She slipped into bed, pulling an eye-mask and huffing. She’d put her captives to bed, loaning out the pillows or sealing them in storage for the evening. Ideas were tough. She was still going to use MirageCorp’s iconic ‘smart’ programmable latex, but she was troubled by thoughts of red lines going down and talks of “profit”.
Nanotech was pricey. It was top-of-the-line for good reason, and as useful as it was it had drawbacks. It was pricey, it was glitchy, and more than once it had proven susceptible to cyberwarfare attacks. Very embarrassing, though not as embarrassing as being found coated and squirming as a featureless dolly. She drifted off to a sleep-mode cycle, thinking on the info she’d gained the past few days.
She didn’t dream of electric sheep, but she had a horrible one about a vicious feminine monster chasing after her, unstoppable and completely inescapable. When she woke, she had a similarly vicious idea. A few hours at the lab later, and she was sending her top people out to kidnap and acquire top people to do some research on latex symbiotes. If such monsters existed, well, it was an interesting little dream that could inspire a VERY interesting possibility.
Not long later, Directrix Phantom was sitting at her desk and staring at a cylindrical specimen container.
Directrix - This doesn’t create obedient rubber-clad minions. Be careful. This is a symbiote. It creates weapons-grade nymphomaniacs. These Mistforms end up slaves to their alien hungers; bonded with their latex skin and driven to consume lust in living things. They do gain some powers, creating latex webs and physical prowess. However, unless your will is strong enough to resist, you end up an animalistic hunter, perpetually needy and in search of playmates. Like we said. Careful.
Phantom stroked it gently, watching the viscous black liquid swirling inside. “Hmmm… well on the one hand, dangerous alien symbiote. On the other hand, superhuman agility, reflexes, hunger, the ability to impregnate prey with a lesser mistform, progeny are obedient…”
A few minutes later, Phantom was nude, her clothes in a pile on the floor, and she was pressing the bright red button labeled DANGER - RELEASE on the specimen container.
“This is probably a bad idea.”
A week later, an alabaster-skinned figure rose from a bed.
“Best idea ever.”
A bed, though technically not her bed. But then again, possession was 9/10ths of the law. And the bed was hers; she’d slept in it. And the only other person in the room was not really able to disagree.
Phantom’s body was completely coated, smooth and featureless save for her face. She knelt on the bed and inched forward to the cocooned captive, still hanging from the ceiling. The captive made a gentle mewling sound, face pressed tight tight tight against the synthex coating that compressed her and kept her adhered above.
‘Mmgff.’ She couldn’t say much. Nor had she the night before, once Phantom had activated her abilities.
“One way of dealing with the competition.” The Directrix smirked, caressing the enfolded, cocooned bundle. “You were delicious.”
2. The Visitor
Agent Blonde had spent weeks infiltrating Phantom’s organization. She was well-liked, well-trained, and her short blonde hair was just the perfect mix of “cute” and non-threatening. In short, Blonde was a beloved asset; perfectly trained to get into Phantom’s good graces and capture the notorious Phantom.
She stayed in the office particularly late one night. Advanced workstations, humming server racks, test-labs and waiting rooms, almost all of them empty. Save of course for Phantom, figuratively and possibly literally lived in the building. The Directrix was walking down a long, empty hallway - her high heels clicking with corporate callousness - and mired in some call overseas. This was the best opportunity she was going to get.
Blonde fitting a tranquilizer dart into her wrist-mounted launcher. She leaned out from behind, aimed directly at Phanny’s rear, and fired.
It sailed past her target’s rump and harmlessly planted itself in the wall. Phantom’s head was turned. Her eyes glimmered. Her mouth curved into a predator’s smile. She’d been upgraded.
Blonde caught her gaping jaw and fit another into her wrist. She’d never needed to fire twice. By the time she looked up, Phantom was already gone. She was so fast, faster than the dossier had ever mentioned. Fast enough to grab the dart out of the air and plunge it into Blonde. The drug took hold quickly, knocking her out for a few minutes but leaving her paralyzed for an hour or more. As she fell, Phantom caught her as if she was dancing; high heels clacking in the hallway.
“I was waiting for you to make a move, my dear, waiting for so long. I’ve wanted to enjoy you since you first stepped into my life, but I didn’t want to gorge myself. And honestly? It was worth it. That look in your eyes was worth every day of waiting. Plus, it gave me time to make space for you.”
