© Copyright 2012 - Kim Manners - Used by permission
Storycodes: M/f; lab; suit; latex; experiment; bond; cuffs; transform; wax; bodysuit; m2f; mast; machine; oral; sex; climax; cons/reluct; X
Continued from Suiting Danielle, Part 1
Danielle Kasimir floated in her tube, an unhappy, androgynous, nearly featureless plastic mannikin, alone in the large subterranean room where she was created in her new form, a room she had walked in as a normal woman some unknown number of hours ago.
She was unsure of the passage of time: everything was so bizarre to her now, immersed in her new un-breathing, un-eating, un-blinking existence, that she had difficulty marshaling her thoughts for more than a few minutes at a time.
She thought about of Dr. Fisher, in her apartment, looking to anybody in the world just like Danielle. Going through her computer, closing her bank account, quitting her job, telling her friends and family that she was going away for a while, not sure if and when she would be back. Maybe it was worse than that, and he-- as her-- was actively and thoroughly and maybe even cruelly burning her bridges.
And what about Marco? She felt her blood run cold-- or would have, if she had blood. They were on-again, off-again the last few months, but she did not know how he'd react to her leaving. Maybe he wouldn't care. Maybe he would be devastated. As she remembered Marco, His kind smile and warm eyes, his tall tanned surfer's bod, her smooth fingerless hand traveled to her crotch. Nothing. She thrashed in the tank in frustration.
The extreme fear and terror and frustration of her transformation and entrapment should have put her in a coma, she thought, but somehow it didn't. She was never one to run from her problems, and now she was becoming more and more convinced that she needed to engage in her situation fully. She took the long, boring time in her tank to examine Dr. Fisher's lab as thoroughly as she could through the distorting plexiglas walls of her watery prison.
Anything was better than staring at that peach-colored lip-print on the tank. When she looked at it, fear and fury built up so fast she had to look away.
Most of the equipment that lined the long table along the wall was a complete mystery. There were large graduated cylinders, tubing, retorts, centrifuges and a lot of electronic things she could not identify. She also saw the drawer where the black latex outer suit with her imprint was locked away. She had to move her head around a bit to compensate for the distorted image, but she could make out a tape label on the drawer face: “HUMAN #3.” past that were drawers marked “HUMAN #2” and “HUMAN #1.” She was horrified: What became of #1 and #2? Are they still here somewhere? Even further down under the table were other, smaller drawers: “DOG #16,” “CAT #11” and so on. Well of course, she thought. Of course Dr. Fisher would experiment on animals first. Sick bastard.
Eventually she cataloged everything she could see, and there was nothing left to hold her attention. She began to fall into a fugue state, running memories of her previous life like a movie in her mind, trying hard to hold on to the essence of her personality, trying to convince herself that Danielle could somehow live on without her body.
She also began to plan her revenge.
* * *
What felt like a month later (but was actually four days) Dr. Fisher opened the door and entered the concrete lab. He was still in Danielle's female form.
It took Dany a few moments to fully snap out of her fugue, and when she did she was amazed.
Doctor Fisher had made some changes.
Danielle's original long streaked-blond hair was now dark chestnut brown and cut to a shoulder-length bob. He had dressed her former body in high-schooler Goth mode: PVC skirt, fishnets, studded leather choker and matching belt, a graphic tee with a blood-spatter pattern, twenty bangles per wrist, chunky buckle-covered boots. Dr. Fisher obviously had some skill with makeup: pale foundation, purple eyeshadow, wide black eyeliner and glossy wine-dark lips. As shocked as she was, Dany had to admit to herself that as a fashion statement it all worked.
“Good afternoon, Danielle! You like? Isn't it cute?” He sauntered up to the tank and ran his hands down his tight, shiny skirt. “Bought the whole outfit at Hot Topic-- With the last of your bank account. Shit, you were stone broke, girl! No wonder you volunteered for this!”
Danielle could only put her blank hands on the tank wall and stare at him with her black dot eyes.
“Actually, I just wanted to change my look while I took care of closing out your life. I didn't want to get spotted by anyone you knew. God, I'd love to tell you all about it-- especially an interesting visit from a rather nice young man named Marco Vanotto.” He realized Danielle didn't need to have a face to show a shocked reaction. “It would be much easier if you were out of that tank.”
