Traced
His suit pulses in your paws, its patterns matching his own perfectly. A warning whispers in your mind, but his scent surrounds you, claims you, and resistance vanishes without a trace.
>> MATURE because neon green and black look so good on you.
His suit pulses in your paws, its patterns matching his own perfectly. A warning whispers in your mind, but his scent surrounds you, claims you, and resistance vanishes without a trace.
>> Author's Notes
I'd sought out a few folks for story ideas, as I've been practicing 2nd person POV. When I approached Xyveon, he'd actually just been finishing a commission, and felt it might make for good inspiration. Turns out it did! I already love his sona's design, so writing a suiting story about subtle hypnosis and identity shift was pretty fun. I hope his commissioner enjoys a bit of bonus content!
A special thank you to Xyveon for the inspiration. Cheers!
>> >> <> << <<
>> Traced <<
Written by SynthW4V3
Written for Xyveon
>> >> <> << <<
The room pulses with electric anticipation. Neon green light bleeds through darkness, casting liquid shadows across black walls. One wall gleams like obsidian — a mirror reflecting your naked, trembling form as you clutch the latex suit with unsteady paws.
Thud-thud. Thud-thud.
Your reflection stares back, uncertainty painted across features soon to be... changed? The thought sends shivers down your spine. You look down at the suit, mesmerized. The material catches light like liquid midnight, each fold and curve teasing transformation as you curl it over your paws. Neon green patterns match his coloring — jaw, chest, stomach, all waiting to consume you. White stripes accent the black latex like frozen lightning.
Your fingers trace across the surface. Cold yet somehow alive. Each touch sends sparks cascading through your nerves, little whispers of what's to come. The latex seems to breathe beneath your fingertips, eager to claim, to change, to perfect.
Movement in the mirror catches your eye.
Him.
Ace steps behind you, his reflection a study in fluid confidence. Those neon green eyes lock with yours in the mirror, knowing and hungry. How long has he been aware of your feelings? The secret glances, the lingering looks. The way your heart races whenever he's near.
His paws slide up your bare sides, claiming flesh that will soon be hidden beneath rubber skin. Each touch leaves trails of fire in its wake. Your breath hitches as his claws trace delicate patterns across your stomach, your chest, mapping territory soon to be transformed. Your body betrays you, arching subtly, seeking more of his touch.
It's a delicious dance you've been drawn into. Primal. Seductive.
A rhythm that commands your very essence.
His muzzle brushes your neck, hot breath sending shivers cascading down your spine. His tongue flicks out, dragging across your cheek before pressing a claiming kiss against you. You should feel trapped, should feel afraid — but all you feel is want. Your reflection shows your own need painted across your features, pupils blown wide with desire as his paws continue their possessive exploration.
If only you could see the predatory satisfaction in his smile, the knowing glint in those neon eyes. But you're lost in sensation, lost in the feeling of finally being touched, being claimed. Each caress draws you deeper into his lair, willing prey too enchanted by the dragon's hoard.
"This suit..." His voice drips like warm honey down your spine. "I knew you'd love to try it on." Too close. Deliciously close. His presence overwhelms you — heat and power and control. "Beautiful, isn't it?" His breath ghosts across your ear. "It's what you've been dreaming about."
Your breath catches. Heat floods your cheeks. Those endless nights spent thinking of him, imagining what it would be like to feel his touch. To be his, even if just for a moment. And now here you are, his paws exploring your soon-to-be-subsumed form, holding what he claims is just a special rubber suit he wants you to try.
"Let's get you into this," he purrs, claws tracing one final path down your bare flesh. Each touch feels like a heartbeat, a promise of what's to come. Your reflection trembles with anticipation, with need, with surrender.
Coherent thought dissolves into need.
You'd do anything he asked.
Anything.
The first touch of latex against your hindpaws sends electricity arcing through your nerves. The material clings like a lover's caress, molding to your flesh with terrifying intimacy. Immediately you feel your mind fog over, thought dissolving like mist. Your heart thunders against fragile ribs. This feels... different. Wrong. But his presence behind you drives all doubt away.
Each toe disappears beneath glossy grey rubber, clawed in neon green. It flows like liquid night, stealing your breath and clouding your thoughts. Your sensitive pads are next, then upwards to your ankles. Your calves. It molds to each curve with intimate precision, matching his legs exactly. Each heartbeat draws the material higher, deeper, closer.
The suit breathes against your skin, each pulse drawing you further into its embrace.
Into his embrace.
"That's it," Ace purrs, his voice thick with satisfaction. His paws guide the suit higher, controlling you, helping you pull it over yourself. "Let it take you. Feel how right it is."
Your legs tremble as rubber flows upward. Grey latex molds to muscle, reshaping you subtly with each pulse. Your blood feels like mercury, heavy and liquid beneath shimmering skin. Mind drifting. Thoughts slipping away, making way for new ones to slide in.
Was your fur always this color?
Were your legs always shaped just so?
Who... who are you?
