Checking her watch, she pivoted sharply toward the large, medieval building before her.
It had been part of the Old World, but even then it had been ancient. She often found it amusing that one of the few things the goddesses had left untouched was something the Originals had not built. Nothing they built was of any use now, but what came before them was not always so disposable. It might have been in ruins, but the dilapidated castle had been too deliciously dark to tear down.
To say they had repurposed it, she thought, depended very much on one’s perspective: to the Originals, who had only ever seen it as an echo of the past, their use of it was very much new, yet those ancient figures who had tortured criminals and traitors in the castle’s darkest dungeons might very well have considered the goddesses to be continuing their work.
Stalking through the gates, she glanced at the unfortunate woman tied up overhead but did not pause to admire her. Suspended upside down on an inverted cross, her naked body was slick with sweat and the wretch was clearly in distress. Quite honestly Madame Huntress still could not understand why the woman – once the ageing, bigoted mayor of the city before the Spread arrived – persisted in crying out to those passing in and out of the castle. She had been bound there for the better part of five years, her artificial circulatory implant keeping the blood from pooling in her head, and her sustenance chip keeping her alive. Had she not realised nobody was going to help her? More to the point, did Madame Huntress in her jet-black latex dress and matching elbow-length gloves look like the sort of woman who was going to have mercy on a vile creature such as her?
Ignoring the muffled cries that followed her across the renovated courtyard, she similarly blanked the numerous cages lining the walls in which were contained dumb, mindless bimbos perpetually riding and sucking the various dildos fused to the cage bars. Their mouths lolling open, their brains had been so thoroughly emptied the only noises they could articulate were slow, zombie-like groans.
Despite the fact the goddesses had been unwilling to demolish the place, that was not to say they had not updated it a little during the renovation. Certainly, though the outer aesthetics had largely been maintained, the work they had done on the interior had been significantly more extreme. Striding through the automatic double doors, Madame Huntress greeted the beautiful Latino receptionist with a smile.
‘I am here to see Goddess Maim.’
‘Dungeon eleven,’ replied the woman, gesturing down an adjacent corridor before returning to the paperwork spread across the huge wooden desk.
Nodding, she swept down the corridor, her heels clicking on the glossy tiled floor. The doors she passed were all fitted with keypads while her path was lit by clinical white lights. Once she had taken a seat in the small alcove at the end a metal door curved from the wall and closed with a hiss before she felt the little chamber descending through the ancient building.
Several floors down the door swung open and the goddess stepped out into a small antechamber. It was a stark contrast to the modern reception she had just left. In place of the medical aesthetic there were flagstones and pillars and studded metal grilles. It felt as if she had travelled back from the Latex Age to the Dark Ages and a part of her, as it always did when she came down her, imagined herself ruling as a latex queen over her filthy peasant subjects.
Her thoughts were interrupted then by a resounding crack, a muffled scream and a cackle of ice-cold laughter. Briefcase in hand she strode across the chamber and through the heavy wooden door into the domain of the most feared goddess on the continent.
Frankly, it was no wonder that the Originals whispered terrified stories of her as they huddled around dying fires given that she willingly chose to work in a dark, cold dungeon such as this. Even when it had originally been built, Madame Huntress doubted it had looked quite as horrific as this: the walls were lined with depraved torture devices of every kind – everything from nail-studded floggers to spiked chastity cages so small they would have struggled to contain a grape – the ceiling dangled with ropes chains and lengths of barbed wire, and along one side had been arranged an assortment of machines invented by the twisted mind of the dungeon master purely to cause agony, including an especially wince-inducing metal cage in the form of a male figure with a small bear-trap about halfway down.
Somehow, despite the deeply unnerving setting in which she chose to work, Goddess Maim somehow managed to be even more intimidating than her tools. She moved with all the graceful yet deadly power of a stalking panther and her piercing gaze could have slit throats. Her presence filled the room, oozing tendrils of fear that even sent a shiver up Madame Huntress’ spine. All at once she felt like a kitten in the shadow of a lioness.
Even among the goddesses, Maim was considered sadistic. So much so that she was one of the few women many goddesses chose to actively avoid. Maim didn’t much care so long as she had her dungeon, but that didn’t mean she was unaware of her reputation. She prided herself in having been one of those blessed few who had lived their life as a goddess even before the Spread. Having been a dominatrix already – latex-loving and ruthless – the transformative rain had done little to her body but much to her mind. Any concept of mercy had been stripped away while her fearsome malice had been honed to a keen edge. What the Spread had left of her was a savage, bloodthirsty hunter who had dedicated her life as a goddess to the pursuit, capture and eradication of the Originals. She was such a source of fear among goddesses and Originals alike, they had a mutual name for her: the Interrogator.
When she entered, Madame Huntress found the woman living up to her nickname. Crouching before an Original bound up in the centre of the room, she leered into his face with an unhinged grin. She had his jaw in her gloved hand, her forehead against his and was whispering about the foul things she was going to do to him. Both were soaked with sweat, and Madame Huntress was reminded of how apart Goddess Maim truly was from her latex sisters. Nothing was permitted to compromise her work, thus while every other goddess made sure to keep themselves presentable at all times she had no shame in regarding Madame Huntress with her hair dishevelled, her skin glistening with sweat and her make-up smudged.
