© Copyright 2009 - Xeregon - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/m; vacbed; mc; bodymod; transform; hypno; furry; reluct/cons; X
At age 18, Matthew Ceres had plenty of reasons to be depressed. You wouldn't have noticed by looking at him, but the blonde teen had taken a very dark outlook on life. Usually dressed in blue jeans and sleeveless shirts (because his mother thought he looked sooo cute in them), he wasn't a big hit with the girls at his school. Though he was not ugly by any standards, he'd never managed to develop a firm chest or sixpack abs, and the sleeveless shirts he had to put up with wound up accentuating his stringbean arms, combining with his blond hair to make him look very, very gay. This, combined with the fact that Cancro High had a high regard for its jocks, had made his life quite miserable. For years on end, he'd been bullied and pestered by those who were bored, and generally ignored by those who chose not to make an effort in tormenting him.
It hadn't always bothered him, mind you. There had been a slight period in his life where the Struggle of Life had been nothing more than a daily little wriggle. At age 15, he'd found the most wonderful girl he'd ever dreamt of: Amy. Granted, she could've gone out with any number of the football players, or anyone on the renowned Cancro swimming team, but Amy chose him for the same reason she didn't join the cheerleading squad. It wasn't that she didn't like it or lacked the 'assets', it was simply a matter of social pressure and avoiding it at all costs.
In her heart, Amy was a furry. And Matt was one of the few people in high school who was fine with it. Simply put, Amy wanted to be a catgirl. That was pretty much the only reason she never joined any cliques, despite her good looks. Regular yoga practice and many, many New Agey health supplements had raised her appearance and social status to that of a 'babe', but her interests had steered her away from the regular crowds and to the lone wolf that every school seemed to have. In Cancro High, that was Matt.
The two got along famously; they were both blondes, for one, and they both had issues with their bodies; one not content with how little his abs rippled, the other not content with the round shape of her ears and lack of tail. They shared an interest in mythology, especially shapeshifter legends and sex deities. Amy even got Matt into the furry fandom, pegging him a grey wolf, which he accepted without much fanfare. At the time, he didn't care that much about species, as long as he looked good enough. Later on, however, he got the taste for it, and rather liked the idea of being a wolf. Matt was still bore the brunt of whatever the local bullies dished out, but having someone to talk to alleviated the pain. The fact that having her around made the jocks jealous was an added bonus.
You can imagine, of course, how much it hurt when she broke up with him a little over a year later. Never having had much self-confidence, Matt became obsessed with his body, so much so that he had to see professional help. His break-up with Amy had left him with a budding obsession for werewolves and all things related to losing one's humanity. The truly sad part of it was that Amy had finally decided to join the cheerleading squad, and effectively left the little world she'd let Matt in. Nobody knew about it, either; he was too busy mulling over his loss to contemplate revealing her secret. He was worse off than before; a true lone wolf. When the budding obsession blossomed through an addiction to rather objectionable images, as well as a few training injuries, he was taken to the school's shrink.
Miss Dwyer, Cancro's school counselor, had never encountered a case like Matt's before. Sure, there was the regular teenage drama you'd expect. A few girls experimenting with laxatives to get those last few pounds off, guys with erection problems because of the pressure they were under... sometimes unusual, but never something she couldn't get her head around. In fact, Matt's case trumped everything the young woman had ever seen or even heard of in both her three years at Cancro and the five years of college, which was quite a big thing, considering the cases she'd studied.
Her diagnosis was a bodily dysmorphia: Matt did not see his own body the way he should.
Though he tried lifting weights, he couldn't build sufficient muscle mass, because his body wasn't fully grown yet. As it happened, he was one of those boys who had a late and slow puberty, and he ended up injuring himself on more than one occasion, trying one too many reps and nearly causing permanent damage. His hormone levels simply didn't allow the kind of build he wanted, and this resulted in an unhealthy fixation on anthropomorphic animals, combined with the lethargy of a depression, which made it even more difficult to stay healthy. He wanted not only the impossibly muscular body of a werewolf, but also their savageness. He wanted to be rid of human restrictions, as he put it, and simply take whatever he wanted.