He stood square in front of her, arms crossed. “If I take you out of there, I need to be able to trust you. I need you to promise to obey me, to do everything I say. And you need to hold this promise for the rest of your life. Do you? Go ahead, you can nod!”
She thought about it, and nodded.
“Do you promise to never try to escape or contact the outside world?” Nod. “Do you promise to forget your past, to live fully in your new body?” Nod. “Excellent. Let's get you out of there!”
Dany watched Dr. Fisher move the harness framework above the tank and start making adjustments. She talked as she worked, Danielle's contralto coming out of his mouth making his words oddly soothing. “I'm making a promise to you: if you let go of the past and live fully in your new body, I promise you'll feel things you never felt before, know happiness and pleasures you never dreamed of. You will realize in time what I gave you is a precious gift.”
She climbed up on a ladder, unlatched the top of the tank, and swung it clear. She then lowered the harness into the fluid. “Okay, just put your arms and head into the big loop, and I'll lift you out.” He saw her hesitation, and put a reassuring hand on the tank wall. “Don't worry, you won't feel the burning like last time. Your skin has had four days to cure and thicken. Still, good to get this done quickly.”
As Dany put herself in water-rescue posture, strap under arms, Dr. Fisher retrieved the black outer suit from the drawer. He opened it and laid it on the floor, then started the winch.
Dany was lifted into the air. Just like Dr. Fisher said, it didn't burn-- but the air felt very hot and dry, like the air in the desert outside. She was irrationally afraid the strap under her arms would simply cut her in two like a hot wire through paraffin, but that didn't happen. Dr. Fisher rolled the framework out and Dani dangled above the floor, dripping fluid. He slowly lowered her feet to just above the floor, and started to work the black suit over her featureless, tapered legs.
The material slid up Dany's legs with an indescribable feeling, a million sensations thrilling up her limbs. When the suit was up to her groin, he lowered her the rest of the way to the floor, and she could suddenly feel firm muscles holding up her weight.
He held the suit open in the front and Dany, on her own volition, put her arms in one at a time. Dr. Fisher saw this as her eagerness, smiled and nodded. “Good, good. See how easy that is. Slips right on, huh? Here comes the head.” Her head did indeed slip right into the hood, the smoothness of her core body making it nearly frictionless.
As soon he zipped the suit closed, Dany felt herself cool off. She also realized she could move her fingers. And that she had fingers.
As Dr. Fisher stepped away, Dany put her hands together, interwove her fingers and flexed them one at a time. She ran her regained hands over her rubber-covered body: it was uncanny, how she could feel her old body under the suit, feel the muscles on her forearms, the heft of her breasts, her ribcage and her collarbones. She became so convinced her body had returned she almost unzipped the suit again-- but stopped when she realized she still wasn't breathing.
She felt inside her mouth, her rubber teeth and tongue, and her fingers stopped at the small cap at the base of her tongue. Her nostrils were plugged as well. Experimentally, Dany tried to pull the suit fabric away from her forearm and realized there was no give at all-- the suit, as much as she had dreaded it being true, was her new skin.
As she reveled in the odd yet familiar sensations-- she could feel again, and that felt wonderful-- Dr. Fisher came up to her and without warning clapped a shackle to her wrist. Before she could even register surprise, he pulled her other wrist over and snapped a shackle on that one too.
“Stay absolutely still, Danielle,” He warned her as he knelt down and fastened shackles to her ankles as well. Danielle raised her hands and was stopped just under her breasts-- she realized her wrist shackles were connected together by a foot of thick cable. She looked down and realized she was in a four-point restraint: a thick central cable ran down and connected to the two-foot-long cable connecting her ankles.
“I was going to buy a restraint set online, but all they had were chains. I hate the sound they make, and the whole house is tiled. I knew I could improve on that design, so-- plastic-coated steel cables! Quiet, functional and unbreakable. Here, let's get the last part on.” He raised a steel collar and fastened it to her rubber neck, and the four-point restraint became five: another cable attached it to the wrist cable, and a thick steel eyelet jutted from the front. “Kinky folks love those big steel slave collar rings. Like this one.” He fingered the small ring on his studded leather choker. “Me, I can't stand it. Jingle, jingle, jingle all friggin' day long!” He put a slender finger through the eyelet on her collar and pulled her forward. “This is here so I can put a leash on you if I have to. But I trust you, and you gave me your promise to be good”.
