FSE

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High Quality Toy Maintenance** : Programing**

His eyes lock onto the blur of the one he knows so well. He would squirm if he could, but no, that’s not possible. He doesn’t even try, the tight embrace of the mold, the air sucked from it, his only existence attached to the rubber he’s hungrily suckling down, drinking, breathing, letting it flow through him.

Air rushes back into the mold, the sensation of the latex feeling so tight against his body, there are moments he forgets that there is a difference between it and his body underneath. The air seeps in between the different stands of rubber of his steadily forming rubber hair. The cool air runs across his chest and back, sending soft shivers through him. The tubes are twisted and unlocked; the flow of rubber having already stopped.

He gasps for air, the need for it in the back of his mind a little less than before, or was that his mind? Having sucked on latex to survive for hours on end after so many days? It's hard to describe the feeling, or the soft twitch and throb of his length. It’s been aching where it is, held within the tight rubber bondage, that even there too there are moments Ratchet forgets that his length is trapped there and is not nothing but a throbbing aching null bulge. He’s reminded of it after the back tube is removed and the front of the mold is pulled off of him. The rubber along his entire front is tugged and pulled, including that cupped bulge of his.

He lets out a soft squeaky mew, mouth feeling a little sore for being open for so long, but his body and mind is strangely renewed after hours in the mold. Despite having not been able to sleep, to let his mind fully rest. That sweet succulent domineering feline toy voice in the back of his mind, whispering sweet delights, so hard to ignore but at the same time, so easy to forget its there, letting it massage and mold his thoughts, one step at a time.

His eyes almost seem to glow, the eyes moving a little more, the suit having grown more attached to him, becoming closer to who is. K-2373 monitors and looks over at him, hands running across his chest, feeling the warmth of his body, the steady merging of organic being and suit, taking another step closer to becoming the toy that he’s meant to be, “Morning toy-to-be, how do you feel?” it asks with a soft mew, hands trailing across his nipples.

“G-good,” he mews, watching the toy’s hand move down, tickling his belly, down to his twitching bulge, his cock eager to feel someone move so close to touch it, reminding just how endlessly on edge horny he is. He moans, arching his back which peels some of his body away from the back of the mold.

The toy Maker mews softly, smiling, fingers dancing across the bulge, “Wonderful, this one is pleased to hear it. Now step out of the mold, today is a big day for you.”

“It is?” he asks, feeling a tug on his bulge from the toy Maker-to-be, edging him to step out, breaking the tug of the back of the mold, letting his tail pop free from it. The strands of rubber hair becomes a little more defined, steadily becoming closer to the fur that’s still there, hidden underneath the rubber suit.

“Don’t you remember toy-to-be? We are having you do other things than your maintenance skills. As a toy that is to be working here, helping the customers, helping be the best toy you can be. You need to know more about the store, isn’t that right?”

“I-I-I…” Ratchet says, about to say more when K-2373 puts its finger on his lips, stopping his words in his track.

“Toy-to-be what did this one tell you about using improper language?”

“Toy needs to be a good toy.”

“Toy desires to be a good toy.”

“Toy wants to impress Maker.”

“Good toys don’t use I.”

“Good toys don’t use me.”

“Good toys don’t use myself.”

“Good toys use, this one, it, itself, toy.”

The voice causes him to shudder, moan, lips about to wrap around K-2373’s finger but is pulled away before his lips could grab it, “Now come toy-to-be. You have other work to do.”

“O-okay,” he responds with a soft squeak, following the toy before him without question, without issue. Something about it that is so soothing, and it's not just the fact that he hears its voice constantly whispering in the back of his head. Just something about how the toy moves, how it's so confident, yet so open and naked and unashamed of himself. He’s drawn to the toy like a moth to the flame.

“Good toy-to-be,” he responds, its fingertips squeaking and gently massaging the bulge, using it as a gentle guiding force to lead Ratchet out of the toy molding room.

Crossing the threshold felt weird to him, having been in the molding room for the past few days, haven’t seen the light of day or the darkness of night. Unsure if he’s been there for a few days or a week, all sense of time had been lost to him, only how many times he’s been in the mold between working. It’s strange though, now that he’s following K-2373 down the hallway leading toward the main store, there’s a realization that he’s not been doing anything but working and servicing the other toys…

“K-2373?” Ratchet asks, forcing the words out of his mouth, panting softly.

“Hmm?” it asks turning to him, stopping at the door that leads to the store proper.

“Why are we doing this? I should be working like you hired me to. This has been wonderful. Fantastic. Mind blowing. I-I... I… not sure how to put it all into words. I just feel so… my mind is just… ah…” he says going off, stopping the moment the toy’s lips touched his. He stiffens feeling the sensual kiss, the loving embrace and tease of his bulge below but feeling the love the toy is extruding out and the underlying control that just helps make him melt.

“It’s early in the process toy-to-be. This one knows you aren’t questioning or resisting what this one and other lovely toys have been calling you. You deep down know what is happening don’t you?”

“Ah… well… uh…” he blushes, looking away, but then feeling the feline’s fingers push his head back into view, looking into those lovely glowing eyes.

“No need to talk about it. Nor play dumb on it. Toy knows you know. You’re a smart one. But like its Maker said. We are working to break down and knead your material into what it is meant to be. Having to break down what has been weighing you down, what has been enslaving you to the true freedom that you seek. To embrace who you are, deep inside. This one knows it is scary to accept it. To want what you feel is unattainable. But we are here to help. Relax. Enjoy. Love. Embrace yourself. In due time it will all fall into place, and you will be molded into perfection, toy-to-be.”