Of course, Miss Dwyer realised early on that the root of his problems was a sexual frustration, which was common. For it to take this kind of extreme form, however, was not. When he first came to her, Matt was addicted to images of werewolves devouring scantily dressed maidens and even men. He also rather liked images of werewolves in mid-transformation, and often fantasised about how it must feel to have your body be subject to such pains, knowing that your humanity is slipping away and you've lost all control. At Miss Dwyer's request, he took up drawing to vent his frustrations... only he wound up drawing the very things he loved to look at, and it only amplified his feelings. She'd suggested he take up sports of some kind, but that meant spending even more time with people he wanted to avoid.
Lastly, Miss Dwyer had resorted to hypnosis. Matt proved to be a good subject, going under easily and taking to triggers without any problem. It didn't help his situation, though: his desires, his cravings, had become too deeply rooted in his mind. She didn't know how much time had passed between the break-up and his current obsession, but it was too late in any event. Hypnosis, she knew, could help in many cases, but she didn't see any way how it could help in this case. Matt was just too immersed in his own world. Hypnotherapy often had the reverse effect on him; instead of ridding him of thoughts of wolves, he wound up living out his fantasies every time he went under. She could put him in trance, but she couldn't change the fact that he wanted to be something else. Miss Dwyer was not able to make him a functional member of society by any of the standard methods she'd learned in college.
And so it was, one day, seven-odd months since their first session and nearing summer break, that Delinda Dwyer decided on a different course of action. She'd hypnotised him for the umpteenth time, trying to find some solution that might make him a little more normal again. When the session was almost over, and no cure for the problem was in sight, Miss Dwyer woke him up and gave him the verdict.
"I don't think this is going to work, Matt. If you don't let go of this obsession, I can't help you," Miss Dwyer took off her glasses and cleaned them, something she always did before and after a session. Matt had grown so used to the sight that it actually had an entrancing effect on him. Not that it was needed, as Miss Dwyer herself could hold anyone's attention: short black hair and a blemishfree face adorned with clear blue eyes, not to mention her inviting breasts... if she wasn't always dressed formally, she would have had to start treating students for unhealthy fantasies about psychiatrists.
"Why does everyone keep saying I'm sick? I'm fine, okay? Is it that weird to want to be a wolf?" Matt wasn't angry, but if it hadn't been for the accidental conditioning with the glasses, he would have snapped at her.
"It's not weird at all, but you're too fixated on it, that's the problem," came the reply as she put her glasses back on," it's all there is in your head: fur and teeth and muscles. Why don't you just try to get a feel for your body and learn to like it first?"
"How can I like something that's given me nothing but grief? How am I supposed to like who I am when all I ever see is people who are higher in the food chain? You're a woman, you should understand it better than me. People who look like models get all the attention, all the opportunities, and they can get away with anything. People like me just... disappear. Is it wrong for me to want to get a little higher than where I am now?" the boy had a flair for the dramatic, a typical teenage thing, but he spoke sincerely. He never said anything he didn't mean. In fact, the thought that he might become suicidal had crossed the woman's mind a few times.
Miss Dwyer looked pensive. She made up her mind. "I'll tell you what. How about tomorrow you and I go somewhere special, a place where you'll learn to appreciate your body."
Matt blushed. An older woman, certainly, Miss Dwyer could exercise quite some power over the boy's mind, even without hypnosis. She was both attractive and an authority figure, so the idea of them being alone in a place where they wouldn't be recognised was a very appealing one indeed.
"Uh, what kind of place?" he asked.
"It's a surprise. But trust me, you'll love it," she leaned in both to soothe him and arouse him just enough.
