Toymaker

This is a work of erotic fiction. It was written by Iscin on www.sofurry.com. Commissioned by Selth. All rights reserved © 2014.

The Goo

The dark entrance lies ahead of Selth and every spark of his conscious wants to get away from it. He knows the creature down there will have something prepared for him, something very much against his own wishes. And yet even now, after all of these moons he has no choice in the matter. No amount of pent up rebellious emotion can break the programming, the safeguards put in place deep inside his own psyche by the mind flayer known as Xallithid. It is at the end of the day a futile gesture for him to wait until dusk comes and his own enslaved subconscious compels his claws to move forward.

Selth inevitably starts walking down into the dark, dank, vine infested tunnel. His free thoughts, the only part of him has remained free, musing over what fresh hell is afoot tonight. Perhaps another summoning, maybe this time with tentacles? No, that is not Xallithid's style; or at least not anything quite so predictable. As he enters the darker recesses of the caverns Selth looks around at the luminous crystals embedded in the rock. Something about them seems to generate a kind of hope deep inside of the dragon's metaphorical heart. But he knows it is false, there is no hope remaining for his poor oppressed soul.

The mind flayer is leading him into the main chamber. Lined with dark crystals that glow a malevolent shade of violet, it this place serves as his nexus of power. It is from here that he has summoned many a beast, and many of those beasts have had their way with his draconian pet. However Xallithid has something far from the ordinary prepared for today. Selth finally reaches the chamber and ducks his head underneath the entrance, peeking around and taking a quick survey of everything inside. The altar has been prepared with some new parchments, but other than that everything looks placid and familiar.

"Hello? Master?" Selth's voice echoes in the cavernous chamber. There is no reply.

Something is wrong, and not in the usual way. His master is not out in the open. Not here to gloat and tease the dragon, trapped as he is to the mind flayer's whims and darkest fancies. Selth cranes his neck as he turns around looking for his master. Yet there is no one in sight. He is alone. Until suddenly he hears something. It is a buzzing sound that grows in volume. Louder and louder it gets, seemingly coming from every direction filling the chamber until.

"Ah, there you are." The ethereal voice of Xallithid hums in his head. Even disembodied it makes Selth's legs quake. "I have left a gift for you. Put it on." The voice ends with what is unmistakeable an order.

The dragon starts looking around the chamber. But there is nothing obvious in plain sight. Ever watching, the disembodied presence of Xallithid allows the dragon's confusion to grow before summoning a stone table. It rises up from out of the floor like a geode growing at an accelerated rate. Selth is startled but is quickly calming down as he looks to see that the stone table has something very small and innocent looking upon it.

Selth starts walking towards it his neck extending out as he tries to keep the bulk of his body as far away from the foreign object as possible. As his red eyes focus his confusion only returns to him. A collar? Yes, a leather collar. It is comprised of three leather bands in three different colours. The first is in black and another in red that lies outside the black one. Underneath the black band there is puffy leather lining of deep lavender meant for comfort when worn around a person's neck; or more specifically Selth's neck.

"Put it on."

Swinging his tail around the dragon threads the tip into the collar and suspends it above the stone table. It feels funny against the scales of his tail, like something ever so subtly cooler than what is touching it. There must be some curse or worse imbued to this collar. Undoubtedly this thing could be described as an arcane artefact by an archmage. But he is trying to delay from following out his orders, any further resistance and there will be consequences for him. So with a resigning sigh the feral dragon hoists the collar up so that it slips down over his horns.

That cool feeling can now be felt around his head as it slips on over and now along the top of his neck. Before falling all the way to the base of his neck the collar suddenly tightens up all on its own. Selth's heart flutters as he fears the collar will continue to tighten like a restrictive boa until both his air and blood circulation are cut off. But it is merely attempting for a nice, snug fit around the midsection of the drake's neck. Curiously the puffy soft leather underneath seems to be warming now, much like ordinary leather would.

"Now for the best part."

Xallithid's voice is no longer in his head, but is coming from somewhere behind him. Selth starts turning around to lay his eyes upon his master. However before he can finishes to face the mind flayer something shifts underneath his claws. He realises that the ground is changing underneath him. Before he can move any further the ground practically disintegrates into flakes of rock and dusty ash. And into this disorganised mess the black dragon starts to plummet.

Fabrica Anima

As Selth falls he realises that the mind control has been weakened to the point where Selth can beat his wings. His back ripples with powerful muscles as he swings them down in an attempt to get some uplift or at least stabilise his falling. However there is a cruel irony here as the collar Xallithid made him wear is now acting like a weight, or perhaps a magnet. It tugs on his neck, forcing the dragon to continue on falling and falling into the blackness and ash all around him.

This is not some bottomless pit however. For down below there is enough ambient luminescence from crystals embedded in the rocks to show a murky black surface. To this pitch black wall the dragon is hurtling towards. Selth closes his eyes and braces himself as best he can, expecting a hard and bone brunching impact against cold hard obsidian. If only this were to end so quickly and near painlessly.

