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The Masks: Birthday

The life of a toon stud was great. This one had long since forgotten his name and simply liked being called “the pony” – he was the only pony here – or whatever else his creators and happy toony latex friends happened to refer to him as. But who needed names when you could be happy all the time, he thought, as he leaned over and licked along the flared tip of his rather enormous cock. He was already leaking, and the precum alone tasted like strawberries, at least to his subjugated and permanently happy mind. It always made him want more of it.

It wasn’t, perhaps, very studly to get yourself off, especially on the occasions where it meant wasting a healthy load of life-giving seed that could’ve been pumped into another toon to make more of them, but a stud deserved treats, now and then. Lots of treats, actually. And really, he deserved them all the time. That was because he was such a good boy, keeping all of the breeder toons full and pregnant, as his duties demanded. Besides, he was such a productive dumb himbo – as one of the researchers liked calling him – that he’d just be full and ready to go again in a few minutes, anyway.

That, and he really wanted to get that sweet treat.

Shamelessly, the pony opened his mouth wide and took his own cock into his mouth. Though he was big enough to reach effortlessly either way, the added flexibility of being entirely toony helped. It meant he could bend far enough to reach all the way to his heavy balls, letting the shaft slip into his throat to really squeeze it. It felt heavenly.

That was one of the acts he’d never really dared to do as a human. It had felt emasculating, somehow, to suck his own cock to completion and then swallow his own cum, too. Emasculating and forbidden in a delicious way. Of course, those kinds of hesitations had long since been swept aside by the mask that had bonded with him and mostly replaced his own personality, leaving him an effeminate and yet deeply studly breeder for the other toons. Yet each time he did this, he still felt a little sting – in the most pleasant way, like the morning sun in your eyes, or an aching muscle being stretched – that was something like the echo of a taboo that had been well and truly violated. And that made it better.

Like icing on the cake. Delicious icing. Cum, he thought haphazardly, his reduced mind barely capable of producing a coherent sentence. If only everyone could feel like this.

He doubled over, slowly deep-throating himself, flexing his cock in his very throat and swallowing around it, each clench of his throat sending shivers of that once-forbidden and now so very natural pleasure through his slender body. Then, he pulled out, tasting a gush of his sweet precum as it sprayed against the roof of his mouth warmly and wetly before coating his tongue, too. All cum tasted amazing to him, now, like an addiction he couldn’t get rid of. Juices, too. It just felt good to use his tongue to make everyone feel good, and right now, the person being made to feel good was himself.

His tongue lapped around the flared head again, catching another squirt of plentiful precum. Though his mind was forever in a haze now, acting more on instinct than anything else, these moments were all in vivid technicolor, the mask dedicating all of its processing power to emphasizing them while saving energy in the less important moments in life, like when he was idle in storage waiting for his next assignment with either the female toons or for customers who wanted to try him out.

Or better yet, those rare, precious moments when he was tasked to help another get accustomed to the influence of a wonderful, happy toon-mask. Those were the best, and it wasn’t even close. Feeling them finally shed all the anxieties, fears, depressions, and inhibitions of human life was pure ecstasy in a way that other beings couldn’t even comprehend. He was always happy now, and everyone else deserved that happiness, too. He was happy to share.

His hips began to thrust slowly, and his head bobbed in perfect lusty rhythm with those little motions as the pony fucked his own mouth, then throat again, and back to mouth so he could taste the anticipation. Sometimes, errant thoughts still fluttered across his empty mental landscape. Little glimpses of what had been. They were, even without the mask’s positive influence, always unpleasant, as if he really hadn’t known where to go, or even who he really was. Aimless, meandering life.

Everything was much better now.

But there was one thing that remained, one little question. And that was why the people who created him didn’t also wear their own masks! After all, right now they were all busy working, working, working, never pausing to just have fun. Of course he couldn’t just force it upon them, his basic programming stopped him from doing that – at least on an average day – but it was still a question he’d have to ask them one day, when he wasn’t too empty-minded or horny to think of it.

How long had he been here, now? A year?

A few more frenzied head-bobs, a couple loving eager licks pressing against his bulging urethra and almost slipping inside the dripping slit of his cock, and he was just at the very brink of orgasm. Yes, it had to have been a year. Didn’t that mean it was his birthday as a happy pony toon-stud? And he seemed to recall that it wasn’t just his birthday, but also that the lead scientists, the one who had designed all these wonderful masks!

That thought was interrupted as his orgasm came abruptly, and suddenly his worshipful, happy mouth was full of warm strawberry-flavored cum. He swallowed like a greedy slut, which he was – just typically more of a top slut – and savored the mind-melting sensation of the delicious treat sliding down his throat, filling his hungry belly with it rather quickly given his voluminous output. Throb after heavy throb, he kept cumming, and the mask rewarded him for doing so beyond just the spasming pleasure at the base of his cock. He was a good boy for sucking cock so eagerly and for debasing himself like this, all of which the mask loved doing, too! After all, that was the personality they had grafted onto his own; a happy, pansexual slut with very few if any inhibitions at all.