"Uh, okay. When, where?" his throat got a little dry, but he wouldn't show it.
"Tomorrow morning, behind the gym. I'll talk to your teachers and your parents, so you won't have to. I will pick you up before school starts, 07.55 sharp. Bring everything you'd normally bring to school; depending on how long it takes, you may still have to attend some classes. Okay?" she did her best to look caring and reassuring, bypassing any rebellion the boy might feel towards her authority.
The youth's face was red. He was clearly aroused by the proposition, even though it wasn't that out of the ordinary. "O-okay," he stammered.
The next day...
Miss Dwyer picked up Matt right on time. The area behind the gym was abandoned in the morning, so nobody saw them together. The ride was silent, and took them through streets Matt only vaguely recognised, since he didn't get out much. Before long the environment became completely alien. They reached their destination after an hour or so: a club called Freya's Place. At least it looked like a club: the windows revealed nothing of the interior, and the only hint at the building's purpose was the big neon sign above the door.
"Excited?" Miss Dwyer asked.
"Uh, we're not going to do anyting illegal here, are we?" Matt asked, feeling a little apprehensive.
"No, nothing illegal. This place is completely legit. I promise," the woman explained as she led the way. Just a little suspicious about the name of the place (Freya was a Celtic sex goddess, after all), Matt followed her in. It couldn't be too bad.
Inside, there was a simple reception desk with a woman behind it who looked just like Miss Dwyer, maybe slightly younger. The two seemed to know each other, too. Matt noted another sign with the name of the club with a subscript "Subsidiary of The Ark". He wondered what it meant, if briefly.
"Delinda, hi," the receptionist greeted her.
"Hello, Maya," Miss Dwyer smiled at her, gesturing Matt to come closer, breaking his reverie," Matt, this is Maya, my little sister. Maya, this is the boy I was telling you about."
"Of course, the furry, right? We get a lot of those around here," Maya smiled slyly," come on, I'll get you set up," Maya pressed a buzzer and summoned someone to take her place for a while.
The two women led Matt up a set of stairs and into a corridor with oddly labeled rooms. They went past a Loki3 and a Frey7, but the boy had other things on his mind. How was this going to help him?
"We're here," Maya announced, opening the door for him and, he noted, blocking the view of the label. Admittedly, it probably wouldn't have changed anything if he knew the room was labeled 'Fenrir9", but at the time it seemed a little out of the ordinary. The inside of the room, though, was completely abnormal.
At the back of the room, against the centre of the wall, was a weird-looking bed with what looked like a rubber sheet on it, but no covers. To his left were some changing curtains, and to the right a desk with an old-looking computer and a chair.
"What am I supposed to do here? What is all this?" Matt asked a little anxiously. This was definitely not the reassuring environment he'd expected.
"This," Miss Dwyer pointed to the rubber-covered bed," is called a vacbed. You lie down on it and we pull the sheet over your naked body. The bed is rigged to a pump to suck out all the air, holding you in a complete embrace. Not the mouth, mind you: you still need to breathe."
Silence fell. The teen was flabbergasted.
"I thought this might be better for you than hypnosis," she explained," the embrace is complete; every inch of your body, save your mouth, is covered and held tight. It forces you to feel your body as it is. Better than it is, actually: it can get nice and tight. You'll get a perfect feel for your body, and it's quite arousing, too, so you'll basically learn to love yourself."
"Uh-huh," Matt said, staring at the contraption," I don't think this is right for me."
"Oh, come on, unwind a little," Delinda said, knowing full well what would happen.
Matt blinked as his trigger phrase sank in. His face slackened a little, and he felt tired yet content.
"Don't you feel like lying down in a nice, rubber embrace? It's a really nice experience. Very sensual," Maya joined in in reducing the boy's resistance.
"Uh, sure. Do I strip down to my underwear or..." he wasn't in a full hypnotic trance, but he was relaxed, too relaxed to object.
