CS - Club Latex

“How about this one?” My roommate April was browsing the back pages of the local underground newspaper. “Grand Opening,” she read out. “Club Latex! Love to dominate? Live to serve? Or just curious? Everyone welcome!”

I looked up from my book. “Are you nuts? I just suggested we try something a little different tonight. Say maybe Thai food. Not, like, let’s go rent us some whips and chains!”

“We don’t need to rent anything. Listen: Prizes for best costumes! Or, come as you are – exotic clothing available for loan to budding adventurers.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Why not? No big deal, Lori. We can go around the corner to check out the Irish Alehouse, if this place creeps us out.”

“You ARE serious.” The nightclub sounded way too kinky for my tastes. Still, owing to a series of unworthy boyfriends, the two of us were currently in a ‘men are worms’ phase. So I thought, hey, maybe it’d be fun to stop by this joint on the way to the pub. With luck we’d see a few lame guys wearing crappy vampire costumes. “All right – but if we finish up buying memberships, I’m blaming you.”

>< >< ><

Evening found us in a downtown alley in our edgiest gauzy blouses and short skirts, standing in front of a door that had recently been painted dark red. A techno rhythm from inside was making it vibrate.

It was April’s turn to doubt. “You sure you want to go in there?”

I laughed. “Of course I’m not sure. I’m the shy one, remember? I’m relying on you to lead me astray. Just open the door!”

But the door swung open before either of us touched it. A burly figure appeared, nearly filling the frame, and we jumped back as what looked like a caveman in a cheap tuxedo gave us a formal bow.

“Welcome to Club Latex,” he rumbled. “Come in.”

Feeling silly that we were so easily spooked, we squeezed past the uni-browed doorman. The short hallway beyond was perfectly ordinary, apart from the loud music and flashing lights bouncing from around the far corner. In the wall next to us was a side door, blocked with a counter on which leaned a gum-chewing girl. She was scantily clad in hot pants and an extremely tight latex shirt, which made her look like she’d been hired away from her post at some nearby street corner. The words ‘Coat Check’ were crudely lettered on a sign above her head.

“Can I take care of your coats and purses, ladies? No charge.”

I suddenly realized I was clutching both items grimly in front of me, and that there would probably be no safer place to leave them. April and I exchanged our stuff for numbered discs and then carried on down the hall. What we saw around the bend brought us up short.

The room beyond was bigger than I’d expected. It had a gothic theme going on – dark, with some rough wooden tables, and benches along the sides. There were coarse tapestries on the walls and a scattering of cushions to offset the cellar dungeon look of the place. There was also a mirror ball over the unused dance floor, apparently left over from whatever club had previously operated on the premises. At the far end were some big speakers blaring out canned music, and a bar.

But it wasn’t the place’s décor that was shocking, rather the crowd that occupied it. Shocking, and also just a bit exciting. I’d set out feeling a little too slutty looking, but in here we looked like choirgirls. We stood frozen in our tracks, our jaws slack. Around us about thirty people in various rubber or leather costumes were drinking and … other stuff.

Weird stuff, mostly. A couple next to April just posed. The woman had long, black Morticia Addams hair, and wore a bustiere, crotchless latex pants, and fingerless gloves that came up well past her elbows. Her top didn’t cover her large breasts so much as support them, thereby displaying a green dragon tattooed as though it was just about to bite one nipple. The emerging tail of the monster could be seen in the gap of her trousers, inked onto her shaved mound. She – the girl, not the dragon - was caressing the shoulder of a large ‘muscle-man’ in a black wife-beater vest and a rubber thong. He was standing with his back to the room and flexing his biceps.

The trio beside me was much scarier. A gaunt woman stood in a peaked SS death’s-head hat and a tightly tailored black uniform, complete with leather gloves and a riding crop tucked neatly in her belt. She grimly held her drink in one hand and two leashes in the other. These led to spiked leather collars that were buckled onto a pair of crouching men, who wore nothing else but dog masks. One of these ‘dogs’ was actually sniffing my shoe. The other seemed to be attempting to lick his own cock.

Meanwhile, at the nearest table sat an older man dressed in a conservatively cut dark wool suit. He would have passed unnoticed at the mall, except for the token red latex tie … and the pair of girls who were attending him. Both wore latex versions of Japanese schoolgirl uniforms, and collars. One held his drink, and the other popped morsels of food into his mouth; I could see her bum when she bent over to feed her master.

Did no one here own panties? Practically everyone I could see wore fetish clothing that revealed bits of skin not normally exposed in public. Not only that, but there was a good deal of playing with said bits. I locked eyes – accidentally - with a woman who was sucking on her neighbour’s exposed tit. She grinned at me, sort of, revealing teeth clamped on the shiny golden barbell embedded in her friend’s nipple.

I blushed and glanced away, only to meet the gaze of a girl in an elaborate pony costume. Apart from a harness of thin leather straps that hid nothing, she wore boots shaped like hooves, plus a bridle and bit. She also had a horse’s tail, which seemed to be lodged in her bum. She eyed me solemnly for a moment, and then nodded politely in my direction, which caused her plume to quiver and her bridle to jingle. The sound caused the girl holding her reins to follow her gaze and smile at me.

This second girl, Pony-girl’s owner or mistress or whatever, was dressed only in an open leather vest, chaps, and boots with spurs. She was astride the lap of a cowboy wearing the same duds, sitting reversed so as to lean back against his chest. In that position, their lack of jeans was rather obvious. As she wriggled her backside, I saw a flash of gold underneath. My face positively burned when I realized I was looking at a ring mounted on her clit, which was in turn pressed hard against the root of the cock stuffed deep inside her.

I was on the point of bolting – finally - when I noticed that the bartender, a tall woman wearing a red latex cat suit, was waving our way. I did a ‘Who, me?’ pantomime, and when the woman nodded, I tugged April over to two empty bar stools. We sat down alongside a nervous-looking pair of buxom blondes I hadn’t noticed, the only other people in the place in regular clothing. They had already learned to avoid all eye contact and were, like us, in way over their heads.

“What’ll it be, ladies? First one’s on the house.”

We both stared stupidly at the bartender’s elaborate costume, until April finally glanced over to see what the blondes beside her were nursing, and said, “Umm – a Bloody Mary?”

The scarlet clad cat-girl flashed a toothy smile and quickly set a drink down in front of each of us.

When all four of us had downed our cocktails, our hostess said, “I’m Mistress Molly. I know it’s a bit overwhelming for you ladies. To be honest, we didn’t expect practically everybody who showed up on opening night to already be in the scene. That’s good for us, of course, but it would be even better if we could bring in some new blood. If you like, you can all slip in behind me and check out our free loaner costumes.” She looked us up and down. “Then you can join in or not, as you like, without standing out quite so much.”

I wasn’t convinced that wearing revealing clothing would actually make me comfortable enough to stick around, but April said, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have a look.” The blondes nodded their agreement, and so, feeling a little light-headed from my drink, I followed the others around to a doorway behind the bar.

>< >< ><

Beyond was a surprisingly elaborate dressing room, with various costume styles and colours displayed on mannequins. All the clothing was made of shiny latex.

I chose a suit that looked like a simpler version of the one worn by the bartender. It lacked all the buckles and riveted straps, but it had a full hood, with holes only for eyes, nostrils and mouth. If I’m going to hang around this place, I thought, at least no one is going to recognize me. The others were obviously thinking the same thing, because in the end it was body suits, all round.

Once our selections were made, we were led to the individual change stalls along one side of the room.

“No need for lockers, tonight. There are only you four newbies. Just hang your clothes on the hangers, and I’ll bring in your hot new looks.”

I stepped into a mirror-less booth and wondered what I had got myself into. Minutes later, I heard a knock on my door, and opened it a crack. Mistress Molly stood holding a slithery bit of material across her gloved hands.

“Will that fit me?”

“Sure, honey – I’ve got a pretty good eye, and this stuff is very elastic. You’ll have to take off the underwear, of course.”

“Of course,” I mumbled, and reached out to accept the offered garment. It felt like I was handling liquid – a bit like the silk kimono my aunt had given me when I’d turned sixteen. More so, even – I half expected it flow away onto the floor in spite of my grip. Suddenly, I was eager to try the suit on. Unwilling even to put it down, I balanced the thing on my shoulder, and managed to whipped off my panties and bra in record time.

Then I held up the shimmering garment and studied how to get into it. I found there was an opening up the back, like a set of old-fashioned long johns. And, as the Mistress had promised, it was wonderfully elastic. I stepped into it, and the material simply flowed over my skin as I pulled. An accompanying tingling sensation made me shiver.

I quickly had it up to my waist, and then my arms were inside. The only thing left was to put my head through the collar into the attached hood. I brushed my hair out of my eyes – which was cut fairly short. Feeling almost giddy now, I ducked my chin and popped my head in. I felt my face buzz as the silky stuff slithered into position, and then I was done. A perfect fit! The suit was so smooth, so cool – and yet after a few moments my nipples and crotch burned. In a good way, I thought, as my hands went to my pussy to sooth the sudden arousal.

As my fingers slipped inside my unexpectedly wet sex, I managed to think: Oh my God, it’s crotchless! I didn’t notice THAT when I put it on.

Not that I minded, just then. It gave me the access I urgently needed, and allowed the sudden build-up of my juices to drain. I could feel them slide down the inside of my thighs, feel it so clearly I might still have been naked.

Even as my fingers worked their magic, I glanced down my body – all of me but for my feet and hands gleamed a shiny black. There were no wrinkles. I looked more like I had been painted than covered by fabric. My desperately hard nipples stood out much further than I had ever seen them, and they were supported on breasts that had been lifted to the stature of Cadillac bumper bullets. My waist was slimmer, too, and I figured this suit must be like a girdle, rearranging my stuff. Which, as it turned out, was basically what was happening.

I pulled one hand away from my steaming pussy and rubbed first one super-sensitive tit and then the other. The stimulation caused them to swell even more. This should, of course, have struck me as unusual, but I was too hot now to pay much mind. My straining teats grew to three full inches under my busy fingers. Fuller than I guessed - I gave one a nasty tug, and experienced the new-to-me sensation of release as a jet of milk sprayed against the wall. God, but that felt good. Its nipply twin ached for the same treatment and as I took hold, I thought, don’t waste it. When the flow began I aimed it up and caught the blast in my mouth. It was sweet and, to my surprise, warm (well, duh!).

That’s when the orgasm took me. One moment I was standing, pleasuring myself, and the next I was crumpled on the floor, still being shaken by after-shocks. Beside me sat a box containing ebony-coloured latex gloves and matching high-heeled boots. The Mistress must have slipped them in while I was masturbating, and yet the thought of having been caught only excited me more.

I quickly pulled on the inviting new gear, and then tried standing on the five-inch heels. Oddly, it felt natural. My hands and feet now tingled like the rest of me had. Again I rubbed my enhanced breasts, and then my tight belly. Sheer didn’t describe this suit. Even though it tugged my body into a new shape, it literally seemed to disappear – barring the colour and sheen of it. I dipped my finger into my belly button, and then slid my hand around to feel a newly tightened ass-cheek. And then further. Sure enough, my buttocks were two discrete globes.

And then my hand found my pussy again. After a quick grope, I slid my fingers around to search for the edges of the crotch cutout. Everywhere, it felt like I was touching my own skin. I was just beginning to slide my fingers back inside to get myself off again, when it occurred to me that I was wearing gloves. I’d worn thin latex gloves before (and out of curiosity had also put a boyfriend’s condom over my hand), and there had always been a slight dulling of sensation through the rubber.

I brought my sticky hand up to my face. There were whorls on my fingertips, and no sign of a seam between glove and arm. No freckles, no scrapes or scars, no downy fuzz, just smooth sensitive skin. Finally just a little curious, I bent down to examine my pussy up close. Like my nipples, my clit had grown three sizes and more. My labia lips were also plump and swollen, and stood wide open as though waiting for my fingers (or anything else handy) to be inserted between. Everything down there was as shiny and black as the rest of me.

I nearly reached back into my beckoning hole to scratch my itch, but instead I decided to finish my inspection. I followed the glistening trails of pussy juices down my legs and, sure enough, there were no seams at the top of my boots. What did manage to surprise me was that those boots, like all the rest of the suit, had somehow melted into my skin. More exactly, they had become my feet – I could run my palms from my shiny calves to my nicely turned ankles (if I do say it) and continue on down along tall spiked heels that were sensitive to touch. Likewise, the tops of my fine-boned feet no longer ended at wriggly girl-toes, but rather with hard boot tips.

All in all, I knew I should be seriously alarmed. Okay – scared witless. But…

“Everybody ready?” The Mistress’s voice interrupted my self-examination.

Ready? I felt like a sex goddess. A horny sex goddess, fitter and stronger than I could ever remember. Whatever had happened, it seemed to suit me just fine. I straightened up and emerged from my booth as though I was strutting onto a stage.

Almost immediately, April made the same bold entrance. She was, I thought, exquisite. Her gleaming suit – she had chosen a midnight blue – had likewise fused to her and moulded her into a new, improved form. We circled one another, each knowing we may as well be examining our own reflection.

As I’d expected, there was no trace of any seam or wrinkle – unlike Mistress Molly, who had clips and zippers galore. April now had deep blue skin, even to her eyelids and lips. And to her feet, which like mine now took the shape of ‘fuck-me’ boots, complete with fused toes and tall, spiked heels. Her glossy head was earless and hairless, barring a long mane of blue vinyl dreadlocks. I felt my own head and discovered my hair had become a pair of horn-like tufts of tangled latex threads.

I approved. In fact, by then I could almost feel April’s fingers milking my newly improved tits, and her tongue teasing my oversized clit. Which was odd, because she and I just roomed together. I mean, I’d seen her nekid, and stuff, but we were both into boys. Now we were drooling and, like, eye-raping each other.

We were just about to jump each other’s bones, right there, when Mistress Molly repeated, “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Don’t forget your pets,” Molly said, handing us each a leash and clapping her hands.

With that, the first of the two nameless ex-blondes stepped out of her booth. Her skin now had an oil-black sheen like mine, but was much thicker - except for her delicate nipples and labia, which were still distinctly defined and inviting. While I could as well have been born with my new glistening skin, she mostly looked like she’d been upended and dipped in a vat of rubber latex.

There were other differences. I was pretty sure she’d chosen the same bodysuit as me, but that’s clearly not what she’d got. Her thighs had shortened and become tautly muscled, while her feet were hugely stretched. It wasn’t until I saw her feet that I figured it out. She must have put on thigh-high pony boots. They’d melted onto her, and now here she stood on toes that were fused into polished hoofs.

While that was weird enough, it was her bald head that was the most shocking. Her thick skin obscured her facial features, and what remained showed no expression whatsoever – her lidless eyes seemed to look blankly out of a mask. Plus, of course, there was the seamlessly integrated dildo where her mouth had been.

Before I could fully take in her transformation, the other girl emerged. She shared the rubber-dipped look, the Clydesdale legs and feet, and the expressionless face of her friend. On the other hand her mouth was relatively normal, albeit resting in a startled, puffy-lipped ‘O’, like she’d been frozen in the middle of delivering a blowjob. She too had an attached dildo, but hers was distinctly horse-wang shaped. It was mounted just over her pussy, roughly where her clit should have been. And, while the first girl’s tits were enhanced to become bouncy giants, this one now had three sets of pert little breasts, mounted in descending pairs from chest to belly. Oh, and she was a gleaming dark brown, from head to hoof.

About then I noticed one other detail they shared - both wore heavy black collars. These items must have been made of the same material as all the rest of our costumes, because they were not only without buckles, they were also now fused to their wearer’s long necks. On each, a small iron ring pierced the front of the thick collar band – the only thing on any of us that didn’t look vulcanized.

When Molly clapped again, our pets stepped forward and tipped their heads back to give better access to their throat rings. April claimed the dildo-faced one, saying, “Heel, Blackie.”

Original name, I thought. She’d once owned a kitten she named Cat. I snapped my leash onto the other creature. “Okay, Clyde, you’re mine now,” I informed it.

April and I looked at each other, grinned wickedly, and then stepped boldly back through the doorway to the club floor with our pets trotting along behind us.

Chapter 2 - Fitting In (Friday Night, Continued)

It was exhilarating to slink around the crowded room stark naked - to feel the brush of every breath of air, to thrill to every touch. The new Lori was on display - all of me. Yet none of these mere mortals seemed to notice my transformed body. How could they? Latex-skinned goddesses don’t exist. To be sure, there were a few double takes. But then people shook their heads, no doubt deciding that my beauty and the bad lighting had combined to confuse them. I licked my lips hungrily and caressed my sensitive breasts. This was going to be a blast.

The next hour or two passed in a haze. So many hot bodies, so little time. Both men and women approached me and offered to pleasure me or, alternately, begged me to discipline them. I was determined to work my way through them all – and with my newfound endurance it seemed quite possible.

My first supplicant was a tall girl in a vinyl maid’s outfit (complete with garter belt and black stockings), who asked permission to apply her tongue to clean up the musky fluids still trickling down my inner thighs. I granted the favour and stood enjoying this service. While the maid worked her way up in an attempt to drain the source, I noticed a good-looking guy watching us. He was sitting nonchalantly with his leather jacket open and his lovely cock exposed at half-mast. Deciding that he would be my next order of business, I ordered Clyde to suck him to usefulness. “And make sure he doesn’t come until I’m ready for him.”

When it looked like he was hard enough, I shooed my pet out of the way (first nipping each of its nearest bank of hard nipples, in reward), then abandoned the maid and straddled my next lover’s lap. I took his long shaft inside myself in one fluid motion, and proceeded to milk him to distraction. Apparently my inner muscles had become newly toned as well.

The guy soon came, and then promptly feinted. I had my eager pet lap up the excess cum off my sex, and then I lifted clear and allowed Clyde to suck his stricken member clean as well. Meanwhile, I chose another lover.

“You,” I said, pointing at a leather girl holding a sizable dildo. She eagerly shed her trench coat and peeled off her kid-leather bustiere with impressive speed. We climbed onto a nearby table and settled into a sixty-nine, with me on top - naturally. As she worked her toy in and out of my insatiable pussy, I returned the favour, finding a convenient gap in her crotch leather with my tongue - a tongue I soon discovered to be much, much longer than before.

Taking a brief breather some time later, I saw that my pet had finished its chore and was now idle, so I called it over to help out by fucking Leather Girl. Masked or not, Clyde managed with body language to express simmering lust, and I was surprised to see its impressive dildo grow. The thing slowly unsheathed itself until its fat head was twitching in anticipation between my pet’s top set of tits. Excellent! Not a dildo but a functional, foot-and-a-half long horse-cock. I was hot to try it out for myself, but first things first. The girl under me shuddered as the thing’s wide-flanged knob stretched and entered her, and gasped when it struck bottom with roughly half its length inside her.

Unfortunately, after allowing Clyde to engage in some serious thrusting, Leather Girl’s licking and dildo play at my own nether end became more and more erratic, and finally stopped. I reached between up my pet’s widespread legs, hooking three fingers into its drooling pussy, and pulled it forward until its cock was as deep as it would fit into the moaning girl. Then I forced my tongue back inside her, spiralling it right around that fat cock. She lost it completely and came with a shriek. To my delight, Clyde promptly came too. As its cunny clamped onto my fingers, I could feel under my tongue the powerful pulses of cum surging inside its rod, on its way deep into Leather Girl’s own straining pussy. Moments later I tasted the gush of excess seed that was forced back out.

We withdrew together, and when Clyde’s cock popped free, it hung down to drool on the floor. It looked delicious. “My turn,” I told the beast.

Clyde took a deep breath and made a huffing sound, and then I saw its trembling wang swing back up to full alert. It was obviously eager to please its owner. Two steps took it around to where my pussy hovered over the inert girl’s face. With another step forward, my lovely pet buried its stallion-cock inside me. I felt my belly stretch outward against Leather Girl’s boobies and thought - I fit that huge thing like a glove! Clearly more than just muscle tone had changed inside me. Clyde set to with a will, and I was soon over the top. A series of ever-building orgasms rolled through me - it was like being tumbled in the surf. Finally my pet came, too, my enhanced pussy wringing out every last pearly drop. That was definitely the best come I’d ever had.

>< >< ><

After a quick break I was off again, fucking my way tirelessly around the rowdy room. Like they say, a woman’s work is never done. Okay, well, I drew the line at the Mastiff Brothers. They had to settle for a vigorous flogging while their Commandant Girl master sucked on my fat clit.

I finally found April by the bar. She was wrapped tightly around a longhaired Asian guy who sported dark sunglasses and a floor-length leather coat. He’d hoisted her up with his arms under her knees, and now her rubberized hair whipped in circles as he methodically bounced her on his cock.

No rush, I thought. I sat on a bar stool with my legs spread wide. While my own pet stood waiting for orders - hooves planted wide, cock erect, and hands clasped behind its back – I signalled to Blackie. The creature glanced at its preoccupied master for permission. I simply leaned over, caught April’s bouncing hand, and traded leashes. Satisfied, her pet eagerly dropped to its knees in front of me, tilting its long stiff facial protuberance up for my inspection. At the tip of the black shaft was a vertical slit, which slowly opened until it formed a tiny round ‘O’, like the mouth of a goldfish.

I turned to Mistress Molly, who still stood behind the bar. “How does it eat?” I asked, more from curiosity than concern.

“It can live on broth, but it prefers pussy juice,” said Molly.

“So it sucks instead of cumming,” I said, with a laugh.

“It can do both. Look again.”

Anticipating what Molly wanted to display, the pet tipped its head back further.

I reached down and rubbed one side of its plump cleft chin, and felt a round mass twist slightly under the thick skin. “Balls!”

“See? Clever, huh? It can fill you up and then suck you clean again … when there’s nobody around to share, that is.”

And now it was between my thighs, oozing a thick lubricating film of cum from its phallic mouth as it prepared to plunge into my ever-hungry pussy. I stroked the back of its head. Mmm - its skin was warm and soft. In response, a thin tongue like that of an anteater shot out of its tiny mouth and slipped into my waiting hole. I gasped – it felt as though it was tickling my insides.

