Models: Jessica Ryan & Miss Kitsch
As he lay on the bed, restrained, masked and powerless to resist as his body was gradually and irreversibly feminised, Joey realised that sometimes dreams really do come true.
The transformation imparted by the oppressive latex was deliciously slow. Indeed, he had been encased in the glossy suit for almost an hour and still the changes had not quite finished with him. His new tits continued to swell agonisingly slowly, each additional square centimetre of volume taking several minutes to inflate, while the honing of his sultry curves was just as gradual. Ever since he slipped it on the suit had been methodically crushing him, physically forcing his tall frame into soft femininity, and though the process had slowed significantly since the beginning, every few minutes Joey still felt it moulding him.
The same was true of the heavy-duty gas mask. At first it had felt extremely ill-fitting, but by now Joey’s features had warped to match and his earlier discomfort had long since faded. The rubber seal was tight enough against his skin that even the most basic expressions were difficult, yet to Joey the unyielding embrace was liberating rather than restrictive. Bondage was undoubtedly his most arousing kink, so the experience of being encased head to toe in latex with ankles bound, thighs lashed against his chest and hands stifled in mitts was – to put it mildly – heaven.
Of course, despite the gradual changes everything still felt foreign. The way his lips sat over his teeth. The way his lids shifted when he blinked. The way it felt to swallow without his normally prominent Adam’s apple. The weight of his tits and ass and thighs; the slenderness of his fingers and the breadth of his hips. The brush of vastly more hair than normal around his scalp and neck, the sensation of breathing with different lungs, the unyielding pulsing of his dripping wet cunt. From head to toe Joey was barraged with constant reminders of both what the suit had stolen and what it had granted.
When he’d first agreed to all this he had assumed it would be a fast procedure – after all, transformations were always so quick in the countless erotica stories he’d read over the years. But those stories were fantasy. In reality the task of rewriting a human body right down to the DNA took time. And while other people might have considered the ordeal torture, Joey had relished every sordid second of it.
Over the last hour, the sound of his breath had been the only audible thing, the combination of the mask and the elongated hair now covering his ears cutting off all other sound. Not even the creak of the latex nor the spring of the bed as he writhed with pleasure could make it through.
But now a new sound reached his ears. Or rather, a new voice.
‘You are mindless. You are obedient. You submit to the Order.’
Tiny speakers inlaid into the gas mask delivered the words directly to Joey’s ears. His skull seemed to resonate with them like the echoing note of a struck gong.
‘You are mindless. You are obedient. You submit to the Order.’
Over and over the phrase repeated, sometimes no more than the faintest whisper, sometimes deeper than any voice he had ever heard, sometimes high and distorted. As it did it seemed to take on a life of its own, crawling ever deeper into Joey’s psyche and clearly intent on reaching the very foundations of his identity.
If left to listen long enough Joey felt sure he would be steadily erased by those three sentences alone. But the Order was nothing if not thorough, and they had no intention of leaving his conversion to chance.
Even in his state of shuddering euphoria, Joey’s pulse quickened as the Courtesan joined him on the bed. She too was wrapped crown to heel in black latex buffed to a mirror sheen, though in place of a mask she wore a shiny hood instead. Her eyes were surprisingly affectionate as she reclined beside him and rested a gloved hand on the top of his mask, though the smile that plucked at her lips was laced with mischief.
‘It’s time, beautiful,’ she purred, her voice playing through the speakers in Joey’s mask. ‘Your body is perfect. Now all that is left is your mind.’ Bringing her other hand into the field of view of the mask’s eyepieces, she presented a corrugated tube capped with a silver connecter. ‘This is what I promised you, gorgeous. This is your path to the life you’ve always craved.’
Joey stared at the tube with a look that could only be described as infatuation. Still, that was hardly surprising given that he had spent well over a year dreaming of this moment – ever since the Courtesan first told him about the Order.
Their connection had started online. Joey’s fantasies of total submission and feminising transformation were rooted so deeply that he had long since given up searching for somebody who could truly understand him. Sure, there were probably other kinksters out there who might have been willing to satisfy some of his needs, but discussing his darkest desires with others had always been a terrifying prospect so he had taken instead to engaging in online erotic roleplay in various chatrooms and servers.
It was in one of these that he met the Courtesan. She immediately become his favourite user to play with, for not only was she perfectly happy to indulge every fantasy he suggested, but she seemed to genuinely share his passion for them too.