Smacking her captive sharply across the face, she rose to face Madame Huntress. As she did so she revealed the large, pale strap-on at her waist. The rest of her attire was translucent cream in colour, her plump tits visible through the latex. Her strap heels were the same black as her gloves, and here and there her pale suit was flecked with spots of blood, which made sense given that the man’s ass was decorated with a latticework of shallow cuts. Despite her unkempt appearance, she held a professional tongue.
‘Madame Huntress, what a pleasant surprise.’ She crossed to a table lined with painful tools and peeled her gloves off to place them there. ‘I trust you bring news of our thieves?’
Madame Huntress had long since learned to assume that anything she could present Maim with, no matter how confidential, she already knew. It wouldn’t have surprised her to learn the crazed torturer had managed to force other goddesses into submission beneath her heel, but that did not concern her. Besides, however she collected the information, Maim still understood the need for confidentiality.
‘I do. I can leave the information with you if you are otherwise engaged?’
‘Not at all. This one bores me; I would appreciate a new task to occupy my mind. Besides, I find it engaging to be informed by another, it gives my mind room to consider all angles.’ Sinking down into a gothic throne beside the table she pressed her fingers together. ‘Please, let me know all of the details.’
Placing her briefcase on the table Madame Huntress flipped it open and removed a sheaf of papers from within, which she handed over. ‘At approximately five thirty-two yesterday morning, the City Museum experienced a burglary. As I am sure you know the Museum has minimal security given the lack of crime our society experiences, thus the perpetrators were not apprehended. There is security footage of the incident though: the thieves were dressed in black and wore masks to conceal their identity.’
‘Originals?’ asked Goddess Maim, rousing from her stillness like a viper rearing up to strike.
‘Yes. The forensics confirm it.’
‘What were they after?’
‘Just one thing, it seems.’ Reaching into her briefcase she produced a photograph of an anonymous figure kneeling on a metal pedestal, contained head to toe in black latex, which she handed over. Even Goddess Maim raised an eyebrow. ‘The Primary Drone,’ Madame Huntress continued. ‘One of the founding cornerstones of our society. The first Original ever to be fully transformed, brainwashed and dronified. She has been an exhibit at the Museum for the last three years.
‘She was all they took; based on the footage they had no interest in any other exhibits and they knew where to find her. They were in and out within ten minutes. Made their getaway through the sewers by the looks of things.
‘Beyond that, this has the officials stumped. They’ve got no motives, no leads, nothing. Later drone models were chipped, but the Primary Drone never had one so they can’t track her. They don’t even know how the Originals got in and out of the city. They have asked me to pass this onto you; they know you like the hunt and they want their exhibit back as soon as possible.’
Goddess Maim fixed her with a wicked stare. ‘And what do you think, my dear?’
‘I am just here to pass on the information.’
A cunning grin split Maim’s features. ‘Oh come now, Madame, you are not in the offices of our superiors. You know as well as I do you could run rings around our superiors if given half the chance. We may consider ourselves advanced, but I find it amusing that they call me primal when I am the one who can see that in some respects we are not so different to those who came before us. We may all have sharp minds, but that does not mean we are all intelligent. This world runs on respect and lust, but it is easily forgotten that the Originals, including these thieves, do not live in our world. They cling to the world they used to belong to and wish to reclaim. A successful hunter does not just stalk her prey, she anticipates what it will do next by understanding how they function. This crime is perfectly simple to understand once you consider the facts. You can speak freely here, so tell me, what do you think happened?’
This was what Madame Huntress enjoyed most about visiting Goddess Maim. Her superiors and colleagues in the Original Hunting Agency feared the woman in their very bones and Maim knew it. As such, she acknowledged the courage it took for Huntress to face her and respected her deeply for it, making Huntress one of only a handful Maim had any patience for. In many ways Madame Huntress was an apprentice to the torturer and it flattered her that Goddess Maim spared any time for her at all, let alone allowing her to put her powers of deduction to the test against arguably the sharpest mind on the planet.
‘Well given how efficient they were I don’t believe this was a spontaneous crime. They knew what they were after and they knew where it was, which implies they had surveyed the Museum ahead of time. If they had been hiding out in the sewers during the day and surveying the building at night it would explain how they were so fast, how they knew their escape route so well, and why there was no sign of them passing through the city barriers on the night of the theft.’
Goddess Maim’s eyes glittered. ‘Impressive, my dear. But there are still questions you have failed to account for. How did they escape the city without detection? Why steal the Primary Drone? How did they get in in the first place? Where are they now? And how does the disappearance of old scientific tech from city storage fit into all of this?’
‘I’m sorry, you have lost me.’
The woman on her throne chuckled. ‘It is all effortlessly simple. As you know there is little that goes on in this city I am not privy to. So, let us consider the facts. No Originals have been detected passing through the city barrier without goddess authorisation in the last two years, therefore they cannot have made their entrance nor escape that way. We know, however, that they have use of the sewers, which is clearly their means of entry to the city.’
‘But all the sewers are monitored. Every pipe leading out of the city is scanned just like the barriers. They couldn’t have come through them – the scanners would have identified them.’
