Slippery Slope - Part 1: Tsaro's Induction

Two scrapes now adorned the wall of the tiny room, with Tsaro’s claw digging the most recent shallow divot in the metal of the circular space. Two days now according to the hands of the analog clock on the wall. He had no idea he would have had to wait this long in confinement.

His friend Rilt the pine marten was someone very high-up at the Vulcanis Corporation, the makers of the most advanced nanotech and polymers in the world. Rilt had been dropping hints to the lion over several weeks that they had made a huge discovery, and they needed willing test subjects for the process. Tsaro had been told that his “personal tastes in play” would be perfectly suited to what they had created, and since he trusted Rilt (and desperately needed the money) he had agreed. Forty-eight hours had gone by now since he’d signed all of the exhaustive paperwork of waivers and contracts, then been closed in the brightly-lit, sterile room.

His "cell" was circular in shape with concave walls, giving it a doughnut-like shape like an airliner had been bent into a circle, the nose touching the tail. The continuous, smooth walls were only broken by the sink, toilet, shower, food dispenser, and a large circular door with no handle. During daylight hours, the room was lit from the ceiling, walls and even the floor.  Every surface except for the doors and fixtures were apparently made of organic white LED's.  The illumination was pleasantly warm, but nearly blinding in its intensity. Night time was simulated by all illumination being shut off save for a small section of panel between the exposed toilet and sink. His bed protruded from the wall sideways, leaving as much space as possible in the center of the room for the cylindrical elevator shaft which he had arrived in. He'd been escorted in with hardly a word from the lab coat-wearing eggheads after a long elevator ride downward, and told to wait for his two-day confinement period. His cell phone had been confiscated, not that it would work this far underground. All the items he'd brought to keep himself entertained were also taken from him. Supposedly, they would be returned to him after they had been disinfected and his confinement had ended.

With a heavy sigh he stood, and reached behind his back to clasp his paws together in a stretch. His lean frame bending as he did his best to work out the soreness in his body from the hours of confinement. His gut grumbled, and the feline threw a sidelong glance at the stainless steel commode, hoping he’d finished his rather unpleasant time sitting there. The bland excuse for food which the room’s dispenser gave him obviously disagreed tremendously with his bowels, and he’d been drinking plenty of the blue artificially-flavored liquid from the tap in the room to counter the dehydration he would otherwise be experiencing. Next to nothing seemed to stay in his system, and it made him feel completely flushed out and undernourished. His hunger, strangely, was under control, so at least he didn’t feel like he was starving.

With nothing better to do, he had gotten rather bored of push-ups, sit-ups, stretching, jogging in circles around the room, and re-reading the three-ringed binder which he had in the room with him. The cover merely read “Induction.” But at least the bed was comfortable. He picked up the binder one more time and laid back on the sheet-less mattress, his legs crossed at the ankles and long tail coming out from under his rump gently swaying. He suspended the tome above his head, peering down over his muzzle at its ridiculously simplistic and largely useless directions.

INDUCTION MANUAL V. 1.9

REMAIN IN THE CONFINEMENT AREA UNTIL YOU ARE RELEASED. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO OPEN THE HATCH YOURSELF AS THIS MAY RESULT IN INJURY.

The process of preparation is not painful or permanent by default, but both are available at user request. Full processing (internal and external) will require special biological conditions be met. Be sure to remain well-hydrated.

He kept skimming the type-written text as he’d done several times before already. The binder didn’t answer any of his questions, of course, but it talked at length about obscure long term affects. Things like “triggered mental control refocusing” and “inhalation deprivation immunity” made him a bit worried, and at several points he pondered pressing the large red mushroom-shaped button on the elevator shaft labeled “PANIC.” And yet, he wasn’t panicking, nor was he overly afraid. He was a little on the angry side, though. Male lions did not like being caught off-guard, and the fact he’d still not been told what was going to actually happen to him was unsettling.

Something inside Tsaro’s mind simply told him “There’s nothing you can do about it, whatever happens, happens.” So as the door of the room began chiming, he simply remained lying down, his head turned towards the portal and the binder dropped against his chest, open. The circular door was more like a plug, and with a pneumatic hiss, it pulled away from the room a few inches, then pivoted up into the ceiling outside his room.

He stared ambivalently towards the blackness behind the entryway for a few moments, and then footfalls met his ears. He continued relaxing in his prone position, but felt his heart rate climbing within his chest. The footsteps sounded as though they were made by boots, and there were definitely two sets of them. The corridor outside his room wasn’t lit at all, a start contrast to his ridiculously bright cell. Therefore, it wasn’t until the figures entered his room that he was able to actually see what they looked like.

The sources of the footsteps were walking in perfect unison, almost as though they were marching, emerging from the blackness as a coordinated pair. Upon seeing them, Tsaro’s only outward reaction was the lifting of his right eyebrow, and the pursing of his lips. They looked like they had escaped from the most expensive fetish party he’d ever seen. Both of them were covered entirely; every square inch of their bodies concealed beneath a layer of what appeared to be thick latex. Their faces were concealed under sophisticated gas masks which looked custom-made; their eyes fully blacked-out and glossy, just like their skin. Twin hoses connected the sides of the figures’ muzzles to compact, solid backpacks held to their torsos with shiny leather and steel straps. Their breathing was audible and smooth, almost mechanical. The tinny sound of gas regulators bounced off the walls each time one of the figures’ chest rose.

They stood there, staring directly at him as if they were waiting patiently for him to make the next move. One was a dark brown color, easily ten inches taller and with a huge barrel chest. The shape of his mask was clearly that of an equine’s head. His body demonstrated that he must be a serious bodybuilder, and the lion noticed that, strangely, despite the fact he was wearing a full-body latex suit; a black latex thong was still tightly hugging his groin. The seemingly redundant material still left little to the imagination.

The second figure was shorter and lighter, and sported a deep blue color to his rubbery covering. His mask was more generic in shape and therefore difficult to pin down what species he was underneath, although it was definitely some form of canine. He also, sported a healthy muscle tone. The lion caught something behind “blue’s” rump lazily swishing to and fro. The tail curled upwards like that of an akita or husky. Like his taller companion, he wore an incredibly tight-fitting teal jock over his loins; despite the suit he wore being clearly full-body. The pair of glossy figures continued standing motionless in front of Tsaro; the lion eventually becoming aware of the fact that his jaw was agape from staring, and deliberately closed it with a snap. He then swung his legs out and stood, and mustered all the courage he had under the circumstances. Clearing his throat and raising his chin did little to combat the nervousness in his voice.