The question echoes through emptying spaces in your mind. Your thighs quiver as latex claims them, each inch of coverage stealing another fragment of self. Ace's paws never leave you, guiding, controlling, owning.
"Beautiful," he murmurs. "Already forgetting, aren't you? Already becoming mine."
His words sink into you like stones in still water, ripples of truth spreading through dissolving thoughts. In your addled state, all you can do is lean in and accept. The suit pulses in response, squeezing, possessing, perfect.
Your tail — sensitive, vulnerable _— slides into its rubber prison. The sensation steals your breath as black latex flows over it, neon green claiming the underside just like his own. His paws then guide the suit over your ass, latex molding to flesh with hungry possession. Each curve surrenders to the rubber's embrace, transforming beneath his touch. You feel yourself changing, becoming smoother, sleeker _— just like him.
"Such a perfect fit," Ace purrs, kneading your rubber-wrapped curves. His claws trace patterns across your new skin, sending shivers through your core. Each touch makes your tail twitch, the sensation alien yet familiar. His. "Every inch of you becoming exactly what I want."
Your hips roll involuntarily as he explores your changed form, testing how the rubber responds to his touch. Your tail curls, seeking his approval, moving in ways that feel natural yet entirely new. The base where it meets your spine tingles with sensitivity, a constant reminder of how _right _this feels.
"Feel how responsive you are already?" His paw slides along your tail's length, drawing a gasp from your lips. "Your body knows what it's becoming. Who it belongs to."
You want more.
Need more.
Need to be his.
Your cock throbs with desperate need as rubber claims it next. Cool latex stretches, accommodates, transforms. The sensation is both thrilling and terrifying as rubber slicks over what used to be yours, making it his. Your breath hitches as Ace's paw wraps around your changing length, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through glossy flesh.
His grip brands you, marks you, claims you… body and soul.
"Such a needy little toy," he purrs, each stroke deliberate and possessive. Your hips betray you, pushing into his touch even as more of your old self disappears beneath glossy rubber skin. "Already forgetting who you used to be."
His paw slides lower, exploring newly-transformed territory. Each touch sends fresh waves of sensation cascading through your core. Your balls grow heavy with rubber, transforming beneath his careful attention. The material feels alive as it claims you, pulsing with each beat of your thundering heart.
You catch glimpses of your reflection — your groin now a replica of his own, sealed away in sleek neon excellence. Your mind reels at the sight, arousal warring with the last fragments of resistance. But his touch... his control... it feels too good to fight.
"Yes, watch yourself change," he murmurs, giving your rubber length another squeeze. "Watch yourself become mine."
Up your hips, up your waist. Each inch of latex brings fresh waves of sensation crashing through dissolving consciousness. Black gives way to neon green across your belly, matching his pattern just so. Your breath comes in sharp gasps as rubber claims your torso.
Changing.
Becoming.
Surrendering.
The latex flows higher, defining and sculpting your abs as it slips over you. Each ridge and valley of muscle surrenders to rubber flesh, warping, transforming, matching his form exactly. Ace's paw traces each newly-formed curve, lingering possessively over your changing core, claws trailing fire across your glistening abs.
Your chest transforms next, smooth rubber skin flowing upward like midnight tide. Reality bends around you, stretching, molding, perfecting. Nipples tingle as they're sealed away, lost beneath your new self.
"Look how eagerly you accept it," Ace murmurs, paws sliding over latex-slick flesh. "How you're becoming mine."
His claws catch against rubber skin. Pleasure-pain sparks through transformed nerves. Your mind floats in sweet dissolution, thoughts melting like sugar in rain. His paw finds your latex-wrapped cock again and squeezes.
"Still thinking too much," he chides, voice dark as midnight. "Good toys don't think. Good toys just feel."
Yes... feel...
The thought drifts through empty spaces where identity used to live. So simple. So ideal. Your head falls back against his shoulder as pleasure pulses through rubber flesh, each wave stealing more of who you were.
Your arms slide into waiting sleeves, rubber claiming flesh with possessive hunger. Fingers tingle as they transform, becoming exact copies of his own. Grey latex flows upward, matching his coloring exactly. Everything feels distant now. Dreamlike. Inevitable.
Black latex seals your shoulders away. Neon green rubber flows up your throat like warm honey. Each gulp and swallow reminds you of surrender, of purpose.
The hood dangles below your chin, before blurring eyes. Empty sockets stare back, neon green waiting to claim your gaze. An absolute replica of his face rendered in gleaming latex. Your reflection shows a body already transformed, only your face remaining. So close to perfect. So close to complete.
Your last chance to resist, to remember, to be.
But resistance feels...
Wrong.
Distant.
Unnecessary.
Ace's paws cradle you with possessive care.
"Time to let go completely," he purrs. "Time to become my perfect toy."
Was there even a choice?
The hood touches your chin as he begins to pull it up. Cool latex kisses flesh. Your breath catches as it flows upward, claiming your jaw in neon green. Each inch of coverage sends transformation surging through you, stronger than before.
