The mechanism whirred as the twin arms of the casing clunked into place, the large, thick, rubbery cups mounted to them fitting easily over her exposed breasts. The woman squirmed even as the snowboard-like platform rose, lifting her upwards in her standing position, and parting her legs, her feet locked in place, allowing a previously retracted crotch piece to twist smoothly upwards, the curved black formation looking as smooth as black chrome and fitting her shape snugly, the upper edge stopping just above her belly button. A second later, the bulbous headpiece descended over her head, sealing her features from view, the thick rubber ring around the base of the chamber sealing tightly against the base of her neck.
A few moments later, the machine buzzed and thrummed powerfully as it came to life, and the woman inside it stiffened from head to toe as she stood helplessly in its embrace. There was a muffled moan, and her hands floundered for a few moments, searching for something--anything--to grab onto to help her, finding only the solid handlebars that smoothly curled from the machine's framework like so much more moulded, sealed, shining black plastic, placed there specifically for this purpose. A few seconds after the moan, everything went silent, leaving only the ominous sound of thrumming motors and buzzing transformers. At last, with an almost inhuman noise, there came the rubbery sound of stretching, almost as though something hidden inside some part of the machine or other was
expanding.
The sound sang out above the discordant chorus of the mechanical parts for a few seconds, and then died away. Shortly after it, the machine's activity died away too, and with a hissing, gaseous expulsion, the four components that had slotted into place atop the woman's body retracted away from her.
Only, she was no longer the woman she had been before the machine had gone to work on her.
As the crotch piece of the black plastic chamber retracted, strands of a stringy clear secretion were left in the air, conjoining the bare womanhood beneath it to the soft, rubbery insides of the machine for a few moments more. They broke gently as the distance grew, leaving a glistening, gently dripping coating of slightly sticky wetness clinging to both ends. Unseen inside the core of the contraption, two tubular protrusions had already withdrawn beneath the rubbery skin, their work done, having moments ago been buried deep within her body.
Further up the woman's length, the two portions of the chamber that had swung into place over her breasts began to withdraw, pulling outward and sideways, swinging like doors away from her body. She hadn't had small breasts to begin with, but as the two thick, church bell-like cups pulled back from her body, her new bosom made them look like mosquito bites. The two voluptuous mounds stuck to the insides of the cups as they pulled away, the pressure of their immense size actually forcing the skin of her new tits to grip the innards of the cups, springing free eventually as the expansion cups retracted to reveal two thoroughly engorged nubs that seemed to be as stiff as a man's erection and as thick as a finger. Firm, pert and almost inhumanly big and buoyant, the twin mountains that were her new breasts jounced and rolled as they hung fresh in the air, as taut and perky as if half-filled with helium.
Lastly, the contraption that looked like a hairdresser's big overhead hairdryer split in two and began to lift away from her head, the rear section lifting to reveal a freshly dyed shock of frizzy blonde hair. Her face remained obscured for slightly longer as the contraption removed itself, but when it finally came into view, it was as bloated and unrecognisable as the rest of her. The woman's lips had been enlarged and now protruded generously, a thick coating of a glittering pink lipstick applied perfectly around them, making her lips look like the over-accentuated lips of a doll--which, admittedly, was the intention. Similarly, her face now bore a generous application of perfectly applied makeup and her cheeks and neck seemed to have tightened, as if they had been plucked up by some invisible wire, tautened artificially.
The final straw in the effect was the woman's eyes. Where before they had been a soft, intelligent green, now they were a shining, almost too-intense blue, and they sparkled without quite seeming to
look
at all, all in the centre of flashing, buffeting black eyelashes that seemed almost as long as her pinkie finger and which starkly contrasted the unbroken white of her eyes.
The woman was still naked as the chamber set her back down again and as she waddled from the now unlocked and retracted stirrups, some unseen hand of guidance seemed to direct her to her left, up a hallway - one that the silent, hidden onlooker knew with grim certainty would lead her deeper into the mad, dominating, womanising, bimbo-ifying, sexualising, and no doubt,
illegal
operation running here. As the watcher gazed at the engorged female, she turned and began to totter unsteadily off, her new size and shape altering her balance atop what seemed to be far more precarious legs.