It was when he confessed his very deepest craving to her one night that Joey finally found out why.
Sometimes I dream about what it would be like to be whisked away from my life forever. I dream about being taken away and transformed and given a whole new life. One where all I have to do is submit and serve and I never have to think about anything but satisfying my Master or Mistress ever again. I know it sounds crazy, but no matter what I always come back to that same fantasy.
The Courtesan’s reply had almost stopped his heart. What if that didn’t have to be just a dream? What if I told you it was really possible?
From that point on, Joey’s life had spiralled ever deeper into surrealism until he was no longer sure whether he was awake or dreaming.
Though she had never revealed her true name, the Courtesan had gone to great lengths to put Joey’s scepticism to rest. First, she explained everything. How the Order had the capability to transform its volunteers into mindless drones who were then sold into the service of horny, wealthy clients. How the conversion only worked on willing minds and could not be forced on anybody who tried to resist. How the Order sought out suitable candidates via raunchy roleplay forums and other places where deep-rooted kinks were able to flourish. She had answered all his questions without reservation, sincerity in every message.
Next she mailed him a gasmask. Instructed to make some defining mark on the mask, Joey had opted for the word ‘slave’ written in gold marker down the left cheek, after which he packaged it back up and left it at a drop-point for the Courtesan to collect. About a month later she had set up a private livestream in which he was able to watch the transformation of another of the Order’s volunteers. The mask used by the volunteer was none other than the one Joey himself had marked, and after watching the gradual dronification he knew deep down that the Courtesan’s promises were all true.
Nonetheless, the latex seductress had gone even further. Joey was not permitted to attend the transformation itself – that was an experience far too private and personal for anybody other than members of the Order to be physically present for – however, once the change was complete those restrictions were lifted. As such, a few days later the Courtesan had organised for Joey to meet the drone face-to-mask. He had looked into her eyes, touched the word he’d written on her cheek, then had the mind-bending experience of watching her serve the Courtesan for hours on end, all the while imagining what it would feel like to take her place as a mindless latex drone.
And now, at long last, that time had finally come.
Screwing the tube into the connector on his mask, the Courtesan ran a hand down his leg and smiled down at him. As she did so she curled her other hand down to the far side of his mask, resting a finger on a small protrusion bearing an even smaller button.
‘Are you ready, beautiful? Are you ready to be reborn?’
Without a second’s hesitation Joey nodded frantically. And with that confirmation the Courtesan made all his dreams a reality.
Two things happened when the latex-clad beauty pressed the button on Joey’s mask.
The first was the abrupt illumination of the lenses. The unique design was reminiscent of a two-way mirror, ensuring that the Courtesan could still look in on Joey from the outside, yet on the inside he was subjected to a kaleidoscope of hypnotic lights. Swirling and twisting and flashing and flickering they poured through his mind like water down the throat of a drowning man. Immediately entranced, a blissful smile worked it way across his lips inside the mask.
The second was the unblocking of the tube connector. On the bedside table the Courtesan had set up a large plastic bottle to which she had attached the opposite end of the tube. Until now a divider had prevented the fumes given off by the chemicals in the bottle from entering the mask, but now it slid aside Joey had no choice but to breathe them in. To his surprise the fumes had no smell at all, but that did nothing to blunt their powerful effect. Flooding his nose and mouth they acted like rocket fuel to his arousal, burning pleasure through his insides so intensely it felt as if he was about to explode.
And all the while the same constant mantra filled his ears: ‘You are mindless. You are obedient. You submit to the Order.’
For the first time the true reason of Joey’s restraints became clear: they were to stop him thrashing himself to pieces. As the combination of voice, lights and fumes forcefully rewrote his consciousness he was barraged with orgasmia beyond anything any sane person could tolerate. Every muscle in his body tensed and bucked so powerfully even the thick leather straps creaked under the strain. His gasps became moans, which became howls, which became shrieks so loud they made the bottle shudder on the table, prompting the Courtesan to steady it with one hand while continuing to support the tube with the other. In the end, thanks to the unyielding buckles and the reinforced neck of the mask, the only body part Joey could move more than a centimetre were his feet, which kicked and curled violently in the futile attempt to release some of the ecstasy.
The screams cut off sharply. The thrashing fell still just as quickly, muscles visibly relaxing beneath the latex. Eyes closed, the restrained figure panted heavily.
