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For an answer she received a cloth dipped in chloroform held to her face. Then all went black. The locks she had dyed a brilliant pink cascaded down.

Horrified, she tried to raise her hand to feel if anything was left, only to discover she was completely bound. Her mask must have been removed, she realized, for she could see, thanks to some dim fluorescent lights.

The blue-haired girl was there, minus her dog collar and wearing a lab coat, checking the numbers on some blinking equipment. A young man, probably the one who had just shaved her, was busy sweeping up her hair.

She was utterly naked aside from the network of straps that bound her to a padded wall. In the center of the room stood a tall man with a shaved head and a weathered face.

He too, was wearing a lab coat, along with thick rubber gloves and a devious smile. When he realized she had awakened, his smile widened and he strolled over to her, rubbing his hands.

He picked up a clipboard and began ruffling through it. Why am I all tied up? Besides, I would never do anything so crude.

To answer your questions: My name is Doctor Meeks. And you are all tied up because I have begun a series of injections which are already dissolving and reconstructing your body tissue, particularly your skeletal system and epidermis.

If I unstrapped you, you would most likely flop to the floor like a jellyfish and probably hurt yourself. A living breathing hybrid of human and rubber.

I set up the store you so gleefully entered to fund and act as a front for my experiments, and to find semi-willing victims. I am here to make your wildest fantasy come true—whether you like it or not.

Meeks was telling her. And you are mostly rubber. Most of your internal organs will dissolve or transform in the next few hours, and your remaining bodily processes will be held in near-stasis.

You will be alive, and be able to hear, feel, and see most everything that occurs to you—but you will be powerless to act. You will be little more than a doll.

Rebecca was sobbing outright now. Was this what she wanted? Was this really the logical conclusion to her fantasies? Her sense humanity railed against what the doctor was saying, but some dark part of her could not help but listen, and craved more… But it was clear she had no choice in the matter anyway.

Meeks was already well underway. He sprayed her eyes ear and mouth with some sort of solution, muttering something about protecting the mucous membranes.

His young male assistant hooked her into a harness, then unstrapped her from the wall she had been bound to. The salesgirl pushed a button on a remote control, and Rebecca felt herself lifted by some kind of crane.

As she went past Dr. Meeks, he patted her foot almost kindly. It felt delicious, like being dipped into warm pudding, and despite her horror she could not help but wriggle a little in pleasure as she was slowly dipped feet first into the vat.

The stuff stuck to her skin, feeling smoother and tighter than any bodysuit, bonding to and becoming part of her. She was dipped lower, and the rubber oozed between her thighs, over her hips, past her stomach and breasts.

Her body was smooth white rubber, fringed with black in odd, robotic patterns. She felt a sensation to one side. She turned and watched as a beam of light passed through her arm just after the shoulder.

They were using a laser to cut her limbs off, she realized. She knew she was supposed to feel something was wrong with this.

She watched her other arm be taken off, then her legs at mid-thigh. Then blackness. She could barely think of herself as Rebecca now. She could barely think at all.

She just felt. Her vision was inordinately clear, if somewhat warped at the edges. She was in some sort of club or lounge. People in dark clothes sat all around, holding each other, taking softly, drinking.

Tubes came out of her back, and from where her arms had been. She understood vaguely that they carried nutrients and removed wastes from the little that was left of her biological body.

She was wrapped in more tubes and straps, like a spider in its web. A tall, bearded man came over to her. He squeezed the stump of her arm experimentally, and her body filled with electric pleasure.

Being touched, the give and spring of her rubber body, felt wonderful. She rubbed her thighs together, feeling the slickness as rubber squeaked against rubber.

She was aware of only one even vaguely uncomfortable sensation: a dull ache in her chest. She looked down and realized her breasts had swelled considerably.

They felt heavy. She longed to be touched. Then bearded man placed his hand on one swollen globe and squeezed the nipple.

Fire shot through her, and she found release as the nipple began steadily spurting milk, which the man caught in his glass.

He released her nipple when the glass was full, raised his hand as if to toast her, and drank. It was then that she realized what she had become.

Some hybrid of person and catsuit and cow, a kind of rubber milkmaid in some cutting-edge bar. Soon after, young man with dark curly hair and glasses come over to her.

He put an arm around her waist, and pulled her over to a corner, where there was a pile of cushions. The entire web of straps and tubs came with; she was attached to a track on the ceiling.

She gave herself to him then, milk pouring out of her into his waiting gullet. He squeezed her hard with his hand, and her rubber teat responded, pouring more of the frothy white liquid into him.

