MAY

Scratching sounds from Paul's pen made the whole room feel massive. It was almost silent, an imperceptible scritching from a ball-point against absolutely, positively plain paper. The room, this office, had more or less no aroma. There was essentially no decoration on the stucco walls; only an unimpressive image of classical mythology. A poor attempt at classical art, the print didn't add much flair to the room. No more than the boring, incessant fluourescent lights and their hum.

And so, the scritching of the pen, against the plastic clipboard, against Paul's pant leg was the only sound of note.

Paul Gurois. Almost six feet tall. Average weight. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Skin color... how do you quantify skin color? What about - skin sensitivity? Maybe that's for office use. Age? Twenty-three, that's easy. Mental age? Well, that's just subjective. This contract said 'five years,' with severe penalties and revocation of benefits for anyone who backed out of it, though it certainly seemed that it was stacked against the applicant. Girth? Well, wait, what girth? Wingspan... was that easy to write? Was that measured? And all these measures of flexibility.

The application numbered twenty-five pages. Paul's time at a university had given him the know-how, though not the practical ability, to 'go far' in life. And now, unable to work on his own terms, he was signing away his prime as on someone else's terms. Perhaps when the contract expired, his opportunities would be different. He hoped so. He wanted it to be so.

"Paul?"

The voice was pleasant, almost melodic. She had said her voice in a singsong tone. It was, he would learn, the way she always spoke. Odd, but not unwelcoming. It contrasted with her outfit; skintight black pants, a white rubber lab coat that hugged her form, slick, jet-black buttons and elbow-length red gloves. A nurse, or a doctor from a different time - a kinkier, darker time.

When Paul handed over the application, he knew exactly what it had said. The specifics of the pharmaceutical testing he would endure were vague, as were the appropriate quarantine measures mentioned. Paul shuddered at the thought. He also shuddered at Dr. Victoria's gloved hand grabbing his. She took him by the wrist and pulled him in close. Jet-black lipstick and jet-black gloves contrasted with a cheerful ponytail, long bangs, and a bright smile. She was a mix between cheerleader and Doctor Frankenstein. Paul would learn that she had adopted 'Frankenstein' as a surname. There were many warning signs, but Paul ignored them all. He would have many long hours, then long days, weeks, and more to contemplate his mistakes.

JUNE

“The Boy” – since that was what she had been calling him now – didn’t want to move, and he certainly didn’t want to think. Thinking was hard work, and it would only send more thoughts and make more memories. He didn’t want to think about what was happening, and in a way, he didn’t want to remember it.

He had been in The Vault for upwards of… irrelevant, a long time. The last time he had been here was his first month with Victoria, during her initial “symbiotex” smart-rubber inception process. Lots of jargon then, not so much now. Paul’s body was forcibly twisted and configured. When he had first been inserted, Victoria had warned him it would be tight. The symbiotex had enclosed around his body, but it wasn’t enough; Victoria had spent hours wrapping him in multiple layers of high-tensile tape. First his arms, trapped in an armbinder, then his legs, trapping him in a hogtie; he remembered the feeling of dozens of layers of tape covering him, and he remembered how she left his eyes for last. She had laughed at times, such as when she taped up his cock – sealing it with a loving smooch – or when she switched from white surgi-tape to black electrical tape, stretchier and stronger. Paul shivered again in his tomb, just thinking about how she’d laughed when she unrolled the latex tube over his body… or the feeling of total deprivation when she locked the mask on… or the unending sensory deprivation (‘sensdep’, she called it, as though it was more ethical) he felt

Until today. Today, Victoria had plans for him. She stared at The Vault, stroking a leather saddle.

JULY

“Boy,” she said. The implants in Paul’s ears echoed. They were part of him now, small buds installed as part of his piercings. He thought that it was a boon, though Victoria had also spent a few hours giving him painful or even humiliating attachments.

“Boy, first of all, I hope your recovery is going well.”

It was not. He was a mess, and he thought constantly now. All that time deprived had made him numb, and when he was released from Victoria’s Vault, his mind went to overdrive. Was he smarter? He thought about it, but he doubted it. The hummingbird was no smarter than other birds, but it was faster. Paul stared out the window. It had been literally weeks since he’d been allowed such a sight during his evil time in the Vault. Now that he was released, every thought seemed to move faster. Maybe the fact that he was having thoughts  at all was the difference.

