Jogging along the edge of her hometown, where the suburbs slowly shift into a rusting industrial park long past it's prime, Sandra Koufox, a creamy, orange-furred vixen stopped as she always did on this chilly Saturday evening, dressed in her slim-fitting athletics pants and sporty blue sweater with the hood down. Why? Well, she was caught staring off almost longingly at a certain rundown warehouse, one with a certain reputation in rumors and heresy, stories of secrets both grand and perverse...I mean it [i]was[/i] (allegedly) an old sex-toy factory. Why it closed or who had owned it? Nobody could say, and nobody could dare to show interest or care in finding out... But Sandra did. She was a curious fox, some might call her 'experimental', and others 'kinky', though on the outside, even with the stretchy fabric of her groin clearly bulged with a sizable canid cock, she was just your normal twenty-eight year old, between jobs, living on her own. She had friends, a decent social life, but was between jobs. This allowed her some excess time for "extracurricular" activities, both online and out of the house. But she was always wanting a little more. Maybe that's what ignited her imagination, each time she passed this spot weekly, but as for what pushed her to take those next few steps into unfamiliar territory, tennis shoes carrying her towards that place of immense mystery and darkness, who can say? Her breath was definitely quickened though, as was her jumping heart-rate, and it wasn't just from the jogging either! Scaling the fence was easy, given there was a gap in some of the barbed wire at the top, almost like someone had been here before...had [b]done this[/b] before. It was a somewhat encouraging thought, to know she wasn't the first, and that others had the same hunger, for whatever reason, pushing them to explore his dilapidated facility. And boy, was it ever rundown! Shattered glass, doors hanging off their hinges, paint cracked and faded. But other than the sound of her own rubber-soled footfalls, the place and its surrounding neighborhood was a deafening still silence, enough that the calm air came to her lungs almost like a vise, squeezing her chest with growing tension. Doubts were starting to fester, and fears were bubbling to the surface. Getting in was a cinch. Sandra had no shortage of options, but went with the easiest: a bay door, metal rusted, but ajar and off-kilter, with enough of a gap at the bottom for her to slip through. This put her directly on the factory floor, with the only thing to brighten up the tall machinery being what moonbeams could stream in through the skylights. Suffice to say, it was far from sufficient; What she could see could hardly be described or determined, as the darkness was too pervasive. She had to come closer... She never knew which step did her in, or whether or not her fate could have been avoided, but once her foot crossed an invisible laser tripwire, everything changed in seconds. The trap had been sprung, and she was the unwitting prey in the center of it all. Lights, bright and yellow, came glaring down on her. Her initial thought, her instincts, were only half true, "A security system?" Yes, but it was also an automated trigger, one that set the machines to life, big, hulking things that she immediately thought looked in too good a condition to belong. She thought right. Steam billowed and pistons churned, unseen things being put into their proper place, readying for what was to come. The main ingredient has arrived, and it was looking markedly [i]foxy[/i] it seemed... In the span of three seconds or so, metal manacles, coming out of nowhere, had snapped over her feet and ankles, rooting her in place, while from behind, two mechanical grabber arms push into place to take her squirming arms by the wrists and trap them, stuck upright with her elbows bent at near-perfect 90-degree angles pointing up to the ceiling. She fought and fidgeted, all in vain, while her heart rushed in panic within her chest. The floor beneath her started to move, or rather, [i]she did[/i]. It carried her towards a station of automated syringe-tipped actuator arms along with a fiendish couple of buzzsaws coming on a set of rails, rails which already seemed to adjust to just her right height and shape. She didn't know which was worse, but both made her wish for the unlit darkness to return. Alas, she was awake and fully aware as the saws whirred and went to work. Thankfully, through some small miracle of laser precision, her flesh was left unscathed, It was only her clothes which were torn to shreds. Not even her knotted cock had it's protective sheathe nicked. However, it was all mere preparation, leaving her body open and exposed, completely [i]naked[/i], for what was to come. She was helpless as the needles