It stole away the light.
It might be the last thought I ever have, and it's so stupid it almost makes me want to cry. "It stole away the light."
My hands are bound against my side, a strip of latex so tight it almost seems to crawl across me when I try to move. My jaw is pressed open so far it hurts, a ball of something shoved between my teeth and halfway down my throat. They stole away my movement, they stole away my voice, and all I did was struggle.
But now I'm inside a machine, and all I can think of is "it stole away my light."
The conveyor belt is moving beneath me, and I can't even find the energy to try and turn back. The door slammed shut the moment I entered the machine, but I could try. I could slam myself against it and crawl back for as long as I can to stay away from where this belt is taking me. But I don't move. Don't try to scream or struggle uselessly to break free. All because that stupid, stupid, thought is circling my head again and again: It stole away the light.
There are hands pinching me, moving my flesh. A needle jabs beneath my skin and when I pull away another slams into my bottom. Twin suctions land on my nipples followed by twin pains. There are needles moving into every part of me, sliding into the "eye" of my groin and working deep inside my flesh. I can feel them striking the bone of my hip, little hands pinching apart my skin to provide more convenient targets.
A ripple of injections pass up my spine and head.
A wave of nausea spreads through me. I feel a weight sliding down my head, the hair moving down my back. My face burns. My back burns. I feel myself becoming smaller. I don't struggle, but I writhe, my hips continuously pushing outwards.
My arms are more slender but the bonds are still tight. If anything they seem tighter, moving in with vigor as my body curves and my hips swell. I can feel my bottom growing out, pulsing in time with the growing orbs beneath my nipples, the flesh pushing out all the faster as I gasp, my manhood crumpling within. It hurts. It hurts so much. But I've forgotten how to struggle, forgotten how to move.
It took away my light.
Something stabs me through the eyes, and though there's no light I blink anyway when it's gone. They're burning up like the rest of my face, like the rest of my body, like my thickening thighs and my scalp growing out hair. My entire body's on fire at once, yet there's not an ounce of light.
Something smacks into the back of my head, and I almost see stars. There's another pinprick on my forehead, and then another beneath my chin. The ball gag seems to be wiggling inward, too, almost moving entirely down my throat. It's getting hard to think.
Something tickles my throat and I swallow convulsively, the ball gag slowly liquefying to move down. I wonder what liquefying means. I can feel what was my gag sliding down my body, working through my organs. I could talk in theory, while it does so. I giggle instead, wondering why it sounds so high pitched, and then wondering why it shouldn't.
The bonds around me are tightening again. They're like something living, a thought that makes me want to laugh. The whole world seems silly for some reason. I want to giggle so much. I want to giggle and clutch at someone's groin and rub my face up and down their body. I want them to touch my breasts. I mouth the words but don't say them.
The latex moves up and down my skin, clinging across my body the same way the former gag is doing inside of it. It reaches beneath my groin and cups beneath it, grinds against me, makes me gasp; my manhood's gone, and I'm glad about that, but worried too. I can't figure out how a boy will get his man parts in if the latext has closed so seamlessly.
I needn't have worried. The cloth splits along the lips, opening up to make me grin. I flex my legs to feel it widening, taking comfort in the activity.
The latex climbs down my thighs and over my feet, moves up my sides and hugs my armpits. It squeezes around my breasts tightly, ropes of it carefully separating and lifting them, massaging and pulsating around them. It makes me gasp and I want to do things, things to myself that others can't, but I haven to save myself for the boys. It's important that I make them smile. I giggle at that, though I don't want to. I'd much rather be doing things to myself.
Something slides open and the conveyor belt takes me out. I can see my reflection, a blonde haired girl with blue eyes, clad in latex that tugs against her curves. I grin it, and she grins at me, and I think to myself "That's awesome. I want to look just like her. Only I already do." And then I giggle.
A woman is smiling at me, peering over her glasses to give me her most careful lookover. "And how are you today, Josie?" she whispered at the end.
I just smile at her. She's not a boy who can stick something inside of me, or even a girl with useful toys that I can see. Without that, I'm just not sure what there could be to say.