Slippery Slope: Morgan's Story

Three days--  Three bloody days--

Morgan was a horse, of course, and had heard that joke /way/ too often.  It had taken a lot 
for him to apply to the add for /Fetish Tester/ for he was a very quiet person, a very shy 
person.  He read a lot, looked at pictures, wrote private stories that no one else ever saw, 
and dreamed, but had always been too afraid to ever actually /do/ anything.  Or even to 
talk to anybody about it.

And then he'd found the add.  /Privacy assured/ it said.  And the money offered--  It was 
simply too much to give up.  More than enough to satisfy his creditors.  And, if anybody 
found out, he could say that he was in it for the money.  Which, to a point, he was.

But, three days of waiting in a burnished metal room was too much.  Everything he'd 
brought to keep himself occupied had been taken.  All he'd been assigned were Vulcanis 
underwear, and a weighty manual of near indecipherable technicalese.  Things like /self 
generated silicone compound lubricating mechanism/ and /internal pressure discharge 
regulation/.

Morgan thought he liked reading, but even after three days he wasn't desperate enough to 
try and read it all.

He had about had it!  And, he was getting nervous as he hadn't expected this to be three 
days, and counting--  His next shift at his part job was coming up and--

The steel hatch hissed open.

Morgan's ears twisted to catch the sound and his long hairy tail pulled between his legs as 
he stopped pacing and turned.

And stared.

He could feel his blood rushing down between his legs.

Standing there were two figures out of his deepest fantasies.  Both were entirely coated in 
glistening black--from the scent rubber.  Each were wearing masks of some kind, 
breathing masks, gas masks, Morgan couldn't tell.  But each was exquisitely shaped to 
match the wearer--one sculpted into the calm and confident grin of a lion.  The other, 
with its long ears and stubby muzzle had to be a rabbit.  On the lion the mask covered the 
eyes and front part of the face, but his mane, if that was the right word, was part of the 
clothes he was wearing.  But, it wasn't individual strands, but an embossed rubber pattern 
of a mane.  Kind of like an embossed pattern of feathers on a cheap bird toy.  The lion's 
tail was slowly moving back and forth, the lion's tipped in a sculpted tuft.  Both were 
wearing tight rubber panties, way /way/ too short to be pants.  So tight that it left almost 
nothing to the imagination.  To each mask a pair of corrugated rubber hoses were 
attached, one linking to each side of the respective muzzle.  The hoses arched over their 
shoulders and connected to some kind of black pack they wore on their backs.

The only sound was the rhythmic *click* *hiss* of their breathing, and the gasping of air 
through Morgan's nostrils.

Morgan turned away, ears burning.  Ashamed of his excitement which was so obvious to 
him, and had to be to him.  He'd have sworn the lion gave a muffled chuckle, but it was 
hard to be sure.

The rabbit motioned him forward.

Morgan swallowed, his ears even redder, though it was hard to tell around his black fur.  
Then he remembered the paycheck.

And it wasn't as though he was blessed with choices.

He sighed, swallowed, and then forced himself to step towards the glistening rubber pair, 
his tail painfully between his legs and his member frighteningly eager.

The lion made a muffled chuckling sound again, and the pair turned, as though expecting 
the horse to follow their royal personages.  Morgan did.  He followed them down long 
curving hallways, the /V/ symbol every so often on the walls, and on the doors, some of 
which were open.  But Morgan stared only at the behind of his two guides.  Afraid to 
look anywhere else.  His eyes drawn to the Adonis asses of the pair, wiggling in front of 
him, luring him on, the lion's tail whipping back and forth in front of it.

Morgan was full of shame.  And--and--desire.  Burning need.

It was so /wrong/!

Too soon the rubbery pair turned into a door.  Morgan had gone in before he even 
realized that things had changed.  He stopped, stared.

It was like a mad scientist's lair.