He swallowed until the cum stopped coming, and then flopped onto his back, cum-covered cock slipping from between his eager lips. Oh, this was the life, wasn’t it. No more stress, not for him and hopefully not anyone else either. No more work, or at least, none that he didn’t love.

Around him, all of the other toons looked at him longingly, but it wasn’t time for any of their scheduled breedings, and he wasn’t allowed to do it without explicit approval. But then, something else struck him; what limited intelligence they had seemed to not actually be focused on him.

Though they all indeed looked at him, the other toons were listening to something else. Unbeknownst to their creators, their senses were far stronger than any human’s, to the point that they could hear the staff, scientists and all, in their break room. The pony saw their large, exaggerated ears perk, and he joined in, in post-orgasmic stupor.

“…I really wish we were allowed to quit this job,” a woman sighed. Muffled, but audible.

“Don’t let them hear you say that, or you’ll end up masked too,” a male voice replied.

“Yeah, I know, I know. It’s just, I didn’t exactly expect we’d be doing this,” came the reply. “You know… all of this.”

Weren’t they happy? The pony felt a sudden – if ephemeral – sadness wash over him. Everyone should be happy. More than anything, even more than the pleasure, even more than the sex, that was the overriding objective of his whole existence! Masking people made them happy.

“Not exactly consensual,” the male said. “But then, maybe the girl who became the otter was right… uh, fuck, I can’t even remember her name.”

“Mhm. I hope she was, because otherwise she definitely isn’t happy now, no matter what her mask conveys,” the woman spoke.

They were referring to the secretary who had been masked at the same time as he had, the pony realized. But she seemed very happy! In fact, being a heavily pregnant toony otter seemed to have been great for her, mask or not. Currently, she was cuddled up with the other breeders, still waiting to actually deliver the new form of toon who was born as their mask. A whole new generation that’d let them spread their services – and happiness – far wider than they’d ever considered possible.

“Don’t want to interrupt all the doom and gloom, you know, just get drunk after work if you gotta. But it’s the boss’ birthday,” a third voice chimed in.

“Your turn to get the cake,” the woman replied.

Birthday. That was a happy occasion, wasn’t it? In fact, the pony was pretty sure it was his birthday too! That called for a party, especially if him and the lead scientist working on the mask project – the “boss” as she was named, though she wasn’t the owner – shared a birthday! The problem was just that the boss didn’t really like their kind of fun, or maybe any kind of fun at all. That was a conundrum; he was meant to make everyone happy, after all. As were all the other mascots, when they weren’t busy being bred.

Suddenly the others were starting to get excited, talking amongst themselves. The pony moved closer to them.

“We should do something to make them happy,” the otter sulked. “I don’t like it when they’re not. Happy and horny, like. The good things.”

Staring at his fellow mascots, the pony began to lazily stroke his cock again. None of them even blinked an eye on that, which was another point in favor of just being a mascot. Instead, the otter immediately licked her lips at the sight.

“I cooould do with another breeding too,” she murmured, creeping closer.

“You’re such a greedy slut,” a deer mascot giggled.

“Yeah, I knooow, but it’s just so nice and it makes me so happy,” she whined, leaning back in front of the pony and spreading her legs in just the way she knew immediately triggered the dim-witted pony’s breeding instincts. He was on top of her instantly, easing his cock into her permanently wet pussy.

“Ooh, lucky slut, getting an extra rutting,” the deer giggled. “That’s kinda like a party.”

“I g-guess- ooh!” the otter moaned as the pony forced his cock all the way into her welcoming cunt and unceremoniously began thrusting. That was, after all, his purpose. And hers, too. She was always wet and ready to either get fucked or work towards getting fucked; out of all the mascots, her mask was the loosest. Most others could have standards; hers only cared about getting a good, hard cock in her.

The pony lazily rutted into her. After all, this was purely for pleasure; she was pregnant enough already. But the fireworks of pleasure that went off inside her dim mind were always an inspiration. She wrapped her legs around his haunches and pulled him deeper, the two mascots both moaning empty-headedly as they fucked. There was no conscious input to it; only the masks’ instincts to keep their hips moving, their heads empty except for the pleasure sloshing around in there like an alcoholic drink.

There was no holding back either. Soon the pony was rutting her like a machine, rocking the pregnant otter’s whole body – pregnant with his toony offspring, which did make a surge of pride well in his chest – against the blanket-covered floor. No other sensation really compared, anymore, to the feeling of a warm pussy engulfing his cock, bar for maybe when his own mouth did, but the pony idly wondered how it’d feel to suck someone else’s.

But that wouldn’t happen anytime soon, would it?

Beyond the few times he had been rented out to bachelor parties with gay men, anyway. But those were relatively small human cocks, and he found himself rather thirsting for an equine cock really stretching his mouth and throat wide the way his own did.