It's wet.

With a disarmingly slurping sound the dragon's body plunges into a liquid tar like substance. He opens his eyes again and in a panic starts to try screaming whilst submerged. Legs, wings, and tail thrashing around for some kind of friction as he tries to find his way to the surface. But he is being forced to remain under as the collar seems to be tugging just so every time he thinks he is about to break through. His internal monologue is running into cursing Xallithid and himself, knowing that this could only end poorly for him.

His lungs are burning for air and Selth and though he has been holding his breath until this point he can do so no longer. As he exhales in the pitch black liquid, some of it quickly oozes into his mouth. Simultaneous to this Selth is aware of more of the strange substance seeping inside of his body from other orifices such as his snout nostrils and even his anus. Clearly some kind of magic is at work but the dragon is far too busy panicking to analyse this strange occurrence.

Suddenly something grabs the dragon from underneath the black goop. He is keenly aware of now being drawn up out of the liquid, as his body is manipulated by a form of projected telekinesis that the mind flayer is using. As his body breaks free from the surface he is aware of the tar like substance remaining stuck onto his body. Selth is aware of it moving against his scales, as it clings to him almost like it is alive. In any case he is eager to draw in fresh air, happy that he will not be expiring down there.

Yet his torture has only just begun. Now he is carried over to a glass tube shaped tank, obviously prepared in just the right size for him. He is lowered down into it as the black substance starts to harden around his body. Curiously he can feel the cool glass as it presses against his latex covered body, in fact it feels as though he is skin is more sensitive than before. More importantly even if he were to try and fight his limbs and joints are stiff under the hard latex shell that the black goo is setting into.

Now a brass cap is fitted to the top of the tube and pipes start to change the air for something noxious and foul. Selth tries to hold his breath, but the latex wedged down his mouth and throat forces him to open and breathe it all in. The invisible gas is oddly heady, as though he is sniffing some strong adhesive substance. Selth's vision starts to blur, everything shifting ever so subtly out of focus. A black veil starts to tear into the periphery of his vision and the dragon is aware that his perception is being altered.

"Toy. Are you awake?" A voice asks.

Selth is aware of his feet standing on a series of wooden floor boards. He looks around and sees nothing but a distant blackness surrounding him. The only light is coming from a fixture far above, a limelight focused on him. It is as though he is standing on an eerie stage in a room with no audience and no other actors. Yet there is that voice, disembodied like the illithid's from before, but not the same inflections or tone. Someone new, something different.

"Awake? What?" Selth asks and immediately stops talking. Something is different about his voice, like an odd mucus texture to it, as if he is suffering from a cold. He guesses that it must be the latex, settling down his throat.

"Good. Now we begin your training."

Final Touches

How long has it been? The black dragon wonders as he stares up at the spotlight. He has lost all track of the fourth dimension. It feels as though he should be exhausted, hungry and above all else thirsty whilst working underneath that damn light. Yet his body persists, somehow, impossibly. The voice tells him to do one, so he does it. It then instructs him to do another, and he does it. Most of the time it is positions and simple actions, sometimes it is a series of actions. Every time he obeys, always obeys.

After this incessant instruction the dragon might just be ready. The indoctrination coinciding with the physical alterations that have set in to his body outside of this dreamscape. He is dimly aware of what is happening to him. Though a part of him seems to resist accepting the reality, maybe wishing to shield his pride, or the spark of hope buried deep inside of his psyche. But the truth is that the dragon is no longer a living thing, he is no longer permitted the luxury of free will, nor the pleasantness of a body made of real flesh, bone and scales.

No. He is no longer a person, but a thing. An it. Even as it grows to understand this the voice is explaining the state of affairs to it. Selth will do as it is told. It will respond to the actions of other and will not show any independent drive of its own. Its only responsibility will be to be a source of joy and darker pleasure for its owner, nothing more. Very simply, it is now a toy.

Selth is aware of the glass tube again. The tank it is suspended in is full of a strange mostly clear liquid. Its lungs are full of the stuff as it starts to move around. Placing a hand on the wall it is confused by the suddenly flexible nature of its claws and digits. There is a simple explanation for this. This is the next step in its manufacture, the softening and even liquefaction of its internal organs and skeletal structure. As it floats around Selth starts playing with its own arms, legs, wings and tail, becoming bemused by their ability to change shape; although it retains its original form once it relaxes itself.

A soft thunk alerts the toy to the cap being removed from the glass tank. Selth looks up just in time to feel the same telekinetic force from before lifting it up and out of the tank. It wriggles and writhes in the air outside of the tank. All around it Selth can see work benches and tools along naturally formed cave walls. This is a workshop of some kind, though far more esoteric than anything it remembers the humans use. Though it no longer needs to breath, the dragon toy does have lungs that it now uses making a strange wheezing and squeaking sound.