“Do me,” I commanded. It immediately obeyed, retracting its teasing tongue and then driving the bulky mass of its cock into me. “Oh, yeah. Now deeper. That’s it.”

But Blackie clearly needed neither encouragement nor instruction. Watching me carefully with its glistening black eyes, it weighed my responses as it thrust and wiggled its phallic proboscis, and read my quivering flesh to direct its cunning fingers as to how best to tug and stroke at nipple and clit. And, even as it focused on delighting me, it fed. Its smooth throat pulsated as it siphoned up my steadily flowing juices.

Then, when it decided the time was right, it began to rotate itself completely around, pivoting itself on the point where its plump cock-beak lodged in my pussy. Sliding its arms and legs and its full breasts sensually across my slick, writhing body, it finished up with its plump pussy open and inviting in front of my face. I accepted the offer, and dove in with my own long tongue. The medley of accumulated juices tasted wonderful.

Within moments I felt the pet’s body stiffen, and then it began to pump cum into my quivering quim. While its hooves slashed the air dangerously behind my head, I felt my body grip its pulsing pecker inside me as I too came, big time. I barely caught my breath before the second rush came. A thought flashed in my head - Surfs up! Again and again my orgasms washed over me, overwhelming my senses. Eventually I started to come back to earth, drawn by the sensation of the creature again sucking up the blended juices from my molten core.

After the Blackie had at last finished its meal and withdrawn its now drooping appendage, I sighed and languorously stretched my back. April, I saw, was long done with the Matrix guy, who had collapsed in a seat nearby. She was now sitting comfortably impaled on Clyde’s cock. My pet had its round mouth clamped onto her left teat, sucking hard, while her right one leaked in sympathy.

April’s eyes were half closed and she was rolling her bottom slowly to maximize her pleasure, but she had clearly been watching me for some time.

“Ready?” I asked.

She smiled her reply, and extricated herself from Clyde. We had saved the best for last. Stepping into one another’s embrace, we exchanged a deep and welcome kiss, our long tongues writhing together. Our pets, I noticed, felt free to do the same – and with a certain yin and yang symmetry, they successfully penetrated one another both top and bottom.

I was close to yet another orgasm just being in my friend’s arms. Then one of those lovely smooth arms insinuated itself slowly into my pussy – hand, wrist and then shiny blue forearm sinking slowly from view. I managed to get myself into position to simultaneously return the favour. Within moments, we peaked together. I felt my frenzied pussy clamping ferociously on April’s arm, and hers trying to crush my own. Yet again I was in the grips of unimagined ecstasy. This round of orgasms was even harder and longer than the last – at least, I think so, ‘cause this time there were sparklers in my head and I passed out for a bit.

Eventually we came up for air.

“I’ve gotta pee,” said April.

“Mmmm – I’ve gotta watch,” was my response.

We two randy love goddesses separated our cum-smeared pets and led them past the smiling bartender into the Ladies washroom.

>< >< ><

As soon as the heavy metal door closed behind us, each of us gave a trembling shiver.

“Where am I?” It was Blackie that spoke first, in a thin, piping voice.

Clyde responded to her friend’s confusion. “Candice? Is that you?”

“Wendy? What’s going on?”

“We’ve been made into some kind of sex slaves,” said April, who seemed to be the first to grasp what had happened to us. “Our minds were being controlled, somehow. But it doesn’t seem to work in this room.” She handed Candice the end of her own leash, and paced the small room, trying to think.

“There’s a little window over there – maybe we could break out,” said Candice. She was clearly as terrified as the rest of us, but, unlike the fetish toy to which she had been reduced, she was smart enough to begin to review our options.

“And do what?” asked Wendy. “Our clothes, our I.D., our money, our keys … they’re all in there, somewhere.” She waved at the closed door, and then stopped to extract a largish dildo from where I had stored it earlier in the evening. “Besides – just look at us,” she added, tears welling under her lidless eyes. When she finished speaking, her mouth relaxed into its resting open oval.

I rubbed the side of my head where an ear had once been. “I don’t think we can change back. Ever,” I said. Then I looked at the former pets more closely. “You two are still hard.”

“And I’m still horny as hell,” Wendy said, popping some juicy fingers into her mouth to suck them clean, and staring hungrily at my body.

I nodded. “Thank God – I thought it was just me.” Apparently lust had been built right into us.

“We’re running out of time,” said April. “They don’t know we’re not under their control in here – but they’ll miss us soon. How are they doing it?”

It was Candice who answered. “It’s either magic or science.” She paused, thoughtfully, and moistened her tiny lips with her long tongue. “If it’s magic, we’re probably fucked. But if it’s some kind of bizarre new technology, then the only reason it won’t work in here is that it’s being blocked by that steel door – it must be some sort of radio signal.”

“And who’s ‘they’, exactly?” I asked. “Molly, for sure. What about the two at the front?”

“I don’t know about them. They both looked pretty dense. There must be someone else working the mind control machine – anybody notice a surveillance camera out there?”

“We were too busy for that,” said Wendy, ruefully. “Does it matter?”

Candice nodded, which set her long cock-bill to bobbling. “Sure. It’s too late to run. Our only chance is to take out the machine.”

“How?” April asked. “As soon as we leave this room, we’ll be fuck puppets again.”

Candice had an answer for that, too. “The thing only seems to control our emotions. And our mental abilities,” she added, grimly. “If we can try and hold a thought, we might manage.”

I had another idea. “If the machine is electric, then maybe we can try to knock off the power. I saw what looked like a breaker panel thingy in the change room.”

“Okay,” said April. “Lori and I will try to take down Molly, and you guys – umm – just keep thinking, ‘I must turn off the power’. Let’s go.”

On my way to the door, I scooped up the discarded dildo from the floor, and hefted it. I reckoned it should make a serviceable cosh.

As soon as the door was opened, we all shuddered again and then left the washroom as if nothing had happened. We’d been away long enough to get a thoughtful look from Molly, but when I licked my lips and chin suggestively, the bartender turned her attention back to three young women at the bar. The newcomers were all in street clothes, and each had a half-empty Bloody Mary in front of her.

My head was spinning again. There was something I absolutely had to do. Fuck April again. No … something else. My pet kept pulling on its leash, and mumbling. Have Blackie lick me out some more? Yes … no! Something about Mistress. Fuck the Mistress? I rubbed my smooth head. It was about power. And April. If we overpowered the Mistress, make her submit, we would have the power. Something like that, anyway. The rubber-clad barkeep looked pretty tough, but I was pretty sure April and I had agreed on this, so I looked around for my fellow conspirator.

My wobbly concentration was immediately broken when the latex schoolgirl twins took hold of a leg each and begged me to spank them - again. By the time I had satisfied the constantly naughty pair, and pulled my mind back to Molly, the bartender had disappeared.

I recovered the dildo I’d nearly left in a schoolgirl pussy, and tried to focus. I looked over to the bar. There had been some drab girls sitting there, and they were gone now, too. Then I remembered – there was a little door behind the bar. Molly would be there. I spotted April nearby, riding yet another outclassed challenger. Stepping over, I pulled my friend up off the man’s fleshy spike, spun her in the direction of the bar and snarled, “Molly! We’ve got to get her!”

April’s annoyed expression cleared at my words, and she lit up as though struck by a nagging memory. She nodded, and then we strode across the room, our still muttering pets following behind.

The door was locked, but yielded to a well-aimed kick. We tumbled into the room to discover Mistress Molly alone, talking on an intercom. The woman took one look at our fierce expressions and crouched into a defensive position like a giant cat.

Unfortunately for her, either one of us alone was now too much for her. Together we bowled her to the ground and began to unbuckle her costume. April sat across her chest, tearing at her hood and bustiere, while I managed to pull her tight boots free … and then her pants. I was in the process of inserting my fat dildo into my still struggling foe, to demonstrate my dominance, when all the lights went out.

There was a pause, and then I heard Candice’s tiny voice, “Got it!”

April’s voice was next. “Where is the machine?”

Apparently her hands were doing something very persuasive, because Molly’s strangled response was, “Behind the coatroom!”

“Candy and I are on it!” said Wendy, from somewhere nearby. “You two hold on to Molly.”

By now there were shouts in the dark, both from the club floor beyond, and from somewhere inside the dressing room. The change booths, I thought. Those other girls. “Don’t put on the costumes,” I shouted.

“Too late,” came a shaken response.

I could hear movement as the girls came out of their booths, and then a great thump and clatter. And voices: “OOF!” - “Hey!” - “Ow!” Someone bowled into me, and then something cold, hard and heavy slid into my leg. There was a scrabbling sound, and then…

“Ha!” shouted a male voice, and then the lights came back on. “Doctor Abseil’s Animatronic Orgasmatron Manufacturing Enterprise is back in business!”

I blinked. Across Molly’s legs, behind me, sprawled one of the new girls, all wide-eyed and winded. Her pussy was also gasping like a fish – she had obviously been masturbating enthusiastically when the lights went out. She displayed an odd patchwork of black latex. A wide band circled her neck from her shoulders to her jaw line, and an oval panel was centred over her now shiny abdomen. Another patch lay in the saddle of her crotch, so that her upper thighs and gaping pussy glistened a wet black. But each of these areas of rubber had sunk below the level of her skin. The result was that the girl looked like she had pulled an incomplete set of somebody else’s skin over a latex body like mine. It probably should have been unsettling, but I just thought it looked hot.

Beyond her stood a small man in black-framed glasses and a lab coat – presumably the Doctor. His grey hair stuck up wildly, and he was grinning, his hand still on the main breaker switch. “Now I have you!”

I picked up the sawed-off shotgun that had come to rest beside me when the Doc had fallen over me in the dark, and pointed it at the loony little bastard. “Um. No ... I don’t think you do.”

The man’s jaw went slack. “But…”

“Hey everybody - calm down,” It was Wendy’s voice, from the next room, calling out to the crowd. “Just a first night glitch. Everything’s fine, now. Party on!” Then she stepped into view through the doorway. “Got it. Would you believe the thing had a big red button labelled ‘Emergency Shutdown’? The other two ran out the front.” In the time it had taken to cross the club floor she had traded away her leash. In its place now hung a fertility fetish – a wang carved out of ebony.

I could see I’d have to get myself a new pet. Then I recalled what the doctor had first said. I prodded Molly’s nose with the shotgun. “Animatronic?” Maybe we’d been changed even more than I’d supposed.

She shrugged. “Nah. Doc figured it would be easier to sell our product – you, that is - if people thought they were buying an extremely detailed, high-tech sex machine. Fantasy Dominatrices and Submissives our speciality.” She seemed to be quoting the brochure.

With a few more meaningful jabs, I directed both the bad bartender and the mad doctor to a corner safely away from the breaker panel … and the exit. Once April had bound them with some handy duct tape, I turned back to inspect the other two new recruits.

>< >< ><

They looked much like our ex-pets, with the same thick, iron-pierced collars and that whole ‘dipped in latex’ look. One had acquired a puffy open mouth like Wendy’s, which gave her a surprised bimbo expression. Otherwise, she was shaped like a regular girl. Okay - a big-titted, forest-green, rubberized elf girl. She had been small to start with, and with her bare feet, she seemed much shorter than the rest of us – like a toy version.

The other girl was now blood red, with a maybe a thinner coating (which is to say more like mine). She also had a Demi-the-demon theme going on: sharp horns, pointed ears, cloven hooves, an oddly ridged belly ... and wings.
Even folded behind her, as they were, they were impressive - and not a little alarming. She also sported a long tail, which as it happened wasn’t barbed. Instead it had a cockheaded knob at the end. It was basically a three-foot, prehensile pecker. Its owner seemed oblivious when the last third of it lodged itself inside the open pussy of her suddenly and deeply distracted green pal.

I soon saw I was wrong about Elfie being anywhere near normal. As she became aroused, she licked her lips. Only, as she did so the tip of her tongue grew, emerging from its fleshy foreskin to reveal itself as an expanding green cock. She seemed to be as surprised as anyone – her eyes crossed to focus on the engorged thing as it forced its way out of her mouth. It seemed to grow in pace with the red tail entering her other end, and when it reached full staff a bead of pre-come emerged from the slit at its tip. By this time she had a trembling hand gripping each shaft. She looked baffled but happy. It occurred to me that her tonsils were likely now testicles.

Meanwhile Patches stood looking around the room at the odd assembly, blinking and churning a hand in her own needy cunt.

I looked forward to having a romp with all three. “Welcome to the Club,” I told them. “Looks like we’re the new management for this place.”

“Um – how’s that going to work?” It was Candy. She, too, had taken the time to discard her leash. As everyone (but Elfie) watched hungrily, she calmly fastened the lanyard of a riding crop to her collar, and wiggled her huge tits until the thing settled comfortably between them.

I shrugged. “Well, we obviously can’t go back to our old lives. We can’t even go out by day – except for her,” I indicated the patchwork girl’s flushed face, “with enough clothes. Anyway, I don’t know about you lot, but I actually like my new self. Even better, now that I can think clearly.”

There was murmured agreement from the other girls.

“We should be able to make a living out of this operation somehow. And as for these two…” - I pointed with the shotgun – “we’ll find them some nice new costumes and use the machine to put them to useful work.”

Molly spoke up. “Excuse me.” I noticed she stood with her bare legs spread, so that the last two inches of my dildo peeked out of her pussy. “There’s some things I can help you with.” She saw she had our attention, and continued. “All your I.D. is out front in the coatroom. Tomorrow, you would have vanished. Your resignations would have gone out, your bank accounts closed, your cars sold – even your apartments would have been sub-let.”

There was a general growl from the room.

“Don’t you see? You still plan to disappear. All that stuff still has to happen. And I can do it for you.”

“So why are you on our side, all of a sudden?”

“Because it’s the winning side,” she answered bluntly, with a nod at the gun. Then she lifted her bound arms that were tangled in scraps of red vinyl. “Besides, I always envied the bodies of the girls we’ve, um, re-engineered. You know, there are people out there who would pay to be changed like that. And I know how to make the costumes. In fact, I think you’ll find a nice dog mask around here specially made for Abseil.” She shrugged. “I was planning to go solo.”

The doctor started to sputter.

“Or, we can always serve you up in pies,” I snarled at him. That shut him up.

“Maybe that pie thing would be the best plan,” said Candy, her mouth twisted into a tiny, unsettling grin. “Wouldn’t turning the mind control machine back on be risky for the rest of us?”

“Good point,” I said. “We’ll tie them both up, and later we can put them in that shielded bathroom with it, and then run it on overload for while. Burn the obedience right into ‘em. In the meantime – Wendy, can you tend the bar?”

“I guess it’s Clyde, now,” she said, with a shrug. “And sure. No problemo.” She sort of cantered out to her post, one hand resting on the middle of her still rigid shaft.

“Don’t use the Smirnoff,” Molly called after her. “It’s drugged.”

I sent Patches to mind the front door, while Candy led Demi and Elfie out to get used to their new skills by playing with our newly inherited clientele.

Once things were satisfactorily in motion, I turned April. “Like I warned you this afternoon - I’m SO blaming you for all this.” With a wicked grin of my own, I stuck my impressive tongue out at her and waggled the tip. “Keep yourself available for a good spanking later.”

Chapter 3 - Under New Management (Friday Night, Continued)

Once Candy returned to tie up the mad Doctor and his assistant who, together, were responsible for vulcanizing us, I tried to focus on what to do next. We had some major stuff to nail down. Here we were, seven girls thrown together by chance, our bodies transformed into shapes that were (in my newly found opinion) super sexy … but not exactly human. What now? Were the changes permanent? And was this constant craving for sex permanent, too? Not that I minded, of course - as long as I could get me some.

Which brought up the biggest question. I’d proposed that we feed our needs by taking over the Club. But how, exactly, were we going to make this operation work for us?

Fuck it, I thought. Time for another round with April, right now.

April (now officially ‘Pril’ – she decided it sounded tougher) was obviously in the same space, because we were suddenly in a standing lip-lock, our tongues literally tied together, with enough lingua left over to side down each other’s throats. Hey, I thought - no gag reflex. I gotta try this out on Clyde’s prong. And Demi’s tail.

We must have been at it for a while, ‘cause bye and bye and by I felt something squeeze between our legs. It was Candy, joining in our game. She’d come over all lusty, like us. I shivered with delight as her proboscis worked its knobbly way into my ever-ready cunt. Once she was solidly ensconced, things got even better - Pril straddled her crouching ex-pet’s neck and then started humping the back of her smooth noggin from behind.

As Pril ground her sex into Candy (and so drove Candy deeper into me), she – Pril, that is - sort of snickered into my throat, and then finally broke off that glorious kiss to ask, “Does this count as giving head?”

It was kind of dopey, but it got Candy going. I’m here to tell you that when somebody’s cock laughs inside you … well! It’s probably sort of a reverse hummer. Not to be missed.

After our mini-orgy concluded, I sent Pril into a side-room to check out the inventory; but I figured most of the answers were right there with me. The Doctor knew plenty, except he was presently hanging upside-down in the corner, wrapped up in duct tape like a fly in a web and glaring daggers. Then there was Molly, who was artistically suspended about three feet off the floor, stretched out on her back with heavy ribbons of tape leading from her wrists and ankles to the four corners of the room. Candy may have accepted her new body, preferred it even, but I think she still held a grudge. And she seemed to have found a whole lot of tape.

Molly seemed the best bet. We could hardly trust her but, unlike the Doctor, she was more or less sane. And as I say, she was hanging spread-eagle and naked in the middle of the room. I walked around her, thoughtfully, and observed that my trusty dildo was still projecting from her bald pussy. Cool – we’re gonna have us an interrogation. I reached between her thighs, and hesitated a moment before I rotated the rubber wang inside her (I had discovered a love for antici…pation, as Dr. Frank-N-Furter would have it). When I twisted the toy, I finally noticed a recessed button. That brute was a deluxe vibrator – big enough it must have held three ‘D’ cells, easy. I switched it on, and Molly gasped and rolled her head as her first (or rather most recent) orgasm swept through her. This was going to be fun.

“So, Molly. First question. Are we gonna look like this for good?

The woman shook in her bonds, and caught her breath. “Yeah …absolutely. We can’t … reverse … only add things. Like, Doc was gonna … add tails to … the ones you call Clyde and Blackie.”

How’d she know that? Oh, right, I’d sent the girls out to the club floor using the names I’d made up. Barring Candy, of course. And Patches, who had turned back and solemnly said, “Not ‘Patches’. I shall be Mistress P antoufle.” After she’d left, Pril said, “I don’t think that means what she thinks it means.” I’d shrugged and said, “Madame Slippers? Probably not.” Shortly after that, we were locked in that major three-way suck-face I mentioned. But I digress.

“They’re with the rest in the back ... Oh My God! ... if you want me to ... finish them up,” Molly continued, trembling.

“Maybe later,” I said, and then persuaded her to explain more about the costumes.

“Ah, right ... adding things. ... Oh, Yeah! ... Umm, we tried to put a girl … in a second suit … once. A different one. It went … horribly wrong. Got full price for her, though. ... No accounting for taste.”

Well, ugh. “You’ve been doing this – rubberizing girls - in other towns?”

“Mmmm. Sure.” And then, bizarrely enough, she closed her eyes and began to sing in a surprisingly strong, if occasionally ragged, alto:

”I travel the world and the seven seas.
Everybody's looking for something.
Some of them want to use you;
some of them want to get used by you.

... Fucking Christ! ...
Some of them want to abuse you;
some of them want to be abused…”

Okay, so she was a loonie, after all. Who was I to judge?

Molly echoed my thoughts, singing, “Who am I to disagree?”

I broke in. “Right, I’ll take that as a yes.” It looked like it was about time to turn off the vibrator for a bit. Molly whimpered when I did. Next question: “And what did your … customers make of the weird shit?”

She took a deep breath, and seemed to focus. “If you mean the, um, unusual modifications … Doc’s only recently started experimenting with that stuff. Up to now, we’ve pretty much stuck to the basic model Submissive. You know - any colour you like, as long as it’s black.”

She started to giggle, and I was afraid she was completely losing her grip, such as it was. But earlier she’d said she actually wanted to join us. And I’d noticed that, mind control machine or not, the four girls in the Submissive costumes were still … well, submissive. Not like, grovelling, but they were certainly willing to take orders. Of course, I didn’t know whether they were predisposed that way.

“How did you choose who ended up a Dom?”

“I didn’t. Really. We did a couple people who wanted to be Doms, but I wasn’t sure if they were going to come out right.” She hummed a bit more, then added, “I told Doc I wasn’t gonna make any more. Warned him they could be trouble.”

No kidding. That didn’t prove my theory, such as it was (although I had been accused occasionally of being bossy); but I figured the sooner I got a leash and collar on this one, the better. “Are you ready to become one of us?”

“Yes, please …” said Molly, in a little-girl whisper.

“Geez, I hope you haven’t broken her,” said Pril, who had re-appeared at my side. “We still need her. There’s a full laboratory back there, and lots of costumes, but I couldn’t find any instructions. There was a shoebox with sales records, though. And a whole lot of cash.”

“Sales records?”

“Up to date – as, in there’s two Dom units available, in blue or black.”

“Meaning you and me.” I think I actually snarled at that.

Pril continued. “Plus a DX - X stands for extra bits - and four SX models. Like she says, the wild combo stuff is mostly new. But there were twenty-two units already sold of the original Subs, plus a few others.”

“Maybe we can rescue some of those girls.”

“How?”

“I don’t know – issue a recall? Shipping and handling pre-paid, kind of thing … wait a sec.” Turning back to Molly, I asked, “How did you ship them?”

“Frozen … you guys thaw out good as new.”

“Okay, that’s it!” To Pril I said, “Was there anything back there you figure she might deserve?”

“There was a full horse suit – actually, more of a kinky ‘My Little Pony’ kit.”

“Perfect!”

“Memory…” It was Molly again.

“Say what?” I was afraid she was going to sing again.

“We made one once – for an Emir – the girl couldn’t remember anything from before, near as we could figure …”

“What’s that mean?”

“Well, it was hard to tell. She couldn’t talk, could she?”

“Shit,” said Candy, who had been by the door, enjoying the show. “I’m out of here.”

