FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Izzy – Isabelle, really, but she had never liked her full given name – was standing on her usual street corner. Most other people in her line of business did their thing online these days, but in the wolf’s experience, you got much worse customers there. Few except for the most sadistic sociopaths would dare abuse someone in person. It was a line people generally didn’t cross, and one that didn’t exist online at all. As such, she didn’t mind being a little bit of a luddite prostitute.

Of course, a lot of people were too shy to approach her too, no matter how badly they would’ve liked to partake in her services. Today had been a very poor day for “hooking”; one of her regulars had gotten a quick blowjob, and that was more or less it. Not even more or less. Literally it. Izzy sighed, and then wrinkled her nose. The air tonight smelled like rubber this close to the Phisher Pharmaceuticals factory. Maybe that was why. Nobody wanted to fuck her if she smelled like an entire condom factory. Hell, most paid extra to not have to think about condoms at all.

But it’s not like there was anywhere else she could go. The cops had downtown under lockdown after a spate of disappearances, none of which they’d actually solve. Some other working girls said it was a serial killer. Izzy, if someone asked her – which nobody did – would sooner guess that those girls had simply moved to cities a little less grim than this one, saturated with grime, with oil, with that rubbery smell that had become almost emblematic of the former industrial powerhouse.

Well, there she was anyway. Little Izzy the wolf, under an enormous sign that read, in the loudest blue and pink neon, PHISHER PHARMACEUTICALS. FOR YOU, A BETTER YOU. The slogan wasn’t even good.

Truth be told, she felt a little twinge of nostalgia, standing there. As a kid, and then as a teenager too, she and Marie – her cousin-come-sister – had always made fun of it when playing in the abandoned industrial areas nearby, getting their young fur sooty and greasy from all the pollution that had settled over the ruins during the last fifty-some years.

Oh, those were the times. Though indeed cousins, she and Marie had ended up living with the same mother at a very early age, when Izzy’s mother died, and her booze-fiend of a father left soon afterwards. She had always seen Marie as kind of a big sister after that. Marie was perfect, whereas Izzy, even without the heavy emotional baggage she was saddled with at a young age, very much wasn’t. How much of that sisterly bond was mutual, Izzy really didn’t know; usually Marie called her a cousin, but at the same time, the older wolf treated her as a sister. A younger, trouble-making sister.

Ah, times past. Nostalgia was pointless. Marie had eventually gotten into a high school that focused on media, and then some kind of college for journalists. And that’d been that. Little Izzy, who was never as good at academia, had been left trying to scrape together a living some other way, and the only thing she had found in this horrible city was the oldest of jobs, the one that never went out of style. She couldn’t blame Marie. She would’ve gotten the hell off the streets if she could, too. Especially with this supposed serial killer on the loose.

The rumors had it that she wore a zebra mask.

The rumors had it that she dipped every victim in wax and left them as sculptures.

The rumors had it that she-

A car approached with a low rumble! Izzy puffed out her chest, stuck out of her ass, and swept her rain-damp hair out of her eyes. It was time to get to business, and looking at the sleek, black vehicle, she was about to get picked up by either the secret police, or a very rich horny bastard.

The car pulled up next to her. The passenger rolled his window down. The sight made Izzy’s heart skip a beat; he was wearing a full-face mask. Not a zebra one, just a featureless black one with two diodes around where the eyes had to be. She thought about running, but she had high heels and the person in the car had a car. She had absolutely no chance, if this actually was that hypothetical serial killer of working women and homeless girls.

“She looks good,” the masked man said, after a few uncomfortable moments of silence. He seemed to be wearing a lab coat, on closer inspection. “Should be sufficient.”

“Um, excuse me,” Izzy stuttered. “What do you-“

Well, she had no time to finish asking her question before the rear door swung open, and another muscular bear, dressed in a suit, stepped out. Very slowly and deliberately, he approached Izzy, produced a little syringe from his pocket. This time, Izzy did run. She made it a grand total of five steps before the bear caught her arm and jabbed the needle into her neck.

“Do not struggle,” he growled, in a foreign accent that Marie might’ve been able to place, but Izzy had no idea. “This will be much faster if you do not.”

She struggled anyway. She didn’t want to end up as a wax sculpture. But the heat of whatever the bastard bear had injected her with was quickly spreading through her and leaving every muscle it reached limp and listless. She stumbled, eventually slumping into the bear’s arms, and then found herself staring up at the light-bleached night sky, stars drowned out by neon, as she was dragged backwards into the car.