Along one wall were consoles with blinking lights and toggle switches and dials.  Vats of 
swirling liquids, multicoloured, distorted blobs slowly rising and then breaking up inside.  
In the centre of the room was a heavy metal table, horse sized, with an horse shaped 
indent into the middle, complete with tail hole.  Well, it wasn't necessarily horse, pretty 
well any of the sentient races could use it.  Heavy metal brackets, currently open, were 
spaced along the table to hold a person immobile against the surface.  Along the wall by 
the door were racked more of the backpacks the two rubber-covered figures were 
wearing, hoses hanging limply against them.  Even the floor was different.  No longer 
polished tile, but a soft rubber mattress that gave under each paw or hoof.

The only sounds were the *click* *hiss* of their breathing, the frightened gasps of 
Morgan's, and the irregular gurgle and bubble of any of the assorted liquids.

The lion motioned Morgan towards the table.

Morgan stared, tail motionless between his legs, his member still hard and stiff.  Should 
he run?  Could he even run?  Say he fled, got out.  Back to his humdrum life, away from 
his dreams, and back to scrounging money and making excuses day after day.  He 
swallowed, eyes wide, throat dry.

Almost at a run he clopped his way to the table.  Long practice with chairs and clothing 
let him thread his long hairy tail through the table and lie down in the indentation.  He'd 
have thought the metal was cold, but it was curiously warm.  The lion nodded, grabbing 
Morgan's muzzle and holding it as the clamps slammed shut, pinning his legs, his arms, 
his chest.  Only his head was free.  Free to turn a bit, tugging his mane painfully where it 
was pinned against the table, and stare as a new figure walked in.

This one looked normal.  Flesh and blood and fur, wearing a long white labcoat and--
nothing else?  He was carrying a clipboard and whistling happily.  It didn't take long for 
the pine martin to stop in front of him and stare.

Morgan felt his ears go even redder.

"Ah!  Mr Whitestar!  I'm glad you could join us.  I /am/ sorry it took so long to get to 
you, but we've been busy."

Morgan stared at the pine martin, the figure shaped framed in the horse's white stripped 
muzzle and the lab coat.

"Oh, yes, I've been looking forward to this one.  You really need us Mr. Whitestar.  Or 
may I call you Morgan?  Great!  You know, you've led a really sad life.  Meaningless 
jobs, hiding what you truly desired, afraid of the world.  We'll end all that."

The lion had moved up beside the pine martin, and was pulling at the thick rubber straps 
that held his mask on.  But Morgan only stared at the pine martin, not consciously 
registering that the lion was taking his mask off--

The pine martin smiled as he pulled down some kind of heavy scanner that was 
suspended from the ceiling.

--until he saw the black glistening rubber face and muzzle of a lion that it had hidden.

Morgan stared.

The lion's flesh glistened black, hairless, shining as though with a black polish.  His black 
lips twitched, his nostrils moved, and his mouth opened revealing black rubber teeth as he 
smiled.  And his eyes glowed, a warm amber, not painfully bright, but so bright that that 
was all he could see of them.

Morgan couldn't move.  He could on stare.  How was this possible?  The bodies might be 
suits, costumes, but the face, the muzzle, couldn't be.  It was impossible!

"Ah, thank you Tsaro," the pine martin said.  "Perfect image from a perfectly still horse.  
That's always the hardest part you know."

The lion nodded, his tongue flipping across his lips.

The horse's eyes flicked from on to the other.  What had he gotten himself into?  How 
could he stay?  How could he ever forgive himself if he left?  Morgan spun his head, a 
vat of thick black goo near the table gurgled, and he stared as a glistening black rubber 
mask rose up like Aphrodite rising from the sea.  It was a mask, like that the lion had 
worn, but this one was of a horse.  And it was familiar--

The pine martin looked at it.  "Excellent.  A perfect copy.  It'll just take a few moments to 
dry."

Morgan wanted the mask.  Epona but he wanted it!  He'd looked at ones like it on the 'net, 
but nothing so beautiful, so lifelike, so detailed.  Afraid to do more than look, always 
making sure to delete any evidence that the browser might have left on his computer.

His member got even stiffer than it had been.

"Nice and dry."  The pine martin picked it up and flicked a last few drops of liquid off it.

Morgan almost drooled.  He wanted to speak, but couldn't make himself say a word.