“But what if…”

“No but whats here. The only butts here are for squeezing, humping and servicing just like yours,” it says, reaching around giving them a soft tender squeeze, making Ratchet squeak vocally.

“Ahhh…”

“Now come toy-to-be. We have to work on some of your other skills. This one wants you to be well rounded like that bulge of yours,” it says.

Ratchet follows the toy’s eyes down to his bulge, making him blush even harder, but the rubber suit hides it, but he can feel it in the warmth in his cheeks, “O-okay,” he responds, following it back out onto the store, expecting the lights to be bright but they are dimmed, a third of the normal lights are turned off. He looks around curiously, seeing a few toys busily cleaning the floors, stocking the shelves, in the distance he sees one wiping down the front windows, seeing sunlight outside, “The store is closed?”

“Yes, we are open sixteen hours a day.”

“Right… strange thought it would be twenty-four hours.”

“Even toys deserve a break, even if we are constantly working,” it responds with a soft smile.

He mews softly, “I-I see.”

“Hmm, soon this one thinks that bad habit of yours will break.”

“H-habit?” he asks, when he then shudders, hearing the soft whisper of the collar in the back of his mind, grow a little louder, less so reminding him but more like instructing him on a fact that has become truer with each passing day.

“Toy is a good toy.”

“Toy wants to be a good toy.”

“Good toys don’t say I.”

“Good toys don’t say me.”

“Good toys don’t say myself.”

“Good toys say, this one, it, itself, toy.”

A soft mew escapes Ratchet’s lips, looking at K-2373 as it responds with a coy smile, “You know what this one means, It’s a hard one to break. It’s so ingrained in who you are, but not what you want to be. It's alright. No need to be afraid of it. In fact, become liberated, disconnecting from one existence and connecting to another. But this one has confidence in you,” it says giving Ratchet’s bulge a soft teasing fondle, making him moan.

“Ah... oh…” he says, ears folding back a little, fighting against the rubber that is embracing him, caressing him. Making him feel more like who he is, hiding and pressing away what is becoming ever more distant from him, “W-what now?” he asks.

“Now you help in the warehouse. Today is truck day, and it’s a big one and we need help there. With nothing major left to fix, it's about time you learn of these other aspects of the store.”

“T-that’s not part of my contract…”

“Come on dear, did you even read all of your contract?” it asks, the toy reaching the other side of the store, another door that reads “Employees Only” overhead. A locked metal door with a small window that shows a fraction of the stockroom on the other end.

“Ahh… well…” he responds with a blush, “Not all of it.”

“There you go,” it says, giving the bulge a playful squeeze, tugging him along after typing a key code to unlock the door.

The smell of leather and latex is somehow even stronger here than the store proper. Smooth concrete floors that are the cleanest than anything he’s seen before. Tall units with dozens of shelves store items for the store. The stockroom runs the entire breadth of the store with at least seven other toys moving about the room, doing various tasks.

Approaching them is a sleek anthropomorphic black rubber horse with a white belly and red highlights along their long latex furred tail. The toy’s soft blue eyes gaze into Ratchet’s before quickly going toward K-2373. It walks on red rubber hooves with cuffs and a collar of red outline and a black band. The toy’s collar tag is golden wings that has the designation A-1377. The toy’s hooves clip clopped across the concrete, reinforcing the equine characteristics of the toy. “Maker! This one is so pleased to see you. This one has kept everything working smoothly as well as polished rubber. It’s gone over the shipment’s manifesto, and it appears to this one that we’ll be a little short on three types of lubricants and coincidentally our…” it says but it quickly trails off when K-2373 holds up its hand.

“This one loves that you are being very on top of things. It loves that about you.”

“Awe… thank you Maker,” it replies with a hoof stomp and a soft nicker, “This one appreciates your words.”

“You deserve them,” it replies, moving up gently, running its fingers across the larger equine toy’s chest, “But we aren’t here to talk about that. We are here to talk about what we discussed earlier, don’t you remember, A-1377?” it asks curiously with a hint of soothing coy dominance in its voice.

The equine lets out a stomp and a soft whine, “But of course Maker. This one knows full well what you put it in charge of, and it will make sure that this toy-to-be standing beside you will be put to good use and work hard for you. It won’t let you down.”

“This one knows you won’t,” it says with a soft purr, tugging Ratchet closer with its other hand by the use of his bulge, “Now, toy-to-be. This one wants you to listen to this toy as if it was itself. Do you understand?”

Ratchet shudders in pleasure, panting softly, feeling his member twitch a little within that tight latex bondage that embraces everything there, the aching throb there a constant need and reminder, yet a delight to him, “Y-yes, I-I underside, I mean understand.”

K-2373 smiles, “So close at starting to have it all come together. It is sure you will do wonderful, just keep focusing on your work and what you need to do to be as good as you can be,” it purrs, leaning in giving Ratchet a soft kiss on the lips, pulling back slowly.

The fennalope meeps softly, letting out a squeak, feeling that hand pull away from his bulge, already wanting it to return, but knowing the impossibility of that request at this time, “Just listen, right?”

“Listen and obey, like a good toy,” K-2373 says with a soft purr, “This one has other work to do, and make sure everything is in order for the coming day. It will be back later to pick you up when you are done. And it hopes to hear only glowing reviews of what a good job you’ve done here.”