“These shackles are just to remind you of your position in this relationship. In a few weeks, when I'm sure we have trust, they will come off. But if you resist me, I leave them on-- except behind your back. You won't like having your hands shacked behind your back all day long. And if you continue to resist, well... I'm sure you know by now how creative I am.”
He laughed, which in his woman's voice sounded like giggling. “Time to answer questions. Come with me.” he led rubber Danielle with the finger through her collar eyelet to a desk and sat her down. “I'd let you use a keyboard, but it'll take a few hours for your core body and the dermal imprint in your suit to fully sync up, so you're probably a little clumsy.” He put a whiteboard in front of her and put a marker in her hand. “Ask away.”
Her hand coordination was indeed a little out of whack. It took several tries but she managed to write a legible question: “Y ME?”
“Why you? You answered the ad, you had the right sized body. Kismet, luck of the draw, fate, who knows? Oh, and you may have been the last attractive young woman in Southern California with no tattoos whatsoever. Big factor. Can't stand tattoos. Next question.”
“HOW I BREATH/EAT?”
“You don't 'breathe' in a traditional sense anymore: you don't have lungs. It's too technical to explain, but the easiest metaphor I can think of is the catalyst turned every cell in your body into single-cell organisms, like an amoeba or a fungus. Every cell has an individual metabolism now, and you take in oxygen through your entire surface area. And since your body temperature is much lower, you need far less oxygen. The amount infused in your body after your soak in the tank will keep you going for a week”.
“Same with eating. Your body only needs dextrose sugars to sustain itself, and that was dissolved in the tank water. So after a week or so you'll start to feel stiff and queasy, and you'll need to start a refection cycle. That means-- oh, never mind, just wait for it to happen, easier than explaining.”
“Yes. And you're welcome: you were in some serious debt. I paid it all off with my own money. No trace of her remains. And believe me, Danielle Kasimir is gone: the last thing I did was file her emigration paperwork.” He refused to elaborate any further.
“R U ME 4EVR?”
He smiled, and coquettishly bit the tip of his finger. “Oh, not at all. I can take this off whenever I want. But for the time being, you'll only see me in your old body. I think it's good for you to see a familiar face during what must be a time of profound re-adjustment.” He laughed at his own cruel joke.
“And this is an inner suit, not the containment suit you're in. It simulates your former human body perfectly. I can wear it indefinitely. Eat, drink, sweat, piss, everything. Still-- don't get me wrong. I looove wearing your former body, but I am eagerly awaiting the day when I'm convinced that you love your new life so I can unshackle you, I can take this thing off, and I put my own cock into that hot rubber body. Your rubbery mouth was just made for oral sex, you know that? You probably can give the best and longest head than anyone on earth. But until we have total trust--” He stood back and hiked up his glossy PVC skirt, revealing black panties with a Hello Kitty applique dead center-- “Enjoy the view.”
She sat in stunned reaction for a few moments, the started writing again. “WHAT DO U WANT FROM ME?”
“For the next few days, not much. Just wander around the house, get used to your new body. After a while, you'll take on the housekeeping. But I get to fuck you whenever I want. That's your real job. And I think you're going to like that part.”
After a while, she wrote again, smaller and clearer: “MARCO?”
The delight went out of Dr. Fisher's eyes. “Marco. He, uh, came over to your place not even an hour after I got there. He must have been waiting for you. I tried to give him the old heave-ho, let him down easy, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. I felt pretty bad about that, actually.” Danielle could tell he was not kidding. “He's the reason I got this makeover: I didn't want to run into him again. Poor guy.”
Dr. Fisher stood next to Danielle's rubber body, a sad, faraway expression on his face. He shook it off and said, “Enough of that. Let's get you on the job. Follow me.”
* * *
Dany followed Dr. Fisher out of the room as best as she could in her restraints. The center cable was short enough to keep the ankle cable from dragging on the ground, and her ballet-heeled, hip-swaying gait was not too affected by it. They went down the long hallway and up the stairs to the villa proper.