"Oh don't worry Morgan, this is /especially/ for you.  It wouldn't fit anybody else. It's all 
that you ever dreamed, and just the beginning of the magic we have here for you."  The 
pine martin flipped the mask around and pulled at a zipper along the back of a full 
covering hood.  This mask wasn't like the one the lion had been wearing, it was what 
/Morgan/ had always wanted.  Full enclosure.

Morgan's mouth just hung open.

"There we go!  Now, lets get this on you.  Lean your head forward a bit, will you?"

Entranced, Morgan compiled.  The mask fit over his muzzle like a second skin.  The 
rubber was heavy, thick, but soft and comfortable.  It only pulled a little on his muzzlefur 
as the pine martin pulled it on. Morgan didn't even blink when he found out that the mask 
had a horse-shaped dildo that forced its way into his mouth, and back, back, to the back 
of his throat.  Even gagging at its length, he didn't /care/!  He was ashamed, but /oh/ so 
eager.  The fur pulled the hood over the horse's head, wiggling the sculpted ears over the 
horse's own, forcing those to be forward and erect.  The hood yanked and pulled at 
Morgan's mane, but Morgan didn't care!  It was tight, but then became even tighter as the 
zipper was done up.

Morgan gasped, and found that he could pull air through the member filling his muzzle.  
He nibbled on it like a colt at his mother's teat.  He'd dreamed of licking a lover's 
member, but nothing like this!  Drool dribbled down around it and he swallowed, purging 
it to let the sweet, sweet air done into his lungs.

Static crackled in his ears, and then he heard the pine martin's voice. He just stared at 
him, his vision tinted slightly brown.  "Oh yes, we know the kind of masks you liked, of 
what you dreamed of doing.  You can go back if you want.  Do you?  Just say the word."

Morgan's mouth was dry.  All he could do was shake his head so slightly it could barely 
be seen.

"Excellent!  We screen our candidates /oh/ so carefully."  The pine martin's hands 
reached down and moved Morgan's head a bit.  A clamp clicked around the stallion's 
neck, and two plates moved up pressing against the sides of his head, holding him 
completely immobile.  "Last chance--"

Morgan quivered.  He bit down on the cock filing his muzzle, sucking at the sweet air it 
supplied, filling it with the warm waste air from his chest.  And he just stared, his 
member so stiff it was painful.

"Didn't think so.  Now, the full conversion consists of four steps.  Only one painful.  But 
you'll love the results.  I /know/ you will.  Soon you'll be one with those who brought 
you.  All your fears will be gone.  Your debts are taken care of, your job has been closed.  
We will take care of you."

Morgan whimpered, the sound loud in his ears.  Could anybody else hear it?

"First we need to finish preparation."  The pine martin moved out of what he could see, 
and he felt something cold around his hot member.  "Don't worry, we /don't/ want to hurt 
this.  Not at all!  Though we /do/ need to calm it down about."  The pine martin reached 
up and pulled a long corrugated hose down from the ceiling and twisted it onto the tip of 
the muzzle of the horse's mask, locking it with a *click*.

Morgan could still breathe easily, and yet the air was different.  There was a scent of 
something--cinnamon?  He jerked, nostrils flared.

The pin martin started gently stroking the horse's arm  "Breathe deeply now.  This won't 
hurt.  Just relax--relax--"

A part of Morgan shivered, afraid of what was in the air, what it could do.  But the rest 
was swept away.  The warm touch.  The need.  The promise of an end to /decades/ of 
loneliness.  The horse's member softened, relaxed.  The mighty horse followed.  In.  Out.  
Deep breaths.  Slowing.  Calming.

"Relax.  Good boy.  Never alone--just a bit longer.  Relax--"

From fear, from the gas, from the gentle rubbing, the horse relaxed, his member shirking 
and turning flaccid.  He felt warm slipper hands around his crotch and something locked 
around his member.

"Relax Morgan.  You'll be safe.  You'll be fine.  Now, where was I?  Oh yes--"  The fur 
vanished out of his vision, Morgan unable to move his head to follow.  All he could see 
was the ceiling, the trailing hose he was breathing through, the scanner.  Something warm 
pressed against him, against the frog of his hooves, against his legs, against his member.  
Pressed against his chest, and gurgled and hissed over the lenses that were all he could 
see.  The liquid was black, thick, curdling.  It was warm, silent.  Still he breathed easily.  
A part of him figured there had to be a second hose inside the first letting his bad air 
escape upward.  Morgan was in a silent warm womb.