‘Only if they came through the used pipes. Even before the Spread there were countless sewer tunnels that had been bricked off as the system evolved. Passage through these would allow our thieves to surpass the scanners before knocking through into one of the tunnels under the city without detection. Then, as you correctly identified, they could survey the Museum by night while being suitably concealed during the day, maybe even returning to their settlement beyond the city limits.
‘Their motives are equally transparent. Through my contacts I understand that over the past several weeks there have been numerous incidents in the city’s long-term storage facilities regarding pieces of old scientific tech going missing. No crime has ever been reported as it is widely assumed that these items have been incorrectly stored, however I am certain they have been stolen. Poor storage standards would lead you to expect that all manner of different items would go missing, however it has only been scientific technology from before the Spread. Using the sewers I have no doubt our thieves have been pillaging the city storage for resources, which explains their interest in the missing museum exhibit.
‘The Primary Drone, as you mentioned, was the first drone ever created, and became the blueprint for all drone models going forward. Therefore, she is the perfect subject for the Originals to experiment on for their own ends. Whether they are trying to engineer a vaccine to counter-attack the effects of the Spread, or devise a way of controlling her and the millions of other drones across the world, their exact motives are irrelevant; they stole her in order to experiment on her with stolen scientific technology.’
‘But why steal old tech, not our advanced systems?’ asked Madame Huntress, ‘And how did they escape?’
‘Advanced goddess tools need much more power than old tech and thus are more easy to track, not to mention much harder to lay their hands on. Also, they would have little knowledge of how to use it, whereas they would be far more familiar with old tech. As for how they escaped, they didn’t.’
‘I don’t follow,’ admitted Madame Huntress, bemused.
‘Many stretches of the sewers are completely underwater. Getting delicate scientific tools through the sewers and out of the city would be impossible without seriously damaging them, and they need it to conduct tests on the Primary Drone, which implies they never left at all. Therefore they must be somewhere in the city. No doubt they have hunkered down somewhere on the outskirts in the abandoned strips. It wouldn’t take more than a few hours for me to root them out.’ The torturer rose from her throne with a smile. She allowed her visitor to marvel at the simplicity of her deductive reasoning for a few moments before approaching her. ‘I will begin work at first light tomorrow morning, but for now I have work to do. I invite you to take a seat and watch, if you are interested? You might learn something.’
Madame Huntress’ awe dissolved instantly, not quite able to believe what she was hearing. Goddess Maim’s throne? Nobody was allowed to sit on Goddess Maim’s throne! And an invitation to watch her work? To her knowledge only a handful of goddesses had ever been given such an honour, and very few had the stomach to see it all the way through. Maybe Goddess Maim truly did see her as an apprentice.
‘I… I would be honoured, Goddess. I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘Teaching you the true meaning of dominance is a reward of its own. Now make sure you pay close attention, my dear, because I will be testing your knowledge later. I would not advise disappointing me.’ With that she stalked across to her captive and made full use of her thick, pale strap-on…
Skirting around the rusted-out dodgems, Goddess Maim whispered over the mossy arena, vaulting the barrier to land amongst a thicket of brambles. Useless against the thick protection of her black latex outfit the thorns did not bother her. Catching her breath briefly she was soon on her way again, darting through the overgrown bushes in a blur of green. Like a hunting tiger she moved with barely a rustle, traversing the decomposing theme park with effortless ease.
As she had told Madame Huntress the previous night, it had taken her less than a few hours to locate the thieves. Though if she was honest, Maim doubted her companion had remembered it: their night had been quite the thrilling one. She always enjoyed demonstrating the art of torture to an audience, but never had she come across a woman so engrossed by her work. By night’s end they had left her dungeon arm in arm, the Original whimpering in agony, and even to Maim the rest had been a haze.
All she knew was that they had experimented with a little bondage themselves, for she had awoken to Madame Huntress asleep beside her with her wrists still tied together and an orgasm-denier patch just beginning to peel from her hip.
To her astonishment, Maim had also found the unmistakable marks of a riding crop across her ass when changing for her hunt. The thought of Madame Huntress actually plucking up the courage to punish her was perhaps the most erotic thing Goddess Maim had imagined in a long time. It felt good to have finally found a goddess who would not cower before her, however satisfying it was to see the fear in their eyes. She could hardly wait to mould her into a figurehead of savagery to be feared amongst their fellow goddesses, just like her, but for now she had a job to do.
If anything, she was frustrated she had not found the thieves sooner. Why she ever imagined they would hide out at the forgotten scrapyard was beyond her, and she attributed the fact that she had left the crumbling theme park until her fourth location to the fact that she had been distracted by thoughts of Madame Huntress gagged and trussed.
To an untrained eye the theme park might have appeared deserted, but she was a skilled hunter and not so easily deceived. Disturbances in the fallen leaves across the pathways had alerted her first, followed by a single half-faded boot print; a handful of gouge marks in the cobbles where heavy equipment had been dragged along, then clear interference with several manhole covers across the site.
Finally, as if laid out purely to confirm her suspicions, she had found the undeniable impression of a stiletto heel in the mud by the Ferris wheel: the Primary Drone. No goddess had been here since the Spread. It could only be the stolen exhibit.
Following the tracks, she soon found herself in the shadow of an old rollercoaster. Though nature had reclaimed the ride, draping it with curtains of ivy and blankets of moss, the building it operated from had survived mostly intact and she could hear muffled voices within.
