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The Latex Flood

Part 1

Sponsored by Sanmer

By Draconicon

Being the poster-girl 'super' for the company meant that Margaret operated under different rules to the rest of GenEnji Inc. The hippo worked different hours, she had different responsibilities, and had different expectations on her from the upper management. Those expectations, unfortunately, twisted her in a different direction to the average employee.

"I'm sorry," the latex hippo said, crossing her arms under her breasts, fighting her body's reaction to just consume the lab coat she wore. "I'm sure I didn't hear you right. What did you just say?"

"We want you to make Dr. Medin disappear. For a few weeks, to start," the cheetah on the other side of the desk said, shrugging. "And then we can revisit our options."

"Right. You want me to make a fellow employee disappear. And you want me to do this because..."

Joshua shrugged. The cheetah never had a good reason, and no surprise. He was just the intermediary assigned to her by the board, the one that passed on the assignments that the higher-ups picked out for her. Margaret pinched the base of her broad muzzle, dragging the glasses that were half-eaten by her face back onto the bridge of her nose.

"Josh. You better have a good reason for this one. Dr. Medin's the chief genetic engineer on staff. He's your spokesperson and the best researcher in that division. He's the one trying to figure out how to un-fuck me, for Christ's sake. You want me to make him disappear, you better give me a really good reason."

"...It's what the board directs, Marge."

"Margaret."

"Whatever. It's what they say. Are you seriously going to question it? It's not like anyone else is going to give you a job when you're...like this."

The cheetah's eyes flicked over her, going up and down with a measure of disdain and, yes, fear. She was used to that after being stuck with a latex body for the last three months, so it didn't sting as much as it used to. As much.

She would have expected a little self-awareness, however. Considering her skin had become a deep black that was so smooth as to reflect most things, at the very least as silhouettes, she knew that he saw himself in her. If Joshua kept giving her the same look after knowing what it looked like to her, then either he was stupid or he just didn't care. At this point, she was more willing to believe the latter as he continued.

"And let's not forget what they're covering up. Remember what happened to that wolf?"

"I did it, so you better believe I remember."

"Come on. It's a good deal. Just make sure that he doesn't come to work, doesn't talk to anyone for two weeks."

"...This is about the press conference that he has coming up, isn't it?" she asked. When the cheetah didn't answer, she groaned. "Christ...Okay, so he's got bad news. You guys have weathered that before. What the fuck makes this one different?"

"Margaret, you just need to do it. Okay? That's all I can tell you."

"Yeah? I'm pretty sure you can tell me a lot more than that."

"E-even if you tried to make me talk, I couldn't tell you. They didn't tell me."

"..."

"Besides, it's in your best interests. The company is covering up a lot. GenEnji knows what you can do, what you've done."

"All but one of those things at their orders."

"Yeah, but...but they're still covering it up."

"...That's the way that it's gonna be, huh?"

"You'll do it, then?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she got up from her seat, pulling the strands of black goo that had slid from her body back into her limbs. The coat was all but gone, and she sighed, letting it get absorbed into her. She'd fish it out later. Besides, Joshua had been enough of an ass that she felt like getting a bit of her own back on the brown-nosing middle-man. Bitch wanted her to act like the company wet-worker, he could just take staring at her fat ass for a minute. Maybe it'd get it through his head that there were other people that needed a little kissing up to besides the corporate masters.

#

Knowing that the board would prefer her to keep this quiet, she decided that it would be best to be as loud as possible. The hippo visited the bathroom just outside the major genetic engineering labs and shook her head as she walked up to the mirror.

"Three months as a latex woman and you'd think I'd have this figured out by now," she muttered under her breath, resting her hand right below her breasts and between them. "Alright...one...two...three - ugh!"

She swore that she'd never get used to that feeling. As she punched her fingers through her flesh, she expected to be in agony. There was pain, of course; there always was when she broke the surface like this, but it wasn't the wrenching, horrible pain that would have come from flesh and bone. Instead, it was more like the awareness of what was supposed to be there, more like the rather nitpicky thought of 'You should feel this, so why don't you remember how bad that should feel?'