A-1377 says, “And don’t you worry Maker, this one will be keeping a close eye on them to ensure they do well. It will make its report as accurate as it can.”

“You don’t have to make it that accurate. This one knows how particular with the details.”

“The devil is in the details, Maker. It helps make everything run smoothly.”

“And you do, good luck toy. And toy-to-be?”

Ratchet shivers, turning to it, “Y-yes?”

“This one knows you’ll do good but try your best. Good toys always try their best.”

“Ah...o-okay,” he replies, panting softly, eyes wandering across the toy’s body, watching its hips sway, tail following the path, leaving him there a second later through that security door.

A-1377 steps up closer behind Ratchet, making its size difference even more apparent, “Now… are you ready for being worked long and hard? Simply aching, panting work as this one thrusts you deep into the action?”

Ratchet meeps and squeaks, slowly turning around looking up at the large equine, with their smooth rubber features, hints of a femboy physique yet there is still a strength behind the horse, and the fascinating red rubber cock that he could just imagine it being used upon him like so many other toys before him. He swallows a lump in his throat, nodding, “Yes?” he asks with a hint of certainty.

“Excellent!” the toy exclaims with a hoof stomp, patting Ratchet on the back with a gentle yet forceful pat that almost knocks him over, “According to the approximate arrival of the truck, we have another four hours, thirty-seven minutes, give or take twenty or so seconds,” it says with a soft playful nicker, “We are going to get a huge shipment of bondage gear. Seems people are wanting to get tied down in ways outside of work,” it chuckles.

“Bondage?” he asks softly.

“Oh? Does this one hear interest in your voice?” it asks, leaning in close.

“Ah, well…”

“No testing the product though. Can’t get you all tied down when you have things to do, now can we?”

“N-no, we can’t,” he says with a soft blush, feeling the heat in his cheeks, feeling the toy gently caress his back, pushing him forward, “Come. It left this part of the warehouse just for you to work on. Maker wanted to get you some hands-on experience on knowing where these products are and where they go when the shipments arrive. Knowing what we have in stock is important so we can order the products we need for our customers. If we don’t have correct on hands, we don’t order the items we need, and then we can’t sell the customers the products they desire, giving them a sub-optimal experience. And we toys don’t want that now, do we?”

“N-no, that would be bad. I-I want to do a good job.”

“Good, good. Everything is organized already,” it says, guiding him toward the ‘front’ of the stockroom where there are dozens of thick storage shelves, as well as a large open area that has some empty spaces as well as big, tall boxes.

One of which that Ratchet recognizes as a bondage horse that is displayed on the side of the box. He pants softly, looking at it, his aroused mind picturing himself there. Tightly held, limbs held taught, his hands run across his cuffs, feeling the built in D-rings. He tenses a little, realizing that he has the cuffs there, “A-always ready for the bondage. Just like an object. Ready to be used,” he thinks, his attention suddenly broken when he’s given a large pad of paper attached to a clipboard and a pencil.

“Here you go.”

“What’s this?” he asks, grabbing the items, knocking him out of his moment of daydreaming.

“This is the current list of items we should have here. Toy wants you to go through and check if the counts are accurate.”

Ratchet gives a quick look over the first page, which is organized alphabetically and has a column of “current count” and another that says “actual count” Looking up at all the items, and through the pages, upon pages of items, weight of the task laid out before him becoming ever more obvious, “This will take a while.”

“Of course, it will.”

“Why is it in alphabetical order?”

“Best way to organize it.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to have it organized by where the items are?” he asks, looking at the horse.

“Either system will take time to learn, like if it wasn’t in alphabetical order, the spread bars wouldn’t be easy to find now, would they be, when it comes to looking at our on hands?”

“I-I suppose, but what about the product on the store floor? Doesn’t that need to be checked for an actual correct on hand.”

“Oh, a smart lad. This one likes you already, and there’s another toy-to-be working on that. Don’t you worry. Many hands make for light loads.”

“Okay…,” he says looking up at all the products, noticing a ladder is nearby, already feeling he’s going to get to know that ladder very well while checking these items, “This is going to take a while to do and find the items.”

“You’ll get it in no time, and before you even know it. You’ll know where the Armbinder velvets are,” it says going over to the spot with ease, pulling them out, “There are there here by the way,” it says.

“Okay,” he squeaks softly.

“And where say the anal hooks are,” it explains walking across to another shelf several feet away, “Two of the Machiavelli type by the way,” it says sliding the item back, “Before you even know it.”

Ratchet surprised at the equine’s memory of the item locations, quickly checks the counts, seeing both are accurate, “Right, right. So then… I’ll just get to work?”

“That’s the plan. And don’t worry, this one will be nearby watching. If you need any help just ask.”

“Thanks, I’ll do my best.”

“This one is sure you will, it would like it done before the truck comes though. So, get to it!” it exclaims giving a foot stomp.

Ratchet lets out squeak, jumping at the stomp, and like a racer starting the race at the sound of the firing of a gun, he jumps to the action. The long hard tedious work of checking the list, finding the item, counting them once, twice sometimes depending on the number of items he has to go through.

He constantly hears the collar in the back of his mind, the gentle whispers and caressing his thoughts.

“One,” he thinks.

“Toy is a good toy,” the collar whispers.

“Two, three, four.”

“There is no me.”

“Five.”

“There is no I.”