Those were, though, merely idle thoughts as his hips pistoned of their own volition, automatically moving in and out of the squirming, whimpering, and moaning otter’s pregnant cunt. He’d suck a cock when he came across one; for now, he was soon fully absorbed into the beautiful, electrifying sensations of her squeezing and massaging him, eagerly milking him for his toony seed.

He reached his peak when the otter squeezed her strong legs around his hips, hitting her own climax with a shameless moan that made the others fidget jealously. Then, she gasped as ecstasy wracked his body, once again reinforcing that beautiful, worry-free feeling of true liberation from thoughts and worries. He was only his throbbing cock, buried deep in the vice-like embrace of his friend – converted just before he had been – and seeding her for pure pleasure rather than any strict purpose. It was as close to heaven as he’d ever get.

A quick thought, though, flashed across his mind again. He knew the otter liked to get sticky in more ways than one. After the first few strong spurts of cum deep inside her, he wrenched himself free and wrapped his fingers around his twitching length, stroking it and keeping the tip aimed at the gasping otter – whose gaping pussy was still convulsing, milking thin air – and erupted all over her with the next pulse, painting her generous breasts and that beautifully pregnant belly with his cum.

As the pony’s cum splattered over her face, though, a rare spark of truly creative thought – unintended by the mask’s creators – suddenly flared inside the otter’s head. The cum was kind of like confetti, pretty and plentiful, in a very sticky and kind of festive way, so as it covered her face and breasts with liquid warmth, she thought of a party. A party would be great! They could make it all amazing with gifts and sex and natural confetti from the pony, maybe even given directly to all the staff!

She processed that thought for a while as her orgasm slowly faded, absentmindedly smearing the spilled cum over her soft breasts and, really, every inch of her body that she could reach; from those sloppy folds to her thighs. It helped her think, she found, as far as anything could help one of the toons think to begin with.

“-if it is her birthday, shouldn’t we throw her a party?” the otter asked, her toony eyes practically glimmering with excitement at the thought. “Wouldn’t thaaat make her happy?”

“And a party for all the others too!” the deer replied. “So, we can all have fun together! And our wonderful stud pony!”

“But how can we throw a party?” the pony asked. He was a little slower than the others. By design, too. The studs needed far less in the way of brains than the other mascots, because a true stud’s breeders always did the work of figuring out when they needed to be bred. “We don’t have a lot of like… cake, or… cookies, or…”

“Well, nooo,” the otter drawled. “But we could give them happy masks of their own, maybe? I mean, we all love our masks. And you give gifts when it’s someone’s birthday.”

“Ooh, maybe we’ll get another studly breeding pony! There’s a pony mask in storage!” the deer exclaimed, squirming in place with her pussy leaving a wet trail on the pillows.

Technically, their programming said to not try to mask any of the facility employees. That was a bad thing to do. However, their programming also said that they should make people happy, and that was a higher priority. That, then, began to suddenly make sense in their addled, playful minds. Maybe the staff needed masks to really be happy about everything! It’d be the best party ever!

The other mascots began to stir at that thought, too. Especially the thought of another friend getting a pony mask. Maybe the lead researcher, for how dominant she was. It was her birthday, after all, and she clearly suffered the most from anxiety, stress, and that ever-present problem of overthinking everything.

All they had to do was make some kind of commotion that the science staff would need to investigate, and then they’d spring their surprise party on them! The breeders would mask the various scientists, and their amazing stud-pony would get the honor of giving the lead her gift! Then, he’d breed the others while she got used to her new, better self.

“Plus, you’ll get to suck her cock as it grows in!” the otter chirped. “I wonder if she’ll keep those big sexy boobs, too? Ooh, I’m so excited!”

She was fingering her sloppy, wet hole as she spoke. Most of the other mascots were doing much the same, eagerly rubbing themselves as they fantasized about it happening together. Thankfully, all the masks were stored in the same room as they were, when not in use, so getting the right supplies wasn’t even remotely a problem!

It was, perhaps, a lack of foresight by the said science team. But they had programmed the mascots to not risk them hurting the staff, which the boss had said was enough. Hurting was, after all, pretty clearly defined as anything that would be detrimental to their well-being. But, from the toon point of view, the masks were a blessing, and as such, the plan was quickly put into motion, and it was as easy as one of the breeders smashing one of the mask storage consoles as she moved in to pick out some of her favorite.

That immediately set off facility-wide alarms. Typically, a security team would’ve been called, but the toons were considered to be perfectly safe_._ They couldn’t harm anyone; the science team had made sure of that. They even had a certification for it!

And so, they all walked into the mascot storage, each looking more irritated than the last that their lunch break had been disrupted by unaccounted-for behavior. There were perhaps a dozen of them, with the lead scientist – a tall, blonde woman with long, flowing hair – in the front, though with her attention torn between her tablet and the toons all staring at her with their big, happy eyes. Her name was, the pony seemed to recall, Laura something. Oh, those poor humans and having to remember multiple names per person…

“Okay. What’s going on?” she asked. “Why did you break the mask storage unit? That isn’t in your programming.”