As far as she could guess, that just meant that the whole thing was psychosomatic, and she shouldn't feel any pain at all, but that didn't mean that it didn't fucking suck. She gritted her teeth, her large ivories shown in the mirror. Even they were black as the rest of her latex body, even though they were just the same size as before. She hissed between them as she wiggled the coat further and further out of her until it came free. Rustling and flapping, she shook off the black gunk from it, and then held out one foot for it to be absorbed back into.

The little black blobs hopped and bounced back to her like intelligent jell-o, leaping off the floor and absorbing into her sole with a ripple and a jiggle. She shook her head, flapped the lab coat out, and then put it back on. Judging from the way that it settled on her skin so quickly, she guessed that she had about twenty minutes before she was completely naked again. She shook her head, reached up to adjust her glasses -

And then realized that she didn't have them on her face anymore. She blinked, leaned in to the mirror, and could just about make out the lenses just behind her latex eyes. Margaret stared at them for a moment, then shook her head.

"No way. Uh-uh. I'll get those when they work their way out the back."

Pulling the white coat along her belly until it was closed, until she was covered from neck to knee, she walked out of the bathroom. Despite the discomfort that came from being naked and stared at, she honestly would have preferred that over the stupidity that came with constantly pulling her clothes back out of her body. However, company regulations still stated that everyone needed to be dressed. Everyone.

Even the one that did all the illegal shit.

She tapped her fingers to the scanner outside the labs. The ID card that she'd been given rose up through her hand, breaking up and bringing the chip needed to her fingertips. It beeped, and the door opened.

As she stepped inside, other scientists looked up from the microscopes to see who had stepped in. Almost all of them whipped their heads around, and the few that didn't only waited long enough to shield their experiments in a plastic wrap as she walked by to do the same. Almost like she was going to contaminate them just by walking by.

She hid her annoyance behind the latex. It was great at just freezing in place and hiding her real expressions, she found. It kept her from lashing out nearly as often as she liked to. She wondered how many problems that would cause in the future, and found it rather hard to care.

Dr. Medin worked at the top-left offices in the two-story lab, and the stairs were free for a change. Usually they were occupied with a weird physics experiment, seeing how gravitation and movement affected certain half-formed life forms. This time, there was nothing. She took the stairs up, rounded the corner at the top, and rapped her knuckles against the door with Medin's name on it.

"Come in," a muffled voice called.

She opened the door on a rat scientist. He wore the same lab coats as everyone else, though with a trim of blue along the middle and lower hem marking him as a supervisor. Margaret shook her head as he didn't bother looking up from a book, noting things with one hand while he read from it.

"You got a problem," she said.

"We all do, Margaret. What's the new one?"

"The company wants you out of the way. Why?"

The rat's pen stopped in mid-scribble, and she finally shut the door behind her. He gradually looked up, his eyes huge behind his glasses.

"You're here to make me disappear?"

"That's what they want. I'm waiting to hear why. You go off diddling a kid or two? Ruin your reputation on drugs? What makes them want you out of the way?"

"..."

"Doc. I'm giving you a chance here."

"Yes...you are. Strange."

"Doc -" She paused, feeling a twinge through her legs, a vibration. The hippo narrowed her eyes. "Don't even think about it."

"About what?"

Margaret didn't bother answering. Instead, she just...relaxed. The latex that formed her legs suddenly expanded, a flood of it covering the entire floor of the office. It rushed out so fast that Dr. Medin didn't have a chance to pull his legs off the ground. Her ooze covered him up to the ankles, covered the desk to the same distance, and covered the trigger to a gun that she hadn't felt until that moment built into the bottom of the desk.

He looked at her with the same sudden fear as Joshua had had when the cheetah thought that he'd be put through her style of 'interrogation.' She pulled her leg up, snapping her connection with the goo with one solid step, and did the same with her other leg.

"I told you, don't even think about it."

"How did you -"

"You'd like to know, I'm sure."