Making sure not to reveal herself, she slithered through the bushes until she was stood below the broad, filthy windows dominating the front of the building. Electing not to take the stairs up to the ride floor – too noisy, too open – she slipped through a collapsed door into the space beneath, once reserved for the park staff. Settling down in the shadows at a spot where the roof had caved in, she listened intently to the voices.
Most of it was useless chatter – what the results of the most recent test were, what they were going to test next, insults to the goddesses and their latex world order – but occasionally they would let slip intriguing information. Mention of a settlement they belonged to. References to weak points in the city’s security. How they had accessed the city’s storage. Rooting out the useful information like she was panning for gold, she logged each fragment of intel away for later use.
After sitting dormant for almost an hour, Goddess Maim finally stirred to life. The words of the men had roused her.
‘Aw, fuck. Well, that’s another wire dead. They keep shorting out like this we’re gonna be here forever,’ one was saying.
‘Well what do you expect? Every roll of wire has been sitting in this godforsaken park for the last five years. What do you want us to do, waltz into the city and ramraid a fucking electronics store?’ replied a second.
‘I didn’t say that, did I? All I’m saying is unless you find me some damn wires that are going to last more than a couple hours we’re going to die of old age before we get this done! Not that we’ll last that long. We just stole one of their most valuable pieces of history and they’re sure as hell not going to stop hunting for us until they find it. We’re on the clock here.’
A third voice joined in. He sounded weary and Goddess Maim suspected he had spent too much time listening to their bickering already. ‘If we’re so push for time maybe you should spend it working instead of arguing. There’s more wire in the maintenance sheds. You, go and get some. As much as you can. You, see what you can do to fix it.’
Weaving through the rubble to the crumpled door, Goddess Maim waited for one of the men to trudge down the stairs and head off through the park. A smile plucked at the corners of her lips: this was what she lived for. The thrill of the hunt. Blood pumping, heart beating. There was nothing more invigorating. With a deep breath she padded after him, silent and patient.
She waited until he was a good distance from the rollercoaster before she made her move. From the shadows of a long-dry log flume, she strode out into the path behind him. Easing a long black band of rubber from her small bag she flung it with expert precision.
Upon contact the band wrapped around his skull, slotting into his mouth to gag him as it was programmed to do. For a moment he clutched at it wildly, the force of the hit knocking him to one side. Then he turned, caught sight of her and let out a strangled scream.
His friends could not hear him, however, and they both knew it. She allowed him a second’s head start, producing a large syringe filled with purple liquid in the process. Then she was off, haring after her prey.
The pursuit was short but thrillingly intense. The man was quick and athletic, not to say impressively tactical. Knowing he could not beat her in a straight line he elected to take a winding path between bollards and the rusting remnants of a children’s teacup ride. He could not move like her, however, and she was soon upon him. She flew the last ten feet, springing into a flying leap which ended with her wrapping her legs around his waist and tackling him to the ground, burying the needle up to the barrel in his shoulder and injecting its contents before they hit the floor.
Jumping up barely out of breath, she ignored the smears of dirt all over her outfit. The man was already changing, his body reacting to the concentrated agent. She had to get him inside where she could work her magic, and she had to do so quickly: the longer he was gone, the more likely his friends would grow suspicious. Looking up, she smiled. They had ended up in front of the collapsing Haunted House. Perfect. Taking him by the wrists, she dragged him inside, his skin shifting beneath her palms…
When he came to his senses, he found himself restrained in a dark, cold room that smelled of damp. A chill breeze across his chest when he shivered prompted him to look down. He cried out sharply, only to cut himself off as he noticed his high-pitched voice. In the back of his mind he realised the gag had been removed, but that was the least of his concerns.
He was a woman! That monstrous bitch had turned him into a woman! His soft tits were naked and he was wearing a black latex dress that hugged his feminine figure uncomfortably. Looking up he found his wrists in tight cuffs chained to the dusty rafters of the room.
Goddess Maim was suddenly before him, leering into his face. ‘Good, you’re ready. Scream if you like but your friends are too far away to hear you. Pray to your god if you feel the need, I respect the cravings of desperation.’
‘What the fuck have you done to me?’
She rolled her eyes with a sigh. ‘Do you people never ask any intelligent questions? That’s all I ever hear. Never how did I do this to you, or why, just what have I done? I’d say it’s pretty obvious I improved you drastically. At least now you look the part of a goddess. As it happens though, how I did it was an injection of chemicals synthesised for my own personal use.’
Her captive sagged where he stood as his legs trembled beneath him. ‘Fuck, I… I feel weird… it’s like I’m… like I’m…’
‘Horny,’ Goddess Maim finished for him, busying herself with rolling up his dress until his ass and naked pussy were on show. He did not even have the strength to resist. ‘That’s because you are. My serum getting to work. It’s a high-intensity transformation agent combined with material-editing nanites, libido catalysts and sensory-stimulated cognitive redevelopment hormones. Or, to put it in terms you might understand, ten minutes after injection you are a horny latex-clad beauty with a deeply malleable mind.’
‘I don’t understand,’ he said breathlessly, his pussy beginning to drip, ‘why? There’s only three of us. You could have taken us all on at once. Why do this to me?’