drove into her skin. The spots were several, but they were all chosen for not yet understood reasons: One in the lips, two for each breast, the base of her cock, and finally at the rim of her asshole. Each injection brought a burst of numb warmth spreading through said regions, and though she'd hate to admit it aloud, a stirring arousal and complimenting spread of pleasure tingles through everyone. Unable to stop them, her lips pucker and swell while her nipples chub out and harden, turning into thick, pink knobs three times their normal size (and with nearly five times the sensitivity!). The sensations from each just merely touching the cold around them come in tainted and wrong, yet undeniable, her mind recoiling at just how good it all felt even while her cock below engorges and grows, stretching out from her cream-furred sheathe to stand hard and proud against her lower chest, pushing almost six inches as she experiences the fullest and most [b]painful[/b] erection she could ever remember. "Nnnngh....guuh...~" she groans, unable to form a salient word, her mind a beehive of completing emotions and wants, all that serve to push away more rational thought. Her butthole burns for attention, it too taking on enlarged mass, swelling, even pushing outward to fill the gaps of her buttcheeks with a newly forming donut. Her movements turn more dire and violent as her desires to fuck and be fucked grow exponentially. A fevered furnace of unbidden lust had opened up inside her...with no way to feed or quench it...[i]for now[/i]. And before she knew it, she was moving again, and this time, it was in more ways than one. It was on to her next stop on this perverted conveyor belt, but as she travels it, the mechanical arms holding her wrists urge her forward. She tries to fight them, but their automated single-minded purpose wins out in the end. She is brought into a more awkward pose, both legs and arms stuck [b]STRAIGHT[/b] down from where her joints meet her torso. Meanwhile, several more mechanized limbs slide into place, carrying a kind of metal shell, broken off into several pieces. They come to surround her, never touching her directly, but leaving certain parts exposed. There was enough of a gap to leave her asshole exposed and her cock hanging loose. Her breasts too are left to sag unattended, while her head, though forced to stretch her neck back and stare straight ahead, was also uncovered...but not for long... Coming out from the sides, a mask appears before her, lining up in such a way that Sandra can only see the inside. Even so, she could note the odd shape to it, not really matching her face (though why would it?) Just it's presence made her shiver in fear, though the fact that, where her mouth would go, there extends a thick, rubber dildo, made her shiver for [i]other[/i] reasons, her stiff and protruding lips widening just a hair in preparation. But what was most worrying were the eyes and the ears. One came with screens for each socket, already glowing with turned-on power, with the others had clearly padded speakers to pump God-Knows-What into her helpless ears. As expected, the mask slowly approaches and presses itself over the whole of her face, bringing with it newfound insolation to the world outside. Her hearing was muffled, but already, she could hear an odd white-noise like tone buzzing out from the speakers. It seemed synched to the fuzzy screens, all polluted by grey particles that now take up her entire vision, leaving her submerged and trapped in this artificially constructed realm. Even her mouth was gagged, the dildo having insert itself without much trouble, the head settling somewhere against the back of her throat (and maybe an inch or so down it as well). Soon, a much larger, machine-powered and black-rubbered dildo stretches her ass to the limit, and Sandra can't say she wasn't pleased! Anxious and excited delight warbles through her while an utterly enchanting foam-padded cocksleeve is slipped on her pleading and pre-dribbling member, the promise of this toy jacking her off almost too much to bear. And before she was all apparently set, her breasts got cupped with soft-bristled brush heads. All in all, she was never more afraid of feeling pleasure, her body wrung up and wired to fuck by whatever chemicals were injected into such specific parts...the same parts that were now all obviously under focus by this bizarre sex-machine. But she had almost forgotten about the mask...and maybe that was on purpose. The sights and sounds meant to bring on unflinching Hypnotic suggestion and control were flooding her brainwaves, let in through eyes and ears by subtle sounds and flashing lights. Words and images were being slipped in, so lightning fast, Sandra was consciously left unaware...but subconsciously? She was being primed