“Four… damn it lost count, I have to try again,” Ratchet thinks, mumbling to himself, “Dang it.”

“There is no I,” the collar reinforces, a gentle shiver runs down his spine, a soft pant, a gentle twitching throb, a desire running through him, never leaving, always wrapping around the back of his mind, to touch himself, to embrace the throb, to try to get off, his butt squeezes, a mental projection of being taken slowly from behind.

“Focus, need to focus,” he mews softly, tail swishing, “Back to counting. Need to finish before the truck comes. I want to do good. I want to be…”

“There is no I.”

He shudders softly, “Good, need to be good at this. Focus. Count.”

“One, two, three.”

“There is no myself.”

“There is no… wait no, what number was I on again? Dang it!” he tenses, shaking his head, running his fingers across the bondage equipment, counting the individual shibari ropes of this one particular color and type.

“There is only this one, it, itself, toy.”

“Back to counting. One. Two. three, four.”

“Good toys obey.”

“You desire to be good.”

“Seven. Seven here. That’s good,” he thinks, feeling a tingle of delight and a slow burning growth of arousal within him. Body tenses, squeezing, the repetition in his mind. Repeating, repeating. Trapping along the back of his mind. Always wanting more. Harder and harder he grows yet soft as he remains within the smooth bulge. Wanting more. Panting heavily, hearing the voice, the sound of his Maker encouraging him to think what he wants all the more. Focus, focus, he has to focus, ignore the words, let them be, no matter how they become true even more. Panting, moaning, ignored, squeaking all around him, from himself, focus on his work, focus on the work, letting the voice sing to him, lovingly even more.

Checking the list, making sure its correct, a race against time. Have to focus, the knowing time is ticking away, the collar whispers to him, encouraging, helping, against that block in the back of his mind, making it weaken even more.

“Toy is a good toy.”

“Toy obeys.”

“There is no I.”

“There is no me.”

“There is no myself.”

Ratchet pants, ‘There is only…” he shakes his head, _“Eight, nine, okay looks like twelve are here…,”_his fingers run across the paper, on the third page, “Says there are eleven here. Let me recount in case I…”

“No I.”

“Let's just see if this is correct,” he mutters to himself, recounting, “One, two, three.”

“Toy is a toy.”

“Toy is an object.”

“Toy thinks like a toy.”

“Toy acts like a toy.”

“Toy is what it is meant to be.”

“No I’s.”

Ratchet huffs, moaning, “No me’s?”

“No me’s.”

“No myself’s.”

Ratchet is rewarded with a rush of accomplishment and pleasure. His heart races, he looked down at his notepad, still so many more to go through, “Must do a good job. Must do a good job_.”_ he mutters to himself, redoubling his efforts. Time is ticking away. Constantly he pushes himself to continue the work, getting an idea of the system put in place when it comes to storage, able to find some of the like items faster, becoming more efficient at the job, understanding the subtle intuitiveness of the items, with more used items often being easier to reach, while keeping to the large bulky items to the very bottom. Safety and convenience are balanced as best as they can. But he can’t admire the work, the skill, the tentativeness of how clean and well organized the stockroom is. He has to keep continuing, keep working.

“One, two, three, toy is… wait no, that’s four, five, six,” he thinks, finding it easier for him to keep focus and work while the collar is going strong in his mind. Unable to stop and truly think though. Simply using his brain power to count, which is less than real thinking, but mind-numbing work that anyone can do. Simple work that is constantly droning in his mind, the whispers of the collar are the outlier, the stimulation his mind needs to be able to keep focus on his task.

“Attention all toys. The truck is delayed by about five minutes. Which means the truck will be here in fifteen minutes. If you are unsure of what you have to do, as this one knows it's the first time for some of you wonderful toys. Come to this one in ten minutes to get instruction on what you need to do.”

“Ten minutes? Ten more minutes to work? How many more needs to be done? Let’s see…” his heart races, the desire not to fail, the wanting to do a good job, wanting to tell A-1377 that the job was done! On time even, six more items to count. Maybe perhaps with enough effort the job will be done in time. This is cutting it close. He scrambles to find the next item, “X bondage rack, that’s easy, says there is only one here and it’s bound to be big, so down below… Ah here it is,” he mutters, checking around, making sure there is no hidden away one, or any that’s misplaced, “Nope just one. Good.”

“Good toy,” the collar whispers.

Ratchet clenches his butt, rushing to the next item. That one was easy but the next one may not be so generous. He continues to work hard, soon enough as the minutes tick by, he is counting down the last item. A sort of zebra bondage item, aptly called the Zebra, “Six, seven, eight,” he mutters, trying to help his focus by speaking the words, “Nine,” he says, checking the numbers on the page. It says eight, another rare miscount, “Have to count again,” he mews, heart pounding like he’s run a marathon, panting, so close, time is ticking away.

He recounts, feeling the blood pounding in his ears, twitching in his length, eagerness to do good. Eagerness to achieve, he wants to it so bad can taste it, licking his lips with the rubber tongue that seems to taste more, move easier than it did the days prior but yet still just an extra layer that surrounds him, “Yes, there is only seven, right, its correct,” he mutters checking it off on the list.

“Okay Toys! Time to get ready for the truck, this one can hear them approach,” says A-1377. Ratchet’s ears twitch, hearing the hiss of the truck, the beeping of it coming back behind. Other toys that already know what to do unlock and pull up the large unloading storage area door, rolling it up.