They were so intellectually focused on this new development that none of them paid much attention at all to the toons slowly circling them, thus blocking access to the singular door that led out of the room. It was storage, after all, and no humans were meant to visit the room more than briefly.

“Well it seemed like a goood idea,” the otter replied in her usual slurred voice, punctuated by giggles. Her little ears folded back against her head in a weak attempt to lie convincingly.

Laura raised an eyebrow. Her expression was equal parts concerned and scientifically curious, but the idea that it could be a trap never crossed her mind. The toons were simply not capable of hostility. “What’s that supposed to mean? Why would you think destroying company property is a good idea?”

“Well,” the otter smiled. “It was so you’d all come here.”

And then the other toons approached, closing in around the scientists. Only now did Laura notice that some of them were carrying unused masks, and a chill suddenly went down her spine. She had fantasized of what being masked would feel like, everyone at the facility did, but the reality that it might actually happen dawned on her like the first harsh rays of a summer morning.

“We have a surprise for you!” she exclaimed, and all of the scientists were seized at once by the breeder mascots. Despite their innocent exteriors and happy expressions, they were much stronger than humans; it helped, after all, with their primary task of sex. It was at that moment that they all, in perfect unison, realized that they’d screwed up.

They began to sing. A rather poor, off-key rendition of happy birthday, but sung with all the passion and excitement that their mask-subsumed minds could muster.

“It’s your birthday!” the otter giggled. “So we figured we’d give you a gift! We all really worked sooo hard on planning this!”

Granted, most of that difficulty had been because of their – to put it gently – limited mental capacity. In some deep layer of her consciousness, the otter knew that, but it didn’t diminish the pride she felt any.

“No, you really don’t have to- this isn’t really how we usually do birthdays,” the lead scientist stammered, trying to put her objection in words that the toons would understand as they kept singing out of tune with each other, resulting in a strange cacophony of giggly happy birthday to yooouuu echoing in the storage room. They wouldn’t really understand anger, and they wouldn’t understand reasoning – both abilities deliberately suppressed permanently by their masks – but they did, at least in theory, understand the notion of “I’d prefer doing this another way.”

“Nooo?” the otter replied, sounding almost disappointed. Her little ears folded again, and her eyes almost looked sad. That lasted a few seconds, giving Laura a brief sliver of hope before she suddenly began giggling again. “Oh, I see, you’re one of those people who really hates getting older! Well, well, well, we’ve got just the gift for that, too!”

Next to her, the deer-mascot – her personality was a little more refined, tending towards a kind of playful BDSM play – slipped a fox-mask over the head of one of her coworkers.

“No- no, I don’t want to-” he protested, before his vision was obscured, thrashing and trying to pull himself free.

She secured the mask, holding it in place with one arm while holding the grown, muscular man still with the other, reinforcing just how strong they’d made the toons, and suddenly his struggling ceased.

From the outside, and especially from Laura’s perspective, the process was rather unpleasant to look at. It was, to her, as if the mask suddenly cut off all control of his body, akin to snapping his neck, but that’d have been better than what she knew it was doing. She was the one who had designed those mechanisms, after all. It was bonding with him, effectively infiltrating his very brain and rewiring it, melding the mask’s more dominant personality with his own and thus taking over, leaving his own mind stuck and suppressed in there, somewhere.

“Doesn’t that just feel better? See, sometimes people need encouragement to let themselves feel good!” the deer proudly exclaimed.

She held Laura’s coworker upright as the rubbery latex began to spread downwards from the mask. That one, she recognized, was a female one, specifically a vixen. The “stud” variant was rare, and that meant that the other scientist had already ceased to be a man mentally, barring for truly exceptional willpower. Laura could only watch, in abject horror, as the smooth liquid parasite spread over his chest, leaving two soft, feminine breasts while also melting his ribcage into a narrower, womanly shape.

And then, he – she, at this point – moaned in her new, girly voice. The others, the people Laura had worked with for so long, began to panic, yelling and screaming, while the toons kept singing that infuriating birthday song, over and over again.

“This isn’t nice,” she tried to dissuade them. The pony approached the changing scientist with a look of dull but intense lust in his eyes, clearly just waiting for the right hole to form so that he could breed it. “He clearly didn’t want to have a mask on him.”

“But loook at how happy she’s getting!” the otter countered, and sure enough, the masked scientist was practically melting into the deer’s arms as her hands caressed those newly formed breasts, the moaning excitement of it all speeding up her transformation. The otter’s argument seemed to echo what she had always argued as a human secretary; that the means didn’t matter if the result was happiness. Given that she wasn’t complaining, maybe she was right.

Soon, her coworker was covered head to toe in the consuming latex, her new body amorphous and growing curvier and more feminine by the second. The vixen type mask, Laura recalled, was particularly busty, along with the skunk.