“So. I don’t suppose either of you are here to tell me where I am and why I’m here. Are you?”

The reply was silence, permeated only by the hissing movement of air through regulators.

“I thought not. So, are you going to take me somewhere?”

At last, they moved. Their masked heads turned towards one another, and then back towards the lion, nodding only once. Still a nervous wreck, Tsaro felt a twinge of relief knowing that at least now something was going to happen which broke the monotony. In a bizarre way, he welcomed the apprehension which filled his mind. Without it, he would most certainly be sporting a raging erection. Despite whatever doubts he was experiencing about this situation, he had many fond recollections of days spent in fetish clubs, and nights tied up inside of gear similar to what his escorts were wearing.

But he had to admit, the suits they wore were different somehow. They were obscenely tight, and had no creases, seams or wrinkles whatsoever. It was as though they weren’t suits at all. Such accoutrements had only been the stuff of his dreams before today, and as the pair of sculpted male rubbers turned and began leaving the room, the degree to which their outfits fit became abundantly clear. Their “underwear” was of g-string variety, showing off latex-coated asses which rivaled that of Greek gods. His eyes remained fixed upon those surfaces as he followed them into the dark hallway. The movement of their legs didn’t seem to phase the stretchy material, and it filled in their clefts perfectly. The canine’s curly tail bounced along behind him, while the equine seemed to have his tail bobbed, giving it the appearance of a ball which hung behind him.

His eyes were so focused on the flexing backsides in front of him that he walked past two other rooms in the hallway without even noticing them. It wasn’t until the trio walked past a third room, and Tsaro heard a noise coming from within. His ear perked to the left, his large leonine head following its turn as his gait faltered. The sound was akin to a squeaking gasp; it could have been interchangeably interpreted as a moan of pleasure, or a whimper of fear. He stopped walking and craned his neck backwards, trying to peer into the room. He noticed three other “rubbers” in masks all standing around some kind of large table. An enormous brown hand grabbed his shoulder firmly, and steered him back in the trio’s original direction of travel. Just before the doorway went out of sight, he could have sworn he saw some kind of rodent tail squirming from the table. As he turned to follow his escorts, his feeling of dread grew. He wanted to ask them what was happening in there, but he was fairly sure he wouldn’t like the answer. Besides, his captors hadn’t exactly been the chatty type.

Tsaro became more observant of his surroundings after that. He favored peering around every corner, nook and cranny he could rather than staring at the pair of buttocks taunting him. He desperately searched for some kind of indication of where he was and what this facility did, but all he could find was very generic lettering describing maintenance access panels in the walls, and the pervasive presence of the Vulcanis company logo. The stylized ‘V’ was everywhere.

His shoulder was roughly shoved, bringing him back to the present moment. “I’m moving, I’m moving!” He walked in the direction of the push until they stopped in a room with a stainless steel shower stall of some kind. It was cylindrical in shape, a large uninteresting drain at the bottom, but with nearly a dozen spray nozzles aiming at the center. The lion was guided inside, then two massive hands from the rubber-covered horse suddenly gripped either side of his undergarment, and pulled rapidly, causing a loud ripping sound and exposing the lion’s genitals to the cold air. Tsaro began to protest as the arms retreated with his now-destroyed remaining garment, but the cylindrical transparent door of the shower twisted shut in an instant, sealing him inside. Immediately, all of the sprayers came to life and began dousing the angered feline with steamy water, smelling of harsh chemicals. Tsaro kept his mouth shut to keep the stuff out of his maw, and resigned himself to simply standing, arms crossed and glaring at the two motionless figures which stood on the other side of the door, taking his humiliating washing in silent protest. The nozzles were not stationary, and rotated and gyrated around his body, ensuring maximum coverage of his pelt in all places, with several solid blasts right against his asscrack from underneath. Through it all, he just stood with his nose wrinkled, growling between holding his breath in the face of the barrage of water. The shower eventually became less smelly, as it switched to pure water for the rinsing.

He hated stereotypes, but the big cat had to admit he hated water even more; and when the door rotated open, the two rubbers standing outside it were met with a growling, naked, sopping wet lion which was in an altogether sour mood. “That’s just great. What’s next on our menu of fun?”

As if on cue, vents opened inside the cylinder, and the lion was exposed to a hurricane of hot air blasting through his fur, sending his mane flying into his eyes and flapping his tail around. With the brief drying cycle finished, the result was exactly the same sour lion, just poofy.

“Wonderful.” He growled, barely audible, but his ear perked as he could swear the horse just nickered in amusement under the mask. “Oh, so you can speak!” Quickly, the two shapes gripped him once more by both upper arms and began dragging him out of the shower and into the hall once more. Tsaro grinned to himself for seeing one of them “break character,” but his self-gratified smirk was not long-lived. Because he’d just been dragged into one of the freakiest scenes he’d ever seen.

As the huge circular door sealed them into the room with a hiss, the lion’s muzzle hung agape in both awe and fear at what the space beheld. The room could only be described as a mixture between medical machine room and laboratory. The main showcase being an enormous contraption standing in the very center of the room, shaped roughly like an MRI machine which had been squished and turned on its side. Towards the front of the machine was obviously where Tsaro was about to be put. It had a shape of a standing figure, and metal locking cuffs which were adjustable in size and placed at key points for immobilization. The person-shaped space was slightly indented to fit the curvature of the average body, and where the rump would sit, there was a large opening for the fitting of tails of any size. There was also no surface present along the entire length of where the subject’s cleft would sit, leaving whoever was tied there exposed to the inner workings of the machine from beneath.

The back of the device was mostly covered, an artistically but functionally curved casing concealing almost all of what went on beneath the cover. But off to the side, several clear cylinders were visible, filled with various colors of substance he could not identify. The liquids inside churned and moved, but did not appear to be being stirred, and while consistent in color, he could see shimmering changing the way the light bounced off the containers, as if they weren’t consistent in composition, like an oily slick which constantly moved and reorganized itself in a lava lamp.