for the brainfucking of a lifetime. Already her senses were being dulled and peeled back, her focus brought to her body's current plight, stuck rigid in this infernal machine, and now, each toy and tool came to life, intensity and strength slowly building. Her mouth tingles as that dildo buzzed inside nerve-packed lips. Breast Scrubs spun and whirled against her nips and tits, shocking her with violent jolts of pleasure that sent the rest of her restrained body flexing and quaking. [b][i]PUMP...PUMP...PUMP[/i][/b]. Pneumatically, the ass-sat dildo crashed into her bowels again and again for what should have been nonstop pain, but instead, left her begging and hoping it would never end. By the time her cocksleeve turned on, she felt on the very verge of a full-bodied climax. It took maybe ten seconds before it truly came over her as her cock guttered its liquid bliss onto a floor she was too distracted to know had seen dozens upon dozens of similar cum-splatters before. Yes, this process was invasive and extensive as could humanly be made possible, but it's 94.6% flawless conversion more than made up for both the resources and the secrecy it required. Sandra wouldn't know it, but she was well and truly broken by this point, made a slave to the pleasure infecting her. The fact that her climax had brought no meaningful changes in her arousal or her wants practically went right over her muddled head, her mind being brought into deeper and deeper states of muffling hypnosis. Every part of her, even her cock, stayed taut and grossly enflamed by need. A second climax would come not a minute later, then a third, then a fourth. Not five minutes had passed, and Sandra had exceeded Cloud Nine. She was in the throngs of a most entrancing pleasure-state, living to cum and cum without end and without purpose. There was no time to think, no time to consider or question. She moved from one orgasm to the next without showing or feeling any signs of boredom nor fatigue. And so it was to perfect time to pivot from putting the girl into a comfortably hypnotized and vulnerable mental mindset, to now conditioning that pliant grey matter while the iron was hot. Much to her shameless delight, the intensity from all ends ramps up as the headset pours on a ceaseless blend of mind-rewriting messages, all interlaced into a slew of musical tones and stark, sexual imagery, while words, both spoken and written, come stacked on top of it all... "Sex is your only purpose, doll." [b][i]Sex. Fuck. Pleasure.[/i][/b] "Your worth is to serve. You are nothing." [b][i]Obey. Listen. Behave.[/i][/b] "A broken toy can be replaced." [b][i]Faulty. Flawed. Malfunctioned.[/i][/b] "A good Doe doesn't think." [b][i]Blank. Empty. Clean.[/i][/b] "A good Doe makes their owner happy." [b][i]Property. Object. Tool.[/i][/b] And as the mantra builds and repeats, the message shifting, yet always the same by the end, the volume grows for Sandra, not literally, but within her mind, and even her soul, it blots out everything else. And soon, it felt like every word, every concept imparted and imprinted, has a mind-melting orgasm behind it, a fiery and volcanic force that burns away the girl who was. Everything simplifies. Her thoughts, her awareness, her facilities, it's all being shut down and compressed, all for the message being forcibly implored through pleasure-conditioned methodology; that she was a toy...only a toy. A [b]SEX[/b] toy. That her worth was in how she performed that singular function. She'd realize then that her own pleasure wasn't even secondary. In fact, it really didn't matter at all. It remains, but she has lost her unflinching drive to climax again and again. I mean, she had managed to get close to hitting a hundred orgasms in the last hour, so it's kinda understandable, but the reality was her libido is still [b]just[/b] as strong, her body and bits [b]just[/b] as aroused. She just found herself with this new ultimatum...this divine law: she was not to ever cum, not without permission from her Owner. And so she wouldn't. Thus was the power of simultaneous hypnosis and conditioning. Best of all, it was designed to be permanent, her altered body and mind chemistry there to ensure she stays this way for as long as she exists. But she wasn't yet done being changed however... Poured out from giant industrial buckets, a boiling-hot liquid splashes down upon her, not just sticking to her flesh in seconds, it [b]binds[/b] to it, and starts to even [b]absorb[/b] it. Each toy in and around her starts to squirt its own dosage of this sticky black stuff, where it finds a way [i]inside[/i] her, her assimilation by this rogue and rubbery substance meant to be total and complete. Before too long, she was smooth on the outside as much as the inside, her organs near completely gone, all to