Phisher Pharmaceuticals, she read, from the neon sign taking up most of her vision. A cruel injustice that she was forced to see that and not much else for the final brief moments of her life, or at least, Izzy was fairly sure they were just that. For you, a better-

She woke up in a cold, ice cold room. At first, Izzy couldn’t get her eyes open. They felt dry, almost glued shut.

“Is she awake?” a voice asked. The masked man from earlier. Thankfully, she remembered everything. Though them letting her remember might mean she’d never leave this freezing place.

“Da,” the other voice replied. “Drug is wearing off. May be little dozy.”

“Very good. Leave us, then. I’ll take the samples myself,” the first replied. “And you, whore. Open your eyes.”

“I… can’t,” Izzy snarled. She really did struggle, but then, suddenly, they snapped open, drawing a pained yelp from the wolf. “Christ.”

She found herself looking at a barren room with metal walls and nothing more than a table and two chairs, of which she occupied one and the masked man, holding a little bag, the other. He stared at her, or at least his face was turned towards her.

“As a courtesy to any new recruits, we will inform you of what is about to happen to you,” the man spoke, in an emotionless monotone. “But first…”

He stood up, with perfect economy of movement, and pushed his chair back in under the table with one hand while producing a syringe from the bag, just as the bear had earlier.

“Not to worry, there will be no more drugging. Don’t flinch,” he advised.

Izzy wanted to flinch, but she was no fool. What would she do if she ran? She had no idea where she was, the man was almost twice her size, and the bear was just outside the room. She had to play along for now, no matter how much she hated it.

At least her job had prepared her well for not reacting to unpleasant stimuli like pain. She didn’t wince as the man stuck one of her fingertips with the needle. He then returned to his side of the table and placed the bag onto it. It seemed to contain a little machine of some kind, and he inserted the bloodied needle into a little aperture on the side.

“I’m analyzing your blood to see how compatible you are with our product,” he explained. Why he was explaining, Izzy didn’t really know. She would’ve preferred not knowing, if it was something like chemical experimentation.

She did notice that the blood analysis machine didn’t read Phisher. It read Equestrian Technologies Incorporated. If that meant anything, the wolf didn’t know. Izzy wasn’t a smart woman; she admitted that freely. If she had been smart, she’d have followed Marie to journalism school, but she simply couldn’t hack it.

That said, it didn’t take a genius to understand that someone was hiding something. The masked man hit a few keys on his machine, and then he froze. He was surprised. Izzy was perhaps not smart, but she could figure out how people felt at a glance, even without their expressions. This man’s shoulders had frozen in an uncomfortable position, his hands between keystrokes. There was something he hadn’t expected about the sample.

“One second,” he grumbled, and then waved to the featureless wall next to them. Two additional people in lab coats – one tigress and the other some sort of mutt canine – walked in immediately.

“Yes, sir?” they asked in unison.

Gods, they’re well trained, Izzy thought. And if she had run, the lobotomy duo here would’ve caught her for sure.

“Look at this number and tell me if I’m seeing it correctly. Because to me this reads that she’s compatible with the prime variant,” he stated. Izzy narrowed her eyes, in the vain hope that it’d somehow let her understand what they were talking about.

Both of the well-trained doctors leaned down to look at the screen. The mutt’s eyes went wide, then the tigress’.

“Yes, sir, that number does indicate that she’s prime-compatible,” the mutt stated.

“Seconded,” the tigress added.

“Did we not assume there was only one genetic code compatible with prime?” he asked. Now, there was a hint of anger in that otherwise emotionless drone of his voice.

“We assumed just that,” the tigress replied. Her voice was tinged with fear, instead.

“You both know what to do,” the masked man grumbled. “Dismissed.”

Stiffly, both tigress and mutt stood up and then walked out. It was obvious that they were scared absolutely shitless by whatever the bad boss in a mask was implying, which was probably that they’d be blamed for whatever he had missed. That, Izzy had plenty of experience with.

But then, Dr. Mask turned his attention back to her.

“Very well then, it seems you’re due to an unexpected raise in your… status in life,” he spoke, just about spitting the words out with obvious disdain. “Lucky genes, I suppose. Either way…”

He cleared his throat, composing himself again, and stood up to straighten his jacket. “Follow me, please. Unless you’d prefer making this difficult.”

She forced herself not to sigh as she stood up as well and followed the masked man into the corridor. The bear, who had been waiting outside, was instantly making sure to block off the only other possible route, ensuring she had no real choice. Yet again. Had she ever had a choice in her life, Izzy asked herself, mournfully.