There was an X-Ray-like apparatus hanging from the ceiling above the angled table, and dozens of hoses everywhere, connecting here and there, dangling loosely from the ceiling, lying on the floor in a heap… everywhere. Against the brilliant white wall to his left, there were two rolling trays which were covered by cloth. Tsaro couldn’t make out what shapes they obscured, but they seemed to become gradually taller in order from left to right. He dismissed the thought of them all appearing rather phallic as just his overly-dirty mind playing tricks on him.

The rubbery figures holding his arms increased the strength of their combined grip as the feline prisoner began to squirm and pull, his footpaws pushing against the stark white floor tiles uselessly as he instinctively tried to back up and get towards the door. The motion was utterly useless as the male found himself completely outclassed in strength by the horse, which single-handedly began dragging him towards the angled bondage-ready surface of the machine, and in a single, swift motion lifted him from his feet and dropped him down onto it. Instantly, two metallic bands clamped shut around his chest and midsection, clanging shut loudly and taking him utterly by surprise. The masked wolf now assisted the horse in pushing the lion’s arms and legs down into their respective restraining locations, and the machine automatically detected the presence and size of each limb, locking down at his thighs, shins, ankles, arms and wrists.

Tsaro’s fangs flashed as he struggled against the unyielding locks, a loud snarling roar flying from his wide maw. His fear-fueled rage subsided as he realized that the only part of his body he could even wiggle was his head and his fingers. The poor lion bracing himself against his terror and doing an honorable job at containing his panic and restoring what was left of his dignified feline stature. That is, as dignified as one could be locked to a table naked, on your back with your legs spread. The only outward indications of his fear which remained were the rapid pace of his breathing, and the barely visible twitch of his lower lip.

For several moments, he lay there, locked to the strange machine and utterly silent. The room’s only sounds being the breathing of the three occupants, a humming sound from the machine, and an occasional gurgle from the cylinders of thick liquid. Finally, the quiet was pierced by hydraulics opening the door to the room once again. Unable to see down towards the door in his bondage, Tsaro wasn’t aware of who or what had entered. However, his nostrils were immediately hit by the sweet, earthy odor of a mustelid’s scent. Stronger than a ferret, but not quite as pungent as an otter, he couldn’t place the species until the individual loomed over him. The pine martin beamed a wide smile of recognition, which was met by a bit of mild relief from Tsaro.

The weasel was obviously amused by the lion’s mix of confusion and puzzlement, and was the first to speak. “Yes, it’s me Tsaro. Rilt, remember?
”
“Rilt! Of course I remember but what the hell is going on?” The big cat was stammering as he grasped for words. “I think I’m uh… having some second thoughts… that panic button’s still nearby, right?”

“Never mind, don’t trouble yourself with that now. Pretty soon you’ll be unable to speak anyway. At least for a while.” The marten was putting on a set of gloves as he spoke, and Tsaro began to wonder just how much of a friend Rilt was. “Let’s put it this way: you’re going to undergo some changes. And I’m not going to lie to you, they’re drastic. But here’s a few things which will help calm you down for them. First and foremost, you’re not going to die. Second, and equally as important, you’re not going to feel any pain whatsoever. Third, what’s going to happen to you is not permanent.” The martin paused for a handful of seconds before proceeding with a wider smile. “That is, unless you want them to be. If you decide so, we can arrange it. And fourth…” The weasel leaned forward towards the lion’s face and almost whispered. “…you’re going to absolutely love it, I guarantee it.”

While Rilt was speaking, Tsaro became aware of the machine churning to life as the masked wolf tapped away at a touch screen nearby. Simultaneously, the horse stood near the table and began to remove the hoses on his mask, and dropped the respirator from his back to the floor. The mask over his head opened in three directions to accommodate the shape of an equine’s head, and as he pulled it away, Tsaro’s eyes became as wide and as white as dinner plates. The head underneath the jet black mask shone just as brightly as his skin, and of the exact same deep brown color! The eyes turned towards him, pools of glowing liquid green shone amidst black spheres where normally the eyes would be white. The irises radiated light against the contrast of the black, and the pupils were alive and pulsating. Every feature of the horse’s face moved utterly naturally, from his flaring nostrils with his breathing to the curling edges of his lips as he smiled down at the immobilized lion. It was though the horse was, in fact, made of rubber!

It was all the more of a mind job to him as the equine chuckled and spoke. “By the way, yes I can talk. And I can’t wait to hear what kind of smartass one-liners you come up with once this thing’s finished with you” He quipped, nodding to the machine.

"You’ll have to be patient Nors, he won’t be able to speak until at least an hour from now. The martin pulled a stool over from the wall of the room towards the “table” and cracked his flexible paw knuckles. “Now, first things first. We’re going to need a mask for you my friend.”

“Wait! Look, I don’t think I’ve been clear, so I’m going to say this as plainly as I can, Rilt. I want you to let me out of this machine right fucking now!” Tsaro was rather proud of himself for sounding at least partially dignified and dominant despite his growing fear. Though, he still wasn’t above cursing under the circumstances.

“Oh. Oh I see.” The martin wheeled the stool over towards Tsaro’s head, scooting along the floor on the casters whimsically, and stopping himself with a stomp of his bare feet. Was he even wearing pants? The lion couldn’t look below the line of the table to see. “And why on earth would we want to do something like that? Moreover, why would you want us to do something like that? You’re the one who asked for this in the first place.”

The feline’s brow rose and lips fell at once, with absolute denial gradually being replaced by utter confusion. “I would never have asked for this! I thought this was some kind of thing like ‘Here, put on this kinky shirt, can you move easily in it?’ This is something completely different!”

The bronze-colored mustelid leaned back towards the horse, gesturing at him. “You don’t want to look like him? That is, not like a horse, but like him. And him too!” he added, pointing to the canine across the room, who now also had his mask off, and also appeared as if he were a living blue rubber statue of a wolf. His fur was utterly gone and replaced by a liquid latex sheen. Every feature of their faces was just as animated as anyone else’s, simply replaced with rubber. It was almost as though they had become moving statues. Living works of art.

Tsaro shook his head in disbelief. His mind said simply and plainly that what he was looking at was not a living thing, that it was completely impossible, but his eyes told a completely different story. No amount of robotics could simulate the nuances of the faces he saw. And yet, there they were, without any kind of mask or second skin, their bodies being simply made of latex. Or at least, what looked like latex. His thoughts rewound to the strange, colored liquids in the vats of the machine he was now bound to. What was in them? Could it be possible? Was such a process feasible? If so, would it be safe?