As Dr. Fisher led her along he could feel her black plastic eyes on his shapely ass. He laughed and said. “Look, to keep this from being confusing for you, you should think of me in this suit as 'Marti', and think of me as a she. You know, switch the pronouns in your head.”
She tried it out, and it was actually easy-- especially since “Marti,” sporting “her” Goth teener makeover, looked almost nothing like Dany's former self.
They reached the master bedroom and Marti made Dany lay down on the bed. “Let me show you something,” Marti said as she lifted one of Dany's rubber legs. “See here: on the base of both stilettos there's a tiny silver button. When I pull it--” she did, it clicked, then she pushed the seven-inch stiletto into her heel.
Dany could feel the hard plastic heel moving inside her ankle, and something like a flange moving up inside the sole of her foot. The heel moved up until just a centimeter of the bottom stuck out, and the button clicked. A very odd sensation, but not painful.
“That'll keep you from tearing up my sheets with your heels.” Marti retracted the other one. “Now, this first time out is all about you.” Marti climbed into the bed, started running her hands over Dani's rubber body, kissed her on her rubber mouth.
At first, Dany was too shocked to do anything but just lay there. But she realized she could feel Marti's lips on her own-- it was dulled a bit, but it was real, and quite pleasant. She began to reciprocate, sticking her rubber tongue in Marti's mouth.
Marti moved down and starting kneading and sucking Dani's latex breasts on the tiny bumps where nipples had been molded into the rubber. Dani felt it, and it felt real, felt incredible. She began to writhe in pleasure.
Marti lowered the zip in Dani's crotch and worked a finger inside-- and Danielle's mind exploded in pleasure. She knew it was a rubber sheath inside of her, but it felt like it was coated with nerve endings connected directly to the pleasure center of her brain. It took less than a minute and a half of buildup, then wave after wave of orgasm crashed through her body. She grabbed the sheets, her latex body bucking uncontrollably. She felt like screaming, but if course she couldn't: bottling it in just seemed to make the climaxes more intense.
Dani could only lay on the bed, rubber body still shivering from the intensity of her orgasms, suffused in a warm afterglow. Marti was snuggled up next to her, caressing her latex head.
As her mind swam back from a sea of pleasure, Dany thought about what she should do next. She climbed up on Marti, then worked her way down the bed until she was kneeling on the floor. She then reached up with her manacled rubber hands and gently pulled Marti's cartoon-adorned panties down. So I'm capable of giving the best head on earth, She thought as she flicked her rubber tongue around her former labia. Great thing about that is how well a tongue works on boys AND girls...
She saw Marti wail, moan and arch her back in ecstasy, and she smiled so broadly she was sure it was visible on her nearly immobile rubber face. Wow, she's really deep into this. In time, that'll be useful. She made a mental note, furled it and stored it away for later.
* * *
The full extent of Danielle's new life as the resident submissive rubber woman in Doctor Martin Fisher's sprawling Mission-style desert villa slowly resolved as the long weeks and months passed.
Her first big surprise was her actual living arrangement: she she was given her own bedroom. It was bare, just a big bed with rubber sheets, a closet with some latex accessories hanging in it, and a big-screen TV on the wall. The door was locked from the outside every night, but it was a space to call her own. She would lay in her bed (the 5-point cable restraints never came off) and watched TV until she drifted off. She was impressed by all the premium channels he subscribed to.
Seven days after her transformation, Dani woke up in the middle of the night feeling sick. Her arms and legs felt extremely heavy and stiff, and she felt a rising sense of vertigo coming from her stomach, a queasy express-elevator-down sensation. She managed to fall out of bed, crawl to the door (her stilettos were retracted) and beat on it as hard as she could. After a few long minutes Marti showed up-- naked, with messy bobbed hair (Dany was sure he just finished quickly donning the Marti suit: even though she thought she was dying, she managed to store this nugget of info for later).
“Oh, Danielle, look at you. I think's it's time for you to fuel up. Come on.” Marti threw Dani over her shoulder and with some difficulty carried her down to the lab.