They led her to a chamber full of test tubes. Person-sizes test tubes, each of which had someone inside, halfway covered in black rubber. Each seemed to be unconscious, but Izzy gasped as she recognized one of them, a mink, as a colleague of hers that’d disappeared only weeks prior. She was one of the ones they’d assumed fell victim to the serial killer, and…

Rubber. Not wax. They were certainly being turned into something, but the result looked more like rubber dolls than wax sculptures. Some of the victims had visors over their faces, each flickering frenziedly, and for some, those visors covered their entire faces. On others, like the mink, it was only her eyes.

She heard the door slam behind her. While she had been staring, Dr. Mask and the bear had left her in here, another cold room that smelled like rubber. She quickly began to look for possible escape routes. Above her, high above, was a ventilation shaft, but it was blocked off by a grate. Still, Izzy felt that she could climb up there if forced to. The question was what the two men were expecting to happen to stop her from escaping.

Her question was answered with a pop and a wet hiss as one of the test tubes opened. Out stepped one of the visor-clad people. A deer, by the looks of it, though all the characteristic fur patterns had been submerged in a shimmering black, liquid rubber that seemed to slowly move across her body, like the suit itself was alive. She looked at Izzy, or at least, Izzy thought that she did.

“Prime-compatible?” the deer asked. Her voice was soothing and melodic in spite of it all. “Beautiful. We had almost given up hope of more of us being possible at all.”

She stepped closer. Izzy didn’t recoil. She had been intimidated by enough assholes in her life that the anger was finally close to boiling over. She was bigger and stronger than the deer, that much was certain.

“What the fuck is a prime?” she finally asked, tired of everyone treating her as if she was an object, or even less than an object, not to be graced by any knowledge of what was going on.

“I am a ‘Prime’,” the deer replied. “Prime Drone Triple-Zero, and it’s lovely to meet my newest equal.”

Something about her, no matter how “equal” they were, made Izzy feel oddly at ease. Maybe it was her soft, almost hypnotic tone. Maybe it was the perfumed rubber scent around her. Or maybe it was the cold in the room numbing her fight or flight reflex. But she still didn’t recoil as the deer placed a slick hand against her chest, just above her breasts. The simple gesture was, somehow, all three of sensual, reassuring, and dominant at once.

It felt, most of all, comforting. Izzy let out the breath she had unconsciously been holding. “I don’t know what any of that means,” she sighed. For a person covered entirely by flowing latex, the deer was about as warm as she might’ve expected anyone to be, rather than cold. So she was still alive under there, producing body heat.

“You’ll understand in just a moment,” the “prime drone” reassured her. “You see, usually the latex subsumes your will. With you, it’ll truly bond with you. You’ll have one unified will, and you’ll be able to force others into submission.”

“Wait, what do you mean-“ Izzy started, and that was when she finally recoiled, as she felt the rubber tickling her skin and fur. It was spreading over her, and rapidly, coating her entire body in the black sludge. “-get this shit off me!”

Her protest was half-hearted at best. The latex felt warm on her, warm and tingly, and everywhere it touched quickly began to feel a strange combination of both numb and hypersensitive, as if her body couldn’t quite control the muscles there. But that wasn’t’ so bad, was it? It was like the suit was covered in some kind of numbing agent; she could always take it off later, Izzy reasoned.

By the time it spread over the struggling wolf’s arms, the “prime drone” picked up a visor from a nearby table and brought it towards her face.

“Don’t worry, you won’t lose yourself like the others will. It’ll just help you get in the mood,” the deer smiled reassuringly, and the scary part was that Izzy believed her.

It felt like she was losing herself, though. Everywhere the liquid rubber crept, the line between her body and the stuff grew diffuse and difficult to sense, as if it was bonding with her. Izzy tried swiping some of it off her arm, but instead her fingers sank far deeper into the goo than they should’ve. Did she have a body left beneath, at all, or had the rubber dissolved her?

Sharp panic rose like bile in Izzy’s throat. She had thought the rubber was a suit, but it was much more and much worse. She was becoming the suit.

“Wh-“ she opened her mouth, barely able to get a single syllable out before the Prime Drone fastened the visor over her eyes. An immediate swirl of colors calmed her down enough to make her forget what she had been thinking. While she wouldn’t become a mindless drone, there were still certain adjustments to be made before she was ready to perform her new duties.

Corrupt, the mask read, the words burning themselves into Izzy’s mind. Corrupt. She felt a sudden urge to share the latex with others, to turn them into simple toys for herself and the company, and her by now rubber-covered slit tingled eagerly at the thought. Izzy shook her head.

Transform, it commanded her. The word carried the same heavy meaning. Do to others what was being done to her, right now.

Dominate. Subvert their wills with the beautiful latex. That was her purpose as a prime drone. To convert other women into drones and then make them carry out her will. Hers, and that of the company.