Rilt rolled his eyes, then took hold of two handles on the X-Ray-like machine, and pulled it down lower in front of Tsaro’s face, the lion entranced in shocked bemusement, staring at the wolf. The martin noticed his fixed gaze and smiled, turning towards the blue canine. “Looks like he fancies you Chris. Why not come over here and let him see you closer?” The wolf did so wordlessly, and stood above the prone cat from the foot of the machine’s ‘table’, towering over him and wagging his curly rubber tail. The feline stared at him, still trying to work things over in his mind. Rilt took advantage of the lion’s stare and tapped a touch screen. A laser light swept quickly over Tsaro’s entire head, scanning it in an instant. The mustelid’s long fingers then casually tossed the gimbaled machine up and away and studied the workstation.

“Ahhh, magnificent. A perfect scan. Thank you for holding his attention Chris.”

The wolf winked, then lifted one of his hands and sucked on a fingertip in the direction of the bound prisoner, then pulled it free of his muzzle. Teasingly, he began moving it towards the lion’s helpless crotch. Tsaro fruitlessly pulled at the steel bands holding him down, then felt a cold moist touch against his sheath’s opening. His embarrassment radiated from his face as his penis responded quickly. Disobeying his mental orders to remain calm, the pink lion male-hood rose from its furry home to meet the sensual touch. As the slippery latex paw pad glided by, Tsaro felt the distinct wet gooeyness of silicone lubricant, but from where? His teeth gritted shut, he attempted a snarl of rebellion at the molestation from the wolf, but his protestations were quite obviously half-hearted, and only elicited some laughs. Frustrated and betrayed by his own desires, he turned his head to the side, away from his captors, for now content to simply flatten his ears back against his mane.

“Don’t think we don’t already know Tsaro. We know everything about you.” As the weasel spoke, an oval-shaped pool of black maybe three feet across rose up from the obscured parts of the machine alongside the lion’s head. The inky liquid began becoming disturbed as it sat next to him, and the big cat’s heart began banging away in his chest once more as he turned to face the unknown. There was a soft humming noise, and the surface tension broke around a rounded object which began rising from beneath the pool. The rounded surface became punctuated by two small lobes, and then a face and muzzle appeared. As he watched, the understanding hit him: it was a black rubber mask in the shape of a lion’s head. The glossy eyes returned his stare as the surface of the mask hardened, becoming solidified but no less shiny.

Rilt reached for the mask and carefully lifted it from the pool it had risen from, turning it towards the bound lion and holding its nose up to Tsaro’s. “Beautiful, isn’t it? The interior has been shaped to fit the contours of your face exactly.” The mask stared back at him, reflecting his face in the tinted eye covers. The mask was locked in an imposing expression. At the end of the muzzle, the lips were pursed around a threaded concave opening, as though the mask were “sucking” on a non-existent cylindrical object, which could be screwed into it. The darkness of the muzzle’s interior obscured anything which might be inside, but before the lion could look closer, the marten was pulling it away from him and placing it on his lap. Rilt began working a set of leathery straps through slots at the rear of the mask.

“That mask…can I keep it once we’re done?” The lion asked nervously, again betraying his excitement in the midst of his fear of the unknown.

The marten smiled, not looking up from his work as he answered. “Of course you can, it’s for you! Can’t you see the resemblance? This is what’ll help your transformation along, and it will fit your face perfectly. We have to make sure it’s nice and comfy on you, because you will be wearing it very frequently from now on.”

The lion’s heart rate remained at a high pace. The only thing changing was the reason for the excited state he was in. Fear was mixing with a strange sense of anticipation. Arousal swelled within him as he gazed at the jet black rubber mask that had been so quickly manufactured from the contour of his face. He wasn’t sure what Rilt meant by “from now on.”

The marten was finishing threading through the straps and stood. He then walked up to Tsaro’s head once more, and held the mask open, moving to push it over his head. The lion’s breathing accelerating exponentially as the black void of the mask opened to reveal something he hadn’t seen before. At the end of the mask’s muzzle, protruding into the interior, was the shape of a lion’s penis. Whoever wore the mask would have the cock in their muzzle at all times, reaching all the way to the back of their throat. “H-hey! Wait a minute!! Don’t put that on me! What the fuck is that?!”

The marten began to get an exasperated look on his face. He nodded to the rubber equine next to him, who took Tsaro’s head into his enormous hands and held it still. The lion’s attempts to squirm away were weak and without motivation; his spirit already giving in to what was happening as the equine’s digits entered his maw and held it open. As the cat bared his teeth, immobile but growling, Rilt fitted the mask over his face. Tsaro felt the cold slippery object enter his muzzle, the toy sliding down his maw as all the light from his view evaporated. The mask finally settled against his face, touching every single contour and fitting as though it were a second skin. The poor cat continued to struggle even as the straps were closed around the back of his head, and locked solidly. His ears tried folding back, but even they were now manacled into position by the form-fitting mask, and the humiliating cock-shaped protrusion now tickled at the back of his throat unendingly, filling his maw with the taste of latex. The intruding toy was causing his saliva to pour down his throat, forcing him to swallow to keep from choking.

The complete blackness was finally lifted, as the two eye covers suddenly cleared before his vision, allowing him to see out, but with the room tinted slightly yellow. Unable to speak, or even growl, the imprisoned cat now simply stared through his mask at the others in the room. They were busily pressing buttons, attaching hoses and moving machinery. An electronically-altered voice crackled in his ears, coinciding with the movement of Rilt’s muzzle. “Alright, now we’re ready to begin. This process will be completely painless Tsaro, but I can’t say it’s going to be entirely comfortable. The best thing you can possibly do is to relax yourself as much as you can.”

The words came just as the lion felt a set of slippery paws grasp at his privates. He felt his erection being slipped into something smooth and cold, as if it was being guided into a sleeve. His testicles were then gingerly grasped, and something was fitted over them which felt a bit uncomfortable and stiff, and clicked shut around them, sealing them inside. The mask which held his face was being attached to something outside his view, and he could now only look ahead and slightly down. He could only just barely see his own body if he strained his vision, and there seemed to be some kind of hose rising from his crotch and disappearing out of sight. He made another swallow of saliva around the dildo lodged between his lips, the lion still suppressing his panic. He began to feel something mechanical moving beneath him before his bared ass was met by an object he couldn’t identify. It slid through his asscrack repeatedly, and with each pass he felt as though his rump was wetter, the device leaving some kind of residue which was becoming more and more slippery. His poor exposed tailstar suddenly began to tingle, and a strange warming sensation flowed up past his backside and into his body with a capillary action.