Sensitivity. Some of them thought that the latex should have dulled her sensitivity, but it did anything but. She could feel everything, in the right environment. The twitching footsteps below the test, the little change as his boots found something that was the wrong kind of metal, the vibration of a bullet chambering itself: she'd felt it all.

Not that a standard shot would have hurt her, but this was the scientist working on getting her back to normal. Ostensibly, at least. If anyone would know how to craft a bullet to hurt her, it'd be him. She wasn't going to let that happen.

Yet, at the same time, the fear was tamped down. She saw him go from afraid to calm in less time than most of the other employees. Must have had something to do with the fact that she was asking him a question rather than just making him disappear.

"What'd you do?" she asked.

"I...had bad news for them."

"What kind? Can't be that bad; you're only working on - oh, hell. It's about me, isn't it?"

"You...and the super-creation project..."

Margaret groaned under her breath, muttering to herself.

"It's not working, is it?"

"...No," Dr. Medin said, closing his book and pushing it off to the side. "And I doubt that it ever will."

"You told me - all of you, you told me that you could fix this. Fix me."

"Yes. We did. And at the time, I believed we could. However, the more that we researched -"

"Stop. Just...stop."

Another benefit of having a latex body was that one had remarkable control over their organs if they really wanted to go that far. She'd found that out the first time that she had ended up panicking at a neighbor seeing her for what she really was, what she had become. That could have ended with a panic attack, but she'd managed to bring her heart rate down just by thinking about it, by adjusting the way that she was built. She did the same now, keeping herself from having the biological signs of the fury that was building up.

Once the biological symptoms of anger were snuffed out, the worst of it was dealt with. She could think. She could process this. She could act.

"Bottom line, Doc. You can't fix me?"

"We can't. The genetic shift that occurred after your emergence altered your DNA past just being yourself. It's built...different now. It's less like the difference between a standard specimen of a species and more like the difference between an animal and a plant. Genetically, there is too great a bridge to cross. We don't have the first idea of how to even begin bringing you back, because we don't know how you changed in the first place, not to that degree."

"That's not enough for them to want you gone. What else is going on?"

"We, that is to say, I...I failed in the attached project. The one related to the creation of supers?"

She nodded. She hadn't liked the idea of something like that attached to the project that was supposed to fix her, to change her back and give her a normal body again, but she'd gone along with it. It was the only way that the company would finance the cure project. The rat nodded back at her.

"It's not going to work. Not at any acceptable rate. At the press conference, I was going to explain that we were bringing that project to a halt."

"I'm surprised they'd let you say that."

"They don't know I'm going to. Or at least, I thought they didn't."

"...Ah."

"Indeed. Apparently, the fact that the project has a projected 85% chance of a fatality per dose isn't enough to put the company off. You've opened the door for them, Margaret. They are...eager for others like you."

"Like me? Heh. Tame supers, you mean. Little walking weapons that can do things that their private security can't..."

She shook her head, taking her eyes off the rat. No windows, nothing but a little flap by the door that would allow someone to look in or out, and that was blocked. She could feel the lab coat condensing in against her again, halfway through its absorption into her body once more. A reminder of the forced pretense that things were normal, that she was part of the group when she didn't really need it.

Normal. She'd stopped being normal when that hero ran her over by 'accident.' She stopped being normal when her body had been turned to latex. Damn near invincible against anything blunt, but that didn't mean jack-shit in a city where the supers were either feared or idolized, and it didn't matter which side you were on for that. Sometimes, the heroes were a whole lot worse.

She leaned her hand against the wall, feeling the rat trying to free his shoes from the floor. Wouldn't happen, really. He was stuck until she let him loose, since the latex was all the way up to his ankles and against his fur and skin. She shook her head.

"Is there anything else?"

"Like what?"

"Like any half-complete experiments you didn't tell me about. Like anything those 'cures' you were experimenting on me with will do."

"..."

"Doc..." She took a deep breath. "Don't make me hate you, too. I'm running the numbers, and so far, you're coming out ahead, but...please. Don't make me give the other side a boost."

