Scientists would call it ATS-HFV-1.

       Everyone else called it the Fetish Transformation Virus.

       The first reports were scattered, little more than outlandish rumours. Stories of people abruptly changing in the streets, turning into sexy bimbos or humanoid animals. The rumours were easily dismissed, at first. Scaremongering, AI art, viral marketing…

       As the virus spread, and more people transformed, it became impossible to deny.

       Gradually, a pattern emerged: the virus would transform people based on their deepest kinks and desires or those of someone nearby. Many simply become sex men and women, often embodying porn stereotypes like bimbos or MILFs. Many more transformed into their fursonas, fantastical monsters, or their favourite characters. It seemed there were no limits to the changes, with many defying biology, complete with people being turned into living clothing or mannequins, or swelling up with air or blueberry juice.

       You turned off the news, leaning back on the sofa, your thoughts racing. Memories of all the fun you’d had with your girlfriend bubbled up. Her tying you down, pinning you to the bed, before pulling her strap-on tight. What would those thoughts do to you? Your heart raced, unsure whether you were nervous, or excited.

       An itch prickled on your wrists. You were sure you were infected… you had to be. You’d been inside when someone had transformed into a neon green fox before your eyes, running past a human-shaped tree on your way home. You glanced at your phone. No messages. Was your girlfriend alright, or was she a dildo, lying in the street? Knowing her, she’d probably enjoy that.

       Fidgeting with your wrists, fingers brushed against something stiff and smooth. Looking down, your heart fluttering slightly, you saw wide bands of black slowly wrapping their way around your skin. No, that wasn’t quite right; it was your skin, turning to an inky black, shining in the light. The gleaming skin grew thicker, a solid band wrapping around each wrist, a tense feeling as it grew tight around your arms.

       “Latex…?” you whispered to yourself, running your fingers across the smooth surface, tracing the edges where it met your skin. It could have been a cuff, except it was impossibly tight around your wrists. There was no gap where it met your skin, no way you could slip your fingers underneath it. It was part of you.

       Stranger still was feeling your fingers across your own latex ‘skin’, strangely sensitive to the slightest touch. An electric tingle shot through both wrists, a pinching feeling, cool and warm at the same time. The black latex shifted slightly, melting and pooling like liquid, something shiny and metal pushing forth from each wrist. Each thing slipped free, hanging down against the latex: a D-ring, solid and sturdy. You shivered again as your fingers brushed against it, a stifled gasp catching in your throat, feeling the warmth of your fingers through the cool metal. You could feel the weight of them, shifting and tugging gently at your latex skin as you turn your arms over. They were part of you, too.

       You couldn’t help but grin. Maybe you should have expected this, after all those fantasies, after seeing people changing on the news: but this was no mere fantasy. Just tugging at the D-rings gave you a thrill, the feeling of it so much more intense than any cuff you’d worn before. Another shiver of pleasure, another breath caught in your throat. The feeling of something deep down inside you, trying to get out.

       Heart beating faster, you could feel the same tingling feeling as before spreading around each ankle. Pulling your socks off, you were treated to the sight of the same gleaming, black latex emerging from your skin. The electric tingle and the D-rings slipping free. So tight and snug around your legs, making you yearn to be chained up against your bed.

       Your stomach churned a little, the same tingle rippling down your chest, a tightening feeling wrapping around your waist. Pulling up your shirt, you watched a wave of black latex spreading across your belly, running around your sides, smooth and slick across your back. As the latex spread, it tightened around your waist, drawing it inwards, and shaping your torso with the hourglass curves of a corset.

       You could feel the changes spreading down, running between your legs, a strange flowing sensation of flesh smoothing and merging. You ran awkwardly to the bathroom, squirming slightly as you felt the latex running over your ass, squeezing your ass together. Hurriedly slipping off your clothes, you were treated to the sight of black latex hugging your body.

       To anyone else looking, they would have just seen someone wearing a corset. Tight, sexy, alluring… but perfectly ordinary. You knew better: your body was the corset. From the curved edge just under your chest, down to the smooth latex slipping between your legs and over your ass. You ran your hands down your body, shivering with pleasure as your fingers brushed over the smooth skin between your legs. Shapeless, but infinitely more sensitive than it had ever been before, setting your knees quaking.