Isobel didn't care to see any more and didn't have the time to stick around anyway. As the equally enlarged bare ass wobbled and swayed away from her atop two teetering legs, the last thing Isobel saw of the freshly converted woman was the flash of a slight discolouration around her ear. Frowning at it, she just made it out as a skin-coloured hearing aid of some kind. Knowing that it had to be part of the conversion process--no doubt how they controlled their newly converted bimbo chicks, through some sort of brain implant or auditory control, or just simple instructions spoken to them through the earpieces--she pursed her lips, acutely aware and growing all the more so that her safety here relied on her making it out of the place without being caught by one of those machines, a camera, a guard, or a trap. The last thing Isobel wanted, she thought with a shudder, was to find herself struggling and screaming helplessly as one of those smooth black chambers hoisted her naked body into the air, sealing itself around her and pumping her full of god knows what while she grew and expanded and converted into one of those--
She stopped herself with force, knowing that thinking like that would do her no good right now and only serve to make her more terrified of being caught. Gathering herself, she tucked a spare strand of wavy black hair over her ear, wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, and prepared to make a run for it.
Isobel was an attractive young woman. At twenty-nine, she had always been the star of the show; her classrooms had fawned over her as a girl, her dormitories and lectures had always carried not a few wistful, perhaps slightly aroused onlookers who were more interested in her soft features and likely even softer body than the lecture or their homework, and, unfortunately, the workplace had been no kinder to her. She had been sexualised from nearly the youngest moment she could remember, and she was ostensibly used to it by now, accepting that her looks came with attention, adoration and a little desire--or envy, perhaps both at once--philosophically.
But she had thought NuTEC would be different.
She had thought that NuTEC, with it's twenty-five years of flaunting successful, well-dressed, accomplishment-driven women and female-centric technical developments--the PeriodT period management cup, the AutoPad sexual health panty clip, the wireless, offline breast cancer scanners, the Magi-Lift Bra, the Sex-Safe Bra and runaway success of the sex-proof Sex-Safe Shorts, and tens of other empowering, life-improving feminine products that had taken women the world over by storm--had been different.
And she had thought that her application there, and subsequent acceptance into her role, had been a sign that she, too, was destined to do something to make the lives of girls around the world just that little bit more bearable, manageable, and perhaps even safer. Hell, NuTEC products hadn't just been a favourite of hers before her application; their products had literally improved her life, and even saved it before.
Silently, in that half-hopeful, half-disbelieving way that people do, she had even hoped she might top the Sex-Safe line. She had quite liked the high-riding, cool-touching, skin-clinging invisibles when she had seen the ad for them, and found them to be quite comfortable, but she had
loved
them after she had found herself being grabbed from behind on her way to her car one Friday night by a pair of drunk men, only for the suction-like microdot material, clinging tightly--yet not compressively--to her skin, to deny them any access to her body, forcing the infuriated and unsatisfied males to pull up their shorts, throw her to the ground and dismiss her in search of an easier target. She had bought one for every day of the fortnight after that and rarely went out without at least the shorts on. Thinking back now to the female-empowering invention and how it had saved her from vile, dehumanising abuse, she frowned wryly, disappointed. Who would have thought that the company making products to save and empower women against sexual abuse would also be the one subjecting them to a hereto unknown form of it?
Sucking in a fresh lungful of air, her eyes warily casting a final look over the black chamber embedded in the white tile wall across the hallway from her hiding spot, Isobel pulled the door to the storage room open and stepped out, her plain black office shoes making next to no sound on the tiled floor as she hurried down the hallway. Knowing she had to look like she was supposed to be here, she forced herself against her every instinct to slow down and walk with purpose despite the thundering heart in her chest and shaking nerves. She was sure someone, anyone, would be able to hear the discordant song of her nerves and heart from meters away, but had to simply hope that no one would get close enough to make it out.
Another black chamber passed her by on the wall as she walked, and she forced her eyes away from it - she couldn't
believe
that she had worked here for nearly a year and never questioned them before now. Her only explanation came from the fact that she rarely came down here - in fact, as an admin girl herself, she had always worked on the complete opposite wing to where she was now, and so had never known the depraved sexualised conversions that had been going on over here in the "warehouse" until she had stumbled across it while delivering a parcel to one of the managing employees here, not even an hour ago.