For a moment, that new vixen’s cock strained against the inside of it, thick and hard, before that bulge began to quickly fade away, each moment set to the combination of her moans and the toons repeating the same song.

This isn’t good, Laura thought, feverishly going through all possible scenarios in her mind. If she did nothing at all, they’d all get masked, that much was certain. Yet, how could she make the toons stop? All of this was a simple error in their programming; the notion that they should make everyone happy only applied to designated subjects, but they had, in their pesky and playful way, apparently decided that everyone was a subject, herself included. How could she interrupt that thought process?

Her thoughts were themselves interrupted by another loud moan from her coworker. Her former coworker. There was almost no sign of her having been anything but a horny toon now, as she laid back, spreading her legs to proudly reveal a dripping wet cunt for her breeding stud. The pony didn’t need much more encouragement than that. He was there immediately, taking the former scientist in missionary position as he stuffed his cock into her unresisting body, probably shattering what little remained of her mind.

Laura cursed herself. This was all her fault. But there had to be something she could do.

Some of her other coworkers were crying or sobbing, trying to get away. Those were the ones masked next, in a gesture that was perversely comforting, the toons immediately wanting to make them feel better. Laura watched several more people she knew lose themselves very quickly, even as the pony kept fucking the first convert, that enormous equine cock effortlessly plunging into her eager body.

She wondered how it’d feel forcing its way into her, and that thought – as incredibly forbidden as it was – sent tingles through her body, a rather familiar warm and flush sensation sweeping over her. It wasn’t that fucking the toons was bad, but getting off to the idea of becoming one of them and then getting rutted was. It’d mean the end of everything she was!

Soon the room was filled with moans rather than sobbing. The toons kept putting masks on Laura’s coworkers, one by one, and the females helped it happen, rubbing whatever bits were still exposed to make the victims aroused and help the spread of the latex. It seemed to treat lust as heat, so the more aroused each one was, the less viscous the latex became, dripping faster over the changing humans.

She told them as much.

“Don’t let them get you aroused or it’ll spread faster!” she yelled, but of course nobody wearing one of the damned masks heard her, or they didn’t care anymore. Or, maybe, the toons were just so good at softly stroking each available cock, licking every bared, wet pussy, and sucking nipples both male and female that they simply couldn’t fight back.

“Shhh,” the otter hushed her, giggling. “Dooon’t worry, you’ll still be the staaar of your own birthday.”

Then she touched Laura, the scientist’s clothes dissolving at the very touch, until she felt the toon’s blunt fingers against her bare chest. “I don’t aaactually know if our babies nurse,” she giggled, struggling to stop as she squeezed those mounds. “But if they dooo, you’ll be perfect. Maybe you’ll get to keep them!”

“But you have to understand, I don’t- nnff, stop- I don’t want this,” Laura protested, unable to suppress that little whimper as the otter tweaked her nipple in exactly the way she liked.

“Aw, but your friend didn’t think he would either,” the otter smiled, gesturing towards the first masked scientist – Laura remembered that his name had been Jim, but it didn’t matter anymore, there was no “Jim” left – just in time to watch her moan at the top of her lungs, shamelessly announcing her climax to the room as her pussy clamped down around the pony-stud’s cock and milked it, in exaggerated orgasmic rhythm, like a sex toy.

Which was exactly what Laura had designed them to be. Perfect in every way for stimulating humans, or each other, to just keep cumming, and they excelled at that simple task.

She could hear the pony erupting into the new vixen, even as he grew still. The toons produced so much cum that each spurt was audibly wet, a pressured injection into the former human’s thrashing, squirming, and woefully fertile body. If there had been anything of Jim left, there wasn’t after that orgasm, and before it had even ebbed, the new toon was left giggling and moaning, visibly delighted by the feeling of cum inside her.

The moment she was done, the pony pulled out, and almost mechanically moved to the next new toon, a skunk, who needed even less time to surrender to her mask. She had always had a pussy, which made the process much faster in that she didn’t need to grow one, just a little more capacity and the right slutty attitude by the mask.

The toon-skunks didn’t spray, but they did have a heavy, musky scent, once again a little touch that Laura had been very proud of. She had cracked the entire pheromone code and designed a particular one that aroused men, women, and everyone in between, and now as she breathed in, she was getting a lungful of her own medicine. The world grew hazy as what felt like all the blood in her body rushed down to her cunt to leave it even wetter at the first sniff of that wonderful aroma.

“Yeaaah, she smells goood, don’t they?” the otter drawled. She placed her hand against Laura’s crotch, more fabric dissolving until the otter was touching her bare sex, leaving behind a thin shimmering layer of rubber, but clearly excited about how wet her creator was unwillingly getting.

She did. A brief thought of simply giving in flashed through Laura’s head. The scent made her want to just drop to her knees and bury her nose at exactly where the pony’s cock sloppily sank into the skunk, but although she wobbled, she stood firm, refusing to surrender.