I shook my head. “April, I mean Pril, see if you can find something you figure would suit our Molly, while I start her off with one of those special recipe Bloody Mary’s.”

>< >< ><

I turned to follow Candy and nearly bumped into P antoufle rushing into the backroom. “We’ve got a problem,” she gasped. I assumed it was something else beside the tacky black vampire cape she was wrapped in – then I remembered she was watching the front door. She must have nicked the cape from cloakroom so as not to frighten off custom. “A woman came in wearing a full Dom suit, and she has two girls on leashes that look like us. Well, like Elfie, most, except they’re black, and their tongues are normal. I think. Oh, and they have cocks where their clits should have been. Regular ones, not like Clyde’s.”

“That must be Carla,” said Molly. “Back in Chicago, we sold her a brace of model SPs - they’re Submissives with the lady-pleaser modification. She’s probably shopping for another unit, or maybe she wants to customize the ones she’s got.”

“Whatever,” said P antoufle. “But when she came in, I zoned out. It was like before you pulled the plug on the mind control machine. We sort of kissed for a while, and she had her pets do me …”

“Was she wearing a big pendant shaped like a pocket pussy?”

“Um – yes, I suppose it was. I mean, she was.”

“It’s a portable controller. Very effective at short range – say, ten or twenty feet.”

“Well, that explains why the other girls are all hanging around her, taking turns.” She didn’t have to say what they were taking turns at.

“Great,” I said. “How are we supposed to deal with that?”

“Maybe we could get Emile or Trixie to grab it,” said P antoufle.

“Who?”

“The doorman and the coatroom girl just came back. I think they wanted to see if they still had jobs. I told them, of course you do. They’re back at it now.”

This was all moving way too fast. “Have … wait, that big ape is named Emile? Anyway, have Emile tell Carla that her pendant is interfering with the master machine, and he’s been asked to turn it off and take it to the cloakroom for safekeeping.”

Molly added her two bits worth. “I expect you’re gonna want to rescue Carla’s pets. She’s very rich – all our customers are. Do you know you cost a hundred grand each? If you were to get her back here and change her over, she’d make a useful member of our community. As in, we could buy this building – or better still, find a secluded place to live, out of town. Doc and I had to move along pretty regular – can’t have too many girls disappear at once.”

I couldn’t help but notice that Molly considered herself one of us, now. And then I registered that last item. “You changed seven of us in one night!”

“Yeah, well – we got kinda greedy. And Doc was so keen to try out his new kinks. I think you might have been a pre-order.”

Ugh, again. Still, she had a point about the secret hideout. But first we had to take out that controller.

Pril had returned with two flat unmarked boxes. She dropped them by the door, and then she and I went out to post ourselves behind the bar, so as to check out Carla. The woman was as advertised, with black camisole and boots, and what appeared to be a cat-o’-nine-tails in her belt. Even across the room, I could feel some of the effects from her control gizmo – I was getting both woozy and horny. Or rather, hornier.

The thing had overwhelmed the rest of Team Latex, except for P antoufle, who skirted along the furthest wall to get Emile. Like me, she was still near enough to feel the machine’s effects – I could see an elbow bob as she screwed her hand into her hungry cunt. Even so, she was making slow, bow-legged progress for the front door.

As for Carla, she had sat Clyde down and was riding as much cock as she could handle. Her back rested on Clyde’s many pillowy breasts, while her body was otherwise balanced over the top of ten unused inches of horse wang.

The other Subs were likewise in the sex-bot zone, all lined up and waiting to serve. Among them, I spotted Carla’s pets. They looked identical to one another – interchangeable. In their present state, they probably couldn’t tell the difference themselves. When (or if) we rescued them, we were going to have to label them: Hello, my name is …

There were even more customers in the place than before, and most of them were watching Carla and her new entourage. From her unique peg-throne, she assigned each of the Subs to service one or more of her audience. She was putting them through their paces to see which one would be her next purchase. Many people had already experienced Clyde and Candy’s charms, and were particularly eager to try out their cousins.

Elfie, her plump lips stretched tight around her fat pecker-tongue, was set to pleasuring my old friend the Leather Girl, while Candy was lined up with the French maid. The two knelt side by side and began pumping their cunning cocks inside the ecstatic women. I tugged on my clit in envy.

Demi was paired off with a newcomer, a big blonde-bearded dude in a Viking costume. What with the matching horns, they made a good couple. He hoisted her up and stood rogering her in approved Viking fashion, so that she threw her head back and waved her cloven hooves in pleasure. Her tail, still seemingly doing its own thing, sought out the pussy of the scantily clad ‘plunder-maiden’ who trailed on the other end of a chain fastened to his belt. By all appearances, the arrangement suited all three.

The schoolgirl twins managed to call Carla’s two stock Sub units. They happily climbed aboard the rigidly waiting cocks without even waiting for a warm-up spanking.

Bad light notwithstanding, it was no longer possible for people to overlook the fact that we were impossibly endowed. There was a buzz from the crowd, now. Ears or not, my hearing was better than ever (I’ve no idea how). Some people were saying we were from space, while others claimed we were creatures from another dimension. Everyone took it quite well – they seemed to be flattered that Carla (who behaved for all the world like she owned all of us) had chosen Club Latex to share her alien sex-slaves.

Only one patron had noticed that over half a dozen nervous girls in civvies had earlier come in the front door and disappeared out the back. That was the pony girl I had seen when I first arrived, and whom Clyde had later serviced (from behind in a traditional horsy-style fuck, while her ‘owner’ had held her bogus tail clear). Now I could hear her voice for the first time, whispering around her bridle to tell her boss her observations, and wondering if - just maybe - she could finally become a real pony.

It made me think of Pinocchio wanting to be a real boy, and that conjured images of where else the doctor might have thought a cock could grow. Probably not a good look. I shuddered and decided that if THAT suit was in the back room, it had Doc’s name on it. Whatever – Molly was right. There seemed to be a market for voluntary ‘conversions’.

But just now, we had a new problem. Supposing Emile managed to shut down the controller, we then had to hustle Carla out the back in front of a big audience, while the Subs all woke up and tried to figure out what had hit them.

Molly was again ahead of me. “Take her a Smirnov on the rocks – a big one,” she called from the back room “Trust me – it’ll mellow her out.”

I had to do it now, and hope Emile pulled it off – so to speak. “Pril! Get a suit ready for her. One of those Sub jobs ought to do it. And better cut down Molly and the Doc, and drag them into the lab, out of sight. Oh, and I think we’ve got a buyer for the pony suit.”

So. There I was, marching across the room and feeling myself slip into my pleasure unit mode. Well, okay, since I had been made into a Dom, maybe I was more of a punishment unit. In any case, I was definitely under the spell of Carla’s machine by the time I reached her.

Carla looked up, pleased to see yet another free sample sex-bot - this one literally high-heeled, and bearing a mouth-watering, tumbler-sized Black Russian.

I nearly didn’t give it to her … I wasn’t designed to be a good servant. I came close to arrogantly knocking it back myself, but then I managed to vaguely recall that I was on a mission to do Carla. I leaned in and gave her a lick from chin to earlobe. After closing my eyes and savouring the salty flavour of her skin, I presented the drink with a look that suggested that I was expecting something in trade.

Which at that point I was – I seriously needed to get fucked.

Carla took the hint and, still impaled on Clyde’s organ, leaned forward to suck on my fat starboard nipple. It felt like she had it right down her throat, growling with pleasure around it, and then - Sweet Jesus - I felt myself coming just from the suction. My eyes rolled back and I let go with both guns, the one spurting down her throat and the other catching Leather Girl in the eye.

After a healthy slug of my calcium-rich boob-beverage, she broke off and chased it by draining the spiked cocktail in one long swallow. After, she licked a thick drop off her finger like it was freshly served cum.

While savouring the mixed flavours, she squirmed on her supporting pole for a bit, then she gave me an approving grin, and we settled into a full on, tit-pressing clinch. She was sucking my tongue like she had my teat when Emile finally showed up.

“Excuse me, madam.”

Fuck off, I thought. We’re busy.

Carla was probably thinking the same thing, but when she looked up at the hulking gorilla in the tux, she clearly got a better idea. “Do join us,” she purred.

“Thank you madam, I would be pleased to do so. But before I can take you up on your generous offer, I must deal with a small difficulty. I’ve been instructed to inform you that your lovely pendant is causing some interference difficulties with a similar installation on the premises, and must be shut down. I was told that you would understand the problem, and asked also to relay the management’s hope that you thoroughly enjoy our samples. There is, I believe, a significant discount for repeat customers.”

While our Cro-Magnon Jeeves delivered his speech, Carla’s eyebrows were arched high (whereas I didn’t have a clue what he was on about; I spent the time trying to get inside the man’s pants). After brief consideration, she accepted his request, and reached inside the rude, fleshy blob that hung around her neck.

>< >< ><

Just as before, there was a moment rather like when someone shuts down a big noise nearby – like a jet engine or something. There was a sort of ringing sensation in my head, while I got my bearings. I had just caught hold of Jeeve’s pecker when I remembered what I was supposed to be doing. I very briefly considered having a closer look at what was in my hand, but duty called.

Like me, the Subs came to their senses; but apparently they were all still enjoying what their senses were presently … um, sensing. Of course, their responses and behaviour changed, but subtly. They were no doubt wondering how they had come to have either tongue or tail or cock lodged in a stranger. Several would also be wondering how they came to have a cock at all.

Luckily, Carla was already muddled by her mickey. It went like clockwork. Jeeves lifted her gently off of Clyde, and I relieved her of the pendant. Then we led her by the arm to the change room, both of us acting as though it had been her idea all along. Meanwhile Clyde spotted the two new-to-us latex gals, who were just on the edge of freaking. Although she had no idea what had just gone down, she knew they were going to need a debriefing PDQ. She managed to extricate them from the schoolgirls and lead them out back, right behind us.

We were met by Pril … and by Molly, who had already been reconstructed by a shiny new suit. She was now a standard issue collared Sub, in fire engine red, and sporting an extraordinarily big ‘lady-pleaser’ option. She looked great. As for Doc, some clunking sounds from the far back room told me where he was. I turned over Carla to Pril for processing, and then helped Candy calm our newest recruits.

It turned out that, after having been Carla’s mindless slaves for a month or two, they were having trouble doing much of anything on their own. Sort of like my Uncle Gilbert, Pfc, after he finally retired from the army. In his case, Auntie Irma took up the reins for him, and I could see that for now I was going to have to do the same for … what were their names? They barely remembered, themselves, but after some discussion, they agreed they were Destiny and Raven. I suspected these were professional names, but they suited well enough.

While Carla was in the change booth – God knows what they told her to get her in there – Pril took the opportunity to demonstrate Molly’s new cock.

“I fitted her with a double-ender from the accessory rack,” she told me, while holding her hands wide apart to demonstrate. “Check this out!”

I’d assumed Molly had received an enlarged clit, like Carla’s base model pets. On closer inspection, I saw that a stiff foot of black latex dildo projected directly from her box, and from Pril’s description I knew there must be as much again mirrored inside her. She obligingly tipped her pelvis toward me, and so I took hold of the thing. It was supple, but cool; not like the other girls’ hot new organs. Her shiny red pussy lips were wrapped tightly around the middle of the thing’s curved shaft. But when I pulled on it, I could see that those lips had fused to it, just inside her. On the outstroke, her labia stretched out, further and further, rolling over the hidden ribbed surface of the portion of the dong that had been buried in her belly. Then, when I shoved it back into her, all that stretched skin folded back up and disappeared inside. I kept pushing until only four inches of dildo projected, at which point there was enough excess pussy-lip flesh to tightly hide it (and my hand) like a foreskin.

All through this process, Molly’s eyes were crossing and her knees were trembling. She started to rub the bulge on the surface of her belly where the dildo’s inner knob was pressing. It was clear she was having a good time.

I cycled that that pole in and out of her some more, and was about to try riding my end of it when Carla stepped out of her booth. She now looked exactly like her ex-pets. Using a trickle of pre-cum for lube, she was pumping away on her new clit-cock. She was using an overhand grip, so that she had a few fingers free to dive into her drooling cunt on each down-stroke. If her demotion to Sub troubled her, you wouldn’t know it. She was plainly desperate with that first hunger for release we’d all had after the change, so I bent her over the back of a nearby chair. She continued to worry her wang, but the position more favourably displayed her pulsating pussy.

Molly whimpered with lust, but she waited until I gave her permission before thrusting her built-in dildo into Carla. The rest of us watched the performance. Destiny and Raven stood side by side, each holding the other’s hard cock (it turned out they were sisters), Meanwhile Pril, pleased with her handiwork, stood behind me stroking my big nipples and rubbing her own against my back. Nearby, Candy had her cock-bill deep in a tall glass of cola, sucking contentedly.

Things were mostly beginning to come back into some kind of control – which you will grant is important to a newly forged Dominatrix like me. Alpha Dominatrix, if you please – the other two Doms were now looking to me for direction.

My qualifications as A/D were immediately put to the test, when P antoufle appeared with the cowgirl and her hopeful steed in tow. “Candy tells me we may be able to make a pony out of Fran, here. She seems awfully keen. And it seems her mistress, Mizz Lewis, owns a verrry secluded ranch up in the hills.”

Good call. I figured as long as we still had some girls out on the club floor to keep things going, maybe this would be a good time to do our first deal. I soon arranged to convert the willing Fran, in exchange for our future access to this Lewis woman’s ranch. Lewis threw in an offer to begin construction on a private lodge for us, if we would enhance her as well. (Not in a cow-ish way, incidentally, in spite of what I’ve been calling her. She was more interested in Clyde’s attributes.)

The truth is I would have done Fran for nothing. The girl was pitifully eager, and I was keen to see a transformation from the outside, so to speak. I’d managed to miss Carla and Molly’s initiations, but this would do nicely. As it turned out, I got an eyeful.

Molly, when she had mostly recovered from her latest orgasm, took over her old duties. She provided Fran with a slug of ‘VodkaPlus’, which was, she said, fortified not only with sedatives but drugs essential to the process. And vitamins.

The girl was then stripped of all of her elaborate harness, and issued with a shiny brown bodysuit. Out of the box it looked pretty much the same as mine had, except for the big tail attached. She quickly slipped inside, grinning goofily with drug-addled delight at the feel of the shimmering stuff as it flowed over her flesh. But then her eyes glazed over completely, and IT began.

She shuddered slightly, and spread her legs as though bracing herself. Then with a small grunt she buckled forward at the waist, and kept going until she caught herself with her hands on the floor. Folded over like that, you could see her hips were shimmying inside like squirrels in a sack, as her body rearranged itself – or, more exactly, as her new skin rearranged it for her. Her hips spread while her thighs shortened, and then her back and neck began to stretch. The neck thing was particularly creepy, ‘cause soon she was able to twist her head right around to watch her body changing. Her shoulder blades commenced to growing and shifting, too, while her forearms shrank up into her bulking chest. It was dizzying, and a just a little gruesome, to watch.

When the process had slowed down, some, Molly helped her put on two pairs of tall boots, front and back. Like the rest of the costume, they immediately began to re-arrange their contents. Fran’s body slowly gained elevation, on account of, all the various bits of her hands and feet were fusing together and growing longer. Everything below her heels and wrists finished up pointing straight down, sort of ‘en pointe’ (okay, so I took ballet classes when I was a kid). Except that each remaining toe or finger on which she balanced was now a humungous hoof the size of a dinner plate.

After a last few adjustments, she swished the latex tail that was protruding from the base of her spine. Her body was now more or less that of a small pony – if you ignored her shiny rubber hide that stopped at her neck, the tits that still stood proudly on her chest, and her pink flushed face. Molly stood by holding an elaborate mask, which was designed to take care of that last item.

“Ready?”

“Yes. Please!”

Molly pulled the pony-hood over her head, and within minutes it was done. Her nose and mouth now protruded together, pony shaped but with a cartoonish snubness. Her ears stood high, while a latex Mohawk-cut mane now ran from the crest of her head down her long neck. Not quite a pony, but certainly a real pony-girl.

She was fidgeting like Carla had just done and I could tell she was suffering from the same desperate need. I sent Candy to the club floor so as to bring back the Sub most qualified to satisfy her, and we were soon enjoying the sight of our newest member p lunging and bucking to Clyde’s deeply felt assistance.

During the show, Molly appeared at my elbow and said, “According to what the sheik told us, she won’t remember anything about being a woman. She’ll be smart though. He said she learned some impressive, um, tricks. Also, she’s gonna grow some. It’s sort of like she’d just a foal now. Filly, actually, I guess.”

I gave her a hard stare.

“I’m sorry. I know how to make the suits, but I don’t have any idea why they work.”

Just then, there was a great clatter from the lab. What now? I was first through the door. The window was broken and there was a bid pile of ragged duct tape on the floor. Somehow Doc had found a way to free his hands – I spotted a sharp-edged bench leg with fresh blood on it. It didn’t matter. “Get him – now,” I ordered.

The Subs scattered to obey, all except Molly who held back for a moment. “Begging your pardon, Mistress Lori, but he won’t get far.” She poked a tape-tangled lab coat and trousers with her toe. “For one thing, he’s buck naked. For another, I splashed some VodkaPlus on him a while back, seeing as he wasn’t keen to drink it. The stuff gets absorbed through the skin,” she explained. It works slower that way, but he shouldn’t be too hard to catch.”

I thought, ‘Mistress Lori’? What the hell, it’ll do.

>< >< ><

The man ducked into an alley and leaned on the brick wall to catch his breath.

He had just spent an exhilarating five minutes preaching fire and brimstone to an entire den full of drunkards and whores. Now, having boldly chastised the patrons of the Olde Irish Alehouse, he felt positively aglow with virtue and moral superiority – plus with the adrenalin rush he’d needed to escape from the enraged sinners.

Perhaps he may have gone a bit overboard when he had started caning that licentiously dressed girl, but of course it was for her own good. It was then that he had been forced to flee. But the Lord had clearly rewarded his actions by guiding him to this quiet haven.

Just as this satisfying thought crossed his mind, a nearby door burst open and a naked crimson demon leapt out at him. The beast was complete with horns and tail … and jutting tits. Once clear of the doorway, the demoness spread its wings wide. It seemed startled to find its wingtips were brushing the walls on either side of the alleyway. No doubt hell was a cramped (and crowded) place. The thing’s collar, and the iron ring at its throat, proclaimed it to be a slave of its Dark Master, unleashed to do his bidding.

In terror he dropped to his knees. The soul-eater came straight for him, then stopped and said, “Did you thee …” Its forked tongue was causing an odd lisp. “Aw, thcrew it,” it finished, and with that, it ran off down the alley, its cloven hooves ringing on the cobbles.

As he knelt quaking, three more collared creatures spilled out from the Back Gate of Hades and tore off after the first. These were black and smaller than the red one – imps, perhaps. Identical to one another, they were human in shape, but each had boobs, gaping pussies … and erect cocks. Their mouths were open, too, and rounded as though for singing – no doubt they were intended to mock the celestial choirs.

There was a brief pause, but a hellish din was coming from the still open door and he was too frightened to run away. The next thing to appear was a pair of oversized schoolgirls. They must, he supposed, be lost souls taking advantage of the unguarded door. They were holding one another and staggering like drunken sailors … and giggling, presumably from hysteria. Their clothing seemed to be made of something resembling plastic – possibly something that could resist the flames – and the stuff was so tattered that one girl was actually exposing her shaved pussy. He saw it was swollen and red, and leaking the juices of endless demonic assaults.

Given the extent of her suffering, he was embarrassed to find himself getting aroused again, just as he had at that foul speakeasy. Perhaps, he hoped, his responses were forgivable, just a reaction to his stress.

Next out the Hell Gate was another imp, in red. This one WAS singing, rather dementedly. As it swerved off down the lane, he could hear the words:

“I say, ‘Doctor! ain't der nothin’ I can take, I say, Doctor!
To relieve my belly ache?’
And he say ‘Lemme get dis straight -
You put de lime in de coconut, drink 'em bot togeder,
put de lime in de coconut, you drink 'em bot' up …’”

>< >< ><

Meanwhile, several more of the damned took their chance to bolt (or at least stroll) out the Door. One was an oriental man in a long leather coat that made him look like a pirate, and the other was a woman in a Nazi uniform. He hoped that they weren’t quite as bad as they looked – he hated to think he was somehow the cause of this breakout.

Still, the whole notion of fleeing seemed sound. But, as he struggled back to his feet, another surge of naked demons rushed out. The first was an Oz-green female imp, which stuck out its huge tongue at him – or was that a … ? He was distracted from the rude sight by the appearance of the second creature, a brown one fitted with multiple tits. From its waist down, it resembled a horse. While it had no tail, its legs, hooves, and both its vagina and matching phallus were all horse-like. The beast’s yard stood tall and gleamed in the streetlight thanks to a coating of fresh demon cum. He cringed at the implied menace of this organ.

And then the next monster arrived. This one was black, and like the other it had the legs and pussy of a horse. It also had a dick, but in this case that feature was unnervingly mounted where the creature’s mouth belonged. Between its single brace of major tits was an equally disturbing whip. The wicked looking thing was hanging handle-up from the ring of its slave collar. Ignoring the runaway souls, it strode straight over to him, and tiny little lips at the end of its prominent pecker began to move.

“Which way did they go?”

Trembling, he pointed down the alley.

“Thanks,” it squeaked, and set off at a gallop. The others followed, the little green one turning back for a moment to flash its impudent tongue … or whatever.

He squeezed his eyes shut, as the clatter of hooves faded. Just maybe, he considered, God was trying to tell him something. When he opened his eyes again, in front of him stood what was obviously the devil-in-charge, a creature that seemed to be wearing most of the flayed skin of a young woman over its shiny black hide. It was the moment of truth.

“Don’t mind us,” the thing said, and strolled away down the lane after its minions. As this latest horror disappeared into the shadows, it added, “Have a nice day”.

This didn’t seem likely, because he could hear footsteps behind him. He turned up toward the alley’s entrance to see a girl with a bruised face, an Irish publican, and a large frowning policeman. The latter was also, probably, Irish. With one last foolish notion of escape (I shall repent, Oh Lord, but please not this) he turned back, only to face the dreaded Door. Just in time to see a huge shape in a tuxedo lean out, catch hold of the Knob, and draw it softly closed.