Rebecca was suffused with an utterly new feeling, a glow, for every human touch was pure pleasure to her. She was nothing but rubber, milk and sensation, and she loved every second of it.

She moaned silently. The young man, still nursing her like a baby, slipped down his pants slightly and unzipped.

His shaft, already wet and glistening, leapt out. Gently, tenderly, he slipped it into her. Her rubber body responded, the lips of her slit parting for him, then tightening, taking him in deeper.

The rocked together, and she felt her self cradled in his arms and the hammock that contained her new form.

The young man grinded his hips into her, swirling his cock inside her. Her clit throbbed, the rubber nub sending bolts of electricity through her every time he brushed against it.

Dimly, Rebecca wondered what kind of orgasm a woman made of rubber could have. She knew she would soon find out. She pressed harder against the boy, wriggling in his lap as best as her new form allowed.

A girl came over to them then. She looked barely old enough to drive but had a poise that made her seem far older. Without a word, she slipped out of her shirt, discarded her bra, and peeled down her shorts and panties.

She kissed the boy, and with one hand slowly slipped him out of the rubber milkmaid. Then another finger. Soon, she had wedged her whole hand inside Rebecca.

Then a second hand. Rebecca felt like she was splitting apart, but her plastic body refused to tear or break. Rather, it just kept stretching. Soon the girl had not just her arms inside Rebecca, but her head, shoulders, and torso as well.

The girl wriggled and pushed until she was in up to her belly button. Together, they thrusted and pushed, rocked and writhed.

Rebecca moaned in silent, joyful agony. The boy gasped. From deep inside her rubbery blanket, the girl squealed. They came in a geyser of cum, milk, and vaginal juice.

Rebecca felt herself utterly emptied out, released. The human part of her surrendered utterly to the rubber, to the thing, to the doll that she had become.

The boy collapsed against her, spent. The girl, still half inside her, wriggled in afterglow. Meeks had been right.

This was what she wanted. To be a thing, to be used, to be owned—and at the same time, to have power, to be desired, to have every wish fulfilled.

She sank back into her harness. The boy quietly zipped up and slinked away. Rebecca smiled, filled with a new kind of pleasure at having the girl inside her.

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Her mask must have been removed, she realized, for she could see, thanks to some dim fluorescent lights. The blue-haired girl was there, minus her dog collar and wearing a lab coat, checking the numbers on some blinking equipment.

A young man, probably the one who had just shaved her, was busy sweeping up her hair. She was utterly naked aside from the network of straps that bound her to a padded wall.

In the center of the room stood a tall man with a shaved head and a weathered face. He too, was wearing a lab coat, along with thick rubber gloves and a devious smile.

When he realized she had awakened, his smile widened and he strolled over to her, rubbing his hands. He picked up a clipboard and began ruffling through it.

Why am I all tied up? Besides, I would never do anything so crude. To answer your questions: My name is Doctor Meeks. And you are all tied up because I have begun a series of injections which are already dissolving and reconstructing your body tissue, particularly your skeletal system and epidermis.

If I unstrapped you, you would most likely flop to the floor like a jellyfish and probably hurt yourself. A living breathing hybrid of human and rubber.

I set up the store you so gleefully entered to fund and act as a front for my experiments, and to find semi-willing victims.

I am here to make your wildest fantasy come true—whether you like it or not. Meeks was telling her. And you are mostly rubber.

Most of your internal organs will dissolve or transform in the next few hours, and your remaining bodily processes will be held in near-stasis. You will be alive, and be able to hear, feel, and see most everything that occurs to you—but you will be powerless to act.

You will be little more than a doll. Rebecca was sobbing outright now. Was this what she wanted? Was this really the logical conclusion to her fantasies?

Her sense humanity railed against what the doctor was saying, but some dark part of her could not help but listen, and craved more… But it was clear she had no choice in the matter anyway.

Meeks was already well underway. He sprayed her eyes ear and mouth with some sort of solution, muttering something about protecting the mucous membranes.

His young male assistant hooked her into a harness, then unstrapped her from the wall she had been bound to. The salesgirl pushed a button on a remote control, and Rebecca felt herself lifted by some kind of crane.

As she went past Dr. Meeks, he patted her foot almost kindly. It felt delicious, like being dipped into warm pudding, and despite her horror she could not help but wriggle a little in pleasure as she was slowly dipped feet first into the vat.

The stuff stuck to her skin, feeling smoother and tighter than any bodysuit, bonding to and becoming part of her.