He felt vibrations from everywhere around him as the machine he was fixed to worked mysteriously, and like someone at the dentist, he was somewhat glad he couldn’t see what was moving outside his point of view. He quickly determined that the mask was somehow sealing out almost all noise from his ears, which explained the need for the com link which Rilt was using to speak to him. The marten once again entered his field of vision, and held a ribbed, transparent hose which had a fitting on the end. He pushed it firmly into the mask’s mouth, and twisted the fitting into the threading; each motion transferring through the mask into Tsaro’s head, shaking it slightly. The lion’s teeth digging into the latex toy lodged in his mouth, gritted against the motion. The marten stepped away again, and the immobilized lion could see the large hose coming from the end of his muzzle which wiggled every time he tried to struggle.

His struggling was suddenly renewed to full-force panicked squirming as something cold and metallic touched his moistened tailhole, and without warning or preparation, began pushing up into his ass with a mechanical smoothness, unrelenting and unstoppable. He tried wailing into the mask but was utterly noiseless as his anus was violated with a steel object, stretching his ring wider and wider until the thickest point went past, and the plug sank between his furry buns with a soft slurping sensation.

As the pain from the stretching was gradually subsiding, (as was his desperate gasping for air through the mask’s breathing system), the marten re-appeared in his view and wearing a smirk. “We’re ready now Tsaro. We’re ready to make you perfect. There are three steps to this. The first step is easy. The second one is not, but only for a few seconds, and then the rest is a cake walk. By the time we reach the third step, you’re going to only barely be conscious, but you’ll be enjoying every second of it. There’s no point in asking if you’re ready, because we’re starting right now. So just relax.”

Tsaro felt something cold against his rump, then his back, his legs, ankles, arms and shoulders. The sensation was paired with the feeling that he was sinking somehow, confirmed by the fact Rilt and the ceiling tiles were getting smaller. His body was descending into something liquid and somewhat chilled, but all his limbs were still utterly unable to move. It seemed his restraints were pulling him down into a pool below him. As the level rose, the cold liquid began to cover every inch of his form, sending a gooey tingle straight through his fur and onto his skin. The liquid was thick and heavy, and he was gradually detecting a tingling, almost electric sensation beneath his pelt. As the goo touched his bare nipples, the tingling hit instantaneously, making him squirm; his fur obviously having slowed the effect elsewhere on his body. As the helpless lion continued sinking, his last view through the eye covers of his mask was of Rilt with a shit-eating grin on his face, waving to him like the Queen of England, before he vanished entirely under the black ooze.

Tsaro could now only feel touch and vibration with all of his other senses completely cut off. His skin continued to tingle and tickle; and while the sensation was not painful, the lack of knowledge of what was happening was unsettling. Thankfully, he was still being provided air through the mask, and soon, his struggles began to subside once more. Submerged in the pool of opaque liquid, he was unable to tell how much time had passed. There was hardly any sound, and after a while, the tingling began to cease. It was not numbness, however, because he could feel with great detail every tiny current and eddy of liquid that flowed around his body. As though his skin’s sensitivity had been amplified, or enhanced. The sensation was soothing, and as he floated there, in nothingness, the lion began to relax and feel a bit light-headed. He was filling his lungs with deep but slow breaths of the air which came to him from his mask. Each little wiggle of his extremities caused some of the thick liquid to reach the areas of his flesh which was normally covered by the metal shackles. Every tiny movement he made worked the goop into his crevices and corners. The effect was so gradual, that he failed to notice that the air he was inhaling was starting to smell different. His subconscious wrinkling of his nose finally brought his attention to it, as he realized he was breathing in something smelling similar to a shoe-polish. For a second he struggled in panic, but too late. The chemicals were already reaching his brain and forcing him into a relaxed state.

The voice of Rilt once again clicked in his ear as his body went limp. “OK Tsaro, you’re doing well, but now’s the hardest part. It’s short, so bear with me. You’re going to panic when it happens, but stay with my voice. Everything is going to be fine, and soon, what at first feels terrifying is going to feel fantastic. You just need to trust me.”

The lion felt a jolt of movement from the hose connected to his mask, followed by a vibration, immediately before the world went mad. The dildo gag stuffed to the back of his throat suddenly gurgled to life and began to surge with a thick, syrupy liquid which pumped into his muzzle so fast that it was filled to the brim in less than a second. His sore muscles sprang into action and desperately tried to free him from the bonds harder than they ever had before, and the poor lion was utterly convinced he was about to drown. Rilt’s voice became loud and commanding, but never angry. “Swallow Tsaro! Just swallow! All you have to do is swallow and it’ll end!” The liquid’s pressure did not abate, and eventually it had to go somewhere. The lion clenched his eyes shut and started drinking, but the pressure of the fluid pumping forced it down his throat at a pace much faster than he could gulp anyway.

Tsaro put all of his trust in the marten’s words coming to him, desperately taking swallow after swallow of the thick material. For the first three gulps, his throat and belly revolted, and he was sure that he’d vomit it back into the confines of the mask, but it never occurred. Six gulps later, and the nausea was gone. A few more, and Tsaro began realizing he wasn’t suffocating, his lungs were not about to explode for lack of air, and his throat wasn’t sore in the least. What was happening?

“Now Tsaro, you don’t need to swallow anymore, just relax. That’s it. Let your entire body relax. That’ll also relax your throat, and the slurry will simply pump itself. There’s nothing to worry about, nothing to think about, just clear your head.” He might not have thought so at the time, but the relaxants which had been given to his air stream had made the initial ordeal much easier for the lion, and now that it was passed, they also made his relaxation come more easily. He was letting his muscles go limp, and even closed his eyes under the mask. He felt his penis pressing against the confines of the sheath placed over it as the phallic object forced into his muzzle continued gushing with liquid that was pouring down his throat. He wasn’t swallowing anymore; it was as though his gullet was simply stuck open. He didn’t care how it was happening. His mind began returning to the state of Zen which he had while floating in the mass of fluid earlier.