be replaced by a single tube, running from her ass to her throat. Relatedly, her front and rear 'holes' were given the properties and features of a good latex fuck-hole; Soft, clean...at times smooth, and other times, studded by groves and textures, a real odyssey of sensations waiting for a dick to explore. Under her stomach, her cock and balls were still there, they were just rendered unrecognizable from their canine origin. Not only was it far and away much longer and thicker than it had any right, almost to the point of reaching into her own cleavage, it shared more in common with a rubber-sheathed horse cock than her vulpine originals, complete with a bump-dotted flare. And yet her balls almost steal the show, filling the void between her thighs, looking utterly filled, like a pair of perfectly round cannonballs, with gallons of spunk waiting to be set free. The conditioning, now resembling something more akin to a [i]reprogramming[/i], continues as unabated as the driving thrusts of her machine-aided ass-pounder, or the frenzied stroking and squeezing of her half-shaft encapsulating cock-sleeve. Yet, believe it or not, Sandra had never looked more calm or collected. She just stood there and took it, confident and knowing it was her lot in life [s]if you can call this life[/s]. To be used, conditioning, and to never, ever falter in her purpose. To do that was to prove herself flawed. Her Owner would likely seek a refund and (hopefully) replace her while she was sent to the only place left for faulty and broken toys, like her. deserve: The garbage dump. She no longer had a heart-beat or lungs to breathe with. She wouldn't bleed if cut or damaged, while her digestive system had been completely repurposed into a two-way fucktube and nothing more. Needing to ear or drink was a thing of the past. Only her brain, and with it, her nervous system, remained in some function and form. But even those have been covered and made into latex, like all the rest, her mind a smooth and streamlined thing, meant mainly to act and react with as little conscious thought as was deemed necessary. She already had a proper mental image for what she should resemble, but the machine went to work on making it a more fitting reality. That metal shell which surrounds her finally presses in, and with it, her body is sculpted into a fine new shape best befitting a forever FuckDoe. She lacked arms now, and only possessed four slender legs ending in heel-like hooves while her tail was compressed down to a mere tuft of shaped rubber appearing above a thick and juicy ringed butthole only worthy of a toy. Her torso was put into the proper dimensions of a cervine, a deer specifically, while her neck was given added length and bulk so it might finally raise itself comfortably forward in her new quadrupedal posture, stuck on all fours. Her face, through the power of intense suction, was popped and stretched into a spritely deer muzzle, including a pair of clamshell-shaped ears sticking up from the top of her head. What was most curious of all was a lack of eyes however, the spot where they should have been simply empty. Sandra was blind, but she didn't care nor miss her vision one iota. As she's been shown and taught, she would adapt and serve. No desire to question this ever crept through her tempered mind. It simply was...and that was purely enough for a FuckDoe. She did feel some remorse when the dildos, breast-cups, and cock-sleeve were pulled out and away, prompting her to wait eagerly and hope for their return...but they never did. Instead, she was whisked away for a few final touches. She was pulled through a soothing mist of latex-paint, dying her black flesh to glossy blue azure instead before a set of more precise spray-nozzles sought to apply some brighter 'highlights', painting much of her new underside a brighter shade of turquoise, cock included, while her bloated balls and permanently puckering lips were made a much darker blue, bordering almost on grey. It's around this time that a collection of handles are fused to her form, two at the shoulders and two at the hips, while a smaller series of hand-holds are pressed into the back of her four knee joints, which will serve as an auxiliary (and for storage purposes). Speaking of storage, after a final stamp of approval was pressed and painted with black ink into her left flank, displaying her product number, barcode, and the company's own logo, that of two dicks tastefully crossed, the conveyor belt carried it's latest product, fresh off the automated assembly line, to be both packaged up in full regalia and sent off to cold storage with all the [i]rest[/i]... There the conditioning would begin anew, the cycle ever-repeating until her auction date, diagnostics being run nonstop to ensure as little of Sandra's original personality remains as possible. They couldn't ensure 100% erasure, but near 95% and above was well within common expectations, though nothing below the high 80s would be acceptable either. In a way, such useless fragments were seen as a selling point, making each FuckDoe unique, if only superficially so. Already, preliminary tests were showing their newest product, who's name "Sandra" was only kept for the company's own database purposes, was aiming to be one of their finest additions yet, tracking for a clean 98% erasure rating: a new record!