‘Because that’s no fun. The thrill of the chase, the anticipation of the hunt, seeing carefully laid traps capture their prey, that’s what really keeps things interesting. Now, I would love to chat more, but I’m afraid time is short.’ Without warning she lunged in and sank three fingers into his sodden pussy.
The pleasure was explosive, and once again he sagged in his restraints without the strength to hold himself up. This only dropped him further onto her pumping fingers, extracting a sobbing groan from his lungs.
Lights popped across his vision and he felt his legs trembling uncontrollably as his painfully horny body responded to her violent fingering. A sweat broke out across his forehead. His eyes rolled back under fluttering lids. Her movement was so intensely rough, yet at the same time effortlessly soft, a combination which filled him with agonising passion.
Goddess Maim did not stop at fingering, however. That was not enough. With her spare hand she pinched and pulled at his hard nipples, simultaneously leaning in to sloppily lick his neck and earlobe. She interrupted herself only to whisper filthy words into his ear. She made sure she pressed herself close to him, the smell of latex and skin filling his nostrils, and every few seconds she would kiss him deeply, passionately, probing the inside of his mouth with her tongue.
His orgasm rose sharply among a cascade of sensations: her smell, her taste, her words, her touch, her majestic look. It felt like he had been torn up from the inside; it felt like somebody had used a shotgun to remove his groin such was the intensity of his climax. It was so intense, however, he did not realise he had transformed back into his former self until his eyes rolled down and his head lolled onto his chest.
He looked no different than he had leaving the coaster: his clothes were back, his body was his again. The only evidence of his recent fingering was the sweat matting his short black hair.
‘I… I…’ But he could not form words. Though he was back to normal on the outside, his insides were still churning. It felt like something submerged in the depths of his brain was quickly coming up for air. As it rose the bubbles caused more and more disturbance until he could barely think at all.
A terrible gash of a smile twisted Goddess Maim’s lips. ‘You don’t understand, I know. It’s simple really. As I said, I like the thrill of laying traps, and you are my trap now. The chemical I used is powerful but short-lived. The change isn’t permanent. However, while under the effects the body is subject to an unnatural increase in sensitivity. An orgasm in such a state activates permanent cognitive changes that cause the brain to crave the stimulation of female orgasm even once transformed back. You will do anything to get it, include obey every word I say.’
Minutes before he would have died before begging for anything, but she was right. He needed that feeling again and he would do anything in the pursuit of it. ‘Please, fuck, oh god I need that again, I need you to transform me and finger me until I cry. Please, please, change me back,’ he wailed shamelessly with pleading eyes.
‘Not yet, slave. First we have to pay your friends a little visit…’
‘Would you just tell us what is so important?’ Henderson grumbled. God, he was too old for this shit. Not only had Mallows returned without any wire, but now he was intent on dragging them across to the other side of the park to show them something.
If they ever managed to get back to the settlement he was never teaming up with these two morons again. He was old enough to be their grandfather and if it wasn’t for the fact he was the only member of the settlement with any scientific knowledge he would have avoided the mission altogether.
‘It’s better if you see,’ Mallows insisted, ducking into an old building. A splintered sign above the doorway identified it as a laser tag arena.
‘Great,’ muttered Packard, ‘I forgot we were six years old.’
Leading them through the ruined entrance hall, Henderson ushered them down a flight of stairs onto the arena floor. ‘It’s down here,’ he said.
The place was falling apart. Curtains of ivy dangled from fractures in the roof and many of the obstacles had rotted, rusted or been reduced to rubble by falling debris. Dust hung thick in the air and from the corners came the chitter of hidden rodents. Batting aside thick swathes of cobwebs, Henderson and Packard scoured the gloom for anything interesting: nothing. Just a collapsing attraction, like everything else in this wretched park.
‘Alright, Mallows, quit pissing about,’ Henderson snapped, glaring up at the man framed in the doorway. ‘What are we doing here?’
A second figure slid up to Mallows’ side then. She was slim, petite, dressed all in black latex, and smiling the coldest smile either man had ever seen. Their blood ran cold: a goddess. ‘Taking your last breaths,’ she hissed.
‘Mallows, run!’ cried Packard.
‘Don’t be silly,’ said the goddess, ‘my slave wouldn’t run from me. Not unless I commanded it, anyhow.’ She shivered visibly. ‘Oh, how I love catching flies in my web. It has been fun, gentlemen, but I am afraid you have something that belongs to us and we cannot tolerate that. Sleep well.’
From the pockets of his jacket, Mallows produced a small black canister and tossed it into the room. Henderson sprang up the stairs but was too slow to make the top before the door was slammed closed. Throwing himself against the ageing metal he felt it give a little and reared back for a second attempt. But then, from behind the door, he heard a loud grating noise followed by a resounding metallic clang which shook the door. A barricade.
Knowing he would not escape this way, he span around and scanned the room for another means of egress. Down below, the canister had already activated. Spinning like a top it spewed thick, cloying pink smoke into the room, which had already engulfed most of the lower floor and was rising like floodwater toward him. Through gaps in the twisting smoke he could see Packard sprawled on his back clutching at his throat. His eyes were bulging, his body writhing, his veins pulsing as he gasped for breath.