Chapter 4 - What the Morning Brings

I had to wait a full hour before the lovely Mistress P antoufle and the other Latex Girls returned from their hunt, marching single file through the front door of the Club. Molly and one of the ‘generic’ Subs carried on their shoulders a length of old pipe between them - which sagged with the dangling weight of the bare-assed and hog-tied Doc. The girls looked like a procession of cartoon cannibals. Our few remaining customers applauded as they tramped through to the back.

We hosed Doc down (he’d been hiding in a dumpster) and broke out the latex suit we’d set aside especially for him. Pretty soon, we’d made ourselves a butt-ugly new pet mastiff. Or at least something that looked more or less doggish. He was rubbery black and slightly shiny but, even allowing for the complete lack of fur, you wouldn’t have mistaken him for the real thing. Ballpark, though, and Doc seemed fine with it - we threw a dildo for him to fetch, and he couldn’t help himself. He bounded over and caught it on the second bounce, and then trotted back with it, ropy tail wagging proudly.

Satisfied with our handiwork, we gave him a pat and tied him up in a corner of the lab, and then took care of Mistress Lewis’s interrupted request. In short order, Molly had remodelled Lewis’s bottom half into a horse-wanged copy of Clyde’s. With one exception ... I noticed that when the work was done Lewis’s gold clit ring was now fused to the glans of her new tool.

As a bonus, we threw in a nice, rubberized tail (which suited her so well I decided to round one up for Clyde). Unfortunately, she was going to have to sit on the thing for the next couple of hours, owing to the fact that she had to drive all the way to her ranch under cover of darkness, with her new latex pony-girl (AKA Fran) bundled in the back of her Volvo wagon. Even so, she was grinning from ear to ear when we sent her off … with a reminder to get started on the lodge she was going to build for us, by way of her fee. (Unfortunately, we couldn’t interest her in taking along an ex-mad-scientist guard dog). I have no idea how she managed to drive with those new hooves - she was still having trouble just walking.

Our chores finally done, it was back to the Club floor to party. The Viking with his Captive Plunder-Maiden, the Matrix Guy, the Leather Girl, the French Maid, plus a few other diehards were still there, although a bit worse for wear. Because Pril had been busy manning the bar, I’d gone without a fuck for well over an hour - if you didn’t count the tip of Demi’s wayward tail while we watched Doc getting re-engineered. Or, of course, my own left fist while I waited for my girls to hunt him down. One of the prices of leadership, apparently - the near drought part, that is, not the masturbation. Anyway, I was very keen to try out Molly’s novelty pecker … among other things.

With the help of a big plastic sheet and a jumbo-sized jug of olive oil (extra virgin, naturally), we were soon slithering around in a writhing mass of hot flesh. To be honest, it was difficult to tell who was doing what to whom. I know for sure that I started with Molly - it turned out she could use her pussy muscles to push her integrated dildo in and out of herself, thereby delivering (and receiving) a sort of piston-fuck. Very nice.

A while after that, I learned some more things about my reconstructed body. I was flat on my back, in a major lip-lock with little Elfie, who was crouched on her hands and knees behind my head to do the deed. I had my head tipped way back, and my long tongue was slithering down her throat, while her fat cock-tongue was likewise stuffed past my tonsils. At that point, I noticed that we were both breathing comfortably through our noses. I could feel my throat tighten on her knob, all right, but not in a gagging sort of way. More like a pussy clench, actually. It felt verrry good.

But that wasn’t what was new. The thing was that, while we were busy tongue-tussling, Clyde took the opportunity to commence banging Elfie’s inviting pussy from behind. And not long after that I tasted a flood of salty cum. Not, like, out of Elfie’s amazing tongue (yet) – a surge of spunk had come up from somewhere at the back of her throat. Sure enough, right afterward my tongue made contact with what could only be Clyde’s fat cockhead!

Which meant that our little green chick had been re-plumbed so as to connect her pussy with her mouth. Everything else was still working - I’d just seen her wash down a bar-sausage with beer (to say nothing of all the cum she’d swallowed), and she was obviously still breathing. So she was completely re-plumbed, somehow or other. How cool is that?

Of course, then I got to wondering. I spotted Demi squirming close by, sucking off a Sub. With a free hand, I managed to get her attention by tugging on one of her demon-hooves. When I wiggled my broad bottom in her direction, she took the hint. By this time she could control her tail (if she really concentrated), and she obliged me by poking it against my pussy. I took care of the rest, getting a grip on it and starting to feed it inside me. How deep would it go?

I could feel it squirming in my belly – which sort of tickled - and then it slid up inside my chest. And every slick inch rubbed my clit as it passed. I could feel yet another huge cum building, and still I pushed more tail into my bottomless cunt. It stalled at the base of my neck, just above my collarbones, when it bumped heads with Elfie’s enhanced tongue coming the other way (so to speak).

Ha – I could do it, too!

That set me off, and as I began to come, Elfie sucked her tongue back and jerked away from me with a look of surprise. I guess maybe she hadn’t clued in what was happening, yet, even with me still tongue-polishing Clyde’s pecker-tip each time it pounded back up her throat.

Anyways, when she drove her body backward, the effect was to force her whole body backward onto Clyde’s tool … the knob of which then popped out of her pretty mouth into the daylight. Like, one moment she was reeling in her own fat green tongue, and then, there was his humongous black pecker, three sizes bigger, to replace it.

Meanwhile, Demi, who was thoroughly enjoying the serious convulsions my body was performing on her tail, responded by driving said tail even deeper. Or, if you prefer, higher, since it lurched up my still backward-tilted throat and protruded out of my mouth. I spiralled my tongue out around it, savouring the sensation.

So there was the end of Demi’s tongue-wrapped tail wiggling above my nose (me being upside down), and beyond that I could see Clyde’s cock protruding from Elfie’s face. Her eyes were bugged out (either from surprise or the pressure), and so were Clyde’s. As I said, I was in the middle of a major orgasm: an eye-crossing, toe-bending come. (Not toe-wriggling … boot-feet, remember?) My horse-endowed Sub came next, and as she pumped her load over me, I could see Elfie’s body start to tremble with her own big O. Then it was Demi’s turn - from behind me I could hear her cries echoing mine.

As you may have noticed, even as I was doing the jism-jig, I was taking notes. And thinking about other stuff, too - such as, what else could my new body do? Which led to my second self-revelation: even when I was in the middle of a colossal come, a corner of my mind was able to operate more or less normally. Unless, of course, there was a mind control machine up and running in the neighbourhood.

Once I figured that out, I left that bit of my brain on autopilot, pondering what to do tomorrow, while I concentrated on feeding my lusts for the balance of the night.

My next discovery came around dawn, when I found that Latex Girls need no sleep – although they are very keen on relaxing. We were laying all about, comfortably tangled together like a room full of cats, trading caresses and histories. Somewhere, I could hear Mollie crooning some old love song to whomever she was currently lodged inside.

As for the Others, our unreconstructed Club guests - the Viking was on his back snoring, while his Maiden (now wearing only her leash and collar) was sleepily canoodling with Pantoufle. Matrix Guy and the French Maid were also dead to the world. So was Leather Girl, even though Doc was busily humping her leg; I resolved to sell him off ASAP. Our inherited employees – Emile and Trixie – had been snogging earlier, but now they too were asleep in one another’s arms.

It was time to set things in motion – well, okay, time to call a meeting. I said as much to Pril, and suddenly, Clyde and Candy were on it, sorting out a circle of chairs and organizing a proper court. I’d already noticed that, liberated or not, those two had stuck fairly close to their original mistresses. Now I saw that they had set themselves the task of anticipating our needs, sexual and otherwise, and of keeping the other Subs in line. Middle management, sort of.

Which is why Clyde said that, having earlier acted as Carla’s living throne (while under the influence of the pocket-pussy-power-projector), she should now do the same for me. Well, why not? I decided it gave me that extra mark of authority. Plus it was lovely to straddle that giant pony-wang and feel it slide inside me. Again. Even having fucked away the night, I felt my pussy eagerly commence to squeezing the length of Clyde’s tool in rippling waves. I was like a human milking machine, and I couldn’t seem to make it stop. Not that I wanted to, or anything.

So there I was, properly ensconced and enthroned – and seriously pegged in place by two feet of fat, pulsating love-meat. Being as I was slightly distracted, Emile stepped into the breach. Not mine, obviously – that was occupied – but there was an opening for someone who wasn’t constantly on the edge of a screaming orgasm to MC this meeting. And suddenly there he was, still in his crumpled tux, stationed just behind my right shoulder and welcoming everyone to the NEW Club Latex.

The first order of business, he announced, was to arrange breakfast. Good choice – it brought a big cheer. We’d all worked up a major appetite. Breakfast for thirteen Latex Girls (plus Doc), plus … okay, why exactly were these other people still here? I’d have said: we’re closed now, folks – private function, clear off. But Emile just sent Trixie off on a mission to round up a big load of pastries and a gallon or two of coffee from the Starbucks down the street.

Okay, then. Next on the agenda. “Our Mistress would like to announce that plans are already underway for a country retreat for you all.” This brought further cheers. “Regarding our present circumstances, she now wishes to examine our need for improved accommodation here in the city.”

There was a slight pause while we all translated that last sentence in our heads. Then I thought: Oh – right. Good call. The space we were in wasn’t exactly the lap of luxury.

“Yo, Boss,” said Molly. “We’ve got that covered. We own the whole building. It was sort of a money-laundering thing. Doc and I were using the loft to crash in while we set up the Club. It’s real nice and roomy up there.”

That sounded promising – I nodded, and Emile told everyone I’d check it out later.

He then launched on to the next item. We had to cover our tracks, he said; the people hereabouts were not accustomed to Latex Girls. Maintaining a nightclub for fetish folks was probably stretching things far enough. Therefore, he said, I had decreed that all LG were to stay inside during the day.

Somehow that led up to a recycled version of Doc and Molly’s original scheme – their nefarious plan to make our old identities disappear and to pool our various assets into Club Latex. Although, naturally, he didn’t sell it quite like that. It was laid out as an ‘All for One, One for All’ sort of thing.

He explained how some of this organizing could be done by phone or on-line, but that we were still going to need legwork. P antoufle (with suitably camouflaging attire) was the only LG who could go out in public, seeing as she still had her original face. That left only himself and Trixie to pick up the slack.

“Which has brought my Mistress’s thoughts around to our guests.” Our leftover customers now received his heavy gaze. “How could you be of service to us?”

Even as I was trying to catch up with where Emile was going with this, the Viking’s blond-all-over Maiden stood and piped, “Your Highness? Lord … uh, Mistress Lori?” Her leash now led down to a very relaxed looking Pantoufle.

Your Highness? I gave her a blank look, and Clyde helpfully whispered an explanation in my ear. Oh, right, the ‘Creatures-from-Space’ thing. It seemed that the consensus among our hangers-on was that I was the current ‘Empress of Twenty Universes’, come to punish the renegade ‘Countess’ Carla. The proof of my power was that I had changed Carla back to her former alien shape … not to mention what I had done to Mistress Molly. Or to Fran and Ms. Lewis, who had gone off variously horsy. And then there was Doc the Dog. So much for our discrete back-room activities.

“Yes, my dear?” May as well go with the flow. It was starting to look like Emile was steering me toward heading up a secret cult. Fair enough - I was pretty sure there was good money in cults.

“I was wondering, Majesty,” the Maiden continued, “I mean I was hoping … that you might consider me worthy for the Transformation…?”

Honest to God, I could actually hear the capital ‘T’. I suppressed the impulse to say excellent, and twiddle my fingers like Mr. Burns, and instead I said, “Possibly. Whom do you serve? ”

It came out impressively Saruman-ish, or at least deep and gargley, mainly because Clyde picked that very moment to pump a huge load uphill into my chest and throat.

“Why, you, your Highness. Um. Under Mistress Pantoufle’s direction, if it pleases you.” She sketched a curtsy, which required miming the lift of a non-existent skirt hem.

We’re generally terrible at grovelling in this country, but that wasn’t half bad. I swallowed some excess spunk as the tide continued to rise, thereby leaving the girl holding her breath. Then, after using my tongue to catch a few cum-drops that had escaped from the corner of my mouth, I gurgled, “Very well. Molly - do we have something for …ahh…”

“I’m Jasmine, Highness,” the girl whispered.

“Jasmine. Hmm, yes. Molly? You can make something suitable for going out into the neighbourhood, like Pantoufle?”

“You bet, boss! Piece of cake.”

“Oh! Oh! Your Worship?” This was Leather Girl, fairly bouncing up and down, which set her still unencumbered melons into delightful motion. “Did I not please you today?”

“Very much, sweetie. Um. What’s your name?”

“It is Leah, my mistress”.

Leather, Leah - that should be easy to remember. “And what do you wish?”

“Could you ... could ... you know the opera singer in ‘Fifth Element’?”

The one with the creepy-ass head that hung down her back, fitted with the hoses dangling from her temples down to the neighborhood of her knees? The one who made me look normal? “Yes ...”

“I want to be like Jasmine, only that color of blue,” she said, plaintively.

“Easy-peasy,” said Molly. “Um, with your permission, yer Highness.”

“Make it so.”

Now that I was seen to be dispensing favours, Matrix Guy and The Viking stepped up before my ‘throne’ and kneeled side by side. They weren’t so keen to be changed, but they were clearly up with the whole getting fucked senseless thing. Matrix spoke for both: “We wish to serve Her Highness – in any small way that two strong-backed Earthlings could prove useful.”

More grovelling. He couldn’t even bring himself to address me directly. Instead he spoke to Emile, who he took to be my vizier or chamberlain, or whatever. Too much Star Trek, I supposed - these boyos would believe anything. Still, we could probably do something with them. Guards, maybe, or cooks.

I nodded again to Emile, who turned to my newest lackeys and said, “My Mistress confirms that that would be suitable.” He was on a roll. “Your discretion and obedience to My Lady will, of course, be absolute. Do you so swear?”

Both nodded vigorously, looking hugely pleased. Then they realized Emile was still waiting, and said together, “I so swear, Your Highness!”

Good, ‘cuz I’d just thought of another use: boy-toys. Me first! In the meantime, it was my turn to speak. “So be it. Emile will see to your duties. Molly – find some proper collars for my young humans, later.”

“Yes, Boss!”

I smiled. A permanently fused-on collar should remind them of where they stood around here.

The French Maid was next in line. Emile motioned to his new lackeys that their audience was over, and waved her forward.

Breathlessly, she said, “Oh Great and Powerful Empress … I ask that you make me … a mermaid!”

I felt my hairless eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but Molly ignored my sceptical face and said, “Sure, no problemo. Take a few days to prepare, though.”

I asked, “Can you make it so she can hold her breath?”

“Probably. But who cares? All she has to do is sit on a rock and lure sailors.”

Ri-ght. I had another thought. “And just how does she fuck them?”

“Ah, well…”

Then Pril said what even Molly was uncomfortable pointing out. “Are you kidding, or what? How do you think dolphins do it?”

“I must have missed the all-smut nature channel,” I said, primly.

“Listen – the males have, like, three-foot prehensile pricks. And the females are built to match. Get it? I think she can handle a sailor or two.”

French Maid spoke up again. “Actually, I thought I could live in your pool…”

I rolled my eyes. “Molly. Do we have a pool?”

“Basement level, Boss. Big one. Got some nice skylights – those coloured glass brick things, set in the front sidewalk.”

“Right. Fine. I expect we can bring the sailors to her. Anyone else? No? Then let’s eat!”

Chapter 5 - Down Home on the Ranch (Saturday, continued)

Fran stood in the shade of a big maple tree , eating a late lunch and thinking. She’d spent the morning pulling her Mistress’s little cart, which had been a rush - she loved the tinkling of her bridle bells, and the sounds of her hooves as she trotted over one of the little wooden bridges over the creek. And she loved the feel of her muscles straining against her creaking harness, as she hauled her Mistress up the trail to the top of Big Tit Hill. Once at the base of the nipple-shaped spire, she’d been allowed a cool drink from the little spring while they looked out over the view. From up there, you could see the whole valley – from spring to creek to pond – and all of it was her Mistress’s private world, excepting the black ribbon of roadway in the distance.

Now her afternoon was passing quietly in one of the bottom meadows she’d seen from the hilltop. The sky was clear, and there were barn swallows wheeling and swooping. Eat some grass - stand in the stream and have a deep drink – eat some more grass – have a pee. It’s a full life.

But she had a problem. She was fairly sure she’d hauled her Mistress’s cart and admired that view from the hilltop lots of times before, but she wasn’t actually sure. The thing was, she couldn’t seem to remember much of anything that had happened to her before that very morning, when she’d woken to find herself standing in the barn. It was weird – she knew she was in her own stall, all right, but it felt like she was seeing it for the first time. Then her Mistress had come in to groom her. And although Fran had immediately recognized her beloved owner’s smiling face, she couldn’t have said what they had done together yesterday – or any day before that.

So here she stood, trying to remember. And nothing was coming to her. Nada. Still, she felt great – why worry? No doubt it would all come back, in time. She continued to graze the sweet grass, moving steadily from one choice morsel to another.

Eventually she munched her way into a corner where a wood fence met an old stone one. She had her head between the rails, trying to reach a prime bit of grass on the other side, when she heard voices close by. And then two creatures she somehow knew to be humans stepped out of the bushes … and stopped, dumbstruck.

Fran considered the situation. She seemed to recall that people weren’t welcome in the valley (there it was again - a foggy memory out of the blue). Similarly she was pretty sure her Mistress had never driven her near the road she’d seen from the hilltop. So, for some reason, outsiders weren’t supposed to see her wearing her harness. But she was wearing nothing at all, and these two seemed harmless - they were females, clearly of breeding age. So that was all right.

They stared at her for a long moment. Finally one of the girls, whose worn dress and tangled red hair made her look like a wild thing, boldly stepped forward to the fence and said, “What are you?”

Fran opened her mouth to say, “What kind of a question is that?” Instead she neighed, and then began to suspect that it was actually a rather good question.

The other girl, whose long and blond hair was equally untamed, said, “It can’t talk, fool.” After leaning down to examine Fran’s chest, she added the obvious. “Hey! She’s got boobs!” With that she slid her hand over one of the smooth and prominent tits in question.

Red studied Fran carefully, her head cocked to one side. “Why would somebody take the trouble to shave off all of her hair, paint her black, and then dip her mane and tail in rubber?”

“I don’t think anybody shaved her,” said Blondie, who had moved along to rub Fran’s side. “No stubble. Her skin feels like plastic or something. But kinda nice.”

Meanwhile Red was stroking Fran’s neck and telling her what a pretty creature she was. “You know what we’re saying, though, don’t you? Well, you’re not a unicorn, anyway.” She scratched the spot on Fran’s head where a horn wasn’t.

Blondie laughed. “As I recall, unicorns only appear before virgins. So it’s definitely not one of them.” She gave one of Fran’s fat nipples a final friendly tweak, and then shrugged and pulled up the tuft of grass Fran had been trying to reach. Feeding it to her, she said, “Maybe she’s related to those llamas we saw at the fair.”

“Nah – llamas don’t have boobs. Nothing’s got boobs ‘cept people,” said Red. “I read it in a book,” she added, defensively. “Look at her skinny waist, and her face. She looks more like Auntie Olive. Except for her hooves. And the shiny skin.” As she spoke, she fished into the knapsack, shuffled aside a towel, and produced a carrot from her lunch. Fran gobbled it up with delight.

“And her tail, and the ears, and the nose,” Blondie added.

“I don’t know about that. Auntie April has a pretty big nose.” The two laughed.

By this time, Blondie was standing with her feet on the bottom rail, reaching over to rub Fran’s neck. “I think you’re beautiful!” The three were friends for life.

When Fran heard the hooves in the distance, she looked up to see a big black stallion trotting across the pasture.

The unfamiliar beast pranced over towards her, nostrils flaring. Fran could see he was excited by something - his giant black cock extended so far it was brushing the grass. Hey, she thought, put that away … there’s people watching. And then she wondered where that idea had come from.

From behind her, Red, who was of course a farm girl, announced, “She’s for it, now,” and giggled.

What’s that? – thought Fran. But another look at Sable confirmed it - she was for it, all right. Confused, she backed away. She was more than ready for a good fucking, but she couldn’t actually remember having ever seen this beast, much less taken him on. Plus she had the odd notion she shouldn’t do it front of her new friends, although she couldn’t imagine why not.

In the event, it hardly mattered what Fran thought. The stallion wasn’t about to be discouraged. He wasn’t much for foreplay, either, and managed to mount her easily – rearing up and dropping his forelegs astride her back. She was now quite positive this had never happened before. Just the front of him was so heavy that she staggered and had to brace herself to hold him up. Then he bit the back of her neck - to make doubly sure she didn’t try to escape, she supposed. Not that she planned to, by then - she was suddenly much too hot for that massive cock. Instead, she obligingly lifted her tail aside for him, and he responded, thrusting his haunches forward. After a few frustrating near misses, he lodged the end of his yard in her pussy. Having found his mark, he drove forward, and she staggered again as he buried the huge thing completely. It felt like it was pushing her innards aside to make room for itself.

“Sweet,” said Red, but for Fran it was way better than that. It was magnificent. She neighed in delight at the feel of his huge throbbing tool inside her, and forgot all about her audience. When he came, deep in her belly, she stretched her neck back and positively brayed her pleasure.

“Wow!” said Blondie, who’d likewise grown up on a farm and wasn’t easily impressed by such things.

“Wow!” agreed Red.

After the stallion had finished his business and clambered off of Fran, the big horse nuzzled her side, clearly proud of his conquest.

“Hey! Remember how Gran told us she’d presented her butt to her first boyfriend?”

“Funny you should think of that now,” Red said with a laugh. “She said he always fucked her doggy-style after that.”

Blondie quoted the sequel, using her best Granny voice: “I always wondered since whether he didn’t know any different, neither. Which is why you two were so lucky to have the interwebs.”

“Mind you, doggie-style isn’t so bad ...”