The tingling sensation he had felt over his skin was now traveling through his torso, and his heart began feeling warm and heavy. Eventually, he felt a twinge of fullness in his abdomen and loins. Immediately, Rilt’s voice cooed to him, “No holding back, stay relaxed, that’s it… good lion.”

Inexplicably, Tsaro didn’t take any offense to the patronizing words, and instead, simply followed their orders. He could feel a flow of warm liquid from his urethra filling the empty spaces of the sheath around his penis,as the plug between his rumpcheeks began to pulsate slowly, like it was lazily sucking something away. “The excess slurry has to go somewhere, and trust me; you don’t want your belly to balloon up. You’re doing so well Tsaro, you’re such a good, good lion. Now keep relaxing, we’re not finished, but we’re going to move you.”

The big cat’s eyes rolled about, lazily opening and peering through the eye covers of his mask as he felt himself being lifted from the pool of goo. The machine’s shackles were still firmly locked, but they somehow seemed much more comfortable than they were before. He rose from the vat and was being pivoted forwards, until he was completely upright, hanging with arms and legs held spread. His body was limp, except for the occasional rolling of his head to and fro, the hose feeding his mask shaking gently with the pressure of the pumping.

Through his blurry vision, he could see a spider-like assembly appear, and from the ends of those spider legs a blast of hot water began spraying. The liquid splashed against every part of his body that wasn’t covered by something; the view through the glass of his eye covers looking like what you’d see under a windshield at a car wash. He could feel the temperature of the water rising, and the sensitivity with which he felt the jets of water gave him a jolt of realization. All of his fur was gone.

“Such a good lion.” Tsaro guessed that the blur he saw through the washing was Rilt. The figure was watching closely with his arms behind his back. As the water got hotter, Tsaro could feel his skin contracting, tightening, hardening. The liquid was hot enough that it should have been painful, but the only sensations that reached his brain were the tactile pressure of the spraying, and a soothing warmth. All the while, he felt the thick goo flowing down through him, filling his belly and torso and lazily draining through the hoses on his loins. “You’re almost there. Just a few more minutes and the transformation will be finished.” The sprayers halted, dribbling the remaining water from the nozzles as the whole assembly rose out of sight. His vision clearing, Tsaro could see Rilt with his paws on either side of a tall rectangular object. The weasel turned the full-length mirror towards the lion, and the image which appeared in its glass made him shake with a start. He was looking at a sheer black feline form, limbs outstretched, black rubber skin shining brilliantly under the room’s harsh lights. His face was covered by the beautiful mask, which his skin now completely matched in appearance and color; the ribbed hose coming from his muzzle went around behind him and connected to one of the clear vats, which was gradually draining. The fluid level in the fifty-gallon tank was almost empty; signifying just how much had been pumped through his body.

Attached to his crotch was a metal assembly, consisting of a featureless, stainless steel cylinder which covered his sheath and penis, and a pair of connected steel globes that imprisoned his ballsac. A slender, smooth hose connected to the side of the assembly, draining away the fluid that was still being pissed out of his member. A brief shudder under his tail kept him aware of the third “attachment” between his now shiny asscheeks, and he noticed that a thick ribbed hose was descending between his legs from the plug and going to the same place on the machine as the thin smooth one, filling a previously empty vat with all of the black liquid which had coursed through him.

Within moments, Tsaro felt his face no longer shaking from the pumping, as the vat filling him finally emptied. Rilt reached up, taking the fitting in his paws and giving it a few twists, unlocking and removing it from his mask. The cat burped, spilling globs of the black goo which were quickly cleaned by the rubber wolf nearby with a garden hose-like hand sprayer. Tsaro continued to drain, his loins still pouring with the stuff for several minutes before he could no longer feel any liquid movement below. The mustelid was assisted by Nors in removing the straps of his mask, while Chris typed on a keypad, apparently performing some miscellaneous final duties with the machine.

“Alright Tsaro. We’re taking the mask off now. You’re going to drool a bit of the excess from around the nozzle so don’t worry about it. Your new mouth will feel very strange for several days, but we’ll help you with that. Are you ready to see the new you?”

After an exhausted nod, the marten smiled and gestured to the horse, who began to pull the mask forwards. The lion felt the penis-shaped nozzle slip out of his lips with a wet *slurp* and saw light in his peripheral vision for the first time in over an hour. When the horse finally moved the mask away from him, he looked at the mirror.

One of the most shocking mental experiences anyone can have is to look in the mirror and not see themselves. Tsaro’s jaw hung open, black goo oozing from his lips as he stared at the image of himself. His features were all there, but gone was his fur, and his mane had turned from hair to a textured solid form. His cheeks shone in the light, nose brilliantly reflective, and every facet of his visage was now made of pure, black latex rubber, moving with all the musculature he ever had. His eyelids blinked over a pair of glowing yellow irises, emitting a warm light that shone in the mirror like a pair of lanterns. He wanted to feel his face, to touch it and make sure it really was his. But for now, all he could do was turn his head left and right, presenting different angles of the new him to himself. “Oh…my gods….” His voice was fully working, but sounded as if it had reverberation, with hollowness to it.

Rilt beamed a cheek-to-cheek smile, standing with a sense of pride and accomplishment radiating from him, his fists placed on his hips as he leaned slightly on one leg. “I told you. We were going to perfect you. And now you are precisely what we intended to make you. Perfect. Although, we still need to check one last item.”

The marten’s agile little paws began to disassemble the steel surrounding the lion’s privates, giving Tsaro a second surprise. The device was not just a cover, it was a mold. The substance which he had been urinating out had filled every bit of space in it, and then hardened. His ballsac was now solid rubber, and easily a full fifty percent larger. The black shining globes dangled heavily below his crotch, their weight pulling against him. “Those will take some getting used to.” The martin almost giggled under his breath as he spoke, and removed the second half covering his lionhood. His cock was also bigger, but not by quite as much. In addition, its shape was altered. He was wider at the tip, with a set of bumps in place of his barbs, ribbing the area behind his cockhead. The sight of his new penis made him gasp, and elicited a slight increase in its stiffness, as though it were hollow, and had had something pumped into it. “Your body no longer has blood per se, it’s now a fluid mixture which lubricates and controls. It also performs erectile functions, as you can see. Because the mutagen coming out of you bonds and hardens quickly, we have to use molds over the places we want changed so it doesn’t mix with the latex skin bath. The same goes for the excess mutagen from your backside that the machine collects. Speaking of which, we can take that plug out now Nors.”