Marti put her down in a chair and wheeled up a device she had seen before, but never in use. A big glass tank topped a pump with long hoses coiled around it. She talked while she worked. “This is just a simple fluid pump system, but pay attention to how I set this up. I want you able to do this yourself in case I'm not here.” She put a wall-mounted hose in the pump array and the glass tank started to fill. “Like any good recipe, it's all about ratios. Four parts distilled water--” she cut the pump off when it reached the 20 mark on the side of the tank “--and one part dextrose solution USP. Twenty-five liters total, run an oxygenator for 10 minutes.” Marti hit a switch and the fluid bubbled like a soda.
Marti then took the hose from the pump and screwed it into the recessed cap on top of her head where Dr. Fisher had first injected the transformative catalyst. She then brought Dany's legs up one at a time, unscrewed the protective caps on her toes, screwed hoses to them, and jammed the other ends into a floor drain. She went back to the device and flipped a switch.
The fluid began to soak her core body, head-first. Dany could feel the solution infuse through her entire body, as if she was a dry wick being soaked by oil. Energy returned to her body; the sick dizziness dissipated. She looked down and saw thick orange-red fluid coming out of the tips of her toes.
“Eeeew, huh?” Marti said, draping a lab coat over her still-naked body. “that's all the waste generated by your cells during the week. When you feel good again, and the drain tubes run clear, you're done. Generally, it's a good idea to let all twenty-five liters run through you. Nice little setup, huh? You don't have to take that suit off, ever. I call this device a Refectory Station: I'll install one in your room.”
With one of the whiteboards scattered over the villa Dany requested materials with which to learn American Sign Language. She already knew some of the basic gestures and the alphabet: Marco's mom was deaf, and he knew ASL well, and taught some to her. Dr. Fisher already knew ASL-- or, as Dany believed, he was so brilliant he probably taught it to himself, knowing his personal plans would eventually involve living with a mute rubber submissive. Still, He was pleasantly surprised by the initiative she took, and soon she had a stack of texts, flashcards and a 12-disc instructional DVD set.
Dr. Fisher-- as promised, only seen in female form as Marti-- was sexually insatiable. Three to five times a day was the average. Sometimes it was consensual-style, like that first night, hugging and turn-taking. Sometimes it was rough, with Dany bent over a saddle or restrained to her bed with more cables. Once in a while she allowed Dany to be the “man,” with a dildo harness locked on. Marti was quite fond of anal sex (which was something that couldn't be reciprocated: Dany's rubber body had no rear entry), which made Dany wonder more than a little about the deeper aspects of Doc Fisher's personality.
Another window into of her captor's peculiar personality showed in how Marti liked to dress: Girlish. Coquettish. In addition to her Goth outfit, she acquired a schoolgirl uniform with a short wool skirt, various T-shirt and pajama-bottom combos, and even a cheerleader outfit (though she only wore it once: Marti could tell that Dany, even mute, considered it hilarious). She also liked latex outfits, of course: usually underwear sets in bright colors.
One of Marti's favorite scenes was to have Dani on her hands and knees under a lab table, gently licking Marti's snatch while she programmed chemical compound reaction simulations on a computer. This would usually go on from early evening 'til the small hours of the night.
She took on the housekeeping duties without complaint or resistance. It was a lot easier than she feared: there was only her and Dr. Fisher in the large house. The floors were kept clean by a squad of robotic scrubbers, which just left dusting and changing sheets. She never cooked, ever: She had never shared a meal with Dr. Fisher (or Marti), even though there was always food in the kitchen.
Her new life wasn't entirely smooth sailing: one morning, Dr. Fisher left on one of his frequent day-long excursions-- and forgot to lock Danielle in her room.
Danielle went straight to the lab, going through the drawers under the main bench to see what Dr. Fisher's previous experiments looked like. The results of her search were disturbing: drawer after drawer of small dog and cat suits, black rubber outer ones and the inner suits like furry, unstuffed taxidermy projects. The later experiments were on large dogs, Mastiff mixes likely. As she held up the nearly featureless black latex outer suit of a huge dog, Dany wondered what became of those poor animal's core bodies. She grew up in a house full of dogs and cats, and the thought of the awful transformation she suffered through applied to an innocent animal made her heart ache.