“Can I help you, Doctor?”

He realize with a start that he hadn’t used his mouth - his vocal folds - in months. That scared him quite a bit, and he felt his spine tingle from tip to base. He also realized he didn’t use his mouth. He moved his hands over it, only to realize his hands hadn’t moved. He was in a bed, no, worse -a hospital gurney.

“Boy, the ‘symbiotex’ is called a such because it actually is, in a way, symbiotic.”

“Symbiotic?”

“Like… like Spider-Man. Like… Venom. Maybe that isn’t a good example.”

“It is not.”

Victoria’s chest heaved, and she stared deeply at Paul. Her eyes flashed over him, darting quickly over his body. They flashed again, and she stared at the bed, then her equipment, then back at Paul, all with the same dispassionate look.

“Well, Boy, the clownfish feeds on the small inverterbra that cluster near the sea anemone. The clownfish’s secretions in turn feed the anemone, and the anomone’s sharp stingers in turn protect the clownfish. Such are you now. You are one with the symbiotex - until I come up with a better name, in which case you’ll be one with whatever I patent it at.”

“This was in my contract?”

“It certainly was not!”

Victoria’s laugh seemed to go on for minutes, but it couldn’t have gone on for more than a few seconds. It echoed throughout the room, and Paul’s eyes darted to the dark corners of the industrial warehouse he was stored in. Chains from the walls and dark shadows hung like bats.

“Dear boy, this is a permanent part of you! You are fed, and the things your body gives off-  heat, tissue - in turn feed the symbiotex. Much of your flesh, your weak flesh, has been converted. Does it come at a price? Well, yes. Your body is malleable, perhaps more sturdy to some things but you certainly don’t have the strength to fight wooly mammoths - the strenght that evolution once bred into you. Your arms and your legs, various parts of you - all malleable. Your skin is now, more or less, that black ichor; almost solid, but comprised of smart-fibers that can be attached and reattached.”

“Why?”

“This is the next logical step in evolution, Boy. You’re an Adam, breaking new ground. Your flesh is dry, your skin is melded with the symbiotex. You’re a closed system; occasionally giving off secretions of its own, the symbiotex has made you into a fitter human being. A human being that can be modified or upgraded without messy surgery.”

“And?”

“And what?” Victoria’s voice was singsong.

“And… now what?”

She grinned. “You might go back out in public, one day. It would take literally months longer to remove the symbiotex, and you have a five-year contract, so… leaving would technically be stealing.”

“I could go to the press about this. It’s highly unethical.” Paul’s voice wavered.

“You could. But I could remove your arms and legs. Or, I could extend the symbiotex over your head, maybe replace your mouth with an insertion into your nervous system. Somewhere else. Keep you fed, but helpless until I decide to do something else.”

“I’m terrified.”

“I know you are, Paul.”

Paul swallowed. “How am I talking?”

“I have a collar on your right now. Your mouth is thoroughly coated in symbiotex, holding  in a thick plug-gag for nutrition purposes. That collar around your neck is hooked into your vocal folds.

I’ll make you a deal, Paul. Let me do anything you want to you - and I mean anything, no contract - and at the end of this year, I tear it up, and you’re free to go.”

“Free?”

“Free… free enough, Boy.”

AUGUST

"Slime." He shuddered a bit.

"Doll." No shuddering.

"Pet." Quite a bit of movement.

"Slave...." he moved even more.

"Rubberslut..." The boy's hips gently wiggled. That would do nicely.

"Good. We'll try it out. 'Paul' is a nice name, and we'll reserve it for when I need to be nice. But I'm not always nice, and 'Rubberslut' comes across so much better. It's sibilant. It rolls off the tongue. Not some odd Anglo-Saxon name like 'Paul.' "

His hips were notably more shapely; not quite effeminate but visibly altered to be wider. It made his rear end, his cheeks that had endured such vicious punishment in the form of whipping, spanking, and insertion - well, they looked downright curvaceous!

Paul had actually appreciated this particular addition. Victoria moved in close, her fingers gently stroking over his hooded head. It was a nice change from the past week, where she conducted endless tests on mobility and leg motion while under the effects of symbiotex. He was exhausted. Victoria knew he was tired, and she wasn’t even started.

