Perma-latex Cyber Sissification
Written after seeing this picture by redflare500, this story is about two fox become latex clad, obedient little sissies. It's rather mean, and I think I got a bit carried away towards the end: I think I took the definition of sissy a little to far.
The catch on the window gave with a crack. Claid swung the frame outwards, pulling his crowbar back, and slipped inside. His partner in crime, the fox who called himself Rock, landed behind him with a heavy thud. "That the machine?" he said, pointing at the hulking shape in the centre of the warehouse.
"Gotta be," replied Claid. "You see anything else around here?"
Rock prowled around the walls of the otherwise empty space. The machine took up most of the space in the building, a mass of wires running from underneath it to various sockets in the walls and control panels embedded in the sides. The use of the mechanism was a mystery to the two thieves, and their client hadn't bothered to explain what it did, simply handing over a description of the parts she wanted from the inside. And looking at it, Claid realised that they would have to go inside to get it; the machine was entirely enclosed, with only the two ends open, gaping black maws with conveyor belts leading ominously into it.
The place had been easy enough to break into. The two foxes were dressed in black, hugging the shadows as they made their way to the address, but they found no night watchman, and only a few cameras with poor fields of vision. The client had explained that the owners here didn't really appreciate the value of what they had, but Claid had sensed she had some personal connection here: perhaps it was thanks to her that they were having such an easy time.
Rock clambered up on the belt by one of the entrances. with one gloved hand on the edge, he pointed his torch into the darkness and flashed it on for a second. "Wait up! Wait up!" yelled Claid.
He ran around the structure, yanking the cables out. Some had to be pried loose with the end of his crowbar, but it only took a minute to free the machine from it's power source.
Rock shrugged. "It's already off, man. There's no point."
"So? It might start up when something goes in. How do you want to find out?"
Rock snorted though his mask. "Fine. You stay here, then, and I'll get the bits."
Claid handed him the crowbar and kept watch, glancing out of the window while lights flashed in the metal tunnel behind him. Rock was grunting heavily while metallic clanks echoed out of the depths, though he didn't seem to be making any headway. "Come on man," he said. "You got to give me a hand here!"
Sighing, Claid followed the other fox into the mouth of the machine.
With the torch clamped between his teeth, Rock was shining it on a rack of what looked like clamps, jutting from the wall. His crowbar was jammed in a crack as he tried to lever out the supposedly valuable parts, but nothing was moving. Claid couldn't see why they were so desirable.
Rock leant back and rubbed his hands together, letting Claid take a few pulls at the crowbar. "I can't get it to shift. You wanna both go together?"
Rock nodded, and tried to move his feet to get a better position. "Hold up, I'm caught on something," he said, shining his torch downwards. "Oh shit."
Rock's quiet exclamation sent a chill down Claids' spine and made his brush twitch. The last time he'd said that was just before a guard dog had woken up a building full of night watchmen, and the small words scared him more than any screams would have.
Highlighted in the beams of light, a small platform jutted out of the conveyor belt. Rock had rested his foot on it, and then... metal straps had snapped up, wrapping around his trainers and ankle. Clearly, he wasn't getting out of that unless Claid could find something to cut through the metal, or disengage whatever had trapped him.
"Shit! Okay, I'll see if there something to cut it off with-"
Claid had rested his hand against the rack of clamps. He hadn't noticed, but their efforts must have dislodged something, because one of the clamps had wrapped itself around his right wrist. He pulled it away in shock, only to have the metal move with him, a thin pole extending from a groove in the wall. "Wha..."
The thing jerked suddenly, yanking his hand into the air and dragging him back along the conveyor before he could react, his own feet had trailed over little platforms and more clamps shot up, capturing his legs. He flailed his free arm towards the ankle cuffs, then gave up and instead grappled with the one around his wrist. With his torch lying on the floor and the light from Rock's flashing further down the metal tunnel, he couldn't see what he was doing, and let out a shriek of fear as his left hand was bound and dragged up, wrenching his limbs to their limit.
With a whirr, the machine started up around them. Purple lights glowed with in recess in the walls, a weak pulse of luminescence that ran along the conveyor in waves, leading inexorably into the darkness ahead. Claid could see that Rock's arms had been caught too, and both foxes were spread eagled in the same way. There were small black shadows waving over the dim light, too, and he noticed bright flashes of evil little blades. "Rock!" he yelled. "Don't move! There's knives!"
Rock froze. Not that he could go anywhere, but his struggles could easily have left him impaled. The scalpel like blades flicked about him on all sides, over the fabric they covered their tails with to prevent hairs being lost, between his legs, right by his ears. Then they withdrew, and for a second Claid thought they had missed, but slowly Rock's clothes disintegrated, black cloth dropping to the floor. Even his mask was sliced away, leaving the red-furred fox naked in his bonds, his black forearms and lower legs disappearing in the low lights.
Rock gasped and looked over his shoulder, obviously more concerned about what was happening to them than being naked. "Just stay clam," said Claid. "Keep your eyes open. There's got to be some emergency shutdown-"
The conveyor started moving with a jerk. The grips on his hands moved slightly after that the ones on his feet, meaning Claid was tipped backwards, and struggled not to fall and rip his arms out of their sockets. He found himself where Rock had been standing, and braced for the little knives to flash out of their hiding places.