Phantom was like a trapdoor spider. She’d lay in wait, waiting for her prey to make a move. That made the grab all the more fun; they were engaged and ready and raring to go. They were already secreting energy and pheromones and all the energetic tension. When they were already so worked up, she simply couldn’t say no. Poor Blonde.
Unfortunate for her, but wonderful for Phanny. The Directrix took her to a hidden room behind her office, and placed her on a thickly padded platform. The pale, green-eyed victor took a long, long look at her sprawled body. Blonde had all the right curves, wide hips, a very generous rear, a cute and healthy waistline, and a great sense of fashion. She decided she’d keep the outfit. Phantom slowly, sensually undressed the helpless girl.
She gently removed her jacket, taking her time to rub hands over Blonde’s fantastic chest. She was awake now, and could feel everything, everything. She took off the jewelry, gently removed her high heels. A sweet foot massage on her ankles and calves, nuzzling them with her cheek as she put away stockings and tights and blouse and skirt.
“Those beautiful blue eyes of yours are the only thing moving,” she said. “But I think you’re enjoying this.” She gently moved a finger down from Blonde’s lips to her neck to her chest to her waist and womanhood. “Oh you are a specimen. But not as special as me.”
She let Blonde watch her as she herself took a step back and disrobed. Phantom’s costume gently fell to the ground, helpless to look away or do anything but watch the display. Showtime, Phantom mumbled to herself. She smiled, staring back; her bright green eyes watching as Blonde started to panic. Pupils dilating, breathing slightly faster. Oh yes, yes, yes, the prey knew what was happening.
Her skin was unnaturally smooth; and soon the flawless pale sating went glossy as freshly polished latex. It became jet black, and Phantom’s face a smooth black mask. Her full lips were visible, moving beneath the tight membrane. And she was smiling.
“Not quite what you were expecting, hmm?”
She took a step towards Blonde. She was statuesque. She felt taller; like a Greek goddess, or a creature from myth. Tall, powerful, unblemished, cruelly needy. She gently rearranged Blonde on the platform. Arms folded behind her gently, legs together, facing upwards. Blonde felt something warm, wet, and sticky beginning around her feet.
MistPhan leaned in close, gently closing her victim’s eyes as tears started to well up.
“We’re going to have so much fun together.” The warmth began to spread.
3. The Victim
The warm coating passed her feet. Her ankles. Then her calves. Phantom paused for a moment, putting the clothes in a small box. A collection from a former victim.
“So sorry, Agent Blonde. Oh, and I know that's not your real name, but it's what I'm picturing, and once you're all cocooned up I want something to remember you by."
Barely audible whispers and grunts emitted from the agent’s lips. The paralysis was just 1% worn off, nowhere near enough to do a damn thing as the glossy creature crawled back onto the platform.
"What was I saying? Oh yes. I'm not REALLY sorry. But it's fun to say. Sorry honey, but you've seen my face. Now I can't let you leave."
"Oh I'm excited too! Judging by the way you're tearing up and the beat of your heart, this is the first time you've ever been devoured. I wouldn't worry. It's definitely not painless, but I've never had anyone not enjoy themselves. The way they moan and groan and mewl is just… well, it's almost disturbing how much they love it, want it, need it."
The mistformed Phantom was moving like a ghost. Her movement so fluid. At once, up close, then standing atop her. Webbing her up, starting again at the feet. The first layer, so tight it's almost like a second skin. Like she's being swallowed up, being sacked. MistPhan created a cocoon of webbed latex that only seems to go to her waist. Blonde breathed in relief. Maybe the Directrix was showing mercy, or out of juice.
"Oh I'm not done," she said with a faceless grin. Neither could see her smile, but they could both hear it in her voice. "I just want to have a little fun with it. It's not every day I get to enjoy someone like this. It’s our first time, sweetie. I want to take it slow" The agent's face starts to flush as Phantom picks her up, hoists her vertically. She let her slowly start to sink into the cocoon; like a worm or snake swallowing its prey, stretching and tightening with every millimeter she sinks. Every moment she felt the webs getting tighter. Adhering to her flesh.. Her abdominal muscles. More.