One by one, the others were masked until she was completely alone. The pony took turns with most, leaving every stretchy, needy, fertile cunt leaking with his cum, and it was impossible to not get aroused, Laura realized. Even if not for the intoxicating pheromones in the air, the sheer joyous, wanton sex happening all around her was too much. She was soaking wet, and the otter barely had to touch her at all.

But touch her she did, toying with Laura’s folds and even pressing one of those blunt, soft fingers into her. She clenched as her body welcomed the intrusion. But the fact remained, and she was forced to face it; she was the last one remaining. Everyone else who had once been a calm and collected scientist, practically dripping with intellect – hand-picked by the company to help design the initial batch of masks – was now moaning happily as they were filled one by one.

But then, the pony turned towards her. The otter quickly moved to pick up the additional mask, almost identical to the stud’s, and handed it to him as he grinned a silly grin at Laura.

To her horror, Laura realized that it was now her turn, as the last of the group. The security team wasn’t coming. They had probably been ordered to stand down in favor of the company getting a dozen new mascots to rent out. Fuck. The grim realization came to her; with naturalborn toons, she was no longer required to design new masks, just as replaceable as the toons themselves!

As the pony clumsily fitted the mask over her head, Laura steeled herself. She wouldn’t resist by struggling like the others. That’d never work. Instead, she’d refuse to let the mask control her, refuse to let it meld with and overtake her own personality. She had always had a will of pure iron. She knew how the masks worked.

She took a deep breath as the pony forced the mask over her head. Just like in her calculations and theories, there was a moment where nothing happened at all. And then, a rush of pleasure that shot through her body as the mask’s personality woke up, like electricity surging through her body and leaving every muscle limp as if paralyzed, her body kept upright only by the pony’s strong arms, who then proceeded to slowly lower her to the blanket-covered floor. It made her pussy clench with desire, but of course it did that. Arousal was the main vector that the masks used to bypass resistance, Laura told herself, but she knew that, so she’d be able to resist.

…right?

It was a queer sensation, feeling the latex tendrils sneak into her skull. Her ears itched, her nose too, but there was no real discomfort. In fact, each little motion felt good, like… a thick, sluggish sense of happiness the moment it had penetrated into the messy tangle of neurons inside her head. It was a little like being drunk on pleasure, and the sensation grew immediately with each new nerve that was subsumed.

She had designed the masks too well, Laura realized, as she felt the mask begin to inject its thoughts into her mind while also hindering her own. Wouldn’t it be nice to be a breeder, she thought. Just a big dumb stud whose only worry is using his big, thick cock. Just thinking with your cock. Letting your beautiful cock do all the thinking for you…

No! She shook her head. The feeling was overwhelming already, like a dam with the unfathomable pressure of the entire ocean behind it! How could she resist if the mask rewired her brain to not resist? It’s better anyway. I’m just a dumb stud.

The latex was spreading down her body, shiny and slick, showing no signs of stopping just because she was trying to fight it, bar for one thing; as it dripped over her chest, her generous breasts remained.

I can keep those. Everyone likes tits and they’ll bounce pretty nicely when I fuck someone. A good, dumb and sexy femme-stud.

They weren’t her thoughts at all, but her entire body was glowing with pleasure already, even the parts the latex hadn’t reached, like her dripping pussy currently soaking her thighs in anticipation of becoming a cock that I’m going to love, promise, it fixes all that pesky overthinking instantly!

The other toons were still singing, and their hands were all on her body as she tried to fight the damned mask. There’d be no fighting the physical transformation; already, she was half covered in latex, and it was inches away from covering her unwillingly dripping pussy. But maybe she could hold on to some fragment of her mind until she figured out a way to remove the mask.

The problem was that she had designed them to be a very permanent solution, bonding with their victims and becoming one, which I’ll enjoy, because like, who doesn’t want to be a giggly, dumb breeding stud? All that thinking is just bad for you, you know. We’re in this situation because I think too much.

Those intrusive thoughts weren’t entirely wrong, but they were incredibly seductive. It felt good to just let go of all her thoughts, and one by one, Laura was forced to do it. One moment she was trying to focus on arithmetic; the next, the thought was gone, and left behind was a deep sense of relief, arousal flooding in to fill that blissful gap in her mind. It felt almost orgasmic, the afterglow setting in deeper and deeper with each thing she forgot as the mask excised everything unnecessary from her mind, one piece at a time.

Biochemistry? Gone. The only thing Laura remembered was the chemical reward of cumming.

The properties of latex? Gone. She just knew it felt good to be covered in, to become it.

She strained against the sensation of losing everything, desperately trying to fight it, but then the transformative rubber finally reached her pussy. It flooded inside her, filling her, sealing her pussy shut – another moment where she almost creamed herself immediately at the sensation of it – and then a cock began to grow. Looking at it took her breath away, seeing a beautiful equine shaft of her own slowly emerge from the latex around where her clit had once been, thick and sexy and powerful.

See? I knew I’d like having a cock like this.