Ratchet feels as if a mountain has been taken off of his shoulders. He rushes over to the equine toy with a bounce in his step, “Managed to finish the job before truck. Here is the list of everything. Almost all were in order, only caught like two items not correct in their counts.”

“Two? Hmm terrible, perhaps the counts on the store floor will adjust for that. But thank you toy-to-be. You’ve done very good. This one is proud of you,” says the equine toy, patting him on the head.

He lets out a soft squeak finding himself leaning into the pet, small rubber strands of hair being brushed, part of his mind filling in the sensation of fur being pet, or was it really there? It’s difficult to say but in the end it didn’t matter. It felt good to have done such a good job.

“Toy is a good toy,” the collar whispers, encouraging the sensation, feeding into it.

“What needs to be done now?” he asks, fidgeting a little bit, watching the equine toy quickly look over his work.

“Hmm, this all seems to be done well and good. Your job will be simple. For the first part of the truck you’ll help unload it. Once everything is unloaded, you’ll be in charge of putting the extra stock away, as other toys will already be rushing to put the in need to be filled items onto the shelves. Their overstock will be brought back here and then you’ll be putting that away. Understand?”

“Y-yes? Just help unload the truck and then that? Is that all?”

“Is that all? Why look at you, such an eager-to-be wanting to be helpful. Trust this one, that is plenty of work and that will keep you busy for the rest of the day.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies, the massive truck backing up into the spot, another toy is outside of the store, the warm air blowing in, across the rubber suited body. The first time Ratchet’s felt fresh air in what seems like forever. It feels nice, the warmth of the day flowing in, making him feel naked yet knowing he’s currently encased and hidden away within the rubber.

The truck stops and hisses, there is a thud of door closing. Moments later a toy, walking to the back of the truck, unlocking the back and with a heave of strength lifting the door up as it rolls up. A big human woman, a little bit on the overweight side, but there’s far more muscle than anything else for her turns and walks over to A-1377, “Why isn’t my favorite rubber toy horse here to greet me.”

The equine toy smiles letting out a soft nicker, “Afternoon Marcia, this one didn’t expect to see you here. Your name wasn’t on the manifesto.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this route, yeah. The previous driver at the last minute had a fit that he had to do it, so called in sick.”

“Ah, they were complaining about the trip here.”

“You got a nice wide road and that ain’t the issue, it's the fact the darn roads aren’t paved. When is the local town going to pay for their paving? It’s just not right I tell ya.”

“This one heard that the company is preferring the road not to be paved, if this one is to be honest.”

“What? Get out of here. Why would this place not want the road paved? It just makes it all the harder to get here and make you think you’re out in the bum fuck of nowhere, doing crazy insidious things like in the movies.”

A-1377 chuckles and knickers giving a playful stomp, “We are just a bunch of toys working for the company, selling wonderful products like ourselves to customers.”

“You know in most context that is kind of fucked up, right?’

“Well, this one does enough a good fuck,” it says with a playful wink.

“Yeah, but isn’t this the gay branch?”

“It is. We specialize in it for the local gay community that is nearby.”

“The gay commune, yeah, I’ve been there. A bunch of nice folks, I tell you. So sweet and open. Rather pleasant.”

“We cater their needs but doesn’t mean we are excluding others from coming here. We get occasional female customers.”

“Good thing a lot of your toys that work on a he works just as well on a she,” she replies with a smirk.

“Isn’t that the truth,” the equine toy says with a chuckle, “But most toys here are designed with homosexual interests and pleasure. Specializing in that.”

“I hear. There’s a female version a couple of counties over I think?”

“A hundred and twelve miles away.”

“That far? Huh. I might go there and do some exploring.”

“You can explore here too. We have suits that can bring out the ‘man’ in you as it were,” the toy says with a playful smirk.

“Hmm, tempting, maybe one day. But we have this truck to unload, don’t we? It’s a big order.”

“It always is.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” she chuckles.

The entire time Ratchet listens onto the conversation, waiting eagerly to get going. Yet part of him knows… if he wants to escape what is happening, what he knows deep down, the little secret the company has. He could just run right now. Tell this truck driver. The equine toy isn’t paying attention to him. Never said not to say anything. It’s right there just within reach. All he has to do is take it… But the question in the back of his mind comes up.

But why would he do that? Why would he try to hinder and ruin this wonderful thing? Why would he want to stop something he’s desired for so long yet not realized till this very moment. Being given a clear option to escape, to get out, to run for the hills and tell a story of how he escaped becoming a toy. He could make millions off of book deals, the publicity and all that could come with it. Live an easy life… but not the life he wants. The process may have been started without a verbal ‘let's do this’ but the continuation of it? That is his choice.

“Good toy,” the collar whispers into his mind, the blossoming of delights, his cock twitches, bulge shifts slightly, eyeing the truck driver get into the truck, setting up the rollers to cart the product down. Dollies and other carts are set up and put in place, ready to take the product and rush it onto the store floor as needed. The anticipation grows within him, the start of something new, something grand, simply working back here has been amazing even if he’d never would have wanted this job otherwise not in a million years. Working retail? Doing this chore of a job? He loves fixing things but at the moment, this is delightful. The delivery of the truck now begins. The roar of the metal rollers fills his ears, helping move the product down. Confused at first, but soon helped by A-1377 as to what product types go where. Helping him read the shipping labels on the product to help him discern where everything needs to go as its being delivered so that other toys part of the process can do their job. He’s simply being a little cog wheel in the store’s system.