She was dipped lower, and the rubber oozed between her thighs, over her hips, past her stomach and breasts. Her body was smooth white rubber, fringed with black in odd, robotic patterns.

She felt a sensation to one side. She turned and watched as a beam of light passed through her arm just after the shoulder. They were using a laser to cut her limbs off, she realized.

She knew she was supposed to feel something was wrong with this. She watched her other arm be taken off, then her legs at mid-thigh.

Then blackness. She could barely think of herself as Rebecca now. She could barely think at all. She just felt.

Her vision was inordinately clear, if somewhat warped at the edges. She was in some sort of club or lounge.

People in dark clothes sat all around, holding each other, taking softly, drinking. Tubes came out of her back, and from where her arms had been.

She understood vaguely that they carried nutrients and removed wastes from the little that was left of her biological body.

She was wrapped in more tubes and straps, like a spider in its web. A tall, bearded man came over to her. He squeezed the stump of her arm experimentally, and her body filled with electric pleasure.

Being touched, the give and spring of her rubber body, felt wonderful. She rubbed her thighs together, feeling the slickness as rubber squeaked against rubber.

She was aware of only one even vaguely uncomfortable sensation: a dull ache in her chest. She looked down and realized her breasts had swelled considerably.

They felt heavy. She longed to be touched. Then bearded man placed his hand on one swollen globe and squeezed the nipple. Fire shot through her, and she found release as the nipple began steadily spurting milk, which the man caught in his glass.

He released her nipple when the glass was full, raised his hand as if to toast her, and drank. It was then that she realized what she had become.

Some hybrid of person and catsuit and cow, a kind of rubber milkmaid in some cutting-edge bar. Soon after, young man with dark curly hair and glasses come over to her.

He put an arm around her waist, and pulled her over to a corner, where there was a pile of cushions. The entire web of straps and tubs came with; she was attached to a track on the ceiling.

She gave herself to him then, milk pouring out of her into his waiting gullet. He squeezed her hard with his hand, and her rubber teat responded, pouring more of the frothy white liquid into him.

Rebecca was suffused with an utterly new feeling, a glow, for every human touch was pure pleasure to her. She was nothing but rubber, milk and sensation, and she loved every second of it.

She moaned silently. The young man, still nursing her like a baby, slipped down his pants slightly and unzipped. His shaft, already wet and glistening, leapt out.

Gently, tenderly, he slipped it into her. Her rubber body responded, the lips of her slit parting for him, then tightening, taking him in deeper.

The rocked together, and she felt her self cradled in his arms and the hammock that contained her new form. The young man grinded his hips into her, swirling his cock inside her.

Her clit throbbed, the rubber nub sending bolts of electricity through her every time he brushed against it. Dimly, Rebecca wondered what kind of orgasm a woman made of rubber could have.

She knew she would soon find out. She pressed harder against the boy, wriggling in his lap as best as her new form allowed.

A girl came over to them then. She looked barely old enough to drive but had a poise that made her seem far older. Without a word, she slipped out of her shirt, discarded her bra, and peeled down her shorts and panties.

She kissed the boy, and with one hand slowly slipped him out of the rubber milkmaid. Then another finger. Soon, she had wedged her whole hand inside Rebecca.

Then a second hand. Rebecca felt like she was splitting apart, but her plastic body refused to tear or break. Rather, it just kept stretching.

Soon the girl had not just her arms inside Rebecca, but her head, shoulders, and torso as well. The girl wriggled and pushed until she was in up to her belly button.

Together, they thrusted and pushed, rocked and writhed. Rebecca moaned in silent, joyful agony. The boy gasped. From deep inside her rubbery blanket, the girl squealed.

They came in a geyser of cum, milk, and vaginal juice. Rebecca felt herself utterly emptied out, released. The human part of her surrendered utterly to the rubber, to the thing, to the doll that she had become.

The boy collapsed against her, spent. The girl, still half inside her, wriggled in afterglow. Meeks had been right. This was what she wanted.

To be a thing, to be used, to be owned—and at the same time, to have power, to be desired, to have every wish fulfilled.

She sank back into her harness. The boy quietly zipped up and slinked away. Rebecca smiled, filled with a new kind of pleasure at having the girl inside her.

She was a being of rubber, a vessel of pleasure to empty and fill over and over again. Content at last, she rocked in her harness of tubes and wires, until both she and the girl in her rubber belly fell asleep.

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Fine selection of rubber sheets in several lenghts, thickness and colours and different rubber types Bengal, Mackintosh and Natural rubber.

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