The horse nickered and took hold of the base of the plug, the lion bracing himself. With a single, violent yank, the object popped free of Tsaro’s tailhole, leaving the opening widened and spread, leaking a copious amount of black goop before ever so slowly beginning to close up. After nearly a minute, his anus finally sealed once again and was sprayed down by the wolf, who was looking more and more excited to see the lion. The tickle of the water against his utterly bared rubber skin made Tsaro squirm in the shackles. The pain which would have accompanied such a ruthless stretching and removal from his rump was completely absent, and the lion felt a bit empty back there now.

The cat’s normally masculine marten friend suddenly made a supremely “fabulous” gesture of glee, his arms going up in the air with a cheer. “Finished! Let’s get you down from there!”

All three got together and took hold of the exhausted rubber lion, supporting him as the metal shackles opened simultaneously. The trio carried him to a soft bed-like table nearby, and put his head under a pillow. Tsaro sighed deeply, a dreamy expression on his face as the weasel peered down at him. His voice was low and soothing. “Now Tsaro, you are no longer a lion. You are no longer skin, bone, and muscle. We’ve altered your entire biochemical makeup and placed each cell of your body in a form a stasis. For all intents and purposes my dear friend…” A soft paw strokes up from the lion’s pubic area all the way to his chin. The soft touch amplified immensely and making his chest rise up from the table in response. “…you are a toy. There are many technicalities we will need to go over with you, but we will wait until the drugs have worn off and you’re more coherent.”

As Rilt was speaking, Tsaro watched the two rubber creatures, now his brethren,approached him, nude and shining. “But since you’re so relaxed and still somewhat… pickled by the gas, your two new latex brothers are going to give you a bit of a demonstration of what your new form can do.” The marten stood still, merely smiling down at him as the lion felt his legs being lifted by a pair of enormous shiny russet hands. The feeling of rubber against rubber sent waves of pleasure through his mind from just the touch on his new smooth legs. To his right, the blue rubber wolf stood with a full, knotted erection made of the same rubber as the rest of him, his own smooth latex paws now slid up and down the prone feline’s chest, teasing at his slippery nipples and soothing him as Tsaro’s knees reached his chest.

The lion’s head pivoted forwards with a mixed expression of fear, lust, wanting and uncertainty, viewing the muscular giant below him, and the massive piece of mixed brown and black rubber horseflesh that stood at attention between his legs. The flaring tip began dripping a clear, thread-like liquid that pooled on the lion’s belly. Rilt touched one of his pawpads to the pool and worked it in circles around where the feline’s navel used to be, then lifted his digit towards Tsaro’s face and held it to his lips. “Taste.”

The lion opened his maw gingerly, letting the marten touch the finger to his tongue, and the horse’s pre filled his senses. The liquid was like silicone lubricant, with a thick, heavy taste that reminded him of hickory. His focus shifted from his muzzle to his rump, however, as his soft and exposed backside was greeted by the wet tip of Nors’ shaft. He raised a paw in weak protest; a tired voice echoing from his mouth. “Too…big! Can’t…take a….horse!”

Nors showed a toothy grin, displaying his dental equipment to be pearly white, but also shining rubber like the rest of him. “No lion can take a horse and survive. Luckily for you, you are no longer a lion.”

The blue wolf pushed his rubbery muzzle to Tsaro’s ear and whispered. “It’s only rape if you don’t want it.” As if on cue, Nors’ incredibly powerful hips heaved a forceful shove in the direction of the poor rubber lion, and speared open the latex of his backside, quickly burying inch after inch of the massive shaft up into the feline’s bowels.

The sudden immense pressure and stretching electrified Tsaro’s brain. The slippery insertion took many seconds, and throughout it all, the lion wailed in ecstasy. Each and every facet of the enormous phallus was known to him as his new body fed his mind the full brunt of sensations that followed the forced entry into his vulnerable body. The horrible pain and ripping sensations that the feline expected were all nonexistent. All he could feel was the most incredible sense of overwhelming fullness he’d ever known. His latex anus was spasming rhythmically around the three-inch girth that was vanishing into him; spreading open his tunnel as it drove onwards. The member went so deep that the lion almost felt like it touched where his ribcage was supposed to be as he felt the pair of orange-sized testicles pressed against his backside.

With Nors hilted, the rubber toy lion finally stopped his yowl, his new latex teeth bared as he held his breath, the horse leaning over him. “Hold on little kitty.” The withdrawal felt almost as intense as the entry, and as the rubber horse pressed back inwards, Tsaro felt a smashing sensation within him that instantly sent stars into his vision, his cock jumping and giving a squirt. Nors repeated, gathering rhythm and speed, using the lion’s rump like the toy it was, driving through the smooth passage with vigorous enjoyment. Thick spurts of the clear prelube fired from the edges of Tsaro’s opening as the rubber horseflesh plowed through it. Loud, wet, squishing sounds emanated from between the pair as each thrust caused the lion toy’s body to slide several inches along the raised bed.

“This is what you’ll be doing.” The marten said, matter-of-factly as he stood alongside the poor over-fucked rubber lion. “You’re going to be fucking, almost whenever you’re awake. A perfect toy like you will only feel happy when you’re either mounting, or mounted. No more purpose or desire is within you. All you will ever want is this; over, and over and over again.”

The marten’s words swam inside the new toy’s mind, settling into the crevices of his psyche and over-riding his own desires and wants. As the enormous equine whinnied, spilling what felt like an unending gush of thick latex cum up the lion toy’s bowel, the lion let out a passionate roar, spraying Nors’ chin with his own new semen, smoky black and translucent, leaving spidery trails dangling from everything it touched. The two rubber creatures panted, still connected as they recovered together.

“Alright, my turn Nors, give the poor toy a chance to do more than one thing.” The excited wolf/husky hybrid’s bare blue rubber ass shoved towards Tsaro’s muzzle. “You want this, don’t you?” The latex lion licked his lips, already feeling a new surge of lust and energy entering him. He nodded, feeling renewed and invigorated as the horse’s ejaculate sunk into his body, nourishing the symbiotic rubber that made up what he was now.