But what if it was resistance that would make them stop? There wasn't anything to loose, he figured, and began to swing his body from side to side, flicking his tail about. Still the blades flew about him, and for a second he was worried he'd just killed himself - but no, he wasn't cut at all. The shreds that had been his black jacket and balaclava mask fell away, his trainers falling to pieces as the machine undressed him as neatly as it had Rock. Only a few orange hairs falling to the floor showed that he had struggled at all.
Ahead of him, Rock let out a yell. His arms were twisted behind his back, forcing him to arc his chest forward like a runner crossing a finishing line. Muscles shifted under his fur as he twisted on the edge of pain desperately trying to break free, but he was held still as a new type of attachment dropped from above. The metal plate didn't look as ominous as the knives, but a trail of wires led along the arm holding it up. Attachments, thought Claid, but for parts they didn't have-
The plate pushed against the base of Rocks' skull, in the nape of his neck. The big fox yelped, and Claid saw something black begin to dribble down his neck. In the low light, blood contrasted darkly with the fur.
"NYYAAAAAAAGH!"
"Rock!" Claid yelled thrashing in his bonds. "Fuck no! ROCK!"
But if the first fox could hear, he couldn't respond. He whipped his head back and forth, trying to dislodge the invading probe, but it was inside him now. Claid couldn't be sure in the low light, but it seemed like the wires were moving, pushing further into the twisting, panicked fox.
Rocks' struggles dies down. He his head dropped forward, and a thin moan spilled from his muzzle. He didn't react when the conveyor started again, dragging Claid into the path of the probe. "No," he yelled at the unfeeling machine. "No! I'm not gonna let you do this!"
He braced himself. Every muscle on his chest tensed, standing out on his slim body like cords. For a second he thought he was holding the machine back, but then it began and his arms were drawn back, all his strength useless against the implacable cogs and wheel of a machine. His head forward, eyes down, he didn't see the metal plate coming, only the sharp stab as it embedded itself in his skull.
Inside the body, there are relatively few pain or sensation receptors, compared to the skin. Evolution didn't see any need for them- if something had caused enough damage to get inside, the victim would probably die of an infection anyway. Even that dense cluster of neurons that we call the brain feels almost nothing when touched, which explains why Claid felt only the sickening sensation of wires flowing into his head as metres of nanometre thick wires flooded into him, curling around synapses and infiltrating ganglions.
The fox felt his eyes twitch, and then lurch. His vision shattered as they rolled in different directions, rainbows of null sight running like rivers over the world. Strange whines echoed inside his head and scent he had never smelled filled his nostrils. For a second, his pelt shivered and shook as thousands of fingers ran over his naked body.
Then Claid was back in the world, hanging from the metal arms, helpless as the conveyor drew him after his friend.
While Claid had been fighting the brain probe, Rock had disappeared. A metal cast had slammed down around him, and something like a pepperpot stood where he had been. Claid watched as the panel split apart with a hiss, steam spilling out as they drew back. Rock was struggling weakly in his bonds, but his body had changed. His thick arms and muscular back had shrunk away under the baleful warping influence of the chemicals. The muscle man of the duo had gone for good, the slim, weak, masculine left behind was nothing more than a sissy.
Claid shook his head. That wasn't his word. He'd never called anyone a sissy before. Faggot, poof, homo, wuss, pussy, he'd called some weak little shits all that, but sissy? He'd never thought that about anyone with that word. But the only way to describe his friend now was sissy.
He noticed how his heat seemed to beat heavier every time that word crossed his mind.
And now in was his turn in the steaming booth. Claid cried out as hot metal clamped around his legs and then made its way up, each piece clanking into place and clicking loudly. He was sealed into a skintight mesh, the heat burning his flesh. He couldn't breath. The metal was getting tighter, though, crushing his body, forcing his ribs together, the heat melting flowing into his whole form. Then something gave in him, and he felt something dripping out of him. Thrashing and melting, his muscles fading away, his masculinity flowing out of him drip by drip.
He was terrified to look down at himself as the casing broke away, knowing what would have happened. The six pack he had worked for so long to get had gone, a smooth indented abdomen replacing it. His shoulders wasted away, shrunk in to his reduced chest, legs slim and girly, a tight round bubble butt.
The body of a sissy.
Ahead of him, he could hear Rock sobbing softly to himself. He'd never heard the big fox cry, but now he wasn't nearly so big. Everything that had made him so masculine, so powerful had been wiped away. Even if they could free themselves, they could never go back to their lives, where you needed to be strong to survive. Now anyone glancing at the two of them would know instantly that the were nothing more than a pair of sissies. Perhaps it would be better if they just let the machine finish changing them, stop fighting and behave like good little sissies.
Claid shook his head, his weak little arms trembling as they were held by his sides now. Those thoughts... they weren't his. He knew that. It was just that they were arriving in his head, and they were exactly the kind of thing that a little sissy like him would think-
It was changing his thoughts. How could he fight something that didn't just know his every move but changed his mind for him? What could he do except accept his fate and be a good little sissy?