Henderson knew there was no saving the man. Already strands of dark hair were beginning to claw their way from his scalp. Already his chest was beginning to swell and his hips expand with sickening cracks. Trying to help him would only seal Henderson’s own doom.
Grinding his teeth with rage, he silently mourned another man lost as he jumped into action. There was another door at the back of the arena. He had noticed it when coming in. With any luck it would be rusted enough that a few hard kicks would bring it down. But he would have to move fast; the smoke was rising every second and soon he would not be able to reach it.
Sprinting across the upper floor, he vaulted the banister of a descending staircase and landed only a few feet from the door.
He never made it any further.
Before he could move there was a hand on his collar and he was hauled back into the dense smoke. It welcomed him fondly, wrapping shifting arms around his body and blocking the door from view. All at once his vision was a blur of pink, the inexorable pull of his assailant dragging him deeper into the heart of it. He held his breath for as long as he could, desperately struggling to break free. Then he was thrown onto his knees and the canister loomed up in front of him. A sharp kick to the stomach winded him and he gasped on reflex. Inhaling the sweet smoke straight from the canister, he groaned as he collapsed, betrayed by his body which was rapidly mutating.
Through the grubby window overlooking the arena floor, Goddess Maim watched with her arms crossed. Her slave stood beside her silently. Watching the men struggle and fall, she chuckled. Soon after two female figures rose among the smoke.
‘Awake,’ Maim said, ‘and serve your masters.’
Three days later
‘Goddesses, bulls, sissies and slaves,’ said the announcer, a tall goddess in pink latex shorts and naked from the waist up, ‘On behalf of everybody at the City Museum, I am honoured to officially unveil our newest interactive exhibit.’
A ripple of murmured admiration and applause went up as the red silk curtains fell open. Surging into the dim room the audience drank in the spectacle of the new exhibit. It was a beautiful piece, a true work of art the likes of which few had seen before. It was lit by a light panel set into the ceiling of the open metal box, illuminating the naked figure chained up within.
She wore only a black leather mask, from the top of which hung her dark locks. A clamp around the end of her ponytail was chained to the edge of the box, along with her wrists, nipples and the folds of her pussy severely restricting her movement. The cumulative effect was that she stood with her ass stuck out, her chest pushed forward and her head pulled back such that her spine was curved in a perfect C. She was slick with sweat from maintaining the position – not surprising given she had to do so in stiletto heels – and whimpered softly beneath the mask.
‘As you have already seen tonight, our beloved Primary Drone has been returned to us safely thanks entirely to the efforts of Goddess Maim.’ Polite applause swept through the room at this.
Goddess Maim, stood at the head of the crowd, nodded with a smile, taking a sip of her blood red wine as she savoured their appreciation. She stood completely naked among them, as she often liked to do on the rare occasions she showed her face in public: physically she was almost as vulnerable as the chained woman, yet she still controlled the room like no other. The goddesses feared her and they all knew it.
‘Thanks to her the loathsome Originals responsible for the heinous theft were successfully apprehended,’ the announcer went on. ‘Given the distress these Originals bought to us at the Museum and the city at large, city officials decreed that one man be offered us as a means of compensation to do with as we please. As a result we were able to reach out to one of our close friends, Mistress Vanity, who created this masterwork for us.’ Another round of applause, this time for a slender woman in a latex evening gown with the scheming eyes of a serpent. ‘The title of the exhibit is Coward. It is a deconstruction of the universal truth that the Originals have never been, and will never be, capable of understanding true meaning as we do, and of how their refusal to submit to our ways demonstrates the empty bravery they claim to have. For it, Mistress Vanity elected to choose the weakest of the three thieves: one ran when pursued by Goddess Maim, the other made an impressive attempt to escape her trap. This one, however, is the one they called Benjamin Packard, and he neither ran nor tried to escape. The true embodiment of weakness.
‘As I mentioned, Coward is an interactive exhibit. Please, make use of her however you desire. The chains and clamps are irremovable, so there is no need to be concerned of her coming free. Better yet, she remains fully aware of the man she once was and the harder she is used the louder she screams. Thank you, everybody, and enjoy the rest of your night.’
Chatting amongst themselves, the gathered visitors strode up to the woman. Their hands were soon all over her, teasing her holes, stroking her flesh, smacking her ass, and in due course her whimpers became cries of despair. Cutting a path through them, Goddess Maim took a seat on one of the plush red benches to the side of the room. Crossing her legs she sipped at her wine and watched, the ghost of a smile on her lips.
True, it was a great joy to see another Original taught his rightful place in the world, but it was a hollow victory. The hunt was over and this place of exhibits and finery was no substitute at all.
Worse still was how many less Originals she now had the opportunity to prey on. After trapping the remaining two thieves and returning them to the city, she had interrogated all three in her dungeon in front of a panel of nauseated officials. The location of their settlement had inevitably come out – a sizeable place of over three hundred set deep in the forest beyond the city limits – and the officials had quickly jumped to action. The settlement would be raided, the survivors imprisoned and then it was the Market for them. A good result, no doubt, but one that deprived her of three-hundred and forty-six potential hunts.
Finishing her drink, she rose to her feet. Up at the exhibit a particularly large bull was lining himself up with the woman’s ass to the encouragement of excited onlookers. As he plunged into her hole even their cheers could not drown out her ear-splitting scream. But the crowd only laughed as the bull began to roll his hips.
