Mature Content

[DARK] Batman to Lovedoll - Doll Transformation by Transviscera

I should really stop tormenting Batman at some point.
Also before anybody asks, yes, production lines are magical.
------------------
Through the dark factory, Batman prowled. He had chased his target, a common street thug, across the city to the industrial sector. Dealing with so low-level a grunt was as close to a vacation as the Dark Knight ever got, and he was taking his time with the man, stalking him from the rooftops, pausing now and then to pose silhouetted against the moon with cape outstretched, tormenting the crook until Batman could track him on the stench of fear alone.
But this criminal wasn't completely dumb - he slammed buttons as he fled through the factory, bringing production lines roaring to life, masking his footsteps in the cacophony. The smell of solvent and hot rubber soon filled the air.
"A little late to be trying out honest work," Batman mocked from on high, as the criminal fired up more machinery. A number of vats filled with viscous pink goo began to churn, dispensing large globs onto a conveyor belt. "But you'll find plenty of work to do in pri-whooah!"
In the deafening din, Batman hadn't noticed the strained metal creak of the walkway until it was too late. It collapsed, sending him tumbling towards the vat.
Desperately he flung wide his wings, but it was too late. He landed in the vat with a splat, the semi-liquified goop just viscous enough to knock the air from his lungs, while swallowing him up a moment later.
He was sinking! He grabbed for the vat edge, spitting mouthfuls of the rubber-tasting goo as he fought to keep his head above the surface.
It was like swimming in quicksand. Every few seconds, the vat would disgorge another dollop from its base, creating a current that dragged him down each time. The gunk began to infiltrate the suit, the hot sticky slime sliding over every inch of his skin.
"What is this stuff?" he barked.
It wasn't a hypothetical. The Batsuit registered the command, the in-built spectrometer booting up to analyse the compound.
[It is a viscous thermoplastic elastomer] read his HUD. [It is a flexible, rubber-like material, it is manufactured by Wayne Chemical Incorporated. It has many uses, including the manufacture of sexdolls for its soft, lifelike feel to the touch, as well as fleshlights, onaholes, dildos, and and and and]
The HUD glitched and went dark. Damnit! The stuff was frying the electronics!
With heroic strength, he hauled himself up over the lip just far enough to see the production line ahead. He saw automated machine arms moulding and sculpting the shapeless lumps into...
"Oh...no..."
The vat disgorged again, the pressure pulling him under, sucking him through the sluice, and depositing him on the moving conveyor belt.
He tried to roll but the gunk had him stuck to the conveyor like a fly to glue. He fumbled for his utility belt but his fingers were gummed together. Worst of all, now out of the vat, the chill night air tickled over the rubber-slick skin. Very quickly it was starting to cool, and as it did so it hardened, contracted. It was congealing inside his armor, tightening about his joints with a grip that even his prodigious strength was now struggling to overcome.
Becoming more doll-like in his movements with each second, he could only stare helplessly ahead as he was conveyed deeper into the machinery. Machine implements reached for him. Steel hands clamped his waist, crushing it inwards, forcing a deep, muffled groan to bubble up from his rubber-coated throat.
"Alfred!" Bruce gasped, but his communicator gave only static.
Two implements tipped with empty cups forced themselves onto his chest. A tremendous heat pulsed across his pectorals as the breast-shapers melted and molded the area, blurring the lines between rubber, armor and flesh. As they pried away, he looked in horror upon his new additions. His soft, bouncy, bubblegum-pink, sexdoll tits.
The shapers swung around to work on his ass. Soon only the bulge of his codpiece betrayed him for a man.
He heard mocking laughter and caught sight of the crook's victorious smirk a moment before a steel mask swung into place against his face.
The inside of the mask was of course the inverted face of a doll, the lurid mould for what his face would soon be, with full, parted lips for maximum pleasure.
The heating elements within the mask activated, melting and softening the hard, masculine contours of his encased face with a blast of heat.
A ribbed protrusion wormed its way between his lips and pushed its way down the back of his throat, forcing the mouthful of thermoplastic against the walls of his mouth.
When it finally extracted itself he found that, while he could at least breathe, the only noise that came from his sexdoll mouth was a high-pitched squeak, like a dog's chew toy.
Ahead on the construction line, he could see the dolls - identical to himself- undergoing the finishing touch. A high squeeaak echoed through the factory as the last moulding machine slid between his legs, his impressive codpiece and mighty manhood vanishing beneath its touch.
The doll was finished and, as its rubber skin cooled completely, all but immobile. Tumbling off the end of the conveyor, another life-sized fuckdoll landed atop it, then another, and another, until it was lost among the others piling up there. There it would lie for hours.
At the start of the morning shift, the confused workers surveyed the chaotic scene before getting to work. They packaged the doll into its cardboard box for delivery to its new owner.