She stuffed the cruel-looking rubber skin back in the drawer, then saw the large drawers to the right-- marked HUMAN, padlocked. As she tried to pry open the HUMAN #1 drawer she suddenly felt a taser applied to the zipper on the back of her neck.
As punishment for prying Dany had to spend a week with her harness behind her back, cabled to her bed frame by her collar-- never comfortable and completely vulnerable to Marti's aggressive sexual advances.
After being released from her period of punishment, and the harness was returned to her front, Dany insisted on asking (by sign language) what became of the animals. Marti told her: Each one fell into a uncontrollable frenzy when turned into core bodies. Dr. Fisher did what he thought was the humane thing: tossed every one of them out into the desert to melt into nothingness.
It took quite a while to regain Marti's trust after that, but she explained with her ever-improving sign language that she was just curious and had a good reason to pry: She wanted to make sure that she in her present form could continue indefinitely. She was convincing: Not even a month after her punishment week, Marti removed the 5-point restraints. To show her gratitude, Dany took a more active role in their sex life, initiating sex in new and creative ways. She found her new body amazingly flexible, and would bend herself into positions impossible in her shackles, which delighted Marti and strengthened her trust.
One morning about five months after Danielle Kasimir's fateful arrival at the desert villa the door to Dany's room was unlocked, and in walked Dr. Fisher, wearing the same blue shirt and khaki pants as when she first met him. He stood at the threshold, waiting to see her reaction.
Dany slid the rubber sheet off, then reached down and extended both of her heels. She stood up, exuding both happiness and smoldering lust, and slowly strode up to him. She took his head in her rubber hands and kissed him, hard, her rubber tongue exploring every inch of his mouth.
She used all of her recollections of what Marti liked in an effort to make her first time making love with in-the-flesh Dr. Fisher memorable. She did not disappoint. She was able to make him last and last: he came three times before utterly collapsing in a deep slumber in the caress of her latex arms. She held his head next to her latex breasts all night long.
That night, and every night after, Dany slept in Dr. Fisher's bed.
* * *
Dr. Fisher could not be more pleased by how his years of effort turned out. Danielle was a perfect companion: beautiful, compliant, sexually adventurous, even helpful and kind. She seemed to be totally devoted to his happiness. She became Dr. Fisher's helpmate and assistant as well as an ardent lover.
She took a keen interest in the transformation process, trying to learn everything she could. She even devised, and explained through detailed whiteboard sketches, a new system for nutrient intake. It involved a two-hose system that alternated input and exhaust with a reversing valve, an elegant system that simplified refection to one attachment to the top of the head, eliminating the need for separate waste tubes. Dr. Fisher was impressed: he went ahead and made the conversion to her design. Taking nutrient became a much simpler process, and now she could even move around her room and lay in bed while taking in her weekly ration of oxygenated dextrose.
About six months after Danielle started sleeping in Dr. Fisher's bed, she suggested to him that they “recruit” another woman to become a core body, to make another mute rubber-skinned helpmate and lover for them both. It would also give Dr. Fisher another woman's body to wear-- and maybe they could find somebody even younger than Dany was. (Dany could tell that prospect really excited him.) She would love to help this happen, she explained with sign language-- so long as Dany was her first and most important rubber woman.
“Of course you will be. I promise, and I always keep my promises.”
He was so excited by Dany's proposal he decided to put the plan into motion immediately. With Dany as his lab assistant, he began the long process of culturing biotic material and formulating the latex-based polymers to make a new set of suits and a batch of catalyst. With her assistance the job went quickly, and just a few weeks after she offered her idea to him a batch of catalyst and the generic suits were ready.
Dr. Fisher was so busy crafting a new Craigslist ad that he never noticed Dany coming up behind him, applying a taser to the back of his neck. As he went down, 50,000 volts overwhelming his nervous system, she thought: I can't believe he kept this in his nightstand, right next to the lube. Stupid of him, and stupid of me: I should have looked in there months ago.
* * *
Danielle had Dr. Fisher on the floor, hands and feet tied with electrical cable. He screamed awful things at her as she searched through the lab shelves with her rubber hands, looking for something to knock him out. She couldn't find anything she was sure would work.