This exchange and the ensuing giggling was totally lost on Fran, but through her orgasmic fog she noticed her Mistress leaning over the old fieldstone wall just beyond her new friends. The woman was wearing a cowboy hat and a black leather vest that was spread open by her proud breasts. The rest of her was hidden. Fran gave her a happy whinny in greeting.

“Or pony style, if you prefer,” said her Mistress, conversationally.

The two jumped with a start and spun around.

“My best friend is most fond of being ridden, although I myself prefer to ride. Hello, girls. I see you’ve met my Fran.”

“Uh, hi, Ms. Lewis,” ventured Red. She was blushing furiously at being overheard, but she tried to keep up. “She’s beautiful! But, um, what is she? Is she magic?” This far into the woods, the question didn’t seem unreasonable. Red had seen some strange things over the years.

Blondie got to the point. “You breeding her?”

Breeding? Fran hadn’t even considered that aspect.

Mistress Lewis smiled. “One question at a time! Fran is a pony-girl. And yes, she’s magical. I’ve only just – ah, conjured her.”

Say what? Both girls blinked at this, apparently as surprised at the notion as Fran was. Was Ms. Lewis some kind of sorceress?

“And, in answer to your question, young lady,” – this to Blondie – “She may be. It’s a bit too soon to tell.”

Red put in her two bits worth. “Maybe you should have the black cover her again to make sure.”

Mistress laughed. “I’m certain I will. Would you like to watch when I do?”

Both girls blushed again, but both nodded yes.

“Well, keep your eyes open the next time you visit my pond.” The girls grinned cheekily at this. Obviously they’d not been officially invited to swim. “And I’m sure Fran would be glad of the odd carrot, regardless. Oh, and Alice?” – she stared at Red. “May?” - Blondie got The Look. “Needless to say, this is our secret, right?”

That last wiped the smiles off their faces. Fran’s Mistress hadn’t changed her friendly tone, but there was just the slightest impression that they could both end up being turned into toads if anybody learned about her or her pony.

“Of course!”

“You bet, Ms. Lewis!”

They made their goodbyes, picked up their knapsacks, and after a last nervous wave, they slipped off down the trail.

Lewis watched them go, chuckling, and then vaulted over the wall. From her waist down, her skin was much like Fran’s – bare and shiny. Her flanks and hocks were like Fran’s, too, as were her hooves . She also had the same long tail. But above her pussy, nearly hiding it, was a cock that pure stallion, although it was presently sheathed.

Patting her pet’s firm neck, she said, “I thought you might like to meet your new stable mate. Just delivered today. His name is Sable. I’m glad to see you two have become friends.”

Fran nuzzled her mistress in agreement.

“I certainly didn’t expect to run in to those two, though,” she continued. “They’re cousins, from over the north ridge. I’ve spotted them sneaking a swim in the pond, once in a while. That sorceress story had them going, huh?”

It had Fran going, too, seeing as pretty much anything before today was still a blank. A few flashes of pulling a pony-cart; otherwise , zilch. She knew stuff – like that animals started out as babies, for instance. Only she couldn’t actually remember having been one.

As if she could read Fran’s mind, Mistress said, “It’s all right, girl. You’ve just gone through more than you could imagine. They told me that, other than memory loss, it shouldn’t affect you emotionally or mentally. Not too much, anyway. You’re still my Fran. Of course, I imagine you’ve developed something of an equine worldview.”

Still Fran? The pony-girl had no idea what her owner was on about.

Mistress picked up two halters from behind the wall and led both Sable and Fran back to the stable. As they started up the field, she said, “I hope Sable hasn’t completely driven thoughts of your old lover from your mind.”

Fran opened her mouth to answer, and then wondered - Why do I keep doing that? She shook her head and nuzzled her Mistress instead. No, she thought, you can service me whenever you like. Even with Sable’s cum still trickling down her back legs, she was horny.

Mistress laughed, clearly understanding her. “Well, we won’t invite those two when I cover you - yet. In the meantime, we’ve got some dressage to work on.”

Chapter 6 - The Club - First Week

On inspection, the loft above the Club turned out to be big and bright – it had once been a fitness centre, or maybe a dojo, complete with shower room, bathroom, and a mat-covered floor. There were even kitchen facilities. In a word, it was perfect. We hung a sign on the Club door – “Open Thurs/Fri/Saturday night – knock’ – and then everyone moved upstairs to settle in. We were perfectly content to pass the time eating, fucking, and basking in the sunshine.

The next few days went pretty much according to plan. Emile started setting up our finances, gradually collecting autographs from the Latex Girls (and our two human minions) on a growing pile of paperwork. It seemed he’d earned most of a business degree on a football scholarship, before blowing out a knee and winding up working as a bouncer at a sex club - where he was now promoted to manager extraordinaire. He’d brought along his little sister – Trixie – with whom, as I mentioned, he got on with very, very well.

Meanwhile, down in the lab, Molly worked on filling her special requests. First Pantoufle’s new friend Jasmine was brought down for her refit. Her suit consisted of a red latex halter-top with matching panties. These melded nicely into her body, leaving her with substantially enhanced boobs and – I loved this touch – a rubberized pussy that was a perfect copy of her other mouth. It came complete with a little pink tongue. There were even three bumps on her mound that looked like a pair of closed eyes over a button nose, so she had this little face going on down there. When I leaned down for a better look, it licked its lips and smiled at me.

Put her in a little black dress, though, and she was good to go out in public - although anyone peeking underneath was in for a rude shock. (Literally – it turned out that her cheeky cunt had a habit of sticking its tongue out at you.) Her new rubber bonded-on collar, even with its iron ring, looked at a glance like a black choker. Sort of Goth, maybe, but easy to cover with a scarf - in a pinch - provided you left the leash at home.

Leah got a similar tit and pussy enhancement, but at her request she received a lady-pleaser dick rather than a spare mouth - all in blue, of course, including the collar. Mistress P and her two subs were ready for grocery detail.

Next up was the French Maid, who now called herself Coral. By Tuesday Molly had prepared a spiffy rubber tail for her, and had taken her down to poolside to get her suited up.

As usual, Molly was singing as she laid out the costume:

“The maid, she's French, she's got no sense
She's wild for Crazy Horse
And when she strips, the chauffeur flips
The footman's eyes get crossed …”

Coral lay down on the deck and eagerly pulled the material up to her waist. Her legs fused together as we watched. Once transmogrified and tipped into the pool, the girl looked more half-Orca than half-fish, but she was thrilled with the result. So was I, to be honest. I was trying to imagine fucking anybody who was half scaly, and - ugg.

She zipped in big circles and splashed us with her big tail, giggling madly; then she zoomed to the bottom and shot out high enough to nearly reach the ceiling. I could see we were going to have to take her to the seaside once in a while. Or maybe get her a job at SeaWorld. (Although maybe not so much, what with those big bouncy tits. Not to mention her hungry pussy-slit, a deep pink gash against her black bottom skin, which practically screamed: STICK IT HERE.) Hopefully there would be a lake out at Ms. Lewis’s ranch.

We put Coral in charge of the pool, of course. She soon had a regular stream of visitors (Latex Girls, not sailors - yet). And especially Matrix, who’d discovered a fetish he didn’t even know he had - mermaids. The two of them pretty much shacked up together, down there. They spent an inordinate amount of time experimenting with positions, both in the water and on a king-sized air mattress, which they dragged ashore to sleep on.

As for Doc, after only three days of walkies, we even managed to come up with a solution for him. It turned out Coral knew the Commandant’s civilian name. Molly gave her a call, and offered to sell her our beloved pet at a substantial discount. She was keen, although b efore her purchase she’d wanted to sample Doc’s doggy charms. We left the happy couple knotted together in the coatroom. Like Molly reminded me later, as she counted out the cash, there’s no accounting for taste.

The grand re-opening that Thursday went rather well, on the whole – there are a remarkable number of kinky people in this town. Word of mouth had spread, and most of our guests had heard garbled accounts about the unusual events of the previous week. Many costumes were guesses of what the citizens of my latex Empire might look like.

In the interest of keeping the place at least somewhat under the radar, the Latex Girls mostly stayed in the loft, playing with each other (as usual). Molly and I canoodled together and watched the sport downstairs on the closed circuit TV Doc had installed. While we were no longer in the abduction business, we were still on the lookout for people who might be worthy of full membership.

Emile was down there, sort of floor manager, and his boys were on security at the door. Trixie had practically a degree in mixology, so she took over the bar. Together they were enough to run operations. To keep up the buzz, we also sent down the three generic Subs – Carla, Destiny and Raven - as teasers. In the poor light, they could pass for clubbers wearing very, very good costumes.

Naturally, Pantoufle, Jasmine and LG were also there. They wore just enough clothing to camouflage their Latex modifications. They looked like mini-skirted barbarians – but hot. Jasmine in particular was popular with the customers. When she did that tribad thing with you (which I had discovered didn’t mean it took three people), well, she could eat you out. And I knew for a fact that if she got around to straddling one of the men, later on, she could blow him and fuck him all at once.

As I said, things went smoothly – at first. We even found a few people to discreetly invite up to the loft. The wrinkle was Mad Max. The guy wore full road warrior leathers – even the thigh-holstered shotgun looked real. He and his pal were behaving like dicks, but that wasn’t the real problem.

The thing was, even on our crappy surveillance monitor, Molly recognized him as a previous customer. Like Carla he’d bought two base model Sub units (in black, of course). Luckily he hadn’t brought them along, because then he’d have brought along his own portable mind control machine.

Except for Carla, none of Doc’s customers knew about the Latex Club (or rather Clubs, since Doc and Molly had been moving from city to city, collecting fresh raw material and moving on). But even if Max hadn’t expected to see Subs like his own when he’d come in, he must have immediately recognized ours for what they were. No doubt he was wondering who was controlling them.

In fact, even as Molly was filling me in about Max, he and his buddy approached Raven (I only knew it was her on account of she and the others had put colour-coded ribbons on their collar rings – Raven’s was black, naturally). The three began talking. So far, so good – if asked, she’d name me as her mistress, which would tell him nothing. Of course, I wasn’t around, and there was no machine to be seen. But if invited, Raven would fuck him like a bunny, regardless.

Whatever she said, it didn’t serve, because Max’s buddy pushed her against the wall and got his hands around her throat. Now, I’m the first to admit that there’d been some rough sex in the place, but I was pretty sure these two hadn’t arranged a safety word. Even as Molly and I got to our feet, I saw Emile and his pal approach and Max reach for his shotgun. Very bad.

“Trouble,” I shouted, and launched myself for the stairs. Molly, Pril and all the rest were right behind me.

But by the time we got down to the Club, it was all over. Apparently the bully handbook must fail to mention that you should look behind you for angry girlfriends with heavy chairs - Destiny had swung a heavy stool in a full arc that had taken down both Max and Buddy. Their general lack of popularity can be guessed by the applause that greeted our dragging their unconscious bodies out the back. Particularly since quite a few of our customers already had ideas about what went on in there.

Max was the last to wake up. He found himself zap-tied to the same chair that had laid him out.

Molly leaned over him and asked, “Who’s up for a shot of vodka?”

Max was completely unaware of how his Latex girl-toys had been made, but he sensibly refused Molly’s cheerful offer. Buddy accepted, but the look on his face suggested that he had visions of our untying a hand and giving him a nice, breakable glass for a weapon. I’d sent most everybody back to their stations, except for Candy, as back-up. No doubt he thought he could take on three girls, rubbery or otherwise.

What he got was a plastic cup of spiked liquor, served through a straw Candy held to his mouth. Meanwhile Max stared at her unusual mouth with a look of horror. She blew him a kiss with those tiny cock-mounted lips, and then delivered him his shot worth by pouring it in his lap. As I recalled, that would also work, but much more slowly.

Buddy quickly got that glazed look that told Molly he was ready to be untied. While he docilely stripped for her, she laid out his new costume – a standard issue one-piece Sub suit. I couldn’t help but notice that the thing’s crotch-hole probably wasn’t big enough for the guy’s significant tackle to project through.

“What happens when …?”

“Watch! At-a-boy. Just step into the back of it – that’s it, pull it up. Now pull on the hood.”

He did, and he finished up looking a little bit like one of those ballet dudes, the guys in tights that are all muscle. But, you know, all hooded and shiny black. His cock was visible as a great lump crammed down along his left leg ... except that, as we watched, it just melted away.

Even I cringed a little, and Max actually whimpered as his toady friend’s cock disappeared. Gradually, Buddy began to grow tits and hips. Meanwhile the gap between his thighs widened, and an opening appeared down there that soon developed into a rather lovely pussy.

Max may not have ever seen the manufacturing process, but he knew the end product – after all, he had a pair of Subs locked away in his mansion. And he knew he was next. He cursed and threatened and bargained, but Molly was oblivious.

Buddy didn’t pay any attention either. He just caressed his newly rubberized skin. Or rather, her skin - by this point, the transformation was almost complete. She trembled whenever her touch passed over the sensitive bits – which, as I well knew, were mostly all of them. Even her face had been feminized, including the plump-lipped open oval of her mouth. She looked pretty much like all the other Subs, except that she lacked any add-ons.

It was Max’s turn next. His struggling had wound down as the drug took effect. Just as Molly commenced to untie him, Emile showed up and asked him enough questions for us to both rescue his Subs and relieve him of any other assets. “Any other passwords or account numbers? No? Sign here … and here … and here.” He was good.

It wasn’t long before we had a lovely brace of matched rubber-maids, standing with their legs planted wide and their pussies open for business.

“Damn, they’re big,” I said.

“Conservation of mass,” explained Molly. “Right now, we’re just rearranging what’s there. Ordinarily, they’d get smaller over time – that particular suit will produce our standard size ten.”

“Ordinarily?”

“The thing is, the drug’s gonna wear off, and they’ll still be assholes. Luckily, I’ve got a cure for that. Doc and me were looking to come out with a new line – something that didn’t need the machine to control,” she explained. “Remember how Doc called the operation ‘Doc Abseil’s Animatronic Orgasmatron Manufacturing Enterprise’? He claimed to build high-tech sex machines, so he wanted me to come up with something that fit the bill. And these babes deserve to be the prototypes.”

This time Max – now Maxine -went first. Molly started passing out various accessories out of a big trunk. There were big sections of hard white plastic, like protective sports gear, which fastened like armour onto Maxine’s shoulders and arms, and likewise her thighs and calves. Another assembly strapped around her middle, under her shiny black breasts, and yet another enclosed her crotch. Boots, gloves, and a close fitting white helmet followed, with a smoked visor that covered her eyes.

Just as with the original transformation, within minutes the stuff began to fuse onto her – become her. What had looked like knee and elbow pads soon became hinges for otherwise rigid arms and legs. In turn her limbs were secured to her shoulders and hips by swivel sockets. Of course, that’s basically how she was built in the first place, but now there was every appearance that she could be disassembled with a big screwdriver.

That left just a few contrasting stretches of black rubber skin showing – soft bits for playing with. The biggest was the zone from her cock-sucker lips down to her jiggly melon breasts; plus her waist.

“Check out its undercarriage,” said Molly. I’d called Clyde ‘it’, back when I was under the influence of the mind control machine. I’d sort of mellowed since then, but Maxine now really did look like an ‘it’ - a machine.

Candy and I knelt down to peek at its crotch, as directed. Its pussy was now a perfectly circular hole in the white crotch-plate. The opening was decorated with a riveted metal ring around the opening, and seemed to be rubber-lined, like a socket for a vacuum cleaner hose. The Maxi-bot was running its fingers around the inner rim and moaning.

“Stop diddling yourself,” commanded Molly. Maxine froze. “Let us have a proper look at you.” Its sticky hands dropped away to its sides, allowing its juices to drizzle out freely.

Molly reached over and gave the pussy-ring a twist, and inside the plates of a metallic diaphragm slid closed. “Keeps it from leaving a trail around the place.” She opened the orifice again, and the already backed-up juices splashed free. “This is tool number one,” she announced, as she flourished a two-foot rubber dildo. The thing was fitted with a metallic band in the middle. She pushed one end inside Maxine and twisted, and I could hear the click of the bayonet-mount locking in place. “That also connects the servos.”

Then, to Maxine, she ordered, “Erection. Rotate quarter speed and vibrate at level one.” No sooner said than done: the attachment rose from a downward cant to point up at my face, and the tip began to trace a three or four inch circle in the air. The vibrate function was making its surface almost a blur.

“Cool,” I said.

Abruptly, Molly took hold, twisted, and yanked tool-number-one free. The Maxi-bot trembled but said nothing. I wondered if it could.

“Tool number two,” Molly announced. She had tossed the previous one in the trunk and now lifted out a six-foot monster. The thing was ridiculously big, and had three fat ridges that spiralled from end to end. Like the other, it had a metal band about a foot from one end. “I call this one ‘the Serpent’. It’s adjustable. Watch.”

She lodged the shorter end into the waiting Maxi-bot, and locked it home. I heard the faint whir of servos, and the thing began to writhe, actually twisting around Molly’s arm. “It’s set on auto. This length is for us – for other Latex Girls, that is. Obviously,” she added, as she demonstrated by spreading her arms to take hold both near its base and at the distant tip. Then she laid the thing’s length over her shoulder, got a fresh grip close to where it fitted into Maxine, and began to push and twist. It began to thread through its mount ring and disappear into its host.

“You may speak,” said Molly told it, as she forced more tool inside.

“Oh. Oh my.” Maxine’s voice was a little mechanical, but sounded sincere. As the bit of its exposed belly between upper and lower body plates bulged, Maxine said, “Oh my goodness. It’s filling me up. Thank you, Mistresses. Oh. Now it’s in my chest.”

Molly kept shoving and turning, and soon I could see Maxine’s neck swell. The newly minted robot had to tip its head back to let the tip of ‘the Serpent’ slide up its throat. Even then, it tried to keep up a running commentary, as ordered. “It’s coming … up my … geck.” And then the dildo forced its way past those pretty lips.

When there was a foot or so of protruding rubber cock writhing at both of Maxine’s ends, Molly stopped cramming it in and said, “This setting is for civilians. Sorta two for the price of one.”

“Cool,” I repeated. “Max – Maxine – go entertain our guests. Oh, and quit trying to talk.” The weird gargling sounds stopped. “Candy, go with, and tell everyone it’s our new automaton.”

“Animatronic Orgasmatron,” corrected Molly.

“Whatever.” Like they’d believe it anyway. I watched Candy lead our newest creation away. “Does it know who it was?”

“I’ve got no idea. Does it matter?”

“Not really. Serve it right if it did, though.”

There was enough gear in the trunk to fit out Maxine’s pal to match. Molly locked the ‘Tool Number One’ in place, and it was done. I called it Maria, and sent it out to join its sister – after I tested it out, of course.

Chapter 7 - The Ranch - First Week

Fran still couldn’t remember her life before the previous morning . On the other hand, she could remember what had happened since - so very well that her pussy leaked steadily. And now she was mooching around the pasture behind the barn, because both the objects of her desire had gone off together. Her Mistress – known to most of her neighbours as the rich and eccentric Miss Abigail Lewis (and now to several as Mistress Lewis, sorceress) - had saddled Sable up and taken him for a ride.

Miserable and restless, Fran consoled herself by munching the heads off some flowers just over the fence; and by musing, rather meanly, that said Mistress had looked just a little foolish when she rode off. Not so much because of her costume (nothing but a Stetson and a vest), but because her legs were too long and her hooves too big to fit into the stirrups. Not to mention that her horse-cock had lolled across the pommel and hung down Sable’s side.

In the event, rider and ridee were back home before midday. Even then, Fran was left to stew in her own pussy-juices, while her Mistress first methodically groomed Sable, and then disappeared into the house. Finally, after lunch (Ms. Lewis’s lunch – Fran had been eating all morning), the pony-girl was led into the barn to be harnessed. Her Mistress tugged and pulled various leather thongs and straps onto her. It was all brand new stuff, with lots of brass and bells and feathers. By the time the bit was in her mouth, Fran knew she was looking good.

She was also nearly beside herself, she was so randy. She swung her backside towards her Mistress, tail held high, pleading with body language: ‘Could you service me, like you promised yesterday? Please?’

Lewis laughed. “That’s definitely the Fran I remember. It looks like pony-girls are always in heat.”

‘Whatever,’ Fran thought. ‘Less talk, more action. Fuck me. Now!’ She swung her head around, and thankfully there was Mistress’s fine big cock sliding out of its leathery sheath to stand proudly in front of her. Yes – that’s what she needed! Fran watched hungrily as her Mistress gripped the formidable tool and guided it toward her juicy pussy.

When the tip of her cock was engaged, Ms. Lewis grinned, and with a swish of her own tail she stepped forward. Her fleshy pole spread Fran’s smouldering pussy lips wider and wider, until with a sudden lurch the thing plunged completely into the pony-girl’s steaming cunt. She let out a great sigh of satisfaction as she hit bottom. “At-a-girl. Relax and enjoy the ride.”

So Fran did. When, after a moment, her stallion-Mistress gripped her harness and began to enthusiastically fuck her, it was like having an itch scratched she couldn’t reach, far inside her belly. At each thrust, she staggered under the onslaught and neighed to the accompaniment of wild jingling. In her mind she was crying out, ‘Harder! Again! Yes!’

Soon, her mistress settled into a slow but steady pace, methodically pumping her probing cock in and out … and humming. An odd memory popped into Fran’s head, just a phrase dredged up by the tune – Ride of the Valkyries. What the hell is a Valkyrie, she wondered, even as her climax snuck up on her.

When she heard her mistress’s hum change to a growl, Fran pushed her rump backwards. Trembling with pleasure, she pressed her haunches tight to her Mistress’s belly, until she felt the lava surge of spunk spurting inside her. The sensation made her loose it: Fran gave a massive whinny of delight, and sparklers went off in her head. She might have bucked her Mistress off but for the hold her pony-pussy now had on Lewis’s straining cock. She felt her body steadily milking the length of the big tool, as semen flooded into her depths.