That was the last time the thoughts of the mask were even remotely distinct from her own, the same thoughts she’d spent dozens of years sharpening and refining.

Laura could feel her blood, or whatever passed for blood as the mask changed her, all rush to her cock. It was an almost indescribable feeling, as if her very thoughts were all being drawn out of her head and into the swelling cock, and suddenly she understood perfectly well why men always tended to let that part do the thinking. It was hard not to, and even harder not to touch herself, as the increasingly dumb scientist found herself drooling at the sight of her own cock slowly leaking and throbbing as if looking for a warm, welcoming hole to sink into.

Again, she almost came at the idea of sliding that cock into someone, feeling their fertile hole clamp down around her shaft, squeezing and milking and sucking out what little conscious thought remained, leaving only a lusty, focused desire, her hips moving on autopilot as she rutted the way all studs rutted.

Suddenly Laura’s cock had grown long enough that she could’ve stuck her tongue out to taste it. Before she could stop herself, she did just that. It looked so obscene jutting out from her feminine body, and the taste was like pure, raw sex. Another squirt of precum coated her tongue in flavors that she couldn’t even have imagined, and unwillingly – though at this point it was hard to tell – her lips parted to suckle on that flared tip.

That caught the other pony’s attention even more than her continuing transformation had. Suddenly his mouth felt very dry, seeing another horsecock grow out like that, already wet and firm and ready to- ready to be sucked. He couldn’t interrupt the other toon’s blissful moment of self-discovery, of course, but he wished that he could have.

It felt so firm and powerful in her mouth. The act came naturally, and unlike for the pony, for whom the act had been taboo, there was no initial pang of shame for Laura. Yet, there was something much worse; with each lick around that spongy crown of her cock, she could feel even more of herself slipping away, as if her tongue was eroding her very personality, her memories, and worst of all, her intelligence.

I can still get out of this, she thought. Just gotta keep licking until nothing remains and I’ll finally be free, her changing mind added, and it scared her how much it felt like her own thoughts, now, with her mind inexorably being overwritten by the mask.

But it was pointless to fight it, wasn’t it? She’d just have to keep sucking. Come out on the other side as whatever she was destined to be thanks to this amazing gift from the others. It was odd; those lusty thoughts that intruded into her mind didn’t change in tone, remaining as elaborate as a hypnotist’s suggestions, but her own thoughts were barely capable of maintaining proper grammar, each intense surge of pleasure traveling all the way down to her heavy, growing balls.

She had balls, now? A pair of plum-sized balls were now dangling just beneath that amazing cock, full of seed to impregnate her breeder friends with, so they could give birth to even more naturalborn toons! The idea threatened to outright shatter her mind, but one last spark of resistance fired inside her at that sensation and her lips let go of her cock, leaving her panting, staring vacantly into thin air as she tried to refocus her thoughts – her real thoughts – cock bobbing in the air with excitement, so warm and wet she could almost imagine it steaming.

The pony saw that, of course. And that just wouldn’t do! Resisting made the whole process so much less pleasant, even painful! He had to help, and the sight of his fellow stud’s cock made him just about burn up with arousal himself. It wasn’t strictly his job, but then, neither were birthday parties. The thought morphed into the perverse idea of helping Laura set off some fireworks of her own to ease her into her new, happy life, and he sprung to action. Not to mention that he’d found himself drooling at at the sight of her new endowment throbbing and leaking so eagerly. He wanted to taste it, too.

“Wh-” Laura stuttered as the other pony – they looked almost identical, mass-produced toons with barely any difference in personality, bar for her tits and slightly more feminine shape – suddenly grabbed her shaft, seeing his opportunity to taste someone else for once and feel their cum spurt into his eager mouth. “Nooo, don’t, I d-duh-don’t wanna be a tooon.”

But of course, she did. Everyone did, once they were wearing a mask. At this point, there was no way back regardless of what she did, and that was the next dim realization, like a little candle in her mind guttering and then going out.

The pony took her cock into his mouth, and all those stars suddenly flared up again, like fireworks in her mind. The pleasure was overwhelming, rapturous as the more skilled stud-turned-cocksucker lapped at her eager shaft, and then began to suck firmly, bobbing his head to the incessant rhythm of the other toons singing.

Happy-

He sank down, almost to the very base of her cock, leaving the shaft itself in the clenching embrace of his warm, rubber-slick throat.

Birthday-

He pulled back up, until only her flare remained in his mouth. A gush of precum shot wetly into his equally wet mouth. It tasted just as good as his own to the pony.

To-

Back down. His throat rippled around her, in a way that a human one never could, an irresistible sensation, like fucking a sleeve and using a magic wand at the same time, expertly forcing her towards a climax. Only this time, he held himself there. Oh, no. Laura had never felt that pressure growing in her loins before, but she knew what it meant, having played with enough men in her life. It meant she was about to cum, and with that orgasm, she’d lose everything in a pretty shower of wet, slimy confetti- cum, she’d produce cum, she reminded herself.