Morgan relaxed, breathing easily.

"Now this may hurt, but after that you'll never hurt again.  Just one more little thing."

Morgan blinked, locked in the blackness.  Something pressed against his tailhole.  In all 
his dreams, he'd always shied away from that.  To him it was wrong, completely wrong.  
He jerked against the bonds, struggling, pulling up out of the gas enduced stupor as the 
metal bar remorselessly pressed upward.  The thick black ooze all around him wiggled 
into ever crevice, every fold of skin and fur as Morgan struggled and fought.

"Don't fight it!  Let it come.  It'll be fine.  It'll save you.  Don't be afraid!  Everything is 
all right.  It'll bring you to a new world.  Never lonely again."

The bar pierced the horse's tailhole, stretching the tender skin, pushing upward, ever 
upward, filling him with warm liquid.  Filling him.  Sating him.

The fear faded.  This wasn't wrong, how could it be?  Relaxation swept across his soul.

"There, there--a wonderful loved toy can't be afraid of being pierced from behind, now 
can he?  A loved toy.  A hugged and cuddled toy.  A toy that will never be ashamed.  
Never be afraid."

The warm voice, the warm liquid, the fulfillment of so many repressed dreams--Morgan 
relaxed, eyes closed.  Warmth filling him, warm liquid surrounding him.

"There, there--  Just one more and then you can rest."

The hose leading down to the horse quivered, and something gurgled down it, down and 
out the dildo filling the horse's muzzle.  Hidden below Morgan coughed, gagged.  He 
swallowed, fought the goo pouring out of the dildo and filling him.  Swallowing as fast as 
he could.  If he could have, he knew he would have vomited, but he didn't.  Then the 
pressure eased.  The need for air, the struggle, all eased, as more thick liquid oozed out 
the dildo and down the horse's relaxing throat.

"There, there, my brave strong Morgan.  My wonderful toy of pleasure and love.  A toy 
to serve and love.  A toy that is never lonely.  Never needing things he's afraid to get.  
Never again."

Time passed in Morgan's dark warm world.  Liquids gurgled, things dribbled down his 
throat, up his tail hole filling him, changing him.  All the time the warm loving voice of 
the pine martin filled his ears, filled his world.  The warm steady voice remaking a lonely 
shy virgin horse into a toy to bring pleasure to himself and others--

***

An hour passed, the horse changed, becoming something other than flesh and blood.  
Processes completed themselves.

"There, there, my wonderful Morgan.  It's almost done.  Relax.  Welcome to your new 
world."  It was the pine martin's voice again.

Circuits closed, electronic commands were given, and the horse-bearing platform slowly 
rose up out of the black deaths.  The only sound Morgan could hear was the soft gurgle as 
he swallowed the room liquid drooling into his mouth from the dildo.  He blinked his 
eyes and watched the black liquid dribble off his lenses.  He could see the ceiling, the 
equipment, the hoses and tubes.  His head could move now, and he turned to see a big 
tank of what looked like black rubber draining up to the hose he was breathing through.  
Though he wasn't breathing.  He looked around, and saw the others watching him.  The 
lion and the rabbit had taken their masks off, and their eyes glowed with a soft inner 
light.  The lion's yellow, the rabbit's orange.  Not as bright now, a soft warmth through 
which he could see their dark pupils.  They'd stripped off their pants and he could see 
their members, glistening and black.

"Almost done," the pine martin said, speaking into a microphone.  Just a bit more, and the 
new world will be yours.

The horse relaxed as the huge tank beside him drained, the last of its contents being 
pumped through him.

"You're different from the other horse, but it's what you wanted.  You're unique, and 
loved."

More gently licked the dildo.  He wanted to flick his tail in joy, but there was nothing 
there, and he found he didn't miss it.