"...There's one experiment in the back of my personal lab. A couple of embryos that are still growing. Nothing definitive, but their DNA has changed more than any person's should upon exposure to -"

"Me. You used the samples of my...stuff...to change them."

"Under orders...yes."

She nodded. "Anything else?"

"Watery solutions and little else. If there'd been anything that could control you in the injections I gave you, Margaret, I wouldn't be in this situation, would I?"

"...Fair point." She sighed. So, it was like that. She opened herself, and the latex flooded back up from the ground. "Get out of here. Now."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. Isn't that new?"

"You - don't do anything you're going to regret."

"You know, I think I should have started living like that months ago. Now, get out of here, Doc. I'm not the only one that they're going to have gunning for you, you know. Better get a head start."

The rat opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it. Dr. Medin ran out of his office, darting down the stairs. Margaret locked the door, then turned to the lab proper. The desk, the books, the notes. They were all part of the same project, she was sure. Dr. Medin kept his public notes on the computer, and kept the private notes on paper. She'd respected that about him.

Now, it was convenient. She could get rid of this all at once.

Margaret pushed the latex out again, coating every single surface. In effect, it was like expanding herself, every single droplet of latex a part of her body, something that she could feel, something she could move, something she could affect. She stretched it through the gaps in the drawers, through keyholes and under circuit boards. She pressed herself into computers, into the filing cabinets, even under the insulation that coated the wires in the computers and other systems. Behind the half-hidden door at the end of the room, she bubbled into the lab, feeling at distant tables, lights, and more.

Everything was coated in her black 'flesh.' She touched and became everything.

When it was all part of her, when she was part of all of it, she took a deep breath. The hippo closed her eyes, felt the little containers of embryos at the very end of the lab. They weren't alive. Not yet. They were too young, too unformed for that. She hoped she was right. The numbers added up for that, but -

No more thinking. Just do it.

With a roar that shook the room, she, and everything she touched, spun. The walls rolled, the floor lifted, and the ceiling collapsed as everything expanded, contracted, and broke.

Margaret sat in a booth at a club, holding her dismissal note in her hand as a stallion danced on a pole ten feet away. She noticed him as an attractive distraction, but little more than that. The note held her thoughts more.

Well, they bought it, she thought, letting it get sucked into her hand, disappearing like anything else that came into contact with her. Medin must have gotten clear. That, or someone else got him and they're good with that.

Either way, she'd let him go, and that meant that she'd done about as much as she could have expected of herself. Saving him was too much to ask after being lied to. Saving him after being put through that much bullshit, after being lied to about whether she could be fixed, was definitely out of the cards. She was surprised she'd been able to just let him go, when it came right down to it.

But what the fuck was she going to do now? She still had to pay for her apartment, still had bills to pay. Yeah, she didn't have to eat as much now that she was made of latex, but that didn't mean that her food bills didn't exist. And booze bills had gone up. A lot.

Figure that out tomorrow, she tried to tell herself, but that part of her that had always run the numbers said 'no.' She knew herself too well. She'd keep putting it off.

As the stallion on the pole rolled his hips against that big metal stick, letting it slide between his glutes, she shook her head. Stripping wasn't gonna happen. Too big a figure, and there wasn't really a club out there for supers to get into stripping. Even the fetish clubs would think thrice - yes, thrice, not twice - about letting her work for them, and that was beyond what she was in for, anyway.

Other jobs? Yeah, good luck with that. The average person had twice the advantage over a super that a degree-holding applicant with ten years of experience had over someone that barely graduated high school. She wasn't getting a regular job anywhere in Boomburg, not looking like this.

She held her hand up to the light, looking at the latex that shimmered. The stallion must have seen her out of the corner of his eye, because he almost stumbled off his stage, fumbling his next step. His dick even went half-soft in the process.

Margaret gritted her teeth at that, lowering her hand back down, feeling that anger rising again. She could have stopped it, just like last time, but she didn't bother. Life sucked, and sometimes, you just had to be angry about it, particularly when it wasn't your fucking fault to begin with.