CORRUPT. Enhance their natural urges until they surrender willingly, letting the rubber and pleasure melt their brains until nothing but a lust-addled and empty-headed template of a person remained.

TRANSFORM. Subsume every inch of their warm, supple bodies with beautiful latex. Steal away their humanity and their very thoughts, transforming them into obedient slaves, ready to be commanded to do anything their mistress needed.

DOMINATE. Seize control of the drones. Supplant their will.

A rush of heady power washed over Izzy. None of that sounded like who she was, but the feelings hooked into others that she already knew she felt. The triumphant pleasure of making someone cum, of controlling just as she wanted. That was what most of her former customers always chose; they wanted her to take control, to ride them until they came or for her to make them cum with her mouth.

This wasn’t who she was! She didn’t want to ruin people or strip out their will. All she had ever wanted was to just make others happy. Warping the minds of others like this was evil, wasn’t it? If so, why did the fantasy make her burn with excitement?

She shuddered. Corrupt, transform, dominate. The words kept echoing in her head, and so distracted was the wolf by the hypnotic show that she didn’t think about how she was being corrupted and transformed by the latex covering the last few inches of bare fur.

Maybe it was evil, but thought was so appealing that Izzy couldn’t resist thinking about it as scenes of herself corrupting and transforming countless anonymous women of every species flashed through her mind, until she was panting, all thoughts of how evil such acts might be quickly burned away by the visor’s repeated guidance.

Not until her vision flickered again, and real life – somewhat real, at least – was visible to her again, though with no indication of how much the strange mind-breaking visor really changed things.

The deer looked like a goddess. And when Izzy looked down at herself, she did, too. The liquid coating on her body shifted as she moved, followed her very breath, and of course it did, because it was her. And again the “suit” rewarded that acceptance with pleasure. Another clench deep inside her body.

“Beautiful, indeed,” Triple-Zero – the name came to Izzy like a dream, of course that was what Prime Drone 000 should be called – said, admiring the wolf’s changed form. Her slick hands roamed across Izzy’s body, cupping her breasts and stroking down her hips, squeezing ever so slightly here and there, as if appraising how the transformation had gone. “Now, you’ll need a little training. Just to make sure you understand your new powers.”

“What do you mean?” Izzy asked. She felt dazed, all of a sudden, and could only watch as Triple-Zero opened another test tube. This one had a little otter, rather curvy in all the sensual, feminine ways, inside it, who fell onto all fours the instant the tube opened, gasping for air. Her legs had already been coated in the rubber, but the rest of her hadn’t, and going by the panicked, darting look in her eyes, it hadn’t corrupted her either.

Corrupt. That was Izzy’s most important job. It didn’t matter if it was evil or not, it was who she was. It all came instinctively, and without having to be told, she approached the otter. She felt perhaps half in control of her body, the rest guided as if automated or as if she were a puppet with an external force plucking her strings. The rubber itself, no doubt, had a will of its own. But it aligned with her own more and more with each passing second.

The otter glanced up at her, but immediately averted her eyes. The little thing was so scared. Thankfully, once Izzy was done with her, she wouldn’t feel anything but happiness at being allowed to serve her superiors. Gently, the new Prime Drone reached out to gently touch the otter’s chin, and she guided her gaze to meet her own – or at least, the visor – once again.

“No need to be afraid,” Izzy whispered. The otter’s eyes fluttered, as if her voice had the same hypnotic quality that she had noticed with Triple-Zero earlier. Maybe it did. “Just relax. You’ll enjoy this.”

She pulled the otter into a warm, sticky embrace, holding the curvy little woman’s head against her plentiful breasts. It felt like a perversion of the very act of intimacy itself, but it also turned Izzy on like crazy to see part of her new latex-covered self being to spread over the otter’s snout. It felt ecstatic, and what made her twice as wet was knowing that she’d have full control of the voluptuous otter once she succumbed to the transformation.

“Relax, and let me fix you,” Izzy murmured, stroking slowly along the back of the otter’s head. “Fix all that anxiety and all those worries…” she continued.

The otter trembled. She was definitely afraid. But at the same time, she didn’t move, either. Probably understood what was best for her, Izzy thought. Her hand slipped a little lower along the other woman’s back, until it squeezed the very base of her thick, rudderlike tail. It left a trail of black rubber everywhere Izzy touched, accelerating the process, but the otter seemed almost eager to not have to worry or think anymore.

Triple-Zero probably gave her a naturally submissive test subject to start with. Not that Izzy minded. Twisting her weak will and then erasing it would feel just as good either way. The hand slid even further down until Izzy openly cupped the otter’s mound and left a wet, rubbery sheen over that most intimate part of her anatomy too.