She found a large pry-bar and was prepared to knock him out movie-style with a blow to the head (even though she wasn't sure if that would kill him or not: Part of her didn't care, but another part disliked such a crude form of vengeance).
She'd have to take his clothes off first, so he could stuff him in the new suits as quickly as possible. That was her intended vengeance, one she had been slowly planning for a year, and so far it was working well: talk him into another transforming another woman, then overpower him-- and force the process on him. See how he likes floating in a tank with no face or hands. She pushed his face to the floor with a stiletto heel, reached down and tore his shirt open at the back.
Then she saw something on his body that changed her plans completely.
On Dr. Fisher's right shoulder was a perfectly round wart. She tugged at it with her rubber fingers and it lifted off-- revealing a slider handle. The sight of it made her step back in surprise.
Dr. Fisher was HUMAN #1. He had transformed himself first. He had hidden the opening of his suit with tape and makeup. She gingerly peeled the tape off his shoulders, exposing the long slide opening.
Dany's mind raced: It made all kinds of sense now. That's why his descriptions of the transformation process seemed so personal. That's why he never saw either him or Marti ever eat. She even realized that explained why Dr. Fisher generally preferred to wear a t-shirt or a robe during sex (she just thought he was just being high-falutin').
Dr. Fisher looked up at Dany's expressionless face in horror. He knew she knew. “Okay, look, Danielle: don't do anything foolish. You need me! You need me to―Nooooo!!”
He continued to plead and scream as Danielle opened his slider and pulled the opening upwards until his mute, blank core body head was exposed. his inner suit head, salt-and-pepper hair and all, hung limp in front of his chest.
She could see his hands spasming in their electrical cord bonds. She felt his head and it was wet and slick with orange slime. That was cellular waste-- She knew he must be close to refection time. She took a chance and cut the bonds from his hands and feet. He didn't resist her: he just laid on the floor, his limbs quaking.
He must really be feeling the heat, she thought. With his energy reserves low, he's helpless. Good. She began to tug his inner suit off. The orange slime made it easy. In less than a minute he was a featureless mannikin laying on the floor, quaking in burning pain-- and likely, fear.
As Dany watched him weakly writhe, she figured out what to do next. In less than a minute she came up with a new plan. figured he'd last for at least an hour on the floor like that before he began to actually melt, so she needed to work quickly.
She ran upstairs to Dr. Fisher's room and searched it, bashing the walls with the pry-bar until she found a hidden chamber in his closet. Inside Dany found what she was looking for: the Marti suit-- and, to her shock, another inner suit, the exact image of someone she recognized in framed pictures scattered throughout the house, a 50-ish woman.
There were other treasures in that cubby, not the least of which was an awe-inspiring amount of cash bundled in shoeboxes on the floor. But there was no time for cataloguing.
She ran down to the lab on her stilettos with the Marti suit (she realized she had sort of brainwashed herself into calling it that). She put a ladder up to the tank-- her original plan was to immerse herself, take off her rubber skin, and put the inner suit on. No pain, no melting if things got off-track. The new part of her plan was much easier than the original: If she finished in time, she would drop Dr. Fisher's newly discovered core body in the tank, and that would be the end of it.
But looking at him on the floor-- his blank pink body was still spasming and quaking-- She had another revelation which changed her plans yet again.
He was wearing the Marti suit-- over his own suit. What if...
She pulled up an office chair so he could see her with his black eye spots. She retracted her heels and experimentally bent her feet forward, and with some resistance they did: the sole flange that kept her toes pointed down was retracted with the stiletto, so it was possible to bend her foot to an almost-normal forward position. She then gathered up the Marti suit and put her rubber foot inside it.
Dr. Fisher, helpless from the burning pain of having his core body exposed, nonetheless saw what she was doing. No. Nonono. This isn't happening.
In just a few minutes Danielle, as Dr. Fisher did almost a year ago, was using foot-long forceps to close the slider on her suit. There was a faint stretching sound and Danielle sighed in relief: It worked.
She had her body back. And much to her surprise it worked just like it used to. It was a chance she took, but now she knew her life-like inner suit worked perfectly well over work her black rubber outer suit. It was quite a bonus, she figured: now, she never had to take off anything more than her realistic-looking inner suit to get access to the cap on her mute rubber head to take nutrient.