***

SEPTEMBER

This time, Rubberslut-001 was on lease. Paul knew his name - Victoria had difficulty modifying brain chemistry - but the barcode printed on his thigh said otherwise. It said exactly what he was.

“Check it out.” The first voice he heard after being shipped was a woman’s.

“Pretty swank. This is the tops. He came with tags and toys and everything.”

The second voice he heard was a man’s.

“My name is Jennifer Hues.”

Back to the first voice. A calming sensation almost.

“And I’m Davis.” A return to his voice. Jilted, higher, again, almost singsong.

“We’re renting you.”

He couldn’t see, but he could feel. In his dark prison there was no light, hardly any sound, but sensations were unending. His ears were still there, all right. Two shallow shells - one on each of his ears - were cupped over, very tightly, but with holes like an old headset that allowed sound through. The result, though, was an even tighter fit - it gave his head a very smooth, very sexy, and almost feminine appearance. His features were smooth, too - his facial features remained, but the symbiotex could cover his face entirely and kepe him sustained. Davis and Jennifer had insisted on a blank slate.

Their touches send ripples over his body. Symbiotex did all the things he had fantasized about ,read about, written about for years. Heightened senses were the least of his senses.

Davis and Jennifer grabbed him from his packing material. His limbs and extremities were all intact, but both his hands were covered in thick rubber mitts. Perfect balls, perfect spheres - inflated - wouldn't let him do a thing. Not resist, not escape, not eve signal.

His first sense of skin against skin in a month was Davis. Paul's body was viciously thrown to the ground, then picked up, maneuvered towards a desk; judging by the sweeping motion of Jennifer Hues throwing papers to the ground. The rubberslut was shoved hard against the desk. He felt his rubber, smooth head against the desk. Hues laughed maniacally. Jeff's mouth... appeared. Symbiotex parted, opening his mouth but not giving him the ability to speak. Prescient as always, he sensed his fate growing more and more practical - Jennifer instantly shoved his totally helpless form between her legs. He felt his 'face' against her thighs and groin.

Davis co-opted her, though. Before she could part his symbiotex skin, Davis plunged his cock deep inside his borrowed rubberslut. He moaned - or tried. His shaft went deep inside Paul, over, and over, and over. Davis grinned, fondled his toy's back, and slapped his body deep against his submissive partner.

He continued, moving further. His body was under assault from both ends, and no end in sight. Davis's prowess was formidable. His body was molded, melded for pleasure and use - Hues and Davis were vicious.

"I paid for Victoria's lab. I paid for you. You're mine. You're worse than mine. That would imply you're worth more than just some sexual use and abuse. I own you... but Davis gets a share, too."

Davis thrusted again while Jennifer removed her panties.

Paul did not remember this in his contract.

OCTOBER

"Hey! Rubberslut! I have a question!"

Witih Paul's head totally uncovered, he could speak. While admittedly, he was limited in his speech and thoughts; long-term deprivation and encasement in The Vault to modify him further had caused a little degradation. Some hours of training and mental priming had brought him back up to speed.

"Slut... I aaasked youuu - hey!"

Paul shook his head. Victoria smiled. Sometimes she wore goggles, keeping her hair up behind a pair of lenses. It was endearing, and he liked the way it showed off her hair. It was sexy, despite his embarassment - she looked so infuriatingly intelligent.

"Yes, Doctor Frankenstein?"

"Just 'Doctor' or 'Victoria,' your choice. Anyway, Rubberslut, I wanted to ask if you liked fantasy at all."

"I'm a sci-fi fan."

"Me too!"

"Really?"

"Yeah. Retro sci-fi. The stuff in the old 'Weird Tales' magazines. H. P. Lovecraft. Isaac Aasimov. Star Wars."

"Is that retro, Doctor?"

"It's a little retro nowadays. Decades old."

"How retro do you like, Victoria?"

"Well, Rubberslut, I like mythology a lot as well. So really retro. I loved stories of Zeus, Poseidon, the Odyssey, the Aenid. Those stories are fun."

"I always thought so. Put on an audiobook next time I'm encased."

"Sure. I really like the creatures a lot, too. Like... the ogre. The giants. Uh... the..."

"The sirens?"

Victoria grinned. "Yeah. The sirens. Oh, the centaur."

"Ah. That would explain it."