“There you go. Good girl,” Izzy whispered. A finger pushed between the shivering otter’s lips. Soon, the little mustelid would never hesitate about things like this again. She’d eagerly let whoever wanted to use her, use her, like all the other drones. Horny and soaking wet immediately on her master’s command.

The otter whimpered. Izzy didn’t know her name. Then again, in just a few minutes, her name wouldn’t matter anymore, and it’d be as if she’d never had one at all. Her fingers sunk deeper into her, knuckle by knuckle, until two were buried all the way inside the otter’s clenching pussy.

That was when Triple-Zero, observing her, handed her one of the visors, just like the ones that she and Izzy were wearing, that ensured that they never strayed too far from a Prime Drone’s tasks. Izzy showed it to the otter, grinning from ear to ear, and delighting in how the little mustelid quivered in her arms.

“Want me to put this on you? Really let you forget all your troubles and gain a whole new purpose as an obedient drone?” she asked.

Scratch that thought from earlier, Izzy mused. Teasing a truly submissive woman was even more fun than breaking a dominant one.

The otter nodded. She pulled away from Izzy’s bosom and then nodded again, more eagerly. She was so willing to go along that it was equally adorable and pathetic. Just like a good submissive should be. Easily corrupted, and even more easily dominated. Izzy grinned.

“Beg for it. Beg to be my first mindless servant drone,” she commanded. “Tell me how much you want your mind to be completely and wonderfully blank.”

She pulled her fingers out of the otter’s cunt and brought them to her lips. She was almost completely covered in the latex, now. Only her face really remained; that little space between her eyebrows and the bridge of her snout where she’d place the visor to rewrite her weak little brain entirely. The otter’s breath stuttered as Izzy smeared her own juices on her lips.

“I… please, I- I w-want to be a drone… anything is better than… please,” she begged, dropping a few words here and there for how badly she was shaking, no doubt in both anticipation and desire.

“Good girl,” Izzy murmured, and then placed the visor over her pleading eyes. It immediately bonded with the latex, permanently affixing itself over the otter’s eyes. Then, it flashed, and the curvy little mustelid nearly went slack against her.

Izzy watched as her wetness drooled down her legs. By now, the wolf wanted some release as well.

“Down on your knees. Lick,” she commanded. “Worship your Prime.”

Despite the sheer lewdness of the act, there was something almost maternal about it. The bond between prime and regular drone was like… well, Izzy didn’t have the words to describe it, but she knew that she’d take care of her perfectly obedient drones for as long as they remained perfectly obedient. It felt like a warmth in her heart, an affection that she nonetheless knew she could drop in a heartbeat if the drone was needed for something else by the company.

But for now, she instead moaned happily as the otter-drone’s tongue delved between her swollen, slick folds and licked with a desperate eagerness to please her new mistress. Had she been a lesbian before, or even bisexual? Izzy didn’t care; she was now, and her previous life might as well not have existed at all.

Something that very much applied to the wolf herself, not that her own visor allowed her to think about such unnecessary facts. She was dominance and corruption. The rush of having her drone obey her was so much better than the otter’s tongue hungrily lashing over her stiff little clit ever could’ve been. It was an indescribably intense high, like how books might describe someone’s first sex in heat, or a vampire’s first feeding.

She grabbed the transformed otter’s head and pulled her more tightly against her pussy, letting her juices smear over the drone’s worshipful lips. It didn’t take long at all for her orgasm to wash over her, with how immense all those sensations were. Izzy’s back arched and she let out another moan, and then felt herself clench hard around the otter’s tongue, now inside her.

“Drink up,” she managed to force out before the pleasure became too much to form any kind of coherent sentence. Then, with one of those clenching spasms of her new rubbery cunt, Izzy soaked the otter’s mouth in her juices, squirting as she came so hard that her wetness stained the new drone’s visor. She tried to swallow as much of her mistress’ nectar as she could while Izzy rode her face like a toy.

Because she was a toy. The otter understood that. Being a toy made her happy, an empty servant for her owners to fill in whatever way they wished.

“Very good,” Triple-Zero said, after Izzy’s orgasm ebbed. “You’ll do a fantastic job converting more for the company.”

Some faint fragment of the wolf’s mind wanted to protest that, but it was a half-hearted and barely audible protest. She was too drunk on the dominance, the ease of corrupting others into doing whatever she and the company wanted.

“Thank you,” she replied, and then turned towards the otter, still on her knees with the visor flashing what seemed like good girl, likely flooding her body with a dopamine rush of a reward for obeying and pleasuring. “You can rest.”