Goddess Maim sighed; like vultures, they were easily satisfied.
She preferred the finer things. A bull fucking an Original was neither new nor interesting to her. Fortunately, she had something very fine waiting for her at home, much better than this dull place. She had done her bit, took part in the opening of the exhibit, now it was time for a real reward. A cold glint in her eye she strutted away, leaving the screaming woman behind for the vultures to enjoy…
Across the city, the woman who had once been Samuel Henderson was having an equally noisy night. Her screams, however, were of passion rather than desperation. Unlike her companion, she could not remember who she had been before succumbing to the smoke since she had undergone further bimbofication and brainwashing procedures following her interrogation in Goddess Maim’s dungeon. As far as she was concerned, she had always been one of the many maids at the Bull Mansion, and she had always loved her role there.
The Bull Mansion was exactly what it sounded like and had been built especially for the numerous bulls without any particular goddess who owned them. Bulls, of course, were a key part of goddess society, acting as everything from chauffeurs to test subjects for new physical enhancement chemicals, and though many goddesses owned one or more, there were still more who were purely for public use. The mansion was a place for them to call home.
More of a sprawling complex of interconnected sites than one individual building, each bull had their own room and a maid to satisfy their eternal sexual hunger. Though many of the maids were dedicated to a specific bull, there were yet more who were not, tasked instead with tending to the mansion at large. All, however, were communally available to any bull who wanted to make use of them.
As one of the newest maids to join the ranks – though, of course, she did not know it – Maid Sammi was attracting plenty of attention from the horny bulls. Bent over a broad dining table with other maids and bulls watching on, she yelped as the towering bull spanked her hard. It was the third time in the last hour one of the goliaths had gripped hold of her and bunched her latex maid’s outfit around her waist.
Glancing back she noticed him lining his monstrous cock with her bare pussy. A second later his head was pressing against her sex and her eyes bulged as he slid inside. She didn’t think she would ever get used to the intensity of the bull’s filling her tight little holes. Every time it took her breath away and reduced her legs to putty. It was all she could do not to slump onto the table, but she forced herself to remain upright for her master.
His huge meat spilled ecstasy through her horny body and she shuddered as he sank all his length inside her. She couldn’t get enough of him. Her huge breasts felt as though they were about to burst from her uniform and she could see several bulls opposite eyeing up her cleavage hungrily.
She was about to smile coyly to lure them in, but then the bull was pounding her and her world exploded with pleasure…
Not so far away, in the lounge of Madame Huntress, what was left of James Mallows lay on the floor obediently suckling on the goddess’ toes.
Clutching his torso were a series of belts, including one about his neck to which was attached a chain leash. Lower down his meagre cock was locked permanently in a unforgiving cage and beneath a heavy butt plug filled him to his very limits. Other than the leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles – permanently fused to his flesh by Goddess Maim herself – he wore nothing else, and he had been lying in obedient silence for the last three hours.
Madame Huntress was similarly scantily clad with only a latex bra, panties and stockings on her person. Her pussy was slick with her sexual juices for she had been idly playing with it while watching the recording on her broad plasma television. It was a recording of Goddess Maim’s interrogation of the thieves and she had been watching constantly since her mentor had sent it, keen to learn as much as she could of the woman’s methods.
If she was honest, however, she had learned all she could some time ago. Since then she had merely been replaying Mallows’ interrogation over and over again. It was so deeply erotic she had barely torn herself away from it for days.
Unlike his two companions, Mallows had not resisted his interrogation; he had not even had to be restrained. He had simply knelt before Goddess Maim and answered every question she asked of him without hesitation. Where his settlement was, what his people intended to do with the Primary Drone, how often he masturbated – anything she asked, he laid the full truth out almost eagerly. He was so compliant the other two did not really need to be interrogated at all, though of course Goddess Maim laid into them with all her rage anyway, ‘to confirm the accuracy of Mallows’ knowledge’ as she had explained. After that, Mallows’ memory of his life before servitude had been erased and he had settled willingly into life as Madame Huntress’ personal plaything.
Madame Huntress shuddered as she watched Mallows – the very man laid at her feet – answer Maim’s questions for the hundredth time. His mindless obedience was a thrill to watch. Only hours before the time of the recording he had been a free man with a deeply-rooted loathing of every goddess, yet it had taken Goddess Maim only a matter of minutes to take full control of his mind and reduce him to her puppet. The thought of his free will being stripped away with such effortlessness never failed to make Madame Huntress wet; she could not wait until she held the same power.
Glancing up at the time, she smirked. Taking up her slave’s leash she tugged on it, sniggering as he whimpered. ‘Come on, pet, I have a surprise for you.’
‘Is it transformation time, mistress?’
Her smirk grew to a smile. Being transformed was all he truly lived for. Even his subservience to the goddesses was a by-product of his need for transformation since they were the only ones capable of providing both the transformation and subsequent climax he craved. It was as though the need was carved into his very soul.