Her Mistress bellowed her lust as she continued to pump her scalding cum past the tight grip of Fran’s pussy. Then she actually laughed, reaching forward to stroke Fran’s sweat-drenched neck until she, Fran, had settled down enough to relax her hold. Still inside her, Ms Lewis leaned across her back and said in her ear, “They warned me you wouldn’t remember much, but I have to tell you, we’ve come a long way, you and I. I’m glad you’re happy.”

That’s kinda romantic , Fran thought. Crazed, but romantic. She didn’t have the slightest idea what her mistress was talking about.

Finally Ms. Lewis slid her tool free, stretched her back and asked, “What do you think, girl? How about another drive?”

You bet , Fran thought, and then she watched Ms. Lewis’s tackle retract on itself, and it occurred to her that her Mistress had meant ‘another drive’ as in with the cart. Okay - that worked for her, too.

She soon found herself back between the cart shafts. Ms. Lewis fussed with the harness and rig until satisfied, then climbed aboard. Fran took a few eager, restless steps, and then with a shake of the reins her Mistress launched her off down the lane.

When they came up to the pond, Fran caught a glimpse of something sliding off the bank, like a brace of giant pink otters. Then two pairs of arms waved from the middle of the pond – it was Alice and May, skinny-dipping.

“Hello again,” said Ms. Lewis, as she reined Fran in to a stop at the water’s edge. “Would you two care for a magical Sunday afternoon pony-girl drive?”

“Oh! Yes, please!”

“Nothing too exciting,” Mistress warned. “My Fran is unique, but she doesn’t fly or anything. Still, I expect you can take turns riding her bareback while we take a trip around the valley.”

The two were out of the water in a shot. Any resemblance to otters was gone – at close range, the two now looked like nubile water-nymphs … complete with emerald necklaces of waterweeds. They scooped up their towels and wiped the water out of their eyes, then quickly rubbed their proud breasts, before systematically moving lower to their clefts, and finally to their feet. After this cursory towel down, each pulled her sundress over her head – which immediately clung to its owner’s damp frame. It was all done in a rush - not out of shyness, just so as to get on with the adventure.

The girls approached Fran from either side. “Me first,” both said together.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” said Mistress.

“Crap!” said May. “She always calls rock.”

Rock breaks scissors, rock flattens paper,” said Alice. Grinning, she scrambled up over a shaft and between the reins like a pro, and dug her fingers into Fran’s latex mane. Fran could feel the girl’s damp bare bottom against her back. There was warmth there that suggested not all the liquid was pond water. Apparently Alice was finding sitting astride a rubberized pony-girl to be rather exciting.

Fran looked back and watched May climb onto the cart seat next to her Mistress. The cart had a front mudguard, so that the girl couldn’t easily see Lewis’s bottom half. Once alongside her, though, her eyes opened wide, and her mouth began working, although no sounds were coming out. Her gaze eventually found its way past the mesmerizing gold ring piercing the tip of her host’s ginormous cock to drift on down to hooves ... and back. She finally gave a strangled ‘erk’ sound, but Alice was too busy stroking her mount’s mane to notice.

Fran thought the whole performance was interesting – it confirmed her suspicion that her Mistress was more than a little out of the ordinary.

Ms. Lewis - the woman or creature in question - just gave May a big wink, and then told Alice to hang on … which was a little pointless, because the girl was already clinging to Fran’s neck and back like a horny limpet. With a shake of the reins they were off.

Fran trotted along happily in the sunshine, her harness bells tinkling, and started off for the top of Big Tit Hill. Once at the viewpoint, Mistress Lewis pulled her up and stepped out of the cart to stretch her legs.

It was Alice’s turn to gape. "You're a satire," she blurted. "A female satire!" Then she clapped her hands over her mouth, with an expression that clearly said, don't turn me into anything ...

Ms. Lewis gave the girl an odd look, and then smiled. With a tiny bow, she said, "You mean satyr - say-ter. And yes, that's me - near enough." Her status as a sorceress, and more, was pretty much confirmed.

Although they did their best to hide their interest, the girls were obviously fascinated by her glossy bottom and tail (which were much like Fran’s). And then there was that cock, which seemed to have a mind of its own - extending and retracting without its owner’s apparent intent or concern.

After a drink of spring water, Ms. Lewis focussed her guests’ attention on the valley view, and had a long chat with them – but not about herself. They talked about the scenery, the weather and, mostly, about the care and feeding of magical pony-girls. Fran was even included in the discussion, insofar as occasionally nodding ‘yes’ or ‘no’, or rolling her eyes at appropriate places, counted. The girls were suitably impressed, although the exact details of conjuring such a creature were glossed over.

All the while, both humans studiously ignored the heavy clop of Ms. Lewis’s hooves as she strolled along beside them. That is, until Alice observed to her friend that Fran had no horseshoes – except that she was looking at her host’s feet at the time.

“We all go barefoot, here,” said Mistress. Enough said – there was no further comment on Ms Lewis’s unusual form.

After all four had had a drink from the spring, they were off again. May was on Fran’s back, this time, and anticipation had made her even wetter than her friend. She ground her pussy against Fran’s backbone until they finally returned full circle to the pond.

There the girls climbed off, both looking flushed and a little spacey. Their condition didn’t go unnoticed by Fran’s Mistress. “Well, was it as magical as you expected?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am!” said Alice.

“Me too,” added May, who was not quite back to planet earth.

Both girls then succumbed to self-generated heat, pulling off their dresses and throwing themselves back in the pond.

“Maybe we’ll see you again, some time,” Ms Lewis called as she shook Fran’s reins and drove off. Ha, Fran thought. Those two will be waiting here every day until next winter.

>< >< ><

Sure enough, she spotted them the next morning, when she was turned into the lower pasture. Not taking any chances, the girls had been waiting on a shady knoll that overlooked both breeding pasture and pond.

They ran down the hill to join her, rubbing her nose and prattling about their day. In truth, all three were waiting for Sable. When he was delivered, obviously ready for action, the girls hopped over the fence to safety. Meanwhile Fran (having at this point gone without for the better part of a day) prepared to enjoy herself.

So far from being shy, she now actually looked forward to showing off. She even sidestepped around until she was presenting a better view. She’d thought she was ready, but Sable’s weight nearly flattened her yet again. He was as eager as she was; once he had mounted her, he found her hungry pussy with his first stroke. She could actually feel her belly bulge to accommodate him. They coupled like wild things, and when Sable was done and had finally pulled free, her body trembled with aftershocks.

They earned a round of applause - along with an apple each.

>< >< ><

Fran no longer gave much thought to her missing past. She was now looking forward to continuing on like this forever. It was only the third afternoon of her second life, however, when things changed yet again. She was pulling her mistress in the cart down the main drive, along a deeply shadowed stretch where the trees formed a great vaulted arch overhead, when a car came up behind them.

In spite of her shaky memory, Fran knew what the thing was and pulled over to let it by. She was still uncomfortable about outsiders seeing her in harness, but she was pretty sure she could pass for a regular pony in the gloom.

“Hello?” It was a vaguely familiar woman’s voice, and it sounded acutely embarrassed. “Um – excuse me. Hi. I’m Loni. Ah, a friend of mine told me she used to – um – ride dressage … sort of. Out this way, somewhere...”

“Is that so?” Fran felt Mistress’s glance on her. She gave a horsy shrug – ‘don’t ask me’.

“Only,” Loni started again, “she left town a few days back, before I could find out more about … I’m interested in … riding, too.” She wound down again and stared. Fran noticed that her Mistress had pulled a blanket over her remarkable but distinctly unusual lower body.

“You’re in luck,” said Ms. Lewis. “I provide the sort of riding lessons you’re looking for. I’ll need a little time to set up, though. Come back tonight.” She gave a flick of the reins, a little harder than necessary, and drove Fran up the lane for home.

As she began to un-strap Fran’s harness, she said, “So. How do you feel about a stable mate – a sister?”

Fran neighed her assent.

“Good girl. It’ll take a few days,” she warned. “I have to break her in, first. Right now, I’m going to call Alice and May. I’ll tell them I’ll be busy creating another pony-girl, and ask them to hire on as live-in stable maids and take care of you, for a bit . They’re out of school for the summer, so there shouldn’t be a problem - they could use the money.”

Stable maids, but not at the stable, as it turned out. By that evening Fran and the girls found themselves at an old campsite in a pretty little meadow on the creek, not too far from the pond. Sable had grudgingly pulled into place a colourful gypsy-style caravan for the girls to live in, which was fitted with a cozy bed and loaded with food stores. On the other side of a big fire pit there was a weathered old shed to shelter Fran, her oats, and her brushes and tack.

The girl’s job was to feed, groom and exercise Fran – and to ride her, whenever they liked. Their only instructions were that they were to keep clear of the house and barn, and if they heard harness-bells coming, they were to hide. This struck them all, Fran included, as Mysterious. That night, they heard Loni’s car return up the long drive.

Next morning, Fran woke at dawn, and ambled down to the creek for a drink. Then she grazed her way back to camp and put her head in the window of the caravan. She found the girls snuggled together like a pair of giant squirrels, still sleeping. She couldn’t reach them to nose them awake, so she caught a corner of their quilt in her teeth and pulled it off. They grumbled and muttered as they climbed out of bed, but they didn’t close the window.

Breakfast was oats, all round – the girls took theirs rolled and cooked, and chased with black coffee. Afterward, they brushed their charge, and tied ribbons in her rubbery mane and tail. Then they walked her around the meadow, one leading her with a halter while the other sat astride her back. Fran loved it. The only trouble was sharing – and so, after asking her permission, they tried both climbing aboard at once. Bareback, of course - theirs as well as hers.

The girls didn’t trouble to fit her with bit and reins, finding it more satisfying to gallop along, clinging to her back and shouting directions. ‘Gee’, ‘haw’, and ‘whoa’ rang through the trees, and once in a while, “Take that left fork just past the bramble bush coming up!”

Once the transport problem was licked, the pond was their first stop. One side was an easy walk-in for Fran. Cheering, they rode her straight into the middle without dismounting, and used her for a swim platform for a while. When they’d had enough, they hauled onboard and rode her back out. After they had skinned off their sodden dresses and hung them on a nearby branch, they set off down the trail at a gallop, and all three dried off in the wind.

They began exploring all the many linking fields and trails throughout Mistress’s valley. Any trail too narrow for a cart was new to Fran, so there were some treats for all of them – a secret little waterfall, and a meadow thickly carpeted with pretty (and tasty) yellow flowers. They returned to camp for lunch – beans, hot dogs and marshmallows for the girls, and grass and carrot sticks for Fran. Then they were off again, and occasionally foraging on the trail for berries and for leafy shoots, respectively.

The only fly in Fran’s ointment was that she was horny all the time. After most of a day with no sign of either Master or Sable, she started to get seriously twitchy. She could barely think of anything else. That evening, May caught her backed against a fence post rubbing her pussy. “What’s the matter, Fran?”

Fran was embarrassed, but couldn’t seem to stop.

Alice walked over. “I’ll bet she’s in heat. Aren’t you, girl? Do you miss Sable?” Then, to May again, she said, “That mare of Uncle Frank’s – Breeze – she gets so worked up sometimes, she comes near to kickin’ her stall apart. One time, he couldn’t get your Dad’s stallion around to cover her, so he showed me what Grampa used to do to settle his mare.”

All the while she was talking, she was stroking Fran’s flank, soothing her. Then she started rubbing her fist in Fran’s leaking pussy juices. It felt so good that the pony-girl actually pushed back against her.

“At-a-girl. That’s the way.” Suddenly, Alice’s fist and arm were inside Fran, driving deep. “Oof,” she said, as her shoulder hit rump.

“Oh. My. God.” said May. “Uh. What’s it feel like?”

“Juicy,” said Alice, matter-of-factly. “Once Uncle Roger was inside, I think he just sort of worked his arm around, in there… Oh! Urk!”

“What? What?”

Alice giggled. “She’s got hold of my arm!”

And she wasn’t getting it back soon, either. Fran was so close … Yes!

“I think she likes that,” said May.

“Good thing, ‘cause I’m getting squashed in there! It feels really weird!”

Eventually, Fran relaxed her grip, and Alice extracted her now slippery arm. She massaged it while Fran nuzzled her in gratitude.

“Whew! I think I need a swim,” she said.

“It worked, though,” said May, as she stroked Fran’s neck. “She’s calmed right down.”

“Yeah, well, it’s your turn to settle her, next time.”

>< >< ><

Meanwhile, there was the matter of the new pony-girl.

The next day, during their continued exploration the valley, they heard the sound of tinkling harness bells. The girls had been told to hide, but nothing had been said about watching, so they dodged into the thicket to lay a sort of voyeur ambush. They’d barely hidden themselves when the jingling stopped, close by. Fran stood stock still, and the girls clung to her neck, laying low on her flanks like Apache warriors.

Peeking through the branches, they could see Mistress Lewis riding a pretty little red-lacquered cart, her great shiny legs crossed in comfort. Between the poles was harnessed the visitor, Loni. The girl was wearing a bridle and snaffle bit, and a lovely rig of polished leather strips and thongs - complete with tassels and bells and ribbons, and a plume on her head. The shafts were secured to loops at her hips. She was nude, apart from the elaborate harness, tall hoof-shaped boots, and peculiar matching hoofed gloves. These last caused her to stand with her arms folded up oddly, so that her hands inside the imitation hooves hung down in front of her like a dog begging. Her big breasts bobbled and glowed with sweat as she fidgeted in the traces, but she was clearly enjoying herself – showing around the bit in her mouth was a massive smile.

“But that’s just a regular sort of girl,” whispered May. “Only mostly naked.”

“She has a tail,” Alice pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s not hers, is it? It’s attached to her belt.”

“Actually, I think it’s stuck in her bum … nah.”

“Nah,” agreed May, “Cool harness, though.”

But Alice had been right. When Fran saw the sheen of moisture inside Loni’s thighs, she had a sudden memory - of the sensation of six inches of progressively thicker rubber being slid into her butt until it popped inside, and of her sphincter automatically gripping the narrow neck behind it like a vice. An imitation tail’s fat root had once been lodged securely and deeply in her rear, so that no amount of prancing could shake it loose.

But why , she thought, when I have a lovely tail of my own?

Meanwhile, Loni stepped back and forth restlessly, and then spread her legs apart and peed where she stood. Fran thought about that, too. Humans, she seemed to recall, were usually too modest to just let fly like that. (Except Alice and May, of course, who had yesterday stood side-by-side, pushed their pelvises forward, spread their puffy lips apart with both hands, and then competed to see who could pee the farthest. But they giggled when they did it, like they thought they were doing something mildly wicked. Indeed, they were giggling now.)

After Loni had relieved herself, Lewis gave a little snap of the reins, and they drove off. Fran looked over her shoulder – the girls were eyeing her thoughtfully.

The pair were relatively quiet for the rest of that ride. When they got back to the pond, they had a swim while Fran grazed. A while later she looked up to see the two of them marching over toward her - a dripping, naked delegation.

As usual, Alice spoke first. “Ms. Lewis told us she conjured you.” She paused, waiting.

Fran nodded her head, yes.

“And now she’s making another pony girl, like you?”

Nod. That’s what she’d said.

“Are you happy?”

An emphatic nod - yes!

“But,” Alice continued, carefully, “Before … you were a girl, once, like Loni – weren’t you?”

So there it was. Fran nodded again, slowly. She couldn’t remember, but yes, she supposed she might have been a girl … once.

Alice and May looked seriously tense. The prospect of being turned into toads had probably come back to their minds. Fran decided to elaborate. Stepping over to the bank of the pond, she scraped letters into the mud: I---C-H-O-S-E. She had no idea if it was true, actually. But after all, she was happy now.

The girls seemed to relax, a little. “When will that girl … be like you?”

S-O-O-N. Another guess, but it felt right.

Fran led the way over to the shade of a big maple, and lay down. The girls joined her, leaning against her side while they digested this information.

After a long while, Alice said, “Eww! I put my arm right inside your …” Words failed her.

“And so did Sable!” May added. “Well, you know what I mean.”

Fran swung her head around and nuzzled them – it was all okay with her.

Chapter 8 - The Club - Second Week

“Mistress? If I may have a word?”

Emile was doing his Jeeves thing, again. Respectful, but like he knew I put my pants on one leg at a time. Or would do, if I still had clothes, which luckily I didn’t, because right that moment they would have gotten in the way of Clyde’s cock. It was Sunday morning, and she was languidly serving it to me from behind while I rested my own major tits on the middle of a table.

“Go ahead – oof – I meant Emile.”

“I have received a call from Mistress Lewis. She says that she has already prepared a site for our rural retreat, but it seems there is a problem. She feels it would be unwise to bring in a crew of local builders, not to mention inspectors, given her present and intended activities there – to say nothing of her new form.”

“Couldn’t we do that? Do the building, I mean,” said my former pet, a little loudly so as to be heard over the squishing noises produced by her determinedly pistoning through our combined juices.

“My thoughts, exactly, Miss Clyde. Several of our minions were in the construction trade, and there are many of your sister servants who can provide the brute labour for the task. We need only acquire a bus with which to provide regular transport to and from the site. I can rent a truck to discreetly bring the required materials.”

This was well timed, actually. The unfortunate incident with Max and his buddy the previous Thursday had ended well enough, what with them becoming sex-bots. But the whole affair had created quite a stir, so we’d hosted a toned-down Friday and Saturday at the Club, featuring no Latex Girls at all – or at least, no undisguised LGs. But … there were some excellently costumed simulations among the clubbers, and in the event we recruited three of them. A guy and a girl asked to be Submissives - interestingly enough he without and she with the lady-pleaser. This role swap notwithstanding, they afterwards continued to hang out in each other more often than not. To be honest, I forget their names - since they chose to be known henceforth by their serial numbers: S-013 and SP-008. Which, I suppose, was suitably submissive.

The next day a Goth-girl was quickly manufactured into another shiny new Latex Submissive. She was the bright yellow unit - known as Duckie - I was now watching writhe nearby with Demi.

So - cutting a low profile was looking to be a bit tricky, what with the crowd we were accumulating up in the loft. Counting our most recent conscripts, we had myself and my two lesser mistresses, plus eleven Subs, and the three Latex Girls who weren’t into in the whole BSDM kink. Also our two minions, not to mention Emile and his sister, and the two fembots. So twenty-three hungry, randy occupants.

It was more than a little confusing, so we’d adapted a variation on the ribbon labelling system that Destiny and Raven had tried - now anyone with a collar ring had a dog tag with his or her new name clearly inscribed, from a fancy pet shop down the street. Flashy big ones, of course - silver, and proper disks, not those bone-shaped ones. (Although I think I might have been on board with boner shaped tags ...)

Anyway, now Lewis had conveniently provided us with an outlet for some of our randy babes to burn off excess steam.

“Do it – erk! I meant Emile.”

>< >< ><

Emile quickly got his hands on an old tour bus, with suitably tinted windows (last used by some local rock band). That same night, Pril set off in charge of a work party consisting of our two robots, and all the Subs - except for my Clyde - but including Molly, who was beginning to get on my nerves what with the crazed singing. Elfie chose to stick around, too, to do the cooking. Our minion boys - and girl - were also shipped along, seeing as how they claimed to know all about construction. Plus, Matrix was licensed to drive a bus – a bonus since we needed someone up front that could pass for normal. Even our resident mermaid Coral went along – both to be with her sweetie, and to try out the pond she’d heard about. No big deal – they didn’t have to constantly splash water on her, or anything. It was just a matter of lugging her aboard.

It was lucky they were all on friendly terms, as you might say. Packing that bus seemed to involve saving space by inserting a great many bits inside of each other – although I suspect this wasn’t strictly necessary. Suffice to say, they wouldn’t need to resort to ‘Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall’ to pass the time – although it turned out Molly did start up a Sixty-nine Bottles version, which P antoufle quickly dealt with by catching hold of Demi’s tail and inserting it down her throat.

After the rubber-bus had set off, I put in motion my latest cunning plan. I detailed Emile and Trixie to go rescue Max’s two Sub units from his mansion, along with the contents of his (sorry, its) walk-in vault. To take care of its room and board, of course. It seemed to need a high-oil diet now. I sent them off with all the necessary access codes, which we had extracted from Maxine-bot before conversion.

That expedition was a complete success – they came back with a pair of confused Subs, a big pile of loot, and a small surprise. Emile was a teeny bit cranky about that part.

“We didn’t ask the Maxi-bot whether there was anyone else in the mansion, did we?”

This was a bit cheeky, ‘cause it was me who’d done the asking. “Sure I did – I specifically asked if there were any guards or staff.”

“Well, meet the girlfriend.” This being the unconscious person slung over his shoulder. “She came after us with a Gloch.”

“She attacked you with a xylophone?”

Emile closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, he had his Jeeves-face back in place. “Not a glockenspiel, a gun. She tried to shoot us, but we’d already cut the power, so the mind control system was down. One of the Latex girls hit her from behind with an ashtray.” He nodded toward the pair. “They were, ahh, annoyed with her.”

The LG on his left spoke up: “She treated us like were just … things!”

“Not that we minded, so much,” admitted the other, “but she should have!”

I knew the feeling. Turning back to Emile, I stared meaningfully at his bundle.

“So you kidnapped her?”

“We couldn’t leave her,” Emile said, reasonably. “She’d seen our faces, and she was bound to miss her Subs. And miss Max, too, eventually.”

Although I wasn’t keen to change anyone against their will, I’d already done it to her boyfriend and his buddy. This was just tidying up … sort of. “Let’s get her in the lab, then.”

“Perhaps we should wait for Miss Molly …”

“Nonsense – I’ve helped her often enough.” I was pretty sure this babe would be a problem, unless we went All The Way, so I added, “There’s some more of that robot gear back there, too.”

I wasn’t positive, but I thought I heard another sigh from Emile. He followed along, though, and brought along our latest conscript.

>< >< ><

Nadia lurched to sudden awareness. Damn. Her head felt three-feet thick. There’d been a big gorilla of a guy and some floozy sneaking around her house, and she’d just got the drop on them, and then, POW! Somebody had coshed her. Now, she was sitting on a hard floor with her head on her knees. Oddly enough, she seemed to be wearing football pads or something on her thighs.