The otter slumped down like a robot with its batteries removed. She remained on her knees, if only barely, with a blissful smile on her otherwise empty face, ready to be stored away in idle mode until she was needed.

“We will have another surprise for you soon,” the deer continued. “But first…”

She stepped up next to Izzy, wrapped her arms around the other prime, and pulled her into a deep kiss, their warm lips smushing against each other and their tongues quickly finding themselves in a mutual, passionate dance. It was evident enough that watching turned her on almost as much as corrupting things herself, and though Prime drones had near-perfect control of their bodies, her hips still twitched, pressing her leaking, naked sex against Izzy’s leg before quickly regaining her composure.

“Now, you do need to be… finished,” the deer grinned. She motioned towards the test tube that the otter had just left.

She didn’t have to tell Izzy what to do. She knew just as well as the deer did. The changes had to be made permanent, so that she and the latex could truly be one being rather than two. For the most part, they already were, but she wanted to make sure that she’d never risk losing this beautiful new power she had been granted.

With zero hesitation, Izzy stepped inside the tube-like chamber. With a hydraulic hiss, it closed up behind her and began filling with a warm, thick liquid. Normally, one might’ve been worried about being unable to breathe, but Izzy felt no real urgency to breathe anyway. She relaxed into the warm, floating sensation and let her thoughts drift, the last thing she saw before losing consciousness being Triple-Zero’s reassuring smile.

She was unconscious for some time. She wasn’t sure how long, but outside of the facility, it was long enough for her sister to try to figure out what happened to her. Try, and fail. Eventually, the tube opened again, but to Izzy it felt as if no time had passed at all; she was simply invigorated, stepping out with a confident strike.

“You’re awake. Good. By now, everything that happened to you should be permanent. Doesn’t that feel wonderful, knowing that nothing can ever take what’s yours away from you again?”

It seemed that Triple-Zero had been reading up on Izzy’s past, or maybe asking about it, because each word hit home. Not that Izzy really needed any more convincing that this was her rightful place. She nodded, slowly.

“Welcome to the family,” the deer grinned. “But oh, it seems we have another family member of yours here, visiting us. Former family member, I suppose…”

She paused, considering how she might phrase the next part of what she was saying.

“They transformed your sister while you were undergoing the final changes,” Triple-Zero smiled, as Izzy stepped out of the tube. She still felt a little odd, but that sexy feeling of power had only grown, and it didn’t hurt that she felt totally naked in her new latex body. Naked and confident. “I’m sorry you couldn’t be there.”

“My… sister,” the other, who had been once known as Izzy, responded. “Cousin… sister.”

She was a little groggy from the finalized transformation. As one probably should be. The rubber had taken over all of her bodily functions, infiltrated every neuron and bonded itself permanently to the very seat of her consciousness… and desire. It had left her will intact, mostly, bar for the corruption.

“We can wake her up, briefly, if you’d like closure,” Triple-Zero offered.

Izzy took a wobbling step before steadying herself. Waking up a drone meant returning them to their original consciousness, which the latex safely stored away for later use, and replaced with an obedient default drone persona. This was the case for everyone but the primes.

-her sister. Marie! She hadn’t seen her for ages! The new Prime Drone snapped back into the present, and out of that transformation-induced stupor. Her beloved sister.

A grin spread underneath the visor now permanently stuck over Izzy’s face. It communicated a desire to corrupt, and she agreed. It was her time to be the big sister for once. There was no thought of resistance or rebellion against the company that had corrupted her; what they offered felt far too good and tempting.

Certainly, it beat life on the streets, and it did so handily. She was finally someone important.

Triple-Zero gestured at the new Prime to follow, and they walked into a small side-chamber. This one had a mattress in it – made of rubber, naturally – and little else. After a few more minutes, she guided in another transformed wolf. There was little to identify her by, on the surface. The drones were meant to be anonymous and identical, after all; any wolf-drone looked like any other wolf-drone.

And yet, the drone who had been Izzy knew that this drone had once been called Marie, and it was the older, more successful sister that she had grown up with. Right now, her mouth was hanging open in a vapid, empty smile, with the visor blank; she was fully suppressed in mindless drone-mode. Seeing her like that made Izzy’s slick, rubbery cunt clench with perverted lust.

“Wake her up,” Triple-Zero told her, and showed her how. It was as easy as a Prime simply telling them to, in the right tone of voice. But before the Marie-Drone woke up, Triple-Zero left, with a cunning grin on her face. “This reunion is for you two alone, before we put her to work.”