With a satisfied nicker, Nors slowly pulled backward, dropping his semi-flacced cock free of the lion’s abused ass, letting a thick clear flow of his cum gushing from the stretched hole, pouring down the lion’s cleft and over his rubbery tail, pooling at the floor. The withdrawal caused a low yowl from the lion toy, exciting the wolf further as he climbed onto the bed with Tsaro. The blue canine toy bowed low, pressing his rump into the air, and keeping his tail hiked up against his back, presenting himself to the lion with his chest lowered to the mattress, an impish grin on his face. The curves, the smooth latex surface, and the scent of rubber mixed with some kind of noxious musk all worked together to bring the lion to his haunches, and climb up over the prone canine. His mind didn’t ponder anything he was doing, he simply acted. He mounted the submissive dog toy and wrapped his arms around him. Their latex skins squeaked as they cavorted, thick cum-lube dripping down over Tsaro’s new genitals from his backside as he touched his throbbing rubberhood to the wolf’s bared hole. “Waiting for something?”

The lion growled lustfully, finally putting on a smile of his own and tensed his abs, sliding forward into the wolf, making him bark loudly from the entry. Tsaro had never felt sex like this before… he felt less like he was fucking and more like he was combining with the wolf, his member sinking all the way into the perfect blue backside and spurting his pre deep within him. “Is this…. How it always is?” He barely managed to ask through the heavy breathing as he began thrusting through the infinitely smooth latex walls of the wolf’s passage. The frictionless motion was still filled with more sensation than he’d ever known; the wolf was so tight around him he felt like he was stretching open a corgi. The new amplified sensitivity of his skin sent glorious waves of pleasure through every cell of his body. The two latex creatures moaned in unison as the lion thrusted into the willing canine.

“Ooohh…yeah.. at least it is for me-GLUK!” Chris’ answer was cut short by Nors, who began feeding his already wet cock to the wolf, holding behind those blue pointy ears and pulling. As the equine turned the wolf into a spit-roast, he chuckled between moans towards Tsaro.

“One of the many advantages to this body… you don’t need air anymore.” The equine ruthlessly force-fed the submitting wolf the enormous cock, making Chris’ throat swell as the shaft descended down his gullet, easily demonstrating how stretchable their bodies were.

Tsaro ground his way through the slickened ass beneath him, his entire mind overtaken with lust alone, his only purpose to cum, and cause others to do the same. In the corner of his eye he spotted the weasel, pants-less and with his lab coat open, stroking his fully erect pink cock with slitted eyes as he watched the trio’s slippery encounter. The rubbery creatures were squeaking, slurping, thrusting and moaning as they fulfilled their mental programming to the fullest. And within moments, Tsaro felt his mind flickering into bliss as he let out a powerful lust-filled reverberating leonine roar, spraying deep into the wolf whose belly began to sag as he received slippery fluids at both ends from the pair over him. The knotted canine’s penis forcefully sprayed translucent blue goo onto the mattress below them as they rode out the moment together, a slight splash of white weasel cream hitting their shining bodies as Rilt bit his lower lip and came alongside the bed.

It was several minutes before the collapsed pile of rubber could begin to move again, and Chris moaned heavily, gurgling as he poured thick synthetic cum from both ends onto the mattress. Tsaro attempted to rise and stand, and found himself being caught in mid-fall by the quick movement of Nors and Rilt, his knees having slipped right out from under him. “You have to be careful when getting up. Every bodily fluid we produce is a form of lubrication, to ensure we’re the best toys we can be. But it also means you can slip and fall really easily.” Nors spoke with care but seriousness, adding with a lighthearted chuckle, “We tend to make a rather significant mess of ourselves.”
Chris looked up at Tsaro with dreamy glowing latex eyes. “You…” He said, pointing at the lion’s smiling rubber face, “are absolutely wonderful!”

Rilt put his paw on the lion toy’s shoulder, a tiny bit of white smearing from his pads. “So, tell us Tsaro.” He paused to catch his breath a bit. “Do you like being a toy? Is this something you could get used to?”

Tsaro turned and looked at each of the smiling faces in the room, turning back towards the marten. “Please, let me be a toy lion for good. I can’t think of anything I’d want more.”

Rilt patted the lion toy’s slippery black back. “Well, we’ll talk more about that soon. But for now, how about you get some rest, yes?” Tsaro had to admit, he was incredibly drained, and nodded tiredly. The group helped one another down from the elevated bed, which, once it was empty, sank into the floor automatically to be cleaned. The three rubber toys walked with Rilt to the showers where everyone washed themselves as much as possible. Nors handed out what appeared to be some kind of futuristic sandals to Tsaro and Chris. As the lion placed them on his hindpaws, he felt that he could grip the floor once again. “These make it possible to walk safely. You can never quite make your skin un-slippery” Nors said before lifting his mask up and putting it back on. The lion toy got a closer look this time around, and saw that both the wolf and horse opened their mouths as they returned their masks to their faces. Each of their masks had a gag in the shape of their own species' penis inside. Chris’ even sported a small knot at the base. Rilt handed Tsaro his mask. “Rules are rules. You have to wear it when you’re not in use as a toy.” The lion blushed through his rubbery skin, and as the marten pushed the covering closer to him. The lion opened his lips obediently and let the lioncock-shaped dildo slip into his maw as his form-fitting mask closed around his face once more. He turned and bent lower so the shorter marten could put a backpack over his shoulders, and felt a cool, sweetsmelling air fill his nostrils as he took deep breaths from the respirator which was now connected to his mask.

“This mixture helps rubbertoys in many ways. I’ll go over it more once you’re fully instructed on your new body. But for now, why don’t you follow your new brothers to your dormitory?”

The blue wolf quickly sided up to Tsaro, grasping his paw in his own and started leading him down the corridor with a spring in his step, almost skipping, with the masked lion in tow. The enormous horse clopped along behind them as the circular door to the showers closed with a hiss.

Rilt smiled in satisfaction and swished his musky tail. Despite having pawed off, the situation still had him quite riled up, so he touched a control pad on his wrist, summoning his favorite toy to join him in his dormitory. He tossed a towel over his shoulder as the door opened. “Gods I love this job.” A happy whistle echoed down the corridor as the already horny nude weasel strode to his room.