He let out a delicate little gasp - his mind thinking about he girly and sissy that sounded - and tried to focus on reality, on anything except the slow and inevitable destruction of his sense of self. Rock was standing in front of a row of nozzles, his breath coming in shuddering gasps. A thin spray jetted from the tubes, black liquid drizzling onto the red fur of the fox. Slowly, Rock was made to rotate, his eyes meeting the other foxes with a look a helpless terror. The liquid was solidifying as he span, thickening and obliterating his colouration, the last thing he could have claimed was his own and not the design of another. Claid watched as his friend was transformed into a black, featureless mannequin.
The nozzles changed to air, Rock still spinning in front of them, and dried him off. The thick latex formed a layer that gave no hint of fur beneath. An arm shot out of the wall at groin level, and Rock squealed for a second. As he was turned once more, Claid saw what had been done: a ball of latex had replaced the man's genitals, sealing his manhood from the world forever.
More airbrushes swung out of the darkness above, smaller this time, surrounding the sissy. thin jets of pink latex shot out in careful lines, drawing lines on his immobile body. Knee high boots were drawn on his plastic flesh, further up, an imitation of stockings and garters. A heart appeared on the genderless crotch, and further up on the chest, the image of a bra grew, making it look like tiny little sissy breasts were growing, capped with stiffened nipples. A girlish pink hairdo was painted on his bald head. Somehow, sprays had turned the whites of his eyes black, and now pink irises were sprayed on, along with garish lashes and thick, ridiculously plump lips.
Raising him off the conveyor, pink high heels fused to his feet. a few more arms swung down, carrying the frills and ruffs to make any _sissy_s' heart beat faster. They wrapped around the unmaled fox's' ankles and wrists, a large one sealing itself to the big black brush sprouting from his girl bubble butt.
The nozzles withdrew, and then, almost like an afterthought, or the final touch, a single arm descended directly above the sissy, carrying a single bow that it attached, just by the his ear. He spun once more, like a sculpture being shown off, and if it wasn't for the flickering eyes and breathing chest, Claid would have thought the thing before him was just a sissy doll.
Rock was moved away. Claid closed his eyes, trying to bring up enough will to just struggle against the restraints, and stop being such a sissy.
The jet of hot black latex caught him by surprise. It steamed into his fur, scalding his skin. His head swam as his spun, feeling the thickening layer of latex built, pressing down on him, smothering his being. He could feel now that the only thing left of him was - a sharp pain in his groin, and even that was tucked in and sealed away, the last of him hidden from sight. He didn't even feel the light touch that drew his sissy uniform on.
Some thing touched his hand. He looked down, and saw that he'd been placed next to Rock. The restrains were gone, but their bodies had been made exactly the same, identical clones from different bodies.
"Do you remember the school?" asked Rock, his voice high and quavering.
"I don't-"
But then Claid remembered. The years he had spent in sealed this latex suit, being ground to to total unthinking obedience. The beatings from faceless MASTERS that had followed the slightlst infractions, no matter how hard he tried to follow them. The lessons, re-learning how to walk, swishing his brush and arse from side to side in a mincing, sissy way. Learning how to touch a cock, to worship it before finally being permitted to lavish his fawning tongue all over it, taking his glorious MASTER into his obedient mouth.
This had never happened.
Being taught how to use his anus as a device to pleasure men. His tongue, a thing for pleasing women, when they deigned to let him touch them. And above all, he had spent years learning how to obey, how to submit, how to loose his own desires and thoughts and will to those of his MASTERS. To forget everything that he was and become they perfect sissy toy.
No, it hadn't happened. Not to him, but the memories were pumped into his mind, fighting for space against his own history of petty theft. Both felt equally real, for all that he knew the conversion and mental submission was not his.
"I-I remember," he said, his voice cracking.
The sissy to his left wrapped his rubber fingers around Claid's. "I'm scared," he said.
The memories in the fox sissy's head had an answer. A well worn mantra that had never been said before slipped between plump pink lips. "It doesn't matter if a sissy is afraid, as long as the sissy obeys."
"A good sissy is an obedient sissy," replied the sissy that had been its friend.
"A sissy is used for sex."
"A sissy is used."
"A sissy is only what a MASTER makes of it."
"A sissy only matters when a MASTER makes use of it."
Neither of the sissies could tell which were speaking now, as new statements of the reforged truth dripped off their tongues.
The machine had heard enough of their highly pitched slavish voices. A thick tube rose up behind them, and the sissies squealed in unison as their virgin arseholes were stretched open. More tubes dropped in front of them and obediently they opened their mouths and took the tubes in, allowing them to make their way deep into the sissies' lungs and stomach.
The sissy that had been Claid watched as polystyrene forms sealed the sissy that had been Rock away, the dimensions of the body made to match the size of the casings. Wooden panels surrounded them, and nails hammered in, making him ready for shipping. Machinery at the foot took care of the sissy's breathing, feeding and waste. The same, he knew would happen to him.
Two large wooden boxes emerged from the machine, ready to be shipped off to new MASTERS.