The door closed behind her, and Izzy looked at her sister. Well, they’d never truly been sisters, but those were the roles the two had adopted. With her as the trouble-making little sister and Marie as the grown-up and successful one. But now, finally, it was Izzy’s time to be the dominant one.

“Wake up, Marie,” she whispered, quietly but with a hint of sternness into the other wolf’s ear.

Marie stirred instantly. A tremor went through her slick, shiny form, as her former mind was brought to the forefront, though not without the brainwashing visor’s input. Submit. Surrender. Obey, it read, to make sure its wearer didn’t rebel despite having a chance to do so. “Wh- Isabelle? Where are we?” she stuttered, finding her lost voice. “I feel so… odd.”

“We’re just where we should be, sis,” Izzy replied. She ran a finger down the side of Marie’s torso, and then across the front. “With you as a subservient slave and myself, finally, as the big sister.”

God, it felt good to say those words. Good enough that Izzy felt herself growing increasingly wet over it. She had, deep in her heart, always been jealous about Marie’s success, and the way her mother clearly preferred the older wolf.

“No, you don’t understand,” the older wolf groaned. “You have to get help. They kidnapped you! And…” her voice sank. “I guess they got me too.”

“Mhm. They did. You hired a thief to figure out what happened to me,” Izzy murmured. “Because I was always the bad, stupid kid, getting lost and into trouble.”

“N-no, that’s not- I just wanted to help you,” Marie replied. “And now we’re… trapped.”

“We’re not trapped. We’re better than ever. Well, I am, at least,” Izzy smiled. Not that Marie could see her smile. “But you can be happy, too.”

Without waiting for a reply, she pushed the lesser drone over onto the mattress. Clearly the visor had done an imperfect job. Often, the drones required a final push to burn away the last traces of resistance. It was something that the organic brain so eagerly clung to. The notion of dominance, the desire to be in control, most evident in how Marie still insisted that she was the big sister.

Flexing the power that proved otherwise left Izzy dripping with excitement. Her visor reaffirmed it. Corrupt, transform, dominate.

“Spread your legs, little sister,” she purred, and of course, Marie was utterly unable to disobey. She whimpered as she obediently parted her legs, baring that black, featureless, but quickly dampening slit between them.

Izzy – really, she had no name anymore, just a designation – knelt next to her equally nameless sister and grasped her entire mound in one of her hands.

“Someone’s getting wet,” she purred. “I think you really want this.”

“Please- Izzy, we can still get out of her. We can expose these-“ she gasped with pleasure as Izzy’s palm smushed against her clit. “-these monsters.”

“I think you just need to relax and accept that your little sister is all grown up now, and you are the troublemaker,” Izzy continued. It felt wonderful to say all that. “Just admit it.”

Marie only managed a weak whimper in response, one that quickly turned into a desperate moan as Izzy’s head dipped lower and her rubbery lips engulfed her sister’s clit. Though always a sensitive part, for the drones, all erogenous zones were ten times as intense when in a sexual mode, so that even if one was to somehow muster the willpower to rebel, a few knowing touches would quickly reduce one to a gushing, quivering mess.

Some might’ve thought Izzy’s position between her sister’s legs to be submissive, but the wolf would’ve disagreed. She was going to devour what little resistance remained in Marie’s poor little head, until there wasn’t even a personality to recover beyond a blankly staring and smiling brainless drone. If that meant eating out her pussy until she was begging Izzy to stop… well, she just happened to taste delicious, as all drones did.

“N-nuh, stop, please,” Marie squealed. “I c-can’t, it’s too- too much!”

As she got exactly the reaction she wanted, Izzy slid a finger into her sister’s welcoming hole. She clenched with blatant, naked need. Of course, a drone couldn’t really not enjoy being used, anyway, so no matter how hard Marie tried, she was still going to cum out what little remained of independent thought in her head. The question was just how long she could resist. The talented, intelligent, successful and strong-willed Marie of old could’ve resisted as long as she wanted.

“But you’re not Marie anymore, are you?” Izzy teased. “You’re not even the big sister. Just a drone.”

“Just- just a drone,” Marie repeated obediently before realizing what she was saying, but by then a jolt of pleasure wiped out the thought of protesting, and had her moan out instead, tilting her hips and grinding her sopping wet cunt against her sister’s dominant mouth and tongue.

“Just a drone. Just my drone little sister, unable to make any choices at all without me,” Izzy continued. She was, again, very close to cumming just from the heady erotic rush of dominating someone. Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she kept playing with the other wolf, thrusting her tongue deeper into that clenching heat.