"Well, you could go in naked," Maya said," we clean our beds daily, and it does amplify the sensations. Your choice," she saw how well her sister had conditioned the boy in therapy. It didn't take much of a trance to make him agree.
"Okay, naked it is, then," Matt sat down behind the changing curtain and stripped bare. He was a little embarrassed about being naked in front of two women, but the mildly altered state and the prospect of the experience dulled his shame.
He lay on the bed face-down, so his mouth was over the only opening at the bottom. He felt the black sheet of rubber go over him, and relief filled him at not being naked any more. His hands were at his sides, his legs at shoulder-width. Only his mouth was bare; even his eyes were covered. After a few breaths his head started heating up, like he was wearing a silicone bathing cap on a sunny day.
"How long does this normally take?" he asked as the last few adjustments were made. He couldn't see through the black rubber, and that worried him. Strangely, it never occurred to him to ask for a see-through vacbed.
"Oh, you can stay in for as long as you like," he heard someone say, he wasn't sure which of the two.
A hissing sound got his attention. He felt pressure build up all around him as the air between the sheets and his body was sucked out. First his feet felt locked in place, then his hands, then arms and legs, from the outside in the rubber encased him. It was especially powerful near his teenage cock, which was pressed upwards against his abdomen. Within a few seconds the vacuum was as complete as it could be. Matt didn't know what was normal for vacbeds, so he just assumed it was a very good one. He breathed in through his mouth as his nose was a little squished against the wall of rubber. Expanding his abdomen felt weird, the vacuum really pushing the rubber from all sides.
"This kinda hurts," he said through the hole.
What was more, instead of being pleasurable, the only thing he really felt was the rubber tightly oozing over all the little packets of fat he hated. He could feel his muscles, but he felt the fat covering them more strongly. The discomfort of the squished bits faded as the rubber seemed to meld over whatever stuck out. His cock could stand fully erect, his balls were held and pressed, his nose was no longer flattened, and every individual finger and toe had its own coat. That sent a little jolt through the boy's brain. Since when could rubber meld into shape that accurately? His eyes were being pushed in as well, the vacuum pressure pushing the rubber into his sockets and forcefully closing his already blind eyes. The embrace was even tighter now, and breathing now happened in tandem with the rubber. There was still a definite line between his skin and the rubber, but there was nothing in between the two, anywhere.
"What's going on?" he asked, trapped and blind, though oddly aroused.
He felt the bed being moved forward. There must have been a secret room behind the wall. He couldn't figure out what was happening to him, or why, but he had a bad feeling about this. He tried to listen for any movement, any indication of what might happen, but that option left him when he felt something being moved over his encased ears. It wasn't a set of headphones; the rubber would prevent those from being properly fitted, but they were speakers of some kind that sent a pulsing sound through the rubber and his ears. The vibrations soon resounded in his brain, and they drained him of his strength. He tried to struggle, but to no avail. Hands: locked in, feet: nothing, head: not even able to turn.
"Stop, please, ulp..." he gulped when a thick tube was inserted in his mouth, along with some kind of gasmask to cover the last exposed part of his body. The mask sucked tight against his face, also having a rubber finish, and the invading tube forced its way down Matt's oesophagus, going all the way down into his stomach. He struggled against his omnipresent bonds, but never even budged the surface of the sheets.
A small prick in his neck only added to the discomfort, the syringe must've been stuck through a valve of some sort. A tingling spread through his body, but it was quickly ignored when the tube in his mouth started pouring fluid straight into his stomach. He felt the spasms of his abdomen more fiercely through the airtight prison, as any food in his stomach was washed out through the tube. How were they doing this, and why?
