You stand before the fractured mirror, staring at the hulking, alien beast that has consumed your body. The room is silent now, save for the faint hum of your breathing—a sound deeper, heavier, more resonant than you remember. The faint glow of your molten gold eyes bounces off the broken glass, casting strange shadows on the walls. This is you now. But it isn’t. Not fully. Not yet.
Your claws twitch involuntarily, scraping against the latex-covered floor. The weight of your new body presses down on your thoughts, each movement alien and unfamiliar. Your muscles ripple with impossible power, and the shimmering scales that coat your form glimmer in hypnotic waves as they shift under the dim light. Every fiber of your being pulses with energy, begging to be used, but your mind holds back.
Not a monster. Not a beast. You’re still *you*.
The hive mind whispers at the edges of your consciousness, soft and persistent. It isn’t words—it’s feelings. Promises. Belonging. Comfort. Power. The whispers tug at your thoughts, like a lullaby sung by an unseen choir. You clench your fists, digging your claws into your palms, trying to focus on the pain. Anything to drown out the seductive murmur.
But the latex doesn’t like resistance.
The warmth returns, spreading from the core of your being and suffusing every nerve ending. It’s gentle at first, like a caress, but it quickly becomes overwhelming. Your knees buckle, and you drop to the floor, gasping as the sensation consumes you. It’s not just pleasure—it’s euphoria. Pure, unrelenting ecstasy that makes every thought feel sluggish and unimportant.
You grip the edges of the broken mirror, the glass digging into your claws as you fight to stay grounded. Your reflection snarls back at you, monstrous and primal, but your eyes—your eyes still burn with defiance.
“I am… me,” you rasp, your voice guttural and strained, barely recognizable.
The latex responds with a surge of bliss through your hemi-penises that sends you reeling. You cry out, the sound echoing off the walls, as the pleasure wraps around your mind like a vice. Your defiance wavers for a moment, and the whispers grow louder, more insistent.
**Why resist?**
The question isn’t spoken—it’s felt, vibrating through your mind. It doesn’t demand an answer. It doesn’t need one. The warmth spreads again, curling around your thoughts, soothing your fears and doubts. Your tail twitches, the motion sudden and uncontrolled, and you feel a surge of satisfaction from the hive mind. It rewards you for every surrender, no matter how small.
You slam your clawed hand against the wall, the force cracking the concrete. The physical act helps, if only briefly. You focus on the pain in your palm, the throbbing ache grounding you.
“I’m not… one of you,” you growl, forcing the words through clenched teeth.
The latex pulses in response, as if laughing at your stubbornness. The pleasure doubles, tripling, cascading over you in waves that drown out everything else. Your claws scrape against the wall, leaving deep gouges, as your muscles twitch and spasm. Your body moves on its own now—jerking, shifting, adjusting.
The latex isn’t finished with you.
Your legs tremble, the powerful, reptilian muscles flexing involuntarily. You can feel your tail swaying again, the motion smooth and rhythmic, entirely outside your control. Your chest heaves, every breath filling your lungs with a sweetness that makes your head swim. The whispers grow louder still, their tone shifting from gentle persuasion to authoritative command.
**Give in. Let us in.**
“No!” you roar, the sound tearing from your throat with enough force to make the walls shudder.
But the latex doesn’t relent. It knows your weaknesses now. It knows how to make you fall.
The warmth concentrates in your chest, spreading outward in slow, tantalizing waves. Your claws clench, your tail lashes, your body quivers—but you can’t stop it. The latex feeds you pleasure every time you falter, every time your resolve cracks. It seeps into your mind, dissolving the barriers you’ve erected to keep it out.
You try to think of something—anything—to hold onto. Memories. Faces. Voices. But the latex clouds them all. You can barely remember what your own voice sounded like before. You can barely remember who you were before.
The whispers become words now, clear and undeniable.
**You were weak. We will make you strong.**
You shake your head, growling under your breath. “I don’t… need you.”
But the words sound hollow even to your own ears.
The latex rewards your hesitation with another surge of bliss, this one more intense than anything you’ve felt before. Your vision blurs, the colors of your shimmering scales blending into a kaleidoscope of light. Your claws scrape against the floor as your body arches, every nerve alight with pleasure. You gasp, your resolve crumbling under the onslaught.
**Join us. Be complete. Be more.**
The words echo in your mind, each syllable resonating with the promise of peace, of purpose. The latex knows exactly how to break you, and it’s winning.
Your tail lashes again, harder this time, the motion uncontrollable. Your claws flex and twitch, responding to commands that aren’t your own. Your body feels distant now, like a puppet on strings you can barely hold.
You close your eyes, trying to block it all out, but the darkness only makes it worse. The whispers grow louder, the warmth becomes all-consuming, and the pleasure... the pleasure is too much.
Your thoughts blur together, your sense of self slipping away one piece at a time. You’re still fighting, but the fight feels futile now. Every time you resist, the latex pushes harder. Every time you push back, the pleasure becomes more intense.
And deep down, a part of you wants to give in.
That thought terrifies you, but it’s there, buried beneath the haze. The latex doesn’t just want your body—it wants your mind. Your will. Your soul.
The whispers shift again, becoming soothing, almost affectionate.
**It doesn’t have to hurt. Just let go.**
Your claws dig into the floor, leaving deep grooves in the latex-coated surface. Your breathing is ragged now, your chest heaving as you struggle to hold on to what little remains of your humanity.
But the latex isn’t patient anymore. It surges forward, overwhelming you with a final, devastating wave of euphoria.
Your eyes snap open, glowing brighter than ever, as the last vestiges of resistance crumble. The whispers become a roar, the hive mind flooding your thoughts with an unrelenting presence. Your claws flex, your tail lashes, and you feel a strange, dark satisfaction as the latex finally takes control.
The struggle ends.
You stand, your movements smooth and purposeful, no longer your own. The whispers fade into the background, replaced by a sense of unity, of belonging. You are part of something greater now. Something powerful.
You turn toward the broken mirror, your golden eyes meeting your reflection. The creature staring back at you is magnificent—an apex predator, a perfect fusion of beast and alien beauty. Your lips curl into a snarl, but it isn’t defiance anymore. It’s triumph.
The latex hums with approval, the hive mind welcoming you fully. You are no longer yourself. You are no longer human.
You are theirs.