She slowly lifted her head to find herself looking into the faces of the Gorilla and the Floozy, plus her two sex-toys. The latter were regarding her with their perpetually surprised expressions – eyes and mouths opened wide. There was another latex-girl there, too, who looked much like her own, but with odd hair, a slightly less doll-like face … and high-heeled feet. She was, in fact, a bit fierce looking – and she seemed to be in charge.

I knew those things were bad news when Max brought them home, she thought. She opened her mouth to scream, but was startled to hear her own voice blandly say, “Status … Standby.”

Gorilla-guy squinted at her, and said, “That’s curious – the other two didn’t do that.”

“Beats me,” said the boss latex-girl. “As near as I can tell, the only thing different is, we didn’t find any breast or back plates. Or gloves.”

The guy responded with a noncommittal grunt, and then pulled his arm away from Nadia. Suddenly she felt the tug of a leash fastened to her neck. Instead of resisting, or reaching up to find out what held her, she simply started to crawl toward him. Or rather, her body did – she seemed to have no say in the matter at all. As she crept forward, she could see her forearms – they were covered in the same hard, white stuff as her thighs. Her hands, on the other hand (as it were) were the same glossy black as those of her love-dolls. That, she decided, was a Bad Sign.

"Stand up," Gorilla-guy said, and Nadia quickly stood to attention, albeit a little clumsily, like an automaton. She wanted to turn and run, or even tilt her head to see more of herself, but her body simply stood there. She knew she had a simple-minded look of surprise on her face: her eyes were open wide, and her mouth an open oval ... oh, oh. That was probably a very bad sign.

They all stared at her, looking slightly puzzled.

It was the Floozy who spoke next. “It said ’status standby’. So it has at least one other status.”

It? Status? Nadia couldn’t understand why they were treating her like this, much less why was she letting them. She wanted to hyperventilate, faint even, but she knew somehow that her body would carry on without her. All she could do was look out at the view and follow along for the ride.

"Well, let’s find out … but I didn’t see any buttons," said the boss doll.

“I don’t think it has any, Mistress. Probably voice activated,” said the gorilla. To Nadia, he said, “Start-up. Begin. Resume. No? Okay – how about: Stop. Shut down. Sleep … Standby – there, it’s back on.”

Nadia shuddered, at least her mind tried to. Between ‘sleep’ and ‘standby’, everything had abruptly gone to black. It had passed so quickly she would hardly have noticed … except that in that blink, everyone in the room suddenly shifted to completely different locations around her. One of her sex-toys was now squeezing her butt. (Which one? She still couldn’t tell them apart.) It was hugely disorienting – and scary.

Gorilla –guy was still calling out words, but it was the Floozy who got it.

“Activate,” she said.

Nadia felt something like a head-rush, and she repeated, “Status Active,” in a sultry voice. Even as she said it, she felt her nipples harden, and her pussy moisten. She felt another sensation down there: an odd vibration, followed by a sudden breeze. Her hand dropped to grope herself, and she received a new shock – there was a circular hole in the plastic encasing her groin, and her leaking pussy seemed to be somehow bonded to its rim. Her cunt was open, very open, and in spite of herself she slid her fingers inside. Now that she could move her limbs, lust seemed to be fogging her mind.

Which was when another doll creature stepped up from behind her. This one’s face and tits were identical to her former sex toys, but it had the hooves and partially extended phallus of a stallion.

“May I try it out, Mistress?”

Nadia turned to the man still holding her leash, and asked, huskily, “Yes – could she, please?”

The boss – the one they referred to as Mistress - said, “I don’t know – it was Trixie who figured out the command.”

Trixie laughed. “God – look, it’s drooling at both ends. I think I’d sooner watch, thanks. Emile?”

“All right,” said Emile. “Take its leash, Clyde.”

Nadia was ecstatic – she could barely decide where to begin pleasuring this creature. Choosing, she dropped to her knees. It would be with her mouth, first. She rubbed her face along the side of the horse-cock, and then began to lick it and slide her tongue into the hole at its tip. Once she had lubricated the thing to her satisfaction, she fed it down her throat. Deep down her throat – as Clyde’s cock began to stiffen and grow, she could feel it slide down further and further.

It felt wonderful. She began to rock back and forth on her knees, so as to be able to work it in and out. At each bob forward, she took more, until her nose was intermittently pressing against Clyde’s pubic bone. And still the thing grew ... until it exploded with a flood of cum.

As a good sex-bot, Nadia sucked on, her lips clamped tight around the base of Clyde’s pumping cock.

After several minutes of gurgling sound effects, Trixie said, “Standby.”

Nadia stopped suckling the drained wang. She was still aroused, in a mellow sort of way; but the terrifying lust had vanished. Plus, there had been a faint clicking sound, and the titillating breeze into her pussy had abruptly stopped. Up until that point, she had supposed she was under hypnosis, or something. Somehow, she would escape these crazy people. But now she found herself kneeling between this bizarre creature’s legs with two-feet-worth of fat cock impossibly down her throat. And a belly full of cum.

Whatever she was, it wasn’t Nadia any more. She could remember her former life - every ordinary thing right up until that night … but that Nadia had been the raw material for this one.

“Okay,” she heard Trixie say. “Who’s next?”

Clyde stepped back, her cock sliding back into view, and then another rubberized creature appeared in her place – this one a green version of the pair she’d enjoyed in what now appeared to be a former life.

“Me, please,” Greenie said. Her voice was thick with lust, plus there seemed to be something wrong with her tongue … it was beginning to protrude from her mouth, and swell. No - it can’t be, thought Nadia.

“Activate for Elfie,” Trixie told her.

God, I hope it is, was Nadia’s next thought. Whatever had sealed her pussy snicked back open, releasing a flood of pent-up of juices. She licked her open lips in anticipation, then rolled to the floor and scissored her legs open to welcome Elfie’s most unusual phallus.

>< >< ><

I watched as Elfie climbed aboard our enthusiastic new bot, driving her fat cock-tongue into the thing’s pussy-port and planting her own cunt over its hungry mouth. “So did anybody happen to get its name?”

“You mean did she introduce herself, back when she was fixing to shoot us?” asked Trixie.

Emile gave his little sister a hug, and then fished a driver’s licence out of his pocket. “Her name was Nadia – and I’m afraid she managed to give us a nasty turn, back there. We’re lucky that one of the subs we brought back from the mansion showed up when she did. Would you mind if Trixie and I get to know them?”

Oh, right. It was time I welcomed - and thanked - the Maxettes, myself. And just maybe Emile would let me help him cheer up his pretty sister. “Does Dolly Parton sleep on her back?”

Emile gave me an odd look. “Well, yes … I suppose she does …”

“Hell, yes.” There was a long pause. “Oh. Ah. Which is to say, no, I don’t mind, and yes, check out the new subs. Would you mind if I helped with the ‘knowing’ of them?”

Emile smiled. “By all means – join us.”

Chapter 9 - The Ranch - Second Week

Alice, May and Fran settled into a groove after their revelation about the latter’s probable human ancestry. On the whole it seemed best to follow Mistress Lewis’ instructions regarding keeping off her radar. The consensus was that they had seen their quota of weird shit for the time being. The weather was fine, and the camping, swimming and rambling continued to pass the time pleasantly. Apart from a slight feeling of neglect, their only complaint was a lack of cock, all round - however, being very good friends, they took upon themselves the duty of improvisation. This is to say that, from time to time, the girls brought each other off, and took turns repeating their previous similar assistance for Fran.

So it happened one day that when they all three lay basking naked near their campsite in a post-picnic stupor - sated after much food and futtering - May noticed some movement at the top of the knoll above their valley.

“Look - there seems to be somebody up there, see? On the boob-shaped hill? With a red hang-glider, I think.”

Alice rolled languorously in the direction May had been facing. “Yeah - somebody in red spandex, maybe.”

“Looks like they’re gonna jump. Cool.”

The figure did step of the edge, and seemed - as advertized - to hang on the wind. Then it turned with a wide glide in their direction.

“Geez,” said Alice. “Funny looking contraption. Looks like that Leonardo thingamy ... wait, did it just flap?”

“Yeah - and it’s coming this way. Okay, and it’s flapping again. Actually, it kinda looks like ...”

“A devil. Yeah. Seems like Ms Lewis is taking this sorcery thing all the way.”

“Well, crap,” May muttered. “I was hoping the whole thing was bogus, somehow.”

“Huh. Right. Tell Fran that.” As they spoke, both girls were getting to their feet and looking around the open glade to see if there happened, against all probability, to be a viable escape route available. “It’s definitely seen us. We are truly fucked now.”

It was, in fact, quite close by now. It swooped over them, to clearly reveal that it was a female devil; then she spiralled around and pulled up to land. Her great wings held wide to brake herself, she gently touched the turf with her cloven feet ... and then spun out of control, tumbling right up to the girl’s feet.

“Thorry about that, ladieth,” she said, sitting up and knocking a divot of sod off one of her horns. “Oh - hi, Fran. How ya been?”

The ‘ladies’ gawped at their monstrous, if bodacious, guest. Her acquaintance with Fran was not high on their list of expectations. But at close range there was also this: colours aside, the skins of both creatures were noticeably similar.

“Chatty ath ever, I thee,” lisped the demoness, as she got to her feet. “Do you remember me, I wonder?”

Fran nodded her head and clopped a hoof, once.

“She says yes,” offered May.

“You can communicate with her - exthellent!” Then, to Alice, she said, “And what are you looking at?”

“Umm, sorry. I’m Alice. Only, your tongue is ... fascinating.”

Spreading her arms and wings wide, the beast laughed. “Right. That’s what you focus on - my freaking forked tongue. It’th the lithp, ent it? You’d think I would hith, wouldn’t ya? I’m Demi, by the way.”

“Assuming you’re not here for our souls, we’re pleased to meet you.”

“Pleathed to meet you - Alith, right? Red top and bottom, Mth Lewis said. And your long blonde friend with the mown mound will be May. Your thoulth are thafe with me. That goeth for my friendth, too.”

After a brief pause to parse out the gist of what Demi had said (thoulth?), the girls relaxed - enough, in fact, to notice that the demoness’ phallic tail had its own agenda, which currently involved delving deeply into Fran’s ever-ready pussy.

Given this distraction, it was another few beats before Alice picked up on the last bit. “Friendth - er, friends?”

Still oblivious to her errant tail, Demi elaborated. “Yeah, we rolled in latht night. We’re Latex Girlth!”

“Like, a satanic band?”

“More of a randy band, you know, like Robin Hoodth Merry Band, only ruder. Probably.”

Both girls thought this sounded goofy, but neither was about to mock a potentially evil being.

“You thould meet ‘em. Come on over to the pond - I thaw Coral thwimming up there when I flew over.”

Getting dressed for the short hike to have a swim seemed inhospitable, somehow, given their guest’s lack of covering (if you discounted the black shaggy vinyl near-hair on her shins). So they followed her directly, riding as usual on a now slightly wobbly, thrice-fucked Fran.

They thought themselves prepared for anything. Having grown up with “My Little Ponies”, the whispered guess was a combination of Fran and Demi - a Pegasus variant, fitted with wicked bat wings. So the fat-titted mermaid sunning herself on a rock still came as a surprise, although they fully approved.

“Hey, Coral! Here’s Fran, and her palth Alice and May! Fran, do you remember Coral? Thee had a thexthy French maid thing going on, before thee wath tranthmogrified.”

Fran clopped once, while the girls greeted the new denizen of the pond and coincidentally wondered the same things: how much more transmogrification are we going to encounter ... and what the fuck kind of hell-spawn says ‘pals’?

There was another novelty. While the two new creatures exchanged the details of such adventures as they had fit in since that morning (first flight, first proper swim), Alice whispered to May from the side of her mouth: “Mermaids got pussies!”

“Stands to reason, if you want more merfolks.”

“Looks like mermen must need major wangs!”

Indeed, for lack of such an individual, Demi’s fat tail was filling the void to some depth, again seemingly of its own volition.

They were all soon splashing merrily in the center of the pond, and managing to rub against one another far more than was strictly necessary given the space available. Still, apart from boob-and-belly grinding and a few copped feels, there was relatively little other sexual stuff going on ... excepting, of course, the extremely rude demon-tail, which continued to do as it pleased. Even as Demi gossiped about plans for a Latex Girl Ranch, the girls felt her tail snaking below the surface, brushing against their bums and pussies. This time, not coincidentally, the two each wished for and simultaneously feared even more attention from the phallic appendage.

>< >< ><

Later, they climbed onto a sunlit bank and sprawled out, excepting Fran who sedately munched the nearby grass. Demi lay on her back with her wings spread wide under her and her proud scarlet breasts only slightly yielding to gravity, with Coral likewise pussy-up nearby, tail dibbling the water. Between lay the girls, meditating on their new discoveries.

“So, Demi … you’re kinda nice and stuff …” said Alice, after a while.

“Thank you.”

“Right. So did Ms Lewis, um, summon you to change Fran?”

“What? No, no - but it’th kind of a long thtory …”

“We’re human. Or were,” said Coral. “A mad scientist changed Demi.”

“Okay - maybe not tho long.”

“I, on the other hand, chose to be a mermaid. It was, like, my destiny.”

“Huh. Time I took the girlth up to meet the gang,” said Demi, as she climbed back onto her hooves and shook the grass out of her wings. “Fran okay with you?”

“Sure, if she doesn’t mind the guys coming down to play with me, later.”

“Guys?” May reflexively crossed her legs to more or less hide her pussy.

“Yeah. Thee, you got your Latex girth, but some other folks pledged allegianthe to Mithreth Pril. Thee’s in charge. Well, not of me, exactly, but nearly everybody. For now. The guyth, they’re a bit like roadieth. With dog collarth.”

The girls puzzled out this last statement as they too got to their feet.

“Um. Allegiance?” asked Alice.

“Dog collars?” added May. She was pretty sure Demi hadn’t meant clergy.

“Yeah, well, it’th a thing. Thee you later, Coral - you too, Fran.”

>< >< ><

The girls had remained comfortably bare on the walk, but as they approached the clearing just above the house they heard voices and slowed their pace, then stopped shyly at the edge to take in the scene. Across the meadow, mostly naked figures of various improbable colours and shapes scrambled busily around the wooden framework of an unfinished building. It was as though a company of imps from hell’s ‘Bureau of S & M’ had decided to put on an Amish barn-raising.

There was even a large table of refreshments waiting nearby, tended by a shiny red … female. She was wearing nothing but a black collar fitted with an iron ring (which seemed to answer May’s earlier question), plus an oversized dildo projecting from her nether lips, which had made the identification of her sex briefly challenging. She also had a strange bald head - ears missing, eyes staring, and her mouth open and perfectly round until she spoke: “You must be Alice and May. We thought you might come up. I’m Molly.” At this she held up the black ribbon on her collar ring which spelled out her name in silver lettering. “Welcome!”

The girls were slightly miffed, despite the strangeness of the situation - they’d been here first, after all. But the two big glasses of lemonade Molly was pouring, ice cold from a cooler, took the edge off their annoyance. “On the house,” she said, cheerfully. “Hot day, isn’t it?”

Demi looked on expectantly for her own drink, but the bartender held up the empty jug with a shrug. The demon scowled more than might be considered appropriate, but Molly told her, seemingly randomly, “Pril’s idea, but it’ll be fine.”

The girls downed their drinks - it was quite warm out, actually - so fast that there was a sticky overflow trickling down their chins and between their sweaty breasts.

“I thought you might be uncomfortable at first with the ‘naked-in-public’ thing, what with the randy guys and all, so I found you these.” Molly held up a pair of silky bikini bottoms - more like skimpy underwear, really, because they were flesh-toned (although not quite their flesh-tone, naturally).

Put that way, they both shrugged and pulled the garments on. And then …

“What the fuck?” said May.

Alice agreed - the bikini bottoms had disappeared (as had her pubic hair). In their wake remained only faint tan lines, as though the girls had already worn the things in the sun for a day or two. Even more alarming was the fact that the hips and bums of both her and May seemed to have grown. And then there was the sensation of her pussy clenching, as though it was trying to get a grip on something - she had been mildly aroused all morning, but this was very much stronger. “You’re leaking,” she said to May.

“Well, so are you!”

“Ahem,” interrupted Molly. “Sorry about this, ladies, but we’re trying to keep this whole operation under the radar, and the mistresses agreed the best course of action was to make you one of us. So, like I said, welcome.”

“Like you?” May sounded panicky.

“Not too much, but yeah. Look - here comes Lewis!”

Alice saw May’s face drain of colour, and was ready to panic herself even as she turned around to see. She thought she had seen the half-woman’s huge cock erect before, but she’d clearly been mistaken. The thing’s blunt head, with its sparkling gold ring piercing, was mounted on top of the stiff yard like the first stage of a rocket. The woman gripped the shaft so that it stood level with her chest. It was well suited to servicing mares (and, the girls suspected, the ponified Fran and Loni, although they’d avoided asking about it); yet given its skyward position, and for want of testicles, you could clearly see her oversized vulva hungrily gaping to reveal her pussy’s plump inner folds below. The possibility of Sable’s similar services now came to mind.

As she approached, the Mistress was clearly doing some sort of eeny-meeny in her head. May moaned when she became the clear target, but instead of bolting she began to worry her now-erect clitoris with the palm of her hand.

Alice found she could relate. It was obvious that Lewis’s wang couldn’t actually enter her friend; and the prospect of sliding her own hungry slit up and down the length of that log next had her own clit rigid. She trembled with excitement as Demi helped May onto the table-top, and she leaned closer to watch as Lewis forced her shaft down enough for the thing’s tip to rub between the lifted legs of her friend. What she was not prepared for was the sight of that bevel-tipped knob gently but relentlessly spreading May’s waiting labia - wider, and wider still, until with a slight lurch it actually advanced an inch or two.

May’s groaning became continuous as, little by little, her pussy began to swallow the turgid flesh. Three inches, five inches, and deeper it slid; until at ten inches, the thick collar of Lewis’s cock finally lodged solidly into her notch.

Lewis grunted, and then withdrew perhaps half before driving forward to amazingly bury another three or four inches beyond that. And still she pressed on, with an occasional repeated back-and-thrust.

Alice realized that she too had been moaning for some time, even as she did the calculations in her head: a cylinder four inches thick was - what? - twelve or thirteen inches in diameter … and Lewis must have sunk a foot-and-a-half inside that stretched hole with no sign of stopping. It was becoming clear what “one of us” meant.

As for May, she had begun interrupting the moaning with solid grunts at each new thrust, her eyes wide. Meanwhile, her hands alternated between gripping the table edge for support, and caressing either her distended belly (which was visibly rippling as it massaged its contents) or the cock-shaft yet to come.

Finally, Lewis reached her own climax, gasping as she at last sheathed her horse-cock up to the hilt inside the trembling girl, and began pumping aboard what had to be a prodigious load.

It was when cum began to spurt out of May’s mouth that Alice sobered up enough to turn to the grinning Molly and say, “There is no mad scientist, is there?”

“Funny - you’re the first one to ask me that. Technically yes - I worked for a man who was mad, and he claimed to be a scientist. I guess he was - he had this mind control machine going on. As for the rest, he’d create bizarre designs and then I’d call a guy who knew a guy who knew a venal sorcerer who would send us pretty much anything for a price. But these panty things he shipped were my idea. I wanted something way less over the top.”

Beside them was a loud ‘shloop’ noise, and two deep sighs, as Mistress Lewis withdrew her instrument from the modified May, who lay limp among the buns and potato salad and fresh semen. A smattering of applause came from the girls’ appreciative new family, who had gathered around as the show progressed.

Lewis turned to make a mock bow to the others, and then swung back to Alice. Licking her lips, she began rubbing the slick of shared juices along her already reviving shaft. “I’ll be ready for you in a jiffy,” she promised.

Alice looked down to see that, without realizing, she had her hands churning deep inside her own dripping love canal. Shivering with anticipation, she managed to respond: “Fucking yeah!”

Chapter 10 - Consolidation

In the space of two weeks the Latex Club had generated a sizable squad of converts. So over the next couple of weeks we took some care to cut a low profile: “nothing to see here,” sort of thing. Except rude sex, of course. Those of us least human in appearance - that is to say Clyde, Elfie, the Maxettes, and I - stayed out of sight. That only left Emile and Trixie to run the show, so we put a blouse and skirt on the Nadia-bot, and sent her out to tend bar. The customers thought the robot ‘act’ was a bit of cabaret, and they took turns trying to get her to break character. Only one succeeded, by lucking onto the ‘activate’ command. Once our bot had fucked him senseless, Trixie quietly told it, “Standby. Resume task,” whereupon it returned to serving the now titillated (but still thirsty) bar queue their drinks.

In the event, there were more notable exceptions to the whole ‘lying low’ thing - returning trade, really. I shouldn’t have been surprised, given that I had personally fucked nearly everyone in the room that first night. Apparently Eve - the gal with the barbell nipple-pin - had spotted Demi slipping back into the club after our demoness had helped catch Doc. She’d then spent the rest of the evening watching our barely behind-the-scenes activities, and figured out that we’d transformed her somehow. After thinking it over, she returned and confronted Emile. The upshot was that Trixie rooted out a second, similarly devilish costume for her. Eve finished up a deep purple, which set off her golden body piercings nicely (I forgot to mention earlier the studs in her ears, and the matching ones in her tongue and clitoris). She also wound up with high-heeled boot-feet (like mine) and a ‘regular’ pointy tail, instead of Demi’s hooves and wang-tail.

Then there was the Morticia woman, also from our first night (whose real name was Mina - or so she said), who likewise returned. I think she mostly wanted to display her green dragon tattoo more fully - whatever, she too had puzzled out what was going on, and wanted to join our band. I dug out what looked like a standard Sub suit for her, but she came out a Dom, much like me in color and fineness of feature.

So far, so good. But instead of her tattoo, she had an actual writhing green latex serpent emerging from her pussy. In spite of its previous illustrated manifestation, the thing didn’t seem bitey. Rather it seemed content to wrap itself around Mina’s waist and nuzzle her between her breasts … which suited her just fine. Me too - I’d noticed that she could stuff a few fingers between labia and lizard, with room enough for her juices to flow free, so I quickly took them both up to the loft for a tumble. I was right - I could get my tongue in there, and we soon discovered my Clyde could even get her cock in, too. The dragon-snake’s tail seemed to be permanently rooted inside Mina, but it was happy to pass the time snouting around in Clyde’s pussy - and mine - while we played.