Time after time, he heaved into whatever they'd fitted over his mouth. He was at least glad he was face-down, so he didn't risk choking on whatever he threw up. His body felt impossibly hot, and the vibrations caused by the speakers near his ears were affecting his ability to think. More importantly, the vacuum pressed against him still. It almost seemed to be squeezing something out of him, but that was impossible. When his stomach finally stopped churning, the vibrations increased in intensity, and the tingling from the injection took up his attention again. The vibrations slowed down, a steady drumbeat lulling him into sleep.
With his stomach pumped empty, his mind foggy from the vibrations, and his body in a pump-driven prison, Matt succumbed and fell asleep.
How much time had passed, he couldn't tell. He tried to move, but found his whole body held in place by unmovable rubber sheets. He had a difficult time trying to remember how he'd gotten there, but he managed it eventually. His name was Matt, he told himself, and currently he was stuck in a vacbed, tricked by his school counselor for purposes he couldn't guess. To his credit, for once he didn't have wolves on the brain. With nothing else he could do, he tried to break free from his predicament. What he found was even more cause for panic than being captive. Not only could he not move his fingers, he couldn't even feel them! He tried to concentrate on where his fingers should be, but there was just a collection of little stumps. Same with his feet; no more toes, and in fact the whole sole was on the verge of disappearing. With the minimal movement he had, he found he could no longer detect any friction of body hair, or even on his scalp, and his nose had gone flat. He didn't want to think of how he looked now; a featureless shadow of a human being. The walls, he could feel the rubber walls like a skin, pressing into him and squeezing out the last vestiges of his humanity. He was so hot, held so tight...
Another prick in his neck, another set of entrancing vibrations, and a strange kind of liquid being dumped directly into his digestive system, Matt tried to stay awake during it all, but he found himself slipping into oblivion once again. The walls of the vacbed dominated his entire world, and its embrace aroused him now. He fell into an erotic slumber as the vacbed treatment continued to warp his very being, his entire body at the mercy of a prison of negative air pressure.
Waking up into blackness, the boy was unperturbed. There was no memory of having any kind of body, except what he could learn from the attempts at moving. All he knew was the embrace, tight and all-pervasive. It was all he could remember, the beginning of everything, a rubber womb. And it gave him pleasure. It even fed him; through a tube and mask that sealed over his mouth he could feel sustenance being poured directly into him. He tried to move again, knowing that it would only tell him the state of his body, for the world around him held tight. He used the tube as a reference point; not having much use for notions like 'hand' and 'foot'. The part of him around the tube was long, and though it was big enough to hold down the limb in his mouth, he could feel that it was growing. He had appendages near the tube, on either side of it, and failing to move them rewarded him with the knowledge that there was a lot of matter trying to grow between himself and the womb. The ends of his limbs had hardened, which filled him with more pleasure. The appendages at the other end of his body were in the same state, so he concentrated on the area between his lower appendages.
Thinking about that area somehow raised his body temperature, though he didn't know why. All over his body, he felt little things growing between his skin and his tight rubber womb, though as they grew they too were pressed down, adding to the delightful sensations filling his mind. Everything felt good, everything felt in order, and the womb rewarded him with more pleasure. Soon he would be complete. Soon he would be born.
Again, the black rubber womb lulled him to sleep.
Time had no meaning, but he knew he had been inside for a long time, long enough. Slowly, he felt the womb loosening its grip on him. At an agonising pace, it released him, and for the first time since he could remember, he felt air on his body. The tube and mask were removed, having served their purpose, and when all was ready, the sheet covering him was removed, and he was born into a new world.
Delinda Dwyer looked at what came out of the vacbed. What was once Matt stared with the innocent eyes of an infant, his memories completely obliterated by the sensory assault of the rubber vacbed and the conditioning devices that went with it. Maya helped him stand on his feet. He stood naturally, unshaken by the experience of being born out of a rubber vacbed. The vibrations had kept his nervous system active enough, and the injections into his spine had sufficed to steer his mutation. While the boy stood in front of the strange woman, Delinda went over his new form, mentally checking everything she'd requested.