She felt her skin and it was warm and as sensitive as the skin she wore in her previous life. She looked in a mirror and she saw herself for the first time in a year-- or close: she still had the chestnut bob Dr. Fisher preferred.
Danielle prepared to leave the lab, but then she looked back at Dr. Fisher's core body, quaking on the floor. She remembered what else was stored in that lab and had another change of plans.
* * *
Danielle, in the days after regaining her own body, spent her time going through the papers and documents in his hidden closet, piecing together what happened before she became Dr. Fisher's third human transformation subject.
Apparently the older-woman-suit she saw in the hidden closet was all that was left of Dr. Fisher's wife. Dr. Darla Genessier-Fisher, a chemist specializing in polymers. He was a genetic engineer: they met at Caltech and married fifteen years ago. They both worked together for years in secret out here in the desert to perfect this transformation technique, a combination of latex-based chemistry and bio-engineering. She thought it would change the world, and was possibly the key to immortality.
He went first, to assure her it worked. His wife went through the process next― but as soon as she went through the transformation, he likely dumped her new core body outside to melt. He then assumed her identity as needed: After all, it was her family fortune that financed everything-- and it wasn't murder if Darla could still attend conventions and family reunions.
But none of that satisfied his primal urge, his wish to be at will anyone he wanted-- especially a young girl. That was where the Craigslist ad came in.
It was all over now, though.
Several days later, Danielle was ready to leave the villa that was her prison for a year. She had packed up a lot of Dr. Fisher's prized possessions-- things she thought she may someday need. She carefully unmounted two Refectory Stations (gotta have a spare!) and stowed them in a heavy travel case. And of course, she took all of the cash in his hidden closet-- there was more than enough to start a new life, and a comfortable one at that. Her old life, after all, was no longer available.
She dressed for her departure in Marti's Goth outfit, right down to the dramatic makeup. It was a token, a reminder of what had been taken from her, and that she was now starting life all over, truly breaking with her past. She also had to admit, as she buckled up her big boots, that if she was going to be someone new, well, why not start with a bad-ass new look? But she wore it for another reason as well.
She entered her former bedroom and it's current occupant stirred. It was a very large dog made of black latex. No tail, sexless, four legs ending in hard capped feet. A pair of black plastic eyes in its mouthless, earless head followed her every move. It stood up and walked to her-- but was stopped by the dual hose that that ran from the Refectory Station to the top of it's head.
Dany sat down on the rubber-sheeted bed and clapped her fishnet-covered thigh. “C'mere, boy! C'mere, Doc!”
Dr. Fisher, encased by Danielle in the outer suit of one of the Mastiffs he had experimented on and disposed of, reluctantly approached her.
She pulled his head close and petted it, stroking the smooth latex. “Look, Doc, I'm gonna take off now. Just came by to say goodbye-- and good riddance. If you ever get out of that thing-- Oh, who am I kidding? You are never getting out of that suit.” She ran her hand over the zipper that ran along the suit's back from rump to nape-- it was padlocked closed to the large leather collar she put on him. “It's never coming off. You're going to be a mute rubber dog forever.”
It was true: the canine anatomy of the suit and the lack of jaws or claws made self-removal impossible.
“You know what? I'm actually going to offer you a choice, which is something you never gave me: you can stay here hooked up to that machine, or you can come with me and be my pet. I'll take care of you, keep you fed. But only if you promise to be an obedient pet, a good dog. Do you want to come with?” She grinned, not a little wickedly. “Go ahead, Doc, you can nod!”
He stared at her for a good long time with his blank black plastic eyes, then nodded.
“Excellent,” she said as she removed the dual hose from his head. “I reckon that if we both have to deal with whatever it is you changed us into, at least we can do it together-- and I'll be happy knowing you can never again do to anyone else what you did to me.” As she clipped a leash to his collar she saw Doc hang his latex dog head in despair. “Aw, there there, Doc. It won't be all bad: After all, every day you'll get to look at-- but never ever again touch-- this.”
Danielle pulled on the leash and held his rubber dog head close as she hiked up her PVC skirt, exposing black panties with a Hello Kitty applique dead center. “Enjoy the view.”