The "stables" on Victoria's lab were insufficient, and he was now on the Hues estate-  Jen Hues was Victoria's chief finanacier. The lawn was big enough ,and the hedges were tall.

So tall that Paul's heavily modified body was totally invisible to the outside world. He was no longer a man, but a beast. His legs had seen a few minor modifications; extra gear to give him more stability, thigh-high boots over his symbiotex skin that ended in pony hooves. And then, a little bizarrely, another pair.

That was a bit odd to him, but it made sense after a bit. A large, sculpted mold of symbiotex linked up with his rear and body. Since so much of his form was now totally converted, it was a snap - like putting two pieces of clay together.

He was especially vulnerable since she had removed his arms; not officially gone, of course. Beneath an extra smart-layer of symbiotex, more shiny opaque rubber, they were there - but he couldn't feel them. They were practically molded together. He didn't even know where they were. He panicked, and often. His body was not his, and he gulped. It was a little terrifying. The only reason his new centaur-body didn't buck and run was his dedication.

Vicky sat on him. A special harness, brown leather with white trim, kept this centaur in place. A special modification in the form of a shaped dildo facing upward was an extra addition of hers. Not at all required, no.

"Rubberslut?"

Paul was hyperventilating slightly. Victoria moved her fingers over the back of his head.

"Paul?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Let's go."

She sat herself onto the lubricated plug. She moaned a bit. It moved inside her, fitting inside her, stretching her slit.

"Make it a bumpy ride for me."

****

NOVEMBER

"So what will it be?"

"Please! Please, just - this is evil. This is murder!"

"It's not murder, Rubberslut. Not, what is it going to be?"

So close.

Paul's body was in humanoid form. Completely humanoid. Eyeing him would make him look like any young adult in a catsuit; skintight, yes, but a normal human.

Victoria? She'd draw some eyes. Wearing her trademark rubber lab coat, she sat on top of Paul, grinding into him. His body was now encased and upside-down. He was a chair.

His legs pointed straight up in the air, and his thighs were curved to created a seat. At his hips, he was bent slightly; since he was upside-down, his butt was pointed skyward as well. His arms were at his sides, turning his hands into pommel-like armrests.

The pen in Victoria's hand was within an inch.

"Go ahead. You want out, you sign it."

Not within reach.

These straps. The e damnable straps kept his body so tight. They were practically invisible, built into his skin.

"Vicky, c'mon."

She was close. Escape was close. The paper was close.

Paul stretched. His body stretched, and he felt the wind coming out of his body as he stretched to the max.

The pen was in his hand.

"It's out of ink anyway, slut."

Paul's face frowned. The sound of Victoria's heels on the cold floor echoed in his mind for an hour more.

DECEMBER

"Hey, Paul?"

Paul was lying down in his bunk. During the winter season, he had been quartered in Victoria's spacious basement. He ventured out, and often, but only under heavy garb and lots of coats.

"Yes Davis?" Paul threw his magazine to the floor.

"We're going out."

"Where to?"

"A club. Not a gay club. Not this time. I swear." Davis grinned. "I can go on my own."

"You're not very subtle."

"I like taunting you about it, Paul."

"Then go taunt me about when you get home."

Davis moved in close. Paul read again until he felt the chocking sensation of a latex hood over his face. It was so tight, he felt his face squelched against it, the latex against his gasping lips and eyes.

"WE are going to the club. You too."

JANUARY

Paul/Rubberslut was having a great year. He almost didn’t mind the new modifications.

Paul’s body had been modified many times in the past. This time, Doctor Victoria had just gone with what she wanted. In this case, she went for his cock. It was at least good to know what she wanted. It was bigger now, almost as big around as his thin forearm. It was packed nicely in his sheathed suit most of the time, balled up when not in use and packaged.

Today was a special day. Paul knew it the second he awoke, and he realized that his body was restrained in ways he didn’t know possible; he knew it when he found that he was totally sealed in two layers of latex, arms and legs stretched out like an X, leaving literally nothing save his cock (which went through a hole on one end) to escape to the outside.

He was fascinated by this. Victoria was a clever woman. He had on his bane-hood again; the one that removed his face and covered it in a nice, solid, and totally smooth symbiotex mass.

Life was good. It was even better when he felt her hands on his exposed cock.

“I have no mouth, yet I must scream in ecstasy.”