“Ooohh, I love this part! Don't you worry, I'm recording this. Not sure if I'll ever let anyone see it though."
Mistphan blushed behind the ebony coating. She cocked her head, touching her chest with one hand and her chin with the other. Watching the poor Agent's breasts squeeze into the cocoon, then her shoulders, and finally her face. The orgiastic bliss. Freezing her in a scream, trapping her in a lew moment just as the paralytic starts to wear off, enough for her to open her mouth for a BIG moan.
The intense fury, the fear, the frustration as she goes pop and Phantom seals the sack above her as she dangles. Oh yes. The last coherent memory seared into Agent Blonde’s mind before she was consumed by latex ecstasy was Phantom watching her doom.
4. The Vault
There is a hidden vault where she stores those who have seen MistPhan’s true face, who know her most well kept secret. The Vault is a thing for precious treasures to enter and be stored, never to escape. Encased, sacked, suspended, they writhe in unending erotic torment. These cocooned captives are begging to be groped and teased, always ready for when her dark hunger needs to be satiated. Who knew pleasure tasted sooooo good. Blonde was the first, but not the last. Soon she decided that hidden room would also function as a larder. A collection.
Swallowing Blonde like a worm had been one of the hottest things she’d ever done. The pleasure from it had fed the symbiote for weeks. Blonde had been left isolated and rubberized, trapped in a slumber that alternated between wet dream and waking nightmare. But Blonde made her realize what an appetite she had.
The trophy vault just looked so empty. But it looked a bit nicer once she added a runner who’d accidentally stepped onto MirageCorp property. It was almost legal to bring her in for questioning. But the law didn’t have any stipulations for letting her sweet, sensual legs try to run as Mistphan let her tire herself out. It made pouncing, cocooning, and that final kiss all the more sweet.
Each captive was to be “digested,” in the Latin term. Contemplated. Enjoyed. To be well-regarded, every moment of their capture and encasement, every bit of sensual bliss as they met their fate was analyzed. Such a struggle on that one, she’d think. I need some time to truly appreciate it.
Soon it grew to be a beautiful collection. A spy here, a lawyer here, an infiltrator there. Anyone who saw her mask, her symbiotic power, would end up as a permanent resident of the Vault. Every one of them enjoyed the blissful demise of seeing her gleaming Mistform-enhanced face, the very last moment before she found different ways of sealing and cocooning them up as her new sources of nourishment and enjoyment. She’d handpick the ones she wanted. They were broken down with feeding and pleasure until eventually, they worshiped her.
There was no need or even possibility to ask them with words about whether they were “ready,” but her empathic sense as a Mistform hunter allowed her a deep connection with every one of her victims, captives, and lovers - though they were all three. When it was time, she’d slide her ovipositor deep inside, shuddering in delight as a carefully formatted embryonic symbiote entered the Chosen recipient. The sweet little collected cutie would struggle in mind-numbing pleasure for a long while. MistPhan would nuzzle and enjoy feeling her in her grasp, resting, relaxing, snuggled up and sleeping while the newborn symbiote spreads through them. Around them.
"I'm soooo hungrrryyyyy,” she’d say while slithering atop her toys. "Such a delicious, succulent morsel."
I'm going to devour you." Whispers with hot breath into their ears.
After a long process, Phantom would slit the sack with a glossy talon. Out poured an organic Bane-like rubber drone. Their features, their form, all properly coated, compressed, reformatted.
Faceless. Featureless. Unhackable. Utterly loyal and obedient. They were a physical extension of her will.
And, because it was fun, Phantom loved to do this whole process while new captives watched. “Oh look! This was Stephanie, an infiltrator and a thief. Look at this…. You get to see the moment where she is TRULY doomed, and escape is cut away. Don’t blink, I want you to see what will happen to you!”
Not every victim saw, though. Once in a while she’d just let someone “escape.” The escapee would think themselves clever or lucky or strong, but they never suspected that they were implanted with an embryonic symbiotic all the same - and that soon that gift would awaken. It could be helpful to track down the source of those agents and infiltrators, after all. And when the source of said adversaries was already known, even better to use them as a sleeper agent.