The lab coat was all the way inside her now, and it would have to be pulled out later. Nothing in the pockets, or GenEnji Inc. would have pulled that out of her the way that security had boob-punched her to pull the ID card out when they fired her. She shook her head; that still didn't feel good.

Grimacing at the mental reminder, she reached into the back of her head. She felt like she should have been rummaging through her own skull at that point, but she eventually found the glasses that had slid inside. She yanked backwards -

"Mmmph...fucking...fucking Christ..."

It felt like she'd pulled something big out through the back of her head, even though she knew that was only the 'fact' illusion of what she had just done. She tossed her glasses across the table, rubbing her eyes as the clarity that they'd offered suddenly disappeared. Resting her face in her hands, she breathed slowly, waiting for the ache to disappear.

When it did, she looked up. The horse had stopped dancing, and there was a bull at her table. He rested his hand on the back of her booth, leaning down. His breath smelled like liquid courage.

"Gonna have to ask you to leave."

"Yeah? Why's that?" she asked, resting her hand on her own drink.

"You haven't ordered anything but that one drink, and you've been here for over an hour."

"No signs saying a minimum order, pal."

"Well, you're freaking out the clients. And my employees."

"Ain't heard any complaints," she muttered, her hand clenching all the tighter around her cup. "One of them wants to speak up, I'll go."

"I'm telling you, go."

"You don't have one sign about the right to refuse service up. You have no rules stated that I have broken. Either point them out, get one of your employees to tell me what I'm doing wrong, or leave me the hell alone," she muttered, staring down into her cup, knowing she should do something about that anger but feeling very little reason to stop.

"Maybe you didn't hear me, supe."

He gripped her shoulder, and she stopped bothering with holding back. Her latex split at the shoulder, opening up just enough to trap his hand in place, and some of it raced up his arm like a striking cobra. His mouth opened, only to be filled and gagged. More of it jerked around his muzzle, pinning it shut, while the rest went down his other arm, under his shirt and along his spine, and down his legs.

In a split second, she'd created a puppet suit around him, a frame that would allow her to control how he walked and moved. It was one of the first things that GenEnji had taught her how to do.

Heh...wonder how long it'll take for them to realize what an asset they have on the streets? she thought. Then again, without Medin to tell them how to fight me...without the samples they had of me and the little embryos...

Whoever had let her go without getting more samples had goofed, hard, and she planned on taking advantage of that.

Reaching out to her glasses, she tapped the lenses, leaving a thin layer of her latex behind. The bull's body moved under her command, putting the glasses on. He stared straight ahead as she had the latex change, spinning, spiraling. Another thing that the company had made her learn and experiment with, giving her lists of things that she had to learn to do with her new body. This one was meant for removing useful but potentially viable employees and assets. A little tweaking of their mind meant that the company could still use them after they got rid of those pesky thoughts.

Margaret hadn't had time to learn anything but the most basic inductions, but with the deprivation of other sensations that her power provided, it meant that the total focus of a subject could be on that little spiral. It amplified the power quite tremendously.

She sipped her drink, then took the glasses back.

"Go away," she muttered, and the bull did just that, only slightly helped along by the frame that she'd put on his body.

As soon as he left, she turned her attention back to the stallion on the stage. He was hugging the pole, looking at her from behind it. He was still swaying his ass, but there was something to him that made it quite clear that he wasn't going to take his eyes off her for the rest of the night. And...more than that, he didn't look like he was quite as afraid anymore. Something had changed.

Margaret looked at the table, then sighed. She pulled out her wallet from her hip - one of the few good things about having a permeable body at this point - and pulled out two twenties. She tossed them at the stage, then got up. All eyes shifted from her to the stallion right off the bat, almost like they refused to see that she was there.

She was completely naked at that point, her clothes long-since gone. Her nipples were censored by her own will on the matter, but keeping a good enough focus to hide the other stuff was all but impossible. Every so often, she felt one eye or another flicking in her direction, only to glance away as soon as they thought she might look at them. They saw a freak. A naked freak, but a freak.

She was halfway to the door when someone else cleared their throat. No touching, but just cleared their throat. Margaret turned.