>< >< ><

Several days later, the word came to ship out. I happened to be indulging in a bit of slap-and-tickle with Emile and Trixie … and Clyde. Even if civilians couldn’t cope with her horse wang, we’d found a work-round. Clyde lay on her back, Emile put it to her in the usual fashion and Trixie sat on her face to enjoy a tongue lashing. Then the siblings leaned together for a liplock with Clyde’s drooling cock pressed between their bellies. Meanwhile I enjoyed a bit of stray friction and the chance to hang with people who didn’t think I was some sort of goddess or empress.

Anyhow, I’d just swapped out places with Clyde and we were hard at it again, when Elphie came over with the phone. I would have let her take a message, but when she’s excited (which is mostly) her stiffie-tongue makes her pretty hard to understand. Since I was otherwise engaged underneath my friends, I motioned for Emile take it on speaker.

It was Pril. The upshot was that the Latex Lodge was ready for occupation, if still a bit rough around the edges. They had, in fact, moved in “to test it out,” as she put it. Presumably they intended to see if the place could withstand a rowdy orgy. The other breaking news was that Lewis had a fresh pony girl ready for conversion.

“We should ship the lab out here. There’s room enough in the hay barn,” Pril said.

“That would appear … to be the more … secure location. … In any event … it’s time … to abandon … the club.” Emile was delivering this butleresque speech quite well, considering he was simultaneously thrusting deeply, if languorously, into my tight vag. “The less attention … we draw to ourselves … the better. … Molly and the ‘Doctor’ … were transient … for good reason.” He was obliged to admit that, notwithstanding our intentions, we’d somehow managed to add Eve and Mina to the fold.

Pril just laughed, and confessed that Molly had just performed a Latex-light conversion on a pair of local farm lasses. “But you wouldn’t guess to see them,” she added.

“So … there were … no difficulties … with their families?”

“Nah. They were actually thrilled the girls had thrown over college to take on jobs on Lewis’s farm. Learn the trade, sort of thing. I suppose we’ll have to get some cows or something just to look legit.”

“You’re just thinking about latex girls with udders,” laughed Trixie, or rather squealed, owing the extra tongue-swirl I delivered inside her uterus.

“Okay, maybe a little. But we need some sort of local cover story if there’s gonna be a lot more activity out here.”

“I’m sure … Mistress Lewis … can direct us … as to what … would be … required. … Perhaps … the notion …of an exclusive … ‘wellness … centre’ … would … help … to explain … the new … structure.” As he warmed to the subject, his pace of pounding increased. I could feel the vibration of his sister’s giggles all around my still probing tongue.

By this time the other girls had left off their various erotic interactions and joined us to see what was up.

I could see it was time to take the plunge. Lifting Trixie bodily off my mouth (Elfie took over the pussy-probing for me) I finally entered the discussion.

“Pril - you still there?”

“Sure.”

“Only I could hear some heavy breathing…”

“I’ve been riding Candy’s snout while, wait - who are you? Destiny, right. Her and Leah are sucking my nipples. What’s your excuse?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m back now. Okay. Carry on with that stuff - what you and - ooh yeah - Emile said. Send out wassisname - Matrix - with the bus.”

So we had a plan, of sorts. While in truth I had no greater ambition than to party, I did feel a responsibility for the growing crowd who looked to me for protection. That included eventually rescuing such other girls as preferred our company to their current owners (who, to be fair, thought they’d acquired ‘animatronic orgasmatrons’). At any rate a barn-sized structure out in the country, surrounded by private fields and meadows, seemed like the perfect playground.

>< >< ><

That night a rent-a-truck piloted by Jasmine pulled up behind the club. She and I had a nice hump against a wall (with her lower tongue exploring most delightfully inside me), while the others loaded up the Doc’s lab and costume inventory. I’d already had the gang return the place to its former derelict glory, so when Matrix appeared in the alley with our bus, we made a disorderly withdrawal. (Quite literally in the case of Trixie and Emile, who’d at the last minute had a quickie on the other side of the alley.)

By dawn we were turning up a winding gravel drive and sliding under a wrought iron arch with “CL Wellness Centre” written in script so ornate as to be barely legible. As we cruised up the sun-dappled lane, the bordering maple trees kept opening to reveal fresh vistas. The ranch was even better than I’d imagined.

Eventually we broke into the open, to discover an old-school farm courtyard. Ahead was a big barn, while on our left was a long shed harbouring a couple of battered old trucks, one old tractor and Lewis’s Volvo wagon. To our right was a two- story clapboard house complete with a wide veranda - on the railing of which sat two remarkably pretty girls, holding hands and swinging their feet. They were so perfectly normal I’d have thought we’d come up the wrong drive, except that all they were wearing were welcoming grins. As the dust began to settle around the ticking bus, they jumped down and elaborately bowed us out its door by way of greeting.

You must be the Mistress Lori,” said the redhead.

“How did you guess?”

“They said you looked a lot like Mistress Pril. Also they said you tend to hold your pet’s cock like a staff.”

“Assistant,” corrected Clyde, from her position half a step behind me and to my left.

Like an assistant? - I thought, stupidly.

“So not a pet,” said the girl who must be Alice. “Gotcha.”

I swept them both a haughty look, but I didn’t let go of Clyde’s yard. Frankly I find it rather comforting. The two of them just grinned.

“Mistress Pril said we were to meet you guys,” continued Alice. May’s gonna take you up to the lodge. It’s just back there behind those trees, a ways.” With a stage whisper to me she added, “Pril thought you should arrive in style. I’m supposed to take you on Mistress Lewis’s carriage for the royal tour first.”

As she led me away to the barn, I asked, “So you won the toss, did you?”

“Rock-paper-scissors, actually,” said my freckled driver. “And, um, actually May won. She gets to fuck Clyde first.”

When I threw her a quick look, she gave me a wink - but I knew she wasn’t joking. I’d already forgotten she and her friend were now Latex Girls, despite appearances.

I failed to see how being stripped of my court to ride in a carriage would impart grandeur. But when I saw the rig, I had to admit that our matched brace of latex pony girls, with their plumes, shiny harnesses, and bells, definitely suited my style.

“Before we go,” my little Virgil said, “we should step out back.”

She led me to the stables, where a handsome stallion nuzzled her in a most familiar way. It could have been the carrot she gave him, but when I gave her side-eye, she blushed and shifted her gaze to the floor. Hmm.

After I had admired her sometime lover, she continued on through a part of the barn set up as a dairy, and told me Lewis had a mind to make her own cheese, since we were supposed to be an operational farm.

We emerged in a little pasture on the far side of the barn. It appeared that our first livestock herd had already been delivered: four milk cows munching grass and, their backs toward us, one horny bull humping the daylights out of cow number five. She rocked back to meet him, her ropy tail flapping and her milk-sack shaking underneath her, while her little cowbell jingled its own rhythmic accompaniment to this randy action.

The bull came with a bellow, and then clambered off his mate, clearly pleased with a job well done. While he moseyed away for a grassy snack, she stayed for a moment, shaking. Then she stood upright - as in, on her hind feet - and stretched.

“Meet Blossom,” said Alice. “She’s a cowgirl,” she added unnecessarily. “And Rosco.”

The way she’d lingered on the bull’s name caused me to give her yet another lifted eyebrow (that is to say, I hoisted the ridge where my eyebrow used to be).

“What? Of course not.” There was a pause, and then she added, “He’s only been here a few days …”

Having finally noticed us, Blossom headed over our way. She was cute, for a rubberized cow-bottomed girl, with a smiling round face and pretty brown eyes. She was also sporting large ears, and horns. Although she could stand upright, her legs were clearly cow legs now, and her feet proper hoofs. Altogether, she was a good deal sturdier than she likely was before the overhaul. Unlike her pale brown herd, she was mostly black with dappled white patches. Her udder was a cream color, as were her upsized girl-breasts: in total, she was fitted with six fat pink teats. The cowbell was secured to a standard issue sub’s collar and ring.

She still seemed dazed from the rogering, but she nodded shyly and smiled while Alice introduced me. “Pleased to meet you. I was hired to take care of the cows,” she said. “And Rosco.” She shook her head, so that the bell clanked merrily, as she continued, “I shouldn’t let him do that, I guess, but … I can’t seem to help myself.”

Unlike the rest of us, she seemed to be unaware of her enhanced condition - or, for that matter, of the rivulets of bull semen running down the inside of her thighs.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” I said. Trying to make conversation, I added, “What, um, else do you do for them?”

“Oh, goodness, everything really. Lead them from pasture to pasture, groom them, and settle them into their stalls at night. And milk the girls, of course. In fact we’re due about now.”

I had already deduced that - I’d seen how swollen her multiple mammaries were. Her teats all stood out rigidly like three-inch penises.

She reached down and rubbed her taut udder gingerly. It was so full, her touch caused a trickle of milk to start from the nearest teat – in anticipation, I suppose. Although her swollen breasts were mostly holding their own, gravity was winning down below … there must have been a lot of weight suspended from her belly. She slipped her hands under to help support it, and groaned – or rather, lowed. I couldn’t tell if it was relief, or if it was discomfort at the milky pressure still inside.

“We’d best go back to the dairy, then.” I didn’t want to keep her waiting - or learn any more about a day in the life of a cow.

Blossom was remarkably spry, hustling ahead of us. By the time we’d caught up, she was lifting her tail out of the way so as to ease herself down on a stool. Then she picked up the cluster of a milking machine’s suction cups and systematically let them swallow up her swollen teats, one by one – first her chest and then her udder.

Finally, with a huge sigh, she shifted to a position that was obviously more comfortable: she stood again, and then carefully bent forward until her hands were on the ground in front of her. Her legs and arms were now nearly the same length, so her back finished up parallel with the floor. She stood that way for a while, with her head lowered, dreamily chewing something, her breasts and udder suspended below her while the machine worked to suck her dry.

We left her to her bovine reveries and climbed aboard Lewis’s carriage. Blossom seemed content enough, but … I had to ask: “Did she volunteer? For that?”

“Oh. Well, sort of. She did say something about envying the cows …”

“Only now she seems to think she’s always been one. More or less.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how that happened. Just as well, maybe. And it coulda been worse.”

“How so?”

“Reverse cowgirl.”

Huh? That’s one of my favorite … oh. “You mean, as in the Minotaur.”

“More like his sister, really.”

“He had a normal sister, Ariadne,” I started, trying to take the pedantic high ground. “Well, half sister … “

“Sure. Whatever. You know what I mean.” Alice paused, then added, “Nice girl. Nothing like warm milk before bedtime.”

She was clearly not referring to Ariadne. “Huh. And what about you? Another volunteer?”

“Not exactly. But me and May feel great. And, like Pril said, we’d all seen too much.”

I mused about that for a while. We’d stared out by being kidnapped and transformed into weird life-forms by a mad doctor. Then we decided we liked it so much that we did the same for others - at their own request. After that, we did over some more folks that seemed to deserve the upgrade, whether they wanted it or not. And now we were changing girls who’d ‘seen too much’, like some sort of gangsters? And yet they did seem happy (possibly barring our sexbots).

As I pondered our future, Alice was steering us along a narrow lane, away from where May had led the others. Our ponygirls, who had been cooling their jets while we reviewed the new herd, kept up a good pace for my tour of our new estate.

We were soon trotting past the pond, where Coral and Matrix cheerfully waved at us in mid-fuck. Given the anatomical restrictions they were obliged to do it face to face, shoulder-deep in the chilly looking water - him standing and her obviously holding station with an occasional flick of her tail. I waved back and resolved to see if Molly could match them up, so they could frolic underwater.

Then I remembered that he was basically assigned to be her personal minion, scaring up her meals and carrying her about as needed. (That explained the old gypsy caravan parked nearby for them to sleep in.) If we gave him a fishtail, we’d have to assign them yet another minion.

As I was admiring the scenery and musing on latex merfolk sex, Alice pointed to the hilltop we seemed to be heading for.

“Look! Demi is teaching that new demoness you brought how to fly.”

Sure enough, the two of them were alternately flapping and falling over the treetops.

“Not very good yet, are they?”

Well, to be fair, Demi’s only been practicing for a week or so. And she’s been pretty busy …”

“I know what she’s been busy at,” I said. “So is this place big enough the neighbors won’t complain about circling hell spawn?”

“Sure. Yeah. Probably.”

“Probably?”

“As long as folks stay away, we’re good. There’s ‘no trespassing signs’ all around.”

“Didn’t keep you out, did it?”

Alice grinned. “Nah, but as far as I know, we were the only ones.”

I soon saw for myself how big this place was. Essentially all I could see from that hill and some ways beyond was ours. “Just how far did you and May walk when you were coming out here to swim?”

“Walk? Only a mile or so. We used to park our quads off in the bush over that way. Our farms are about six miles off, down that way where the land flattens out some.”

“Fair enough.”

We were soon cresting what I was told was Big Tit Hill (which begged the question of whether there was a Lesser Tit Hill nearby). Alice pulled up, and I climbed out of the carriage to admire the vista. From up here you could see the barn roofs, new and old. Also, even at this range, you could see our cattle around the one and our latex girls (and minions) amusing themselves around the other.

“Pril told me not to take too long.”

It didn’t look to me like we’d been missed. “So who is the Empress of, um, a whole bunch of universes, here?”

April laughed - not rude, but like she was sharing the joke. “Not me. Not you, either, although I noticed your minions seem to think so. Molly told me about the wizard or whatever who makes these suits.”

Fuck, I thought. I knew that mad scientist shtick was bullshit. “How much did she spill?”

“Just that she changed you, and then you did her back. And that she still has a line on her magical supplier. I guess this dude charges plenty. She also mentioned that she and her previous boss screwed up one time, so badly they offered to pay wizard-guy for a do-over. But he wasn’t interested. She didn’t know if he couldn’t or wouldn’t do it. But then they sold the poor girl to an aficionado for a profit, so everybody lived happily ever after. Probably.”

“Yeah, that about covers it,” I said, as if I’d known this stuff all along. I’d have to get the duct tape back out one of these days and extract the rest from Molly. “I am running this show, though, and a late arrival would be …”

“Assertive,” suggested April.

“Yeah. I think you really need to meet my, ah, associates - Emile and Trixie. You’ve got a lot in common. You’ll really fit into this organization.”

“Well, most all of it fits into me now.”

“Good point. You should talk that angle up with Trixie. In the meantime, come over here and try out my tongue. Might be I could help you get over your disappointment about losing out on that first fuck with Clyde.” I lay back in a conveniently moss-covered stone bench.

My bare-assed new staff member conscientiously unhitched the pony-girls and told them to entertain themselves for a while; then she came over to straddle my vinyl chest. I teased her, slipping just the point of my pink tongue out between my slick ebony lips.

Balancing her fat butt-cheeks on my firm rubbery boobs, she used her thumbs to pull her plump labia very wide. “How far can you reach with that thing?”

“You’ll be surprised.”

“I hope so.” With that, a questing tongue of her own protruded from her stretched vagina, swirling the perimeter to gather all the fluids that were beginning to leak. It briefly withdrew, as if to taste them, and then it shot back out eight or ten inches to waggle cheekily at me.

I hadn’t seen that coming. Things were definitely looking interesting.

To be honest, I’d had my doubts about the move. But going from badly-lit sex club to the great outdoors has to be an improvement. And right now, this place was definitely starting to felt like home - in my twisted new sense of the world.

Fin

Appendix - Dramatis personæ (roughly in order of appearance)

Note 1 - Doctor Abseil’s Animatronic Orgasmatron Manufacturing Enterprise coding:

D = Dominatrices ( ♀ - Light latex)

S = Submissives ( ♀ - Heavy latex; all collared) - the base model

P = enhanced with phallus ( ♀/♂ - with 'lady-pleaser' modification)

R = Robots (modified S units)

X = extra - enhancements other than above. A unit with only this designation has neither D nor S personality adjustments.

Note 2 - Output:

Before change of management: 2 x D; 13 x S; 6 x SP; 3 x SX

Under Mistress Lori: as listed below. (All units black unless noted.)

Chapter 1

w April – a girl. Later Mistress Pril – Serial# DX-002 (boot-feet), in blue.

w Lori – a girl. April’s roommate (& Narrator). Later Mistress Lori – serial# DX-001 (boot-feet).

w Emile – doorman. Later chamberlain.

w Trixie – Emile’s sister & lover. Coatroom girl. Later Emil’s assistant.

w Morticia - a customer. Sported a dragon tattoo. Later Mina - serial# DX-004 (actual non-bitey green latex serpent emerging from her vagina.) otherwise in black.

w Muscle-man - a customer

w Eve - club girl. Later serial# X-003 (demon-tail, boot-feet, horns, wings), in deep purple with gold ornamentation

w Commandant Girl & the Mastiff Men - customers

w Master & Schoolgirl twins - customers

w The Pony - a girl. Later Fran - serial# SX-004 (pony-girl), in brown

w The Cowgirl - a girl. Later Ms Lewis - serial# DPX-001 (pony bottomed, both phallus and vagina; no testes ) >>> gold clitoris ring

w Cowboy - a customer

w Mistress Molly – bartender. Later just Molly - serial# SPX-003 (dildo), in fire engine red.

w Candice – a girl. Later Blackie, Mistress Pril’s pet. Then Candy , Mistress Pril’s assistant– serial# SPX-001 (horse feet; phallic mouth; multiple breasts)

w Wendy - a girl. Later Clyde, Mistress Lori’s pet, then her assistant– serial# SPX-002 (horse feet & phallus), in brown.

Chapter 2

w French Maid- Later Coral - serial# X-003 (mermaid) - silver bottom

w Leather Jacket Guy - - a customer

w Leather Girl - a girl. Later Leah , M. Pantoufle’s assistant - serial# SPX-004 (Partial latex) - blue bits

w Leather Coat Guy - later Matrix - a minion

w Patches – a girl. Later Mistress P antoufle - serial# DX-003 (Partial latex)

w Elfie , a girl. Later serial# X-001 (Phallic tongue), in green

w Demi - serial# X-002 (Phallic demon-tail, cloven feet, horns, wings), in red

w Doctor Abseil - a mad scientist. Later serial# SX-005 (dog-man)

Chapter 3

w Mistress Carla - Later Carla - serial# SP-007

w Destiny - serial# SP-005

w Raven - sister of Destiny - serial# SP-006

w The Viking - Later a minion

w Captive Plunder-Maiden, the Viking’s friend. Later Jasmine , M. Pantoufle’s assistant - serial# SX-006 ( Partial latex; vagina modified as human mouth & tongue)

w The Preacher - a troublemaker

Chapter 4

w Alice - farm girl. Later serial# X-004 (pelvic enhancement)

w May - farm girl. Later serial# X-005 (pelvic enhancement)

w Sable - a horse

Chapter 5

w Olive - an aunt

Chapter 6

w Mad Max - a troublemaker. Later Maxine, a model S. Then Maxibot - Serial# SR-001.

w Buddy Mad Max’s friend, a troublemaker. Later Maria - serial# SR-002

Chapter 7

w Loni - a ponygirl. Later serial# SX-007 (pony-girl), in brown

Chapter 8

w Guy - customer - Later serial# S-013

w Girl - customer - Later serial# SP-008

w Goth-girl - customer - Later Duckie - serial# SP-009, in yellow

w Maxette One - Mad Max’s harem - serial# S-009

w Maxette Two - Mad Max’s harem - serial# S-010

w Nadia - Mad Max’s girlfriend - serial# SRX-001 (unmodified thorax)

Chapter 10

w Blossom - a farm worker - Later a cow-girl - serial# X-006 in black and white, collared

About the Author

I’ve always felt that erotica tends to take itself too seriously – a stick up its collective bum, as it were. For my part, I find the whole bumping of pelvises thing to be intrinsically comic. Fun in other ways, too - but still. I started out trying to write parodies of the genre, and discovered that a whole lot of exaggeration was needed to get beyond the standard fare. So I settled for a serving of perversity with (hopefully) a bit of humour on the side. It took me a while to notice that there were some recurring themes that were a bit ... sideways. The most consistent thread you'll find here is transformation. Not the furry hentai sort; more the sort of thing that Greek and Roman mythology revels in. I find there's nothing like a meadow full of nymphs and satyrs to get the blood stirred.

About This Edition, Including Author’s Disclaimers

Several young Ladies visit a new Fetish Club – which, Unfortunately for them, is Secretly run by a Mad Doctor. Even more Unfortunate is the fact that he is Founder and CEO of Doc Abseil’s Animatronic Orgasmatron Manufacturing Enterprises.

Warning: this story contains fantasy (including physical transformations and improbable genitalia); also couplings involving men, women, orgasmatrons and beasts. sometimes in groups, and often with toys. Oh, and hopefully some humor.

The author offers the following additional disclaimers: Some action sequences should not be attempted at home. No animals were hurt in the production of these stories. All actors are professionals - not necessarily that kind. Certain of the acts depicted (including girl on girl, incest, weird science, and those involving latex, liquor and masturbation) may, if you prefer, be taken as having been simulated. Do NOT try the positions described herein at home without a reputable Kama Sutra to hand. It has helpfully been pointed out that many are anatomically impossible. By chance, the author has actually studied anatomy, and concurs with that assessment. This is why magic (or undiscovered science, which is perhaps the same thing) has been invoked to explain unlikely organ sizes or plumbing arrangements, not to mention the whole transformation thing mentioned above.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - Friday Night on the Town

Chapter 2 - Fitting In (Friday Night, Continued)

Chapter 3 - Under New Management (Friday Night, Continued)

Chapter 4 - What the Morning Brings

Chapter 5 - Down Home on the Ranch (Saturday, continued)

Chapter 6 - The Club - First Week

Chapter 7 - The Ranch - First Week

Chapter 8 - The Club - Second Week

Chapter 9 - The Ranch - Second Week

Chapter 10 - Consolidation

Appendix - Dramatis personæ (roughly in order of appearance)

About the Author

About This Edition, Including Author’s Disclaimers

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