The pine martin reached back, gently lifting up the horse's head, and tugging the zipper 
up loosening the hood.  He pulled the mask off his muzzle, pulling it off his ears that 
jerked and flicked in their new found freedom.  Some blackish drool dribbled out around 
the dildo as it was pulled out.  Morgan licked it, and the last dripped onto the floor, 
leaving his shining black muzzle smooth and glistening.

The pine martin gently scratched the base of an ear, and Morgan nickered.  "We took off 
your mane, your tail. It's what you truly wanted.  You're smooth, sleek.  A toy of shiny 
black, loving and happy."

Something whirred and the pole pulled out of his tailhole.  Morgan could feel a gush of 
liquid pour out, dribbling on the floor, but he didn't mind.  He was finally what he wanted 
to be, after so very many years.

"Let me just get the mold off you."

Mold?

Morgan watched as the pine martin reached between his legs, and undid catches.  The 
metal mold clinging to his crotch popped open, and the wondrous fur pulled off the 
casing.  A bit of rubber dribbled onto the floor and Morgan gasped, the first breath he'd 
taken in a hour.  His member was there, but larger, slightly rounded, warm and happy and 
ready.  A stallionhood to be envied, and it was all Morgan's.

"Welcome to the land of rubbers, that's us," said the lion.  His voice was growly, low, 
seductive.  Where Morgan would once have flinched, ages of instincts of predators filling 
him with fear, now he just smiled.  A paw was offered, and Morgan grabbed it in a warm 
hoof hand, pulling himself up onto his unsteady hooves.

"Easy," said the rabbet who'd walked up.  "We're all unsteady at first.  We'll take you to a 
more comfortable table where you can get your strength back.  It doesn't take long.  I'm 
Jacob by the way."

"And I'm Tsaro, though I think Rilt introduced us already."  He pointed at the pine 
martin.

Rilt waved.

Together the three rubbers made their way over to a padded table.  Morgan could feel 
their bodies.  Soft, yielded, glistening, slick, covered with some kind of slippery liquid 
that could barely be sensed.  What was left of the old him wondered how his muzzle had 
changed, sealed in the mask, but most of him didn't care.  He was a toy, a toy of pleasure 
and happiness.

The rabbit held him as the lion sat down on the edge, the lowering the new horse toy onto 
the lions lap.  Morgan could feel Tsaro 's member tickling against his tailhole, though he 
wondered if that was the right word as he no longer had a tail.  Nothing to get in the way.  
And no fears, no emotional detritus to make him feel anything but a warm welcoming for 
the warmth pressing into him.  It filled him, rubbing against the sides as it wiggled in 
further and further.  Warm and /oh/ so filling!

The rabbit was busy too.  He gave a quick kiss, muzzle to muzzle, and then kneeled 
before the horse, pressing his mouth between the horse's still unsteady legs and licking 
and nuzzling the crotch before him.  In his entire life, Morgan had only masturbated, and 
then only in the darkness of his locked bedroom.  Now he grinned and leaned down, 
nuzzling one of the rabbit's long rubber ears as his member popped into growing fullness, 
large and mighty.  The rabbit nuzzled it, rubbing his slick rubber cheek along its growing 
length.

Morgan leaned back, the warm hands of Tsaro supporting him as the lion's member 
wiggled inside him.  Its barbs were now pleasure causing bumps, wonderful and warm.  
Tsaro pushed him back, and then pulled him forward, in a quick gently motion. The horse 
was slick on the lion's legs, moving easily.

In the front Jacob licked the growing horsemember, and Morgan could feel its warm 
slickness.  Then the rabbit wrapped his lips around it, rubbing his tongue along its tip.  A 
part of Morgan panicked, for a rabbit could not take a horse.  But, that was before.  As 
Morgan watched, the rabbit pulled more and more of Morgan into him.  Along his 
muzzle, the rabbit's tongue rubbing against its length.  Against the back of his throat.  
Morgan felt his member bunch, curl, and then push its way further and further in.  Down 
the rabbit's throat, down into his depths where no muscles pulsed and stroke, rubbing 
their ribbed sides along the member pressing against them.

Morgan gasped, breathing again, never having noticed he'd stopped.  Not needing to and 
the rabbit didn't need to now.  He felt his member shiver, and then pulse.  A bit of precum 
oozed along its length, like a bulge along a cartoon hose.  Out of the balls, into the 
rabbit's mouth, bending down his throat, and wiggling out into the rabbit's chest.