His body had not an ounce of fat on it, but his muscles were still only mildly developed. His belly and chest were flat and hard, yet they didn't bulge at all, which was just the way she liked it. What she liked even more, though, was how much Matt now looked like a grey wolf. His face had become a snout, his hands and feet reduced to paws, and he had a thick manhood to match his tail, as well as a wonderful fur coat. His feet and legs were like a werewolf's; built to stand on the balls of his feet. Delinda didn't question how exactly these kinds of transformations took place, but she'd understood that it required the subject to enter a very particular frame of mind, to allow a certain kind of energy to take hold of the body. That vacuum beds could help evoke said frame of mind was both an added plus and a stumbling block. She'd undergone temporary changes herself, and enjoyed the process very much, but it was another matter to trick someone into changing permanently.
It had worked beautifully, though. Delinda stepped toward her new pet wolf. "Hello," she greeted him," do you know who I am?"
The newly formed furry ran the question through his head. Nothing came up. "No," he said, almost sadly. The need to please was deeply embedded indeed.
"Do you remember anything before the vacbed?" she knew he would remember what that word meant, even through the warping.
Again, the wolf boy tried to answer. There was blackness, a warm embrace, tightness...nothing before that. "No," came the reply again.
"Good. I am your owner. You are my pet," Delinda explained gently," do you know what that means?"
This time, the answer was there in his head. "I obey, I please," he spoke slowly, trying to think of more.
"Very good. You do as I say, and that makes you feel good. And if you're really good, I'll reward you," she held his now massive cock and balls in her palm, knowing that now he'd do anything if it meant sexual pleasure.
"Reward..." he moaned.
"That's right. You'll live with me, and feel great pleasure in being owned by me. Every once in a while, a nice man will come around, and you'll pose for pictures to pay off this little makeover. And if you do as I say and please me in every way, I'll let you spend some time in my personal vacbed. How does that sound?"
The thought of the vacbed, the womb, flooded his mind again. The all-present embrace, its ability to hold still and make the world a tight and perfect prison...his tail wagged, and he could barely moan his approval.
Delinda kissed him on the forehead and wrapped a leather collar around his neck. Few people are aware of this, but the nerve endings in our brains that connect with the nose are also connected with the sexual organs. It was a testament to the effects of the bed that the smell of leather didn't break through the fog in his mind; he could only smell rubber and possibly latex now. He thought he could even detect the smell of a vacuum, though that was due solely to the sexual associations. Matt had forgotten his name, but he would answer to whatever his owner called him. There was no chance of the boy ever returning to normal; even if he did start to remember anything, all Delinda had to do was put him in a vacbed and the feeling of vacuum would suck it all out in a perfectly conditioned response.
Clipping a leash to the collar, Delinda led her pet out, safe in her position. Granted, it had taken a few frightening days for the changes to take hold, but her alibi was secure, and there was no trace. There was never any trace; the companies that could do this were thorough in all their endeavours, and Miss Dwyer hadn't mentioned anything to anyone save those involved. Besides, hiding humanoid pets is surprisingly easy in modern society. Miss Dwyer would simply keep going to work, but now she would come home to a perfectly obedient (not to mention attractive) wolf furry. He would be missed, but the search would turn up nothing.
People like Matt just disappeared.
Some time later...
"I feel so awful about it. It's my fault," the girl was near tears.
"You can't blame yourself for Matt's disappearance, Amy. You couldn't have done anything," Miss Dwyer soothed her. Not that it helped: after five sessions it was still the same routine.
The girl sighed. "Easy for you to say. You tried to help him. I just pushed him away."
Miss Dwyer sighed as well. "Look, I'll tell you what. If you really feel so strongly about it, I'll talk to your teachers and your parents, and tomorrow I'll take you someplace special to help get over it, okay?"
"What kind of place?" Amy asked, still sobbing.
"It's a surprise. Trust me, you'll love it."