       A thought crept into the back of your mind, joining that desire to be grown up. You belonged to someone, your partner, your mistress. You were hers and no-one else’s, and hers for the taking.

       The corset drew itself tighter, skin rippling around your chest, heightening your already shapely figure. Ripples pushed together, solidifying, forming sturdy ribs holding your waist - and posture - together. A criss-cross of tugs and tweaks behind you, laces emerging from your body, that could never be untied. Your heart beat harder in your chest, lungs still breathing heavily despite the tightness, that arousal and desire growing.

       You braced yourself for the next change, swallowing awkwardly as the black latex began to emerge around your neck. It was just as tight as before, but something about this was different: maybe it was just more intense, the latex wide and thick and hugging your neck tightly. Yet there was something else, a pressure catching in your throat, squeezed by the tightening collar around your neck.

       Another electric jolt, the feeling of cool metal slipping free. Another D-ring emerged, hanging heavily at the front of your neck, someone yearning for a leash to be clipped to it. You fidgeted at it, tugging at the collar, a shiver of pleasure running through your body.

       The feeling deep in your neck grew more intense, more and more obvious as something inside your neck, gradually pushing its way up. A rising feeling of something filling your throat.

       Your hands gripped the sink, leaning in close to the mirror, opening your mouth just as the shape pushed its way up and over your tongue. A bright red ball pushed its way out of your mouth, quickly settling against your teeth, and sealing perfectly against your lips.

       You yelped in surprise, the sound muffled, almost adorable (your mistress might say). Your mouth was stuck against it, able to move a little, but only squashing the ball slightly. You could feel it, just as much a part of you as the cuffs were, tugged and squashed with each desperate motion of your mouth… and each time, a wave of pleasure rolled through your body.

       Something tugged at the corners of your mouth, a thick band of black latex spreading out from either side of the ball gag. The changes rolled over your cheeks, the thick straps of the gag looping around the back of your head, joining behind you. Pulling tight, every so slightly, as if that would make any difference when the straps were a part of you… but it felt right, somehow, like it was supposed to be that way.

       Your whole body suddenly flashed with heat, like you were standing under a heat lamp. Across your body, from cuffs to your collar, your skin started to turn a vibrant red, shining in the light. Blemishes and imperfections faded, body hairs vanished, and your body smoothed out as skin turned to latex. A bodysuit, hugging your body tightly, smooth and achingly sensitive to the slightest touch.

       You took a moment to admire your body, so perfectly shaped and sexy under your latex ‘clothes’. Yet you yearned for the touch of another, the one you belonged to. Your thoughts drifted back to the bedroom, the restraints still hanging from the bedposts…

       You knelt on the floor, the weave of the carpet pressing into your latex skin. With each tiny movement, static electricity played across your skin, setting your heart racing. Acting on instinct, you reached out with one arm, eyes widening with surprise as the D-ring flipped itself straight into the clip, locking yourself to it. You tugged, feeling the satisfying pull of the cuff around your arm, anchoring you perfectly. You shifted a little, getting comfortable, reaching out with your second arm. Another chime of metal against metal, and you were stuck.

       With both arms restrained against the bed, your latex body was spread bare. Bound and helpless, at the mercy of anyone who walked through the door…

       The lock clicked, familiar footsteps echoing in the hall.

       “Babe!” your girlfriend called out, “where are you? I’ve got something to show you!”

       You called out to her — or, at least, you tried to, barely managing a muffled yell. Still, it was enough to catch her attention.

       “Oh, wow…” her voice came from the doorway behind you, “and I thought I was the special one…”

       Your girlfriend — no, your mistress — stepped closer. Slowly walking around you, appraising the sight of your latex body spread out and waiting for her. You looked up, eyes wide and practically pleading, looking at her towering form. Something about her was different, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

       She reached down, leash already in hand, clipping one end of it into your collar. She pulled it tight, yanking your head upwards slightly, the motion forceful but satisfying. You were hers, after all, to use you as she wished. You squirmed a little on the carpet, arms tugging at the restraints, your heart fluttering in your chest.

       “Now, you’ve shown me your surprise,” her fingers gently brushed against your cheeks, running along the straps of the gag. Latex slipped away from your skin, yielding under her touch. With one hand, she gently tugged at your gag, teasing it out of her mouth, while the other hand slipped off her skirt, revealing a tantalising bulge of red latex barely contained by her panties.

       “How about I show you mine?”