One box, then another, and another, moving, shifting, squeaking, constantly doing the work that is mind numbingly boring yet necessary. Toys talk to each other about various happenings in the store, or experiences they’ve had with customers. Talking about lewd topics as if it was normal, or talking about seemingly normal things, but it all relates to one simple thing. Being a good toy working at the store, helping others, and being of service.

“Toy is a good toy.”

“Toy obeys.”

Ratchet continues to work, feeling himself welcomed to join in, yet his desire to do good. To please this equine toy that he’s just met has overcome him with such a fierce urge that it's hard to ignore, even if he wanted to. The safety and delight of being with these toys as they worked, made the job not so difficult, but still tedious. Droning on, next box. Rushing to the next one. Constantly at work. Panting, moaning, shifting in work, his need driving him deeper into the sweet thoughts that are molding his thoughts.

“Toy is a good toy.”

“Toy is a toy.”

“There is no I.”

“There is no…” he mutters, keeping to himself, listening to what the other toys are saying, speaking like the toys they are, “This one, it, itself, toy.” Such sweet words, a sense of self, a certainty spoken by them, no, more than that, it's natural, not even a second thought.

More boxes to carry over. Panting, squeaking, body aching, bulge twitching, cock so tightly embraced by the rubber that it barely feels like it's barely struggling against the rubber, yet it still is. His crotch is so sensitive and distracting, to think he’s this aroused around toys in public with someone else here? No time to think about that, more work to be done, more boxes to move, more products to unload from the truck.

“Toy obeys.”

“There is no me.”

‘There is no…”

“Myself…” he mutters the words, hearing his Maker’s words speaking to him, deeper into his psyche, into his being, into his very soul. No time to think on it though, more work to be done, one hour passing, more work still, so much to unload even take the time to comprehend what’s happening. Keep up the good work, you must work hard. Must be a good…

Loading, working, unloading, working, tapping on the collar’s words, focusing on that one bit, that one truth, the fact of what he’s becoming, accepting it within himself, another step in many in what he’s becoming, in what he's embracing.

“Toy is a good toy.”

“Toy obeys.”

“There is no I.”

“There is no me.”

“There is no myself.”

“There is only…”

Ratchet swallows a lump in his throat. More work, words slipping from his lips as he keeps focus on his tasks, “There is no… There is no… there is only…” feeling the cusp of it there, ready to take it, embrace it, accept it, yet that wall in his mind. His uncertainty. Is this true for him? Is this what he’s going to do? Is this…

Other toys take products out to the store floor, eventually the truck is unloaded, carts are returned, new work being presented before him, more work to be had, but he takes a sweet moment to catch his breath, to mutter softly, feeling himself so utterly bored from the work yet so enthralled by it, “There is no…” his attention drawn to A-1377 as it signs some paperwork, handing original back to (cameo here).

“Here you go, everything is in order. Except for the two-missing product.”

“There’s always something missing, isn’t there?”

“We are working to improve it, but yes, it is troublesome when it does. This one would hate to have a customer leave empty handed because we just didn’t get it in,” it says with a soft squeaky neigh.

“Such care and thought for your customers, it’s sweet though admittingly odd to see a toy so into their work.”

“We’re very committed to being the best high-quality toys, providing high quality service to our customers. We love pleasing our users,” it responds with a soft nicker.

“I can certainly see that. If I get this route again, I’ll see you in a few days. Shall see.”

“Have a safe drive back (came).”

“Thank you, A-1377,” she says, waving him goodbye, closing the back of the truck once everything she is taking with, such as empty totes are put onto the truck.

“Toy aims to please.”

Ratchet mouths the words, not saying but feeling himself being so close, ‘Toy aims to please.”

His body feels as if it's on the edge of a climax, yet instead of a physical one, it’s all mental. The pressure, the buildup, the collar whispering, “Toy is a toy.”

“Is a…”

“Here you go. This needs to be put away toy,” says a toy from the store floor, “Keep up the good work,” it smiles at him, before taking another cart of items to take onto the store floor to put up.

“But it is not a…” he stops in his tracks, gripping the cart in his rubber clad hands, “But it…” he shudders, “There is no… but it is… it? Did it just say it?” he asks himself, feeling a soft tingle down his spine, cock twitching, butt clenching.

“Toy is a good toy. Repeat.” the collar whispers, with emphasis, detecting the breaking.

“T-toy is a good toy,” Ratchet says, feeling a near climatic bliss rush through him, a pleasuring high that makes him moan, but before he can full take advantage of it, A-1377 comes up from behind him.

“Toy-to-be, are you alright? You’ve been standing there for nearly a minute now.”

“Ah… no, no. Everything is fine. This one was jus…” he trails off, feeling the words escape his lips, the sense of who is… what he is, just saying the words, realizing it, but what’s worse. What made him stop speaking at that moment was not that he was horrified by what he said. Perhaps a little shocked, but what really got him was… how good and wonderful it felt. It simply felt… right.

“Just what?” it asks, the pony toy standing over him tall and proud.

“Just that it was… collecting its thoughts, yes. Sorry, it just took a moment. But since you are here… where do these items go? This isn’t bondage.”

“Ah, the extra dildos and lubricants. Those are right down over here, let this one show you. And good on you for asking, never be shy about asking about such things. We are all here to help each other. And you’re new to this, you’ll get the hang of it soon.”