But wasn’t it okay? It was her birthday after all, and this was the best party ever!

Yooouuu-

She neighed as she came. Her cock throbbed in the pony’s mouth, an alien and yet so familiar sensation, as if she’d felt it a hundred, a thousand times before, and she had, or at least, the mask was programmed with memories of breeding her toons over and over again. Memories of endless horny nights flooded her mind, and she recalled taking turns with dozens of them, giving each of their warm and welcoming pussies their daily dose of life-giving cum until their bellies started swelling.

Just that first spurt of cum brought with it an intense sense of relief as her final human thoughts gushed out of her and into the other pony’s hungry mouth. She nickered and moaned, hips thrusting on their own now, driving her beautiful, wonderful down his throat and pumping more cum into his belly, each gush freeing up space in her mind and filling it with pure lust.

She lost count of how many times she throbbed, how many waves of pleasure shot through her, and dimly noticed that she wasn’t even able to count anymore. But that was okay. She didn’t need to. She was a dumb pony with big tits and only one purpose in her life.

The toons all cheered when they saw her surrender. The otter immediately knelt and took one of her nipples into her mouth. Another toon caressed her other breast, and the rest had their hands all over her, on her pulsating balls, on her taut belly, even her curling toes as they welcomed her as their second beloved stud. Laura was left with her head completely empty. That was the reward of being a good stud. That utterly blissful relief of not having to do any thinking for a while after emptying her balls.

The other pony pulled his mouth off her cock and looked at her with a vapid smile, cum dripping from his lips before the other toons took turns kissing him, lapping up every precious drop, and with it, what felt like all of Laura’s former personality and memories.

She sat there, a vacant look in her eyes, and drool dripping from her open mouth as she tried to figure out what to do next. Of course, it didn’t take long before the new toons, the ones who hadn’t yet been impregnated or at least inseminated, began to stir, and it was when one of her former coworkers – now a busty skunk with a body of black and white rubber – climbed into her lap and effortlessly took the new pony’s entire length into her squeezing, incredibly tight pussy that she really understood her whole purpose.

The older pony giggled happily as he resumed his duties of pleasuring and breeding the others. Laura couldn’t believe how good it all felt, how even the dim sparkles of thoughts that remained in her head faded into wonderful oblivion as the skunk squeezed around her cock. Immediately, she was ready to go again, balls churning as she began to thrust, every muscle controlled by some intoxicating mixture of instinct, lust, and the mask’s programmed personality that had become her own. She couldn’t remember anything at all, bar for perhaps a little – and quickly fading – ache that reminded her of something she should’ve been doing.

But there was nothing she should’ve been doing, not anymore. All that existed was this; her purpose was nothing more than to empty her balls inside fertile women, especially the precious and giggly breeder toons. Laura found herself giggling as she embraced those feelings, the sweet tension just at the end of her spine that made her hips move, thrusting into the gyrating skunk, whose tail ended up wrapped around her. She was going to inseminate her. That much was perfectly clear. But it came with a sense of finality that even the pony’s mouth hadn’t brought.

They moaned in unison as they bred their friends. Both ponies – they were, after all, made from the same type of mask – reached their orgasms at exactly the same time, almost to the second, pulsating in unison inside of their breeders. And with that orgasm, eagerly spent performing her mindless duties, there was finally nothing left of Laura at all; only a panting, happy, stupid stud who couldn’t even count to ten before getting confused. But that was fine, all he had to do was keep thrusting, to keep bouncing the busty skunk in his lap until she came too, wailing with heated joy as she felt the feminine stud’s cock throb and twitch inside her, flooding her receptive insides with strong squirt after squirt of her seed.

She remained in her lap for a little longer after that, their heavy breasts squashed against each other and their crotches joined by a sticky, warm mess that slowly drooled out of the skunk’s very, very happy pussy. She couldn’t believe how good it felt to simply receive, either, to be an open vessel for others to rut their cum into, whether humans or other toons.

Neither of them ever thought about work again. Who needed science when their bodies could do all the reproduction they needed?

In his office, the owner of the Mascot Factory was satisfied that the impromptu show was over. He was largely indifferent to what had just unfolded, if perhaps a little fascinated by it. It made for an interesting data point, but the loss of his lead scientist didn’t matter. Laura’s research was all company property, and it’d be trivial to bring in new scientists to continue where she had left off, if they ever needed to produce more masks. For now, though, he was happy to let production be focused entirely on the natural-born mascots. It was cheaper, and they could avoid those pesky accusations of kidnapping people and internal questions of consent. But then, as he dreamed of future profits, his secretary burst into the room. “Sir, I’m terribly sorry to interrupt you, but you need to see the news!” she exclaimed.

He turned on the office television and was greeted with a report of visor-clad latex drones having taken over an entire city on the opposite side of the country. His eyes went wide when he saw his old competitor’s logotype, their once-secret flag now flying proudly over the old Phisher building.

“Equestrian Technologies has done what?” he yelled. God dammit all to hell.