But Marie didn’t repeat that one. Evidently her role as big sister was too deeply engrained in her. Unfortunately for her, she really didn’t have a choice with the living latex permanently bonded to every fiber of her being. Izzy could’ve easily forced her. But the younger wolf wanted to enjoy her moment of dominance ever so slightly longer.

“Drone. When you cum, you’ll accept everything I said, and forget about the past. Permanently. There won’t be anything left of your old self,” Izzy commanded her.

“Don’t… don’t do this, you can still…” Marie whined, weakly. In truth of course, she couldn’t. There was no procedure that anyone knew to get the latex off a drone once it had fully bonded. But the desperation in her voice was still delicious to Izzy, who drank every word. If she thought she had any hope, she’d struggle more.

Izzy’s tongue swiped along the length of her sister’s slit, all the way up to her clit, scooping up a mouthful of her nectar. Oh, she’d eaten out a few well-paying women before, but she’d never liked it. Not like this. She lashed her pierced tongue against the little pleasure-nub and delighted in how Marie desperately squirmed and thrashed, her hips held pinned to the mattress by Izzy’s arms but her upper body flailing, hands grabbing for anything they could find, which was nothing. There was nothing she could’ve done as the shuddering shocks of pleasure grew more and more frequent, coiling up inside the defenseless drone like a spring.

She had already been through all of this once. Being turned into a mindless, obedient drone. She remembered how good it had felt. Only this time it would be permanent. There would be no going back, not ever. Izzy was going to fully erase her past personality, and the thought came with such a perverse thrill. Marie, old or new, would never have admitted to it turning her on, but it did. She’d never have to worry about responsibilities again. She’d just be the little sister, carefree, just as she had at times been jealous of Izzy for.

She would never admit that either and Izzy would never know, but both of the cousins-come-sisters had wished for some level of reversed roles. And now they were about to be given them.

Marie’s breath hitched. She trembled. At some point under Izzy’s merciless assault on her pussy, she realized she had passed the point of no return. She felt so wound up that she knew she’d come regardless, she’d cum even harder if Izzy kept going. There was no escaping it now; she’d lose all of herself, except whatever Izzy wanted her to retain. She’d squirt it all out of her goddamn mind and never have to worry again.

“Cum for me,” Izzy goaded her, her voice soft and quiet from between lust-smeared lips. “Just let go. Be the little sister.”

Well, it was already too late. And so, Marie surrendered. Her back arched as pleasure burned through her entire latex-clad form, and her pussy clenched hard around Izzy’s tongue. With each clench, though, a part of herself faded, the little spark of willpower that remained inside her doused by her juices. She wanted to stop before it was all gone, but Izzy didn’t let her. As her orgasm wracked her body, Marie’s moans grew louder and louder, more and more shamelessly needy as her remaining personality burned away. All but…

“What are you, drone?” Izzy commanded, curling her fingers around the former Marie’s squeezing cunt, driving them against her g-spot.

“I’m… I’m your little sister,” the drone cried.

And that was that. The final admission of surrender made her cum again before the first orgasm had even ended, soaking Izzy’s face with her juices and thrashing uncontrollably on the mattress. From that point on, that empty-headed pleasure would be her whole world. Pleasure and obedience; whatever her big sister mistress demanded.

Izzy, of course, also reached her peak at that single moment of erasure. She didn’t let the lesser drone see any of it, merely grunting quietly as she clenched, too, her synthetic body awash in pleasure with each reflexive twitch of her excited pussy. Never once in her wildest fantasies had Izzy dreamt that corrupting someone and taking their very self away from them could feel so fucking good.

Finally, the drone slumped back, panting. Good girl, good drone, obey, the visor reminded her, and she couldn’t help but agree, quietly whining happily at being so intensely praised. She was deeply grateful to her big sister for finally relieving her of the burden of any agency whatsoever. All that she was, was a servant. It felt good to think about it, and even better to understand that it was true.

Izzy stood up, her own juices still drooling between her legs, giggling to herself as she watched her former big sister squirm in the afterglow, her smoothed drone brain trying and failing to find anything but obedience to latch onto.

“Yeah, write an article about that, why don’t you?” Izzy snarled. She felt so incredibly powerful, so mighty, almost like a goddess. She left the drone there; someone else could clean up that mess. She had more important things to do.

She had to advance the business of Equestrian Technologies Incorporated, oh yes. Convert more drones for them. Corrupt them and subvert their wills with her own, ready to do whatever the corporation required. With her and Triple-Zero at the forefront as their two primes, the world had no chance. They’d all be mindless servants soon enough, and they’d love being that.

Prime Drone 001 threw her head back and laughed, rejoicing in her newfound power.