“R-right, thank you,” he replies, following the equine toy to the location where he needs to put the items away, “Now remember to put them in their proper place. If you aren’t sure where they go. Feel free to ask.”

“Got it, this one understands,” he responds, letting the speech roll off his tongue, seeing the equine smile at his acceptance.

“Toy is a good toy.”

“Very good toy.”

“Toy is eager to be good.”

He shudders, getting back to work, slowly putting away the overstock, constantly working the hours going by, the phrase in his mind growing more accepting to the depths of his psyche now that he’s let the words in, feeling them, embracing them. Keeping his focus he speaks the words out just a little bit, humming to them at times like listening to a song, or a jingle you can’t get out of your head.

“Toy is a good toy.”

“Toy serves.”

“Toy obeys.”

“This one is a good toy.”

“There is no I.”

“There is no me.”

“There is no myself.”

“There is only this one, it, itself…” he says to himself, feeling so good to let it go, a weight lifted from him, but also now something so much more is pressing in him, a bubbling constant desire, but at the moment his words are cut off by A-1377.

“Toy-to-be?” the equine says, approaching him.

“Ah, yes?” he replies, jumping a little, turning to them.

“It’s time.”

“Time?” he asks, with a soft mew, then catching a lovely sight. K-2373 standing beside A-1377.

K-2373 speaks up with a soft mew, “Time to go and get some rest. This one has heard about how good you are doing and it's very proud of what a good toy you’ve been.”

Ratchet shudders, nodding a little, “Thank you. It is pleasing to have done so well,” it says, the pleasure spike from his words not as high as it was before as with each passing of the phrase, it becomes ever more normalized, simply a part of who he is, but the impact remains.

“Is that so?” K-2373 says, its feeling smile growing upon hearing the words that escape your lips, ears twitching, “This one is so very pleased to hear you say that toy-to-be.”

“Toy is a good toy.”

“Toy wishes to please its owner.”

“Toy wishes to please its Maker.”

“Toy’s Maker is K-2373.”

“Good toys please Maker.”

Ratchet lets out a soft squeaky mew, looking Maker-to-be’s wonderful softly glowing blue eyes, moving in closer, feeling comfort from it, strength from it, a wonder that he can’t explain, but also something he doesn’t think about. It simply is. Like how he simply became a toy. And is enjoying it, “Thank you. I-this one is pleased that you are pleased.”:

K-2373 gently caresses Ratchet’s head, “Wonderful, and relax. You’ll get better at it. As it becomes more natural and truer to your inner self that you’ve had within you all along. Come, follow. It's time for your molding toy-to-be.”

“Yes,” he replies with a soft squeak, following it out of the warehouse. Looking back over his shoulder at A-1377, amazed that it can keep going, not even tired from all the work, but then the door closes behind them and his attention is pulled back forward. The store lights are dimmed, toys are working on the floor, stocking, cleaning up, preparing things for the next day. “T-toy has been in there the entire day?”

“Yes, time does fly when you are having fun, doesn’t it?”

“Ah… well…” he responds, feeling a little weird, “Surprised to work so long.”

“It gets easier with each passing day. Soon enough you’ll feel not an ounce of tiredness over several days, but that is still in the future. We have much more to work with you on. To mold you into a proper toy, toy-to-be.”

“Oh… ah, okay,” he replies, nodding along, feeling strange at how normal this conversation is coming off. They move across the store, admiring the cohesiveness of the entire operation. Wondering if any of these toys are like him? Or were like him? Were all toys like this? Thoughts that existed in his mind but not coming to the surface swirled in the back of his mind, behind the collar that whispers the soft sweet toy programing into his mind.

Like clockwork, they reach the other end of the store, unlocking the security door, going through the hallways, unlocking the next that says “Toy Molding Room” over the top. So obvious what it means, yet so far off on what anyone would come to the conclusion to if they just happened to see the sign. The purest sense of ‘hiding in plain sight’ would come to mind, if Ratchet wasn’t so transfixed on his future Maker… or at this point of time his actual Maker, who was simply not done working on him.

The coolness of the floor against his feet, the soft squeaks and heavy scent of latex in the air. The pods he’s worked so hard to get working as efficiently as possible. Knowing their innerworkings and what they end up doing to others let alone him specifically. A sense of pride fills him, knowing he’s done a good job.

“Toy, do you want to do it or prefer to have this one to guide you?” K-2373 asks as it walks over to the computer console, fingers typing into the screen the mold all ready for Ratchet to slip in.

He looks up at the mold, knowing what it's doing, another restless night, totally locked up, helpless, throbbing, aching, aroused, his butt clenches at the thought, knowing it’s coming, “Well… it…” he stammers, feeling anxiousness overcome him.

Then it melts away, K-2373’s fingers running across Ratchet’s spine, making him squeak physically and vocally, the tension within him melting away like butter put into a microwave. The feline toy smiles, leaning up close, the tip of the toy’s cock gently touching Ratchet’s butt, which adds just a hint of sexual tension into its moves, “This one understands. How intimidating it can be. The idea of it all. Realization? Would make some run off screaming even if they wanted it,” it says, licking across Ratchet’s ear.

The fennalope can swear he can almost feel it and have the rubber around his lobe twitch… wait no that isn’t possible, oh my gosh it feels so good! The thought melted away before it could even fully form, “Ah…”

“Come toy-to-be, many more to go,” it says gently moving its hands to Ratchet’s butt, pushing him forward up the steps toward the molding pod.