She had never seen anybody more satisfied than her new slave when he tasted the transformation agent in his drinking bowl. He would lap it up eagerly making sure not to spill a single drop before moaning sensually as the transformation took hold. Once changed he became a bratty girl whining for attention, but Madame Huntress had no issue with his shift in personality: the girl was desperate to be fucked and the more she whined, the more violently her goddess was willing to hate-fuck her. Afterwards, when her body was all but broken, the brat would drink the transformation agent again and shakily return to the pet bed laid out beside Madame Huntress’ lavish bed.
Goddess Maim recommended a transformation once per day to keep her slave in peak condition, but Madame Huntress liked to keep him guessing as to exactly when it would be. It was getting late, and ordinarily she would have given him his drink earlier, but she had been waiting for a special visitor. She had heard them arrive a few minutes earlier but had waited until their agreed time to allow them time to prepare.
Now she led her slave by his leash from the room. ‘Yes, pet, but that isn’t the surprise.’
Pulling aside a curtain she ushered him into their playroom. Inside a woman was reclining on one of the leather benches. Her tits were visible among the straps of her black harness, nipples hard, and she was stroking the head of her strap-on with black-clawed fingers. An evil glint sparkled in her eyes while a cold smirk spread across sultry lips.
The man’s face lit up when he saw Goddess Maim.
‘Hello, puppy,’ purred the one people called the Interrogator, ‘I’ve so been looking forward to seeing you…’
Thanks for reading!
I can’t quite believe it’s been over a year since I posted a longform entry into my Latex World Order universe, but it’s true. I suppose I got so busy with trying out new styles of writing, new storylines and big project such as Gaypril, Lake Fantasy and the like that this universe just kind of fell by the wayside. Having said that, I genuinely didn’t realise it had been so long since I posted a long piece and I hope it is not as long until the next one comes along.
Many of my readers probably already know this universe is my baby since it launched my original blog, and it is a chance for me to indulge in the more depraved kinks I harbour that don’t always make their way into other stories.
I’m also a sucker for interconnected stories, so for the eagle-eyed among you who might be wondering yes, the settlement Goddess Maim’s interrogation identified was the same settlement from which the prisoners in Prisoner 13 were taken and this story serves of an explanation of how they were discovered.
I’ve had this one waiting to release for some time I must admit, but with Goddess Maim being such a sadistic beast I’m glad it was pushed back so many times because I think her and her dungeon are a perfect fit for Halloween.
The story itself includes a variety of different models, of whom several play Goddess Maim.
Unfortunately I wasn’t able to use her work outside of the dungeon scene, but the inspiration for Maim was the sensationally erotic Mika Tan: https://www.pornhub.com/pornstar/mika-tan. Tan is an incredible performer and her work oozes sexiness. I am particularly in love with the scene of hers I used for this story since I think she looks absolutely incredible in that latex outfit, but all of her work is great and I would love to use it in future stories if I can.
Unfortunately there is very little information I can find on the models in the haunted house scene. As far as I can find the dominatrix in that scene goes by the name Sayako, or Mistress Sayako, but beyond that I’ve been unable to discover anything about her. Her blonde slave is even more elusive, and alas I do not even have her name to provide.
The latex maid Henderson becomes is played by the sensational Britney Amber: https://www.pornhub.com/pornstar/britney-amber. Amber is a big name in the industry and one you’ve probably heard of, but if you haven’t you should definitely educate yourself on her work. Hell, even if you have and are a fan, head over and re-educated yourself because Amber is a truly stunning model who deserves your time.
The model in the image of Madame Huntress and Mallows, her slave, is a new one to me: Marley Brinx. Her PornHub profile can be found here: https://www.pornhub.com/pornstar/marley-brinx. I actually had an entirely different image for that scene, but it had been removed when I came back to find it after having this story sitting in my backlog for months. Top tip to writers: save images you want to write about as soon as you find them, it saves a lot of hassle. Having said that, Brinx’s image is arguably better and I’m very happy to have found her. I have not seen any of her work so far, but now I have found her I certainly intend to and based purely on the studios and models I can see she has worked/collaborated with she sure looks like a model you should check out.
Finally the last depiction of Goddess Maim is played by Nova Patra: https://www.pornhub.com/pornstar/nova-patra. Another model I am unfamiliar with, there is unfortunately very little content on her PornHub profile, however if you want to go looking for yourself there is plenty of her content you can found around the internet.
I hope you all enjoyed this return to the Latex World Order universe! Let me know what you thought down in the comments. Also, if there are any areas of goddess society you’d like to see me explore in future stories I’d love to hear them. I can never have too many ideas!
You may have noticed this piece also comes earlier than my usual longform universe entries. The reason for that is simple: Halloween. I have two pieces that take place on Halloween night, so I wanted to release them as close to the night in question as possible, thus I pulled this one forward a few days to do so.
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Imgbox gallery: https://imgbox.com/g/LByPaczjHB
Additional images created using ezgif and Online Video Cutter from the following video(s):
2 Thoughts on “A Latex World Order Story: Hunted”
Absolutely killer. I loved how hopeless the Original’s resistance is and how easily they were broken apart by the genius dominatrix. Packard’s punishment is definitely my favourite part.
It’s always fun trying to come up with some new sordid punishment in this world, and this piece definitely allowed me to stretch my creativity when devising suitable ways to break the unfortunate Originals. Glad you enjoyed delving even further into the ruthless world the goddesses have created!