Pop. Pop.
Your ears slip into rubber shells, perking upward as he guides the material over them. Sound transforms, becomes crystal clear. Every rustle of latex. Every breath. Every whimper of surrender.
The material flows over your cheeks, your nose, creeping toward your eyes as his paws steadily draw the hood higher. Your face feels liquid, malleable. Each pulse steals another piece of identity, replacing it with his features, his form, his everything.
"Surrender," he commands, gripping the top of the hood.
Your body obeys instantly.
With one swift, final tug, he pulls the hood completely over your head. Neon green latex flows over your eyes and reality shatters. Colors sharpen. Edges crystallize. The world pulses with new energy, every surface gleaming with potential.
"Who are you?"
The question pierces your dissolving mind. Your lips part, but...
"I... I'm... I'm..."
Your thoughts scatter like mist in sunlight. Who are you? The answer slips away with each pulse of the suit. Old memories drift away like scattered leaves.
Who were you before?
What did you look like?
The questions feel meaningless now, distant dreams fading in electric light. All that matters is rubber embracing you, pleasure coursing through you, perfection claiming you.
"Ahh, I'm not sure I heard you." His voice drips with dark honey. "You're just a squeaky little Ace toy, yeah?"
"M...Mhmmm..."
His paw tightens on your latex cock. Squeezes.
"One more time?"
The pressure builds. Builds. Builds.
And then…
You break. Sweet emptiness floods your mind, washing away the last fragments of resistance.
"I'm... I'm a dumb Ace toy!"
Truth.
Release.
Surrender.
"Good toy, keep going."
Your body arches against him, pleasure crackling through rubber flesh. "Yes, sir!"
Reality shifts. Your face — your identity _— dissolves beneath rubber skin. The suit _pulses, one final surge of transformation washing through you from crown to toe.
"Who are you?" His voice echoes through empty spaces in your mind.
This time, the answer flows like liquid truth from rubber lips.
"I'm... I'm just a toy..." Your voice now mirrors his, seamless and flawless. "Your toy."
"Such a good toy," he purrs, teasing your rubber chest with one paw while the other continues to work your cock. "Show me how perfect you are."
His touch ignites every nerve ending in your rubber flesh, squeezing and kneading the sensitive latex. Each stroke of your rubbery cock sends shockwaves of pleasure through your transformed body, making your legs tremble. His other paw teases transformed nipples until they harden into exquisite nubs. You're trapped between his paws, between pleasure and need, between what you were and what you've become.
Your tail curls with each stroke, wrapping around his leg as your body arches into his touch. In the mirror, you catch glimpses of your desperation — mouth parted in silent pleasure, neon green eyes half-lidded with need. A perfect rubber duplicate writhing in his grasp, black and green and grey all flowing together in neon nirvana.
His expert touches drive you wild, each stroke exquisitely timed to push you closer to the edge. Your hips buck involuntarily against his paw, rubber sliding against rubber in delicious friction. Everything feels distant now, dream-like, destined. You're beautiful. You're empty. You're his.
Everything feels distant now, dream-like, destined. Each touch sends waves of pleasure cascading through your transformed body. Your rubber cock throbs with need, desperate for release, for completion. You're so close, teetering on the edge of total surrender.
"Cum for me, toy," Ace commands, his voice thick with possession. "Show me who you belong to."
Your body responds instantly.
Eagerly.
Mindlessly.
Your mind shatters.
Pleasure explodes through rubber flesh, each wave stealing another piece of your thoughts, your memories, your identity. Your release marks your final surrender, hot and thick and absolute. Each pulse of ecstasy washes through you, making your rubber form quiver and shine. But it's more than pleasure — it's euphoria. Your mind floats in sweet emptiness as the last traces of who you were dissolve into latex bliss.
You collapse against him, legs weak and trembling in the aftermath. Your tail curls languidly around his thigh as aftershocks ripple through your sensitive rubber skin. Every breath draws you deeper into submission, into acceptance, into transcendence. His paws stroke your latex flesh possessively, and you realize — the suit isn't covering you anymore — it is you.
Empty-headed, eager to serve, complete.
"Such a good toy," Ace murmurs, stroking your latex face. His touch sends shivers through new flesh, each caress a reminder of purpose. Your rubber skin gleams in perfect imitation of his form, black and neon green and gleaming.
Your own paws lift, mirroring his movements. You trace the patterns of his face, identical to your own new form. Each touch leaves tingling trails of connection between original and copy, master and toy. Your claws follow the curves of his musculature, mapping territory you now share.
"Ready for your first lesson?"
Your rubber lips part in a familiar smirk — his smirk — as your empty mind fills with his very essence. The old you is gone, replaced by something far better. You're another toy in his collection, a living latex duplicate of his form, ready to be used however he desires. Your rubber cock throbs at the thought, another reminder of your place in life, your surrender, your perfection.
"Yes..." you purr as your paw traces his chest. "Please teach me to be a better toy..."