~ Still, she had a long road ahead of her before she hits such record heights as she incubates in a special conditioning package-pod amid rows and rows of package-pods just like her's, some filled, and others waiting to be filled. Ceaselessly fucked to the point of near-mindlessness, Sandra was a FuckDoe, and knew nothing more or less... -------------- [b]Eight Months Later...[/b] -------------- In some unmarked auction house, only the richest and most privileged of upper-end perverts received even a [b]chance[/b] to bid on one of Malediction Inc's high-quality and state-of-the-art automated fucktoys. It was believed such striking technology was powered by a secretive AI-System, but even so, some in attendance had heard whispers of a darker, more salacious, and frankly, far more titillating and seductive truth...but no one here dares speak it aloud... "Ladies and Gentlemen, our next FuckDoe, Azure and Turquoise #88..." And at the host's prompting, though the meaning of his words were far from understood, the implanted phase and number compels her to step out from behind a curtain and onto a raised platform that extends out into the crowd of would-be buyers. And though her motions were no doubt preprogrammed, she walks with a certain grace, strutting along to the faint squeaks her hooved feet make open the red polished wood runway. Fevered mutterings fill the air, and though the Fuckdoe could not see who owned those voices, she can still guess at their approving stares. At the very edge, she stops and makes a slow turn, the girth of her perma-erection swinging along with her. In her own way, she knew what this all meant; She would finally have an owner, a REAL owner, to take her and use her for as long as she proves worthy. She lets none of this excitement affect her performance however. She had trained too long, non-stop, ceaseless, [i]sleepless[/i]. She might not have been born for this moment, but she sure as hell was [b]MADE[/b] for it. "Now remember, each FuckDoe comes with a full lifetime warranty. That's the life of the [i]owner[/i] mind you. So long, of course, you make sure to send your toy into one of our discreet maintenance facilities every five years for a deep clean and a mental tune-up!" Again, the Fuckdoe who had once been Sandra so very long ago didn't react nor did she understand. A Fuckdoe had no need for the knowledge of how being flushed with chemicals helped to ensure her rubbered form stay supple and fresh for the ages, or how if her owner kept to this scheduled routine, she'd outlast them, outlast anyone really, her 'life' indefinite so long as she got the requisite care through the years...[s]and decades...and centuries...[/s] "Bidding will start at eighteen-hundred dollars..." And for the duration of the auction, Azure and Turquoise #88 stays on stage, standing next to the host's podium while the bidding war raged around her. If only Sandra could see herself now, the price rapidly rising, the atmosphere turning heated, all for a chance to take her home with them in perpetuity. It would have been quite the ego trip, all things considered... Eventually, after almost twenty minutes, a winner was declared at some obscene number, but it made no difference to the FuckDoe. She was led offstage and taken back to her packaging. Tomorrow, she would be shipped under a veil of secrecy to her new home and her new owner. To say she wasn't overloaded with excitement would be a lie, but by the power and the sake of her programming, she remained still until the fateful morning arrived... And though she would never get to [b]SEE[/b] her owner through those blind and latex-filled eye sockets, she would [b]KNOW[/b] them in every other way (and through every other hole) possible. Especially in those first three weeks... Her use would slow after that, growing more and more infrequent past her initial point of purchase as her owner found new interests and distractions (and friendships), but even so, she would never fail to serve her purpose when the moment came. And for that, she got as much love and affection an object like herself could ever hope to get. It wasn't much, but for what specks of imperceptible [i]self[/i] remained of Sandra...it was everything...~ --------[b]THE END[/b]--------