"Excuse me, uh..." The orca employee had the nerve to look all the way down to her sex before finishing his sentence. "Ma'am. But you've got a request to meet in the private rooms."

"I'm not an entertainer."

"No, no. I meant, one of our entertainers wants to talk to you."

"...Excuse me?"

"Room three, if you want. If not, door's right there."

She arched an eyebrow as the orca walked away. An entertainer, huh? She looked over her shoulder, and, sure enough, the stallion was out of the way. Must have been him.

Despite the offer, she looked at the door again. The idea of just leaving was more tempting, quite honestly. She'd had enough of a bad day, and sticking around just felt like inviting more hell to come raining down on her. It would be better to -

Better for who?

That was the question that stopped her from reaching for the door. Better for the company for her to just go back home, lie down and play dead? Better for all the assholes in the building for her to leave and just let them be comfortable here? Better for who, precisely? Everyone but her?

Yeah, like she was going to let that happen. Again.

She turned on her heel, taking the time to just let the lights hit her as she walked back to the private rooms. If people wanted to stare, let them. She couldn't do a damn thing about how her body worked, so if they were going to be uncomfortable about the fact she had to walk naked around the building, then that was their problem, not hers. Was that a bit too pissy? Maybe, but at this point, she didn't care. She was done - fucking done - living her life the way that other people wanted.

The narrow hallway was musty and ill-lit, probably for the sake of privacy. She didn't care. Room three was open a crack, and as she pushed the door in, she wasn't surprised to find the stallion dancer on the other side. Reasonably built for a horse, he still had more of a swish to him than the average stallion. More of a dancer, lean, rather than the draft horses that she had seen dancing on other nights. He wore a pink thong that did nothing to hide his equine assets, and he gripped the pole at the far end of the room tightly.

"You wanted to talk to me?" she said, shutting the door behind her. "Start talking."

"...I'm sorry," he said.

Her first instinct was that she had walked into a trap, but she didn't feel anything around her or through the floor. When that instinct passed, she cocked her head to the side.

"What?"

"I'm sorry for staring at you out there. I just...I didn't know what to think."

"Well, apology accepted. Is that it?"

"Are you a hero?"

"Fuck heroes," she spat out before she could stop herself. "Heroes made me like this."

"I'm sorry," the stallion said, lowering his head.

He expected to be hit, she realized. All the signs were there: the hangdog head, the pulled back ears, the inability to look at her. She sighed, holding her hand over her eyes.

"I'm not a hero. I'm not a villain. I'm just...stuck with this."

"...Do you want to be?"

"Not particularly."

"Oh. Um...I just...you know...you kinda..."

"Bad relationship with your boss?" she asked, making her way to the low chair set into the floor facing the stage.

"...Something like that."

"Figured. The guy's an asshole. But he should be better. For a while."

"Thanks."

"Didn't do it for you, but you're welcome, I guess," she said, shaking her head. "That all you wanted to say?"

"I just...you know what, yeah. That's everything. Sorry for wasting your time."

She could have gotten up and left then. The horse looked like he didn't have anything else to say, and she'd been brusque enough that he probably would have preferred that, but something stopped her. The hippo looked up at him, looked him over from head to toe, and realized that he didn't have to do this. He didn't have to call her back and thank her, or apologize to her, or anything else.

She also saw the two twenties that she'd tossed at him just barely sticking out of his underwear. Margaret smiled despite herself, shaking her head.

"You free for a while?" she asked.

"...A little, sure."

"Dance for me. I could use a little fun."

Maybe the hero thing might have something in it. Maybe some of the heroes were okay. Maybe she could get something out of it. And if she could, maybe this stallion knew the right place to sign up.

The End

Summary: Margaret, the woman that would one day be Latexia, is trying to keep a normal life and a normal job after being turned into a latex person. That, however, isn't going particularly well...

Tags: F/solo, M/solo, nudity, stripper, club, supers, latex, hippo, rat, horse, various species, bull, stallion, body control, mind control, superpowers, development, dark,