The toy is now brought over to where a large and malevolent looking piece of metal machinery is waiting. As it squirms and wriggles the toy does not pay much attention to just what exactly it is now being lowered into. There are strange hisses and whines coming from the machine, indicting steam under pressure being a part of its operation. The telekinetic grasp on the toy's body lowers it down gently, not letting it writhe and bend its shape to get away. Selth is wheezing rapidly now, its tortured and bent consciousness aware that something very foreboding is happening.

Selth's body makes contact with cast iron that has been treated with a greasy substance. This substance prevents any slippage as the toy is deposited by the ethereal force. There are grooves and moulded slots for its legs and belly to rest inside. The toy looks around in the door light to notice something large beginning to swing up from the right of it. Around on the left another wall of towering metal is rising up into view. Together these sections box the toy inside before mechanical joints grind and whir as the enclosure tightens.

It is aware of its body being pressed into specific contours and shapes. This is a mould for its malleable latex body. An important step of the process is for the toy to be treated with heat before it can learn to masters its protean nature. As such more noises can be heard inside of the claustrophobic environment and heat starts to rise up. Selth is aware of steam being blasted into the mould. This is it, the last step. Oddly enough the heat does not hurt, there is no burning or scolding of any kind. The only feeling is the subtle sensation of stretching, drying and ever so soft creaking as the toy feels its body harden into a rigid structure guided by the stricture of the machine.

After a good couple of minutes of the this heat treatment the machine stops applying steam. Its locks unwind and the doors pry open from the top with light spilling down onto Selth's glistening shiny black head and back. The doors fall down with a heavy thud, the machine's life slowly draining away as it offers its prize up like a flower in bloom. It is done. It is perfect. The toy is now ready for inspection.

Quality Assurance

The illithid looks almost startled as its wretchedly malformed minion wheels in its new toy. Xallithid's tentacles are rising up in an obvious mark of intrigue as it grows near to the transformed dragon's body. Selth is lying still, not even its eyes are moving as it remembers its indoctrination and waits for any actions or commands from its owner. The mind flayer now starts circling around the life sized dragon toy. He reaches out with single, long fingered and claw tipped hand, and starts running it over the shiny black back of his new property.

Of particular attention the toy can feel its tail being flexed and bent upwards. Behind and underneath it there lies an odd zipper from between the dragon toy's legs. This is not unlike a genital slit, though far less comfortable than any natural permutation of the anatomy. He can feel the mind flayer's gnarled fingers as they slip between his legs, brushing against the zipper. He starts to tease it, wiggling it down before quickly zipping it back up; just checking that the zipper functions as intended.

"Only one last thing to check." Xallithid says ominously.

But naturally the toy already knows what happens next. Even being comprised of a semi-organic latex it still has enough sensation underneath all of it to feel the heat of the organ being pressed into him. The iridescent green phallus is hotter than any mammalian or reptilian counterpart. As he presses his body against the toy the mind flayer begins to groan. The smooth and rubbery surface of the the dragon toy's buttocks is turning him on as he grinds up against it, his arms holding onto the toy's tail for stability and alignment.

After warming himself and Selth up the illithid starts to press the tip of his spear against the rear entrance. It is extraordinary. It is like fucking a virgin, but the toy will regenerate each time, memory material forming back into shape each time. He cannot resist from driving forward, impaling the toy on his dick as it stretches and squeezes the latex dragon's anus out around the meaty base. The only lubricant is from the mind flayer's copious amounts of pre-ejaculate. Though that is all he really needs.

Yet even as the mind flayer has his way with the toy's artificial rump, Selth is not being allowed to enjoy the experience. Although it can feel what remains of its prostrate being stimulated by the mind flayer's penis, the toy's own erection is unable to take shape. It is quite literally locked away behind that zipper built into its boy. Selth groans, growls, huffs and even roars in emulation of its previous self. But there is no release. Though its cock does manage to reach its full erect state, it is trapped inside of the latex pouch locked behind the zipper. Of course Xallithid, being himself, does not wish to give his property the satisfaction. This is how things will be from here on out. Selth is nothing more than a plaything, an actual masturbation toy and nothing more.

That is until Selth feels the illithid's hand reach down underneath the toy. Between finger and thumb he grips the zipper's small metal hook and pull on it. It is a relief more than anything else as Selth feel's its phallus, similarly transmogrified with the synthetic material, pop out. However supicion tinges the experience as Xallithid grabs the toy's prime feature, seemingly helping to stimulate it. One moment he is almost being nice towards Selth, the next he is pushing it back in. Selth groans and wheezes in impotent protest as its phallus bends and deflates, being pushed back inside. The zipper is returned to its shut position and Selth hisses as he feels what was once its male hood trapped.

"You don't come, unless I permit it." Xallithid hisses to emphasis his point.

Wheezing in place with its claws stuck to the ground the toy realises what has become of it. Its personage is gone. Right now it is not a sexual partner, less than a slave. Selth is a thing.

I have no dick and I must come.