The lion nuzzled the horse's neck, his member growing slick as was the lion's entire body 
as it wiggled against him.  He felt warmth gurgle into him, precum blossoming deep 
inside him and he inhaled, letting out a nicker of pleasure, of such pleasure as he'd never 
allowed himself to feel.

All three gradually quickened the pace.  Morgan closed his eyes surrounded by warmth, 
his body growing slick, sliding and squeaking against the others, and theirs glistened and 
squeakled against his.  More precum gurgled into him, a warmth growing out of his chest 
to fill his body, and then flowing into his balls, and out into the bottomless depths of the 
rabbit.  More precum.  More and more.

Morgan took one of the rabbit's ears into his mouth, licking its length and then sucking 
upon it as his soft rubbery teeth nibbled its base, just as the lion worked on his neck.  His 
body filled with electricity, sparked, shuddered, and then shattered into swirling blossoms 
of pleasure as the pent up need of decades burst into his balls and fired their way into the 
lion.  The rabbit's throat visibly distended as the horse cum roared down it, pouring into 
Jacob's chest.  At the same time the lion bit down on the horse's neck, his rubber fangs 
pressing against his slick glistening skin, his taut member filling the horse from behind 
with warmth and love.

For a timeless moment the three were linked, the lion filling the horse, filling the rabbit.  
A shared moment of pleasure and need.  Morgan could feel his own cum wiggling against 
his member, up the rabbit's throat, and out past his clenched lips and pouring into his 
crotch, splashing it in white rubbery warmth.  Lion cum oozed out his tail hole, wiggling 
along Tsaro's member, and out behind the horse's tailhole.  Morgan let out a gurgling 
scream of pleasure, biting down hard on the rabbit's ear, yet knowing he was not doing 
any harm.

Slowly, lovingly, the orgasms faded.  The white cum, made of a sticky slick rubber, 
glistened and dribbled.

Tsaro kissed the horse's neck and pulled him down onto the bed, leaving his member 
inside the filled horse.  The rabbit was pulled along, clinging to the horse's member as a 
baby to its mother's teat.  Morgan's member stretched a bit, but there was no pain.  Just 
wave after wave of pleasure.  The rabbit pulled his ear away, and Morgan kissed it, but 
soon he saw appear before his eyes the rabbit's unsated need.

A toy always puts others above himself.

Morgan kissed the rabbit's glistening member, slick and wet, precum bubbled at its tip, 
and sucked out the nectar.  The member grew, and Morgan welcomed it into his mouth, 
along his tongue.  It wasn't long enough, Morgan couldn't feel it against his throat, but it 
didn't matter.  His tongue was long, and what it didn't have in skill, it made up for in 
effort.

The horse ran it along the growing rabbit length, and tickled its base against the rabbit's 
tip.  Jacob gently nibbled on the horse's member still filling him, and warm pleasure burst 
up and into Morgan's crotch as he suckled the rabbit.  He pulled the member in, pulled in 
the glistening rabbit balls, and nuzzled the crotch.  He licked and sucked, rubbing his 
tongue against the pulsing balls.  There was no interruption, no gasping need for air, as 
Morgan no longer needed that.  For the moment all he needed was right here.

The rabbit gurgled around Morgan's member, as his rubbery seed gurgled inside him, 
blossoming, growing taller and taller, more and more needful.  Finally it flew down the 
slick corridor prepared by the precum and gurgled and pulsed into the waiting horse 
muzzle where Morgan swallowed and swallowed and swallowed--

***

Rilt smiled at the pile of three glistening rubbers.  All were tangled together, shiny and 
wet and covered with cum and precum and their self-made silicon lubricant, as was the 
bed.  Of course, that was why the bed was coated in rubber--it made the cleaning a lot 
easier.  He finished his self pleasure, his living seed spilling out and onto the floor which 
absorbed it and hid it away.

Morgan had so much still to learn, but now.  Well--

Rilt loved his job, and on days like this when he could save a soul, he loved it best of all.