Without being told he turns around to face K-2373, seeing that loving smile, those sensual softly glowing blue eyes, the cuffs to match. The collar with that golden Tri-force that has its designation on it. For a brief moment he thinks what his will be, but when the feline toy places its hand on his chest, gently pushing him into the mold, all that fades away. He slips back into it, taking the adjustments into the near perfect molding of his body. The anticipation of what is to come, terrifying at first, but now becoming ever more wanting and delightful… It's a scary thought.

That hard plastic mold, cupping his entire body, his form outlined, feeling the back half of him barely having any movement, yes locked on K-2373 as it walks toward the computer console, each step building the anticipation. Just when the toy reaches the console, looking up at him, about to hit the button that will lock him back into the mold, something happens, “M-maker?” he asks, shuddering as the words come out of his mouth.

K-2373 smiles, “Yes toy-to-be?”

“Why?”

It tilts its head, “Why what?”

“Why me-this one? Why make it a toy? It never did anything for it. Never asked for it. Never said it wanted it. Never begged for it. Even now this is something that… It barely considers this reality. Like this is some sort of dream.”

K-2373 mulls over the words for a moment, “It is a dream in a way. A dream coming true. Part of it is because of who you are. What you are. The material that makes you who you are. That can’t be simply defined but can be understood. You’re high-quality material because of all of what you just said and so much more.”

“B-but how do you know? What if a mistake was made? What if…”

“Toy-to-be?”

“Y-yes?”

“Relax. This one has been doing this for a while. And had an excellent Maker to help this one in becoming better. One can’t fret over a mistake. Only fret over not learning from it. And this one and even its own Maker, learned a lot with each toy molded. This one knows it’s Maker learned so much from it, and from it. Hmm has to be a better way to say that in the future… This one thinks it just had a Maker moment there,” it chuckles.

“Maker moment?”

“When you meet this one’s Maker and it is sure you will, you’ll know what it means. But for now, you’ve worked hard, toy. Time to relax and enjoy your time off as you get molded to make your inside match your outside,” it says hitting the last button executing the sequence to lower the other half of the mold on top of Ratchet.

The fennelope lets out a soft squeak feeling the hard plastic push and guide his body into the mold cavity, locking him perfectly into place. Panting, tensing, groaning, feeling his crotch caressed and bulged, member twitching a little. The embracing plastic, the muffling of the world around him to leave him only able to hear the collar and his own thoughts, processing the events of the day, further strengthening his embracing of his toy-hood.

“Toy is a good toy.”

The blur of his Maker, coming up toward him, the tentacle tubes hanging in front of him, and well aware of the other behind him outside of view.

“Toy obeys.”

K-2373 grabbing the tube, guiding it over into his mouth.

He tries to widen it more, wanting, accepting it as it pushes into him, mouth suckling it eagerly, breathing through it.

“Toy loves to be of service.”

The tube twist locks into place. His Maker, moving behind him, grabbing the next tube, pushing it into his wanting rear, the time is coming so close, it twists, locks, rump squeezing the plug, prostate teased, stimulation increases.

“Toy loves to fuck.”

Such whispers into his mind, the air sucked out of the molding, body forced to fit the contours of it. More rubber pushed into the hair molds, increasing his rubber fur look just a hair more. Body completely unable to move now, his bondage complete, the rubber is soon to arrive.

“Toy is an object.”

The blur of his Maker walks away. The anticipation rising again, knowing what it is about to do, to start the molding process. The black rubber moving down, the darkening of the tube making it obvious to him. The latex flowing down onto his tongue, down into his mouth and throat, filling him, need to breath rising.

“Toy is a fuck toy.”

The warmth of the rubber in his rear, feeling good, desirable, feeding into him, his constant sexual high becoming that much more normalized, and easier to handle, yet so hard for him not wanting to be hard. Cock trapped in that rubber prison, caressed, cushioned, squeezed, becoming a little more part of the bulge.

“Toy is made to pleasure others.”

The rubber flowing down into his lungs providing him the ‘air’ he needs, soon normalizing, a little faster than before. The tension fading, body relaxing, letting the flow swirl through him, the rubber come into him, yet somehow out. A constant torrent of delightful warmth that washes over him and his mind, allowing him to focus on the important things.

“Toy doesn’t need to cum.”

“Toy doesn’t need to pleasure itself.”

“Toy doesn’t need to climax.”

“Climax of others is all that toy needs.”

Left to the mold, his mind, the collar. Body shifting and changing more. Another day is complete, and in a few scant eight hours, the process will begin all over again. The toy working for the company, servicing the company, doing what his Maker wants of him. Not complete yet, still many more days of molding to go. And to think, this is just the first week. What will the other weeks bring to him? To this toy-to-be? And how will he progress toward becoming the toy he knows he is becoming? As always, time will tell.

“Toy is a good toy.”

“Toy is a good toy.”

“Toy wants to be the best toy possible.”

“Toy loves to be of service.”

“Good toys want to service.”

“Good toys are at the ready to be used.”

“Good toys are used when they are ready.”

The says slipping into the back of Ratchet’s mind. The lust never ending, never subsiding, but becoming ever more manageable. Each time he gets out of the mold the suit feels tighter, better, less like a second skin and more like he’s actual skin. Yet there’s a change that has been occurring with each passing molding, one that he can’t get over, his mind drawn to it from time to time yet he never touches it, a good toy doesn’t touch itself, after all…