Moving with practised efficiency, the Courtesan deftly unscrewed the tube and shut off the hypnotic lenses in the same fluid movement. After that she moved on to undo the buckles of the figure’s bonds. She was not surprised that even when the straps were removed the figure did not move, and she patiently unfolded its limbs so that it was lying flat on its back, arms resting by its sides.
Without bothering to remove the tube from its position on the bed the Courtesan strode around to the opposite bedside table, on which was sat another gas mask.
With her back to the figure she removed her hood. For just a second there was the briefest glimpse of a head shaved down to the scalp, but then her mask was on and when she turned to face the figure she was once again a creature of latex and lust.
‘Sit.’
Opening its eyes the figure complied. Its breathing was now even and when it blinked the movement was slow and impassive.
‘Identify.’
‘I am Drone Three-Six-Two. I am mindless. I am obedient. I submit to the Order.’
Beneath her mask, the Courtesan smiled. Joey’s mind was not truly gone. On the contrary, it was crucial that his psyche remained intact, otherwise the drone he had become would be little more than an empty shell. In reality, what the dronification process had done was force him into a state of permanent ecstasy. He existed in the deepest recesses of the drone’s mind, locked in a limbo of endless pleasure from which he would never emerge. All the depravity the drone took part in from now on would filter directly into his suppressed psyche like a drug – an endless fix for his submissive addiction.
Yet on the outside there was only Drone 362. And the Courtesan knew there was one man in particular who was eager to meet it.
As if summoned by her thought the bedroom door opened to admit a very handsome gentleman. He was tall and broad, the flecks of grey at his temples suggesting a man somewhere in his mid-forties, and he had dressed for the occasion in a crisp suit. This was the man Drone 362 had been made to serve. As per the Order’s protocols the transformation had been conducted at his property, and now he was here to meet the slave he had paid so handsomely for.
Glancing up at the clock on the wall, the Courtesan nodded. ‘Right on time.’ Her voice was clear despite her mask.
The man barely seemed to hear her. Instead he was focused on Drone 362, eyes bulging as he drank in its stunning latex-wrapped body. ‘I can see my money was well spent,’ he breathed.
‘Indeed,’ the Courtesan agreed. Sinking onto all fours on the bed, she ordered the drone to mimic her stance before returning her attention to the man. ‘Now, before we begin, I must lay a few ground rules. As with all our clients, the Order is very grateful for your business. As such, as a thank you for your custom I will remain to serve you for the night alongside your new drone.’ She gestured to the corrugated tube still sprawled across the bed. ‘Since we are both already converts of the Order, the fumes will not corrupt us any further, but they will make us more submissive the longer we inhale them, with total subspace achieved after ten minutes of exposure. To ensure you don’t attempt to keep me as a permanent slave my mask is timed to cut off the connection exactly twelve hours from now. You may not remove my mask or suit, but there are no restrictions to what you may do with your drone. Is that all clear?’
The man nodded.
Though her wicked grin was hidden by her mask, the Courtesan’s eyes glittered bright: this was her favourite part. After over a year of patience and planning another drone had joined the Order’s ranks, and as far as she was concerned there was no greater pleasure than serving alongside it as its new life of mindless servitude was finally consummated.
‘Good,’ she purred. ‘In that case, please allow me to show you what your new drone can do…’
Thanks for reading!
I feel like I say this every month, but damn am I glad I decided to rewrite some of my old Tumblr stories. Each one somehow ends up being more enjoyable than the last, and though these rewrites basically started out as a happy accident, they have now become amongst my favourite stories to do.
That is especially the case when the final result stays as true to the original concept as this one. Though I try to keep the narrative themes fairly similar between old and new, on occasion the new versions resemble their source material in little more than name, and I have no doubt that this will be the case in some future rewrites too. However, in this one things stick pretty accurately to the original. The only real difference is that in the Tumblr version the character was fighting the conversion, whereas here he is embracing it. That change of course allowed me to explore how he came to be in this situation in the first place and in so doing introduce the Courtesan as a character, but many of the details beyond this – the hypnotic lenses, the audio mantra, even the drone’s identification number – were all taken straight from the original.
As you can probably tell, I’m very happy with this rewrite. I’m very much looking forward to continuing with these, and of course there will be another coming out at the end of next month. That will be the last for a while, since I’ll be taking my normal hiatus in July and then in August I have a new Fantasy Universe series to release, but I’m sure September will see the return of rewrites.
Image galleries: https://fetishkitsch.com/post/63a6b3d8a2d9555a97a743af