Phantom was excited to see it happen. One “escapee”, a cute short-haired gal with a penchant for computers, was no problem at all for MistPhan’s powers. She was captured, sacked, fed upon, broken, and impregnated. Gorgeous, really. But her transformation into a drone was paused; the symbiote spread through her body and into her brain. It gave her memories of luck and quick thinking and escape. And, when she arrived back at her Agency compound, she slept after extensive debriefing. The moment she let her guard down, the compound became a house of subdued security.
She’d been enjoying one of her meals. Watching it arch its back. Licking them down, tasting their arousal and the glorious gossamer coating that encases them as hers. Lithely moving around a gorgeous little cocoon, moving fingers around them, then moving to another vaulted victim like looking at toys in a store.
"Ahh… hello cuties. Right about now a new member of the family is about to bring in some more new visitors. Now that means…" She says, running hands over a lovely husband-and-wife detective team she nabbed a few weeks ago as they gyrated against each other. Oohoho. A quick shiver from them.
"Now that means that a few of you might get a TINY bit closer together. A bit more packed. Means I might be nudging one or two of you whenever I come for a meal. But the larder doesn't mind, does it?" A cacophony of moans and mewls. She felt completely recharged. A chorus to her. Time to turn on the news and see if there are any reports, and then over to her attack teams to see how the facility is looking… and that’s when she felt something twinging in her spine. It was time.
The empathic cries brought Mistphan in, bringing with her drones that flooded the facility while the agent and her “comrades” were secured. Only then did she enjoy the moaning, orgiastic bliss as she completed her transformation; mouth agape as latex flowed over and through her, coating her as a wonderful glossy drone.
The drones were wonderful things. They were imprinted on her like a newborn; belonged to hear in mind, body, heart and soul. She’d use tail , tentacle, and tongue to take them to new heights of pleasure that no mere human could ever experience. Mistforms were connected through there symbiotic connection, and so it flowed into and out of and through them all. They too would feel MistPhan’s pleasure at the same time. They’d enjoy how their subservience, their utter surrender delighted and thrilled her. The movements of her tendrils inside them took them all over the edge. Again, again, and again.
Both of her drones, new and old, enjoyed the trinitarian thrills, sharing in triple ecstasy that only the most dominant matriarch, MistPhan, could possibly give them. Yes. Yes. YES.
When they were done, their owner, their Goddess sealed them up and plugged them. Her favored drones were locked in rigid, unyielding, tight shields around their glossy carapace. They were perfect, protected, hers. They were locked as chaste little dollies; no external stimulation would even be possible. The carapace was sublimely hard, inescapable, and unbreachable. The plugs were to keep them simmering, needing.. And awaiting her return, awaiting her orders. When commands would come, they would obey. Their bodies would act before their minds.
But their minds were just as shaped. The memory of shared pleasure with their goddess had changed them at a fundamental level. For such pleasures, they’d storm heaven itself.
"Do you know why you're here?" Phantom asks of a poor reporter. She tries her best to beg, to moan, to say something, and every little gagged grunt is a delicious acclimation. MistPhan parts her captive's lips, gently plunging a thumb into her captive's mouth. Letting her suckle for a moment before nuzzling the forehead and sealing that face back up.
A thin layer of webbing that stretches and seals, leaving her airless for a few preciously long seconds. A few moments of choking, gasping arousal. "It's because you're tasty. The tastiest. The sweetest. And you don't get that way if you're "normal." No no no, I don't tell everyone this, but you WANT this."
"Mmfn… nmmm , nmm nmmm!"
"Oh please, DO try to talk, I love that gagged begging. But you're needy," MistPhan says with a gentle purr. "You don't REALIZE how horny you are. So horny soon all else will fall away. Your rubber-sealed form is going to become your whole world; endless lust and need. Dreams of servitude and pleasure. Channeled, from me to you and back. Because you wanted this from the start. All those investigations. The photos on your camera. Interesting the way you focused on the buxom buttocks of the encased vac-slaves."
Moving hands over a toy. Then going for a long lick, kissing her softly. Softer than silk, even as the poor reporter starts to quiver in fear.
"That's right. You've been following me for a while, and I've been following you too. Why else do you think you got in? Not just to my lair, but to my Vault. Your final resting place, so to speak, because once you go in, the beautiful drone that emerges will be something more."
The quivering grows greater as she starts to suck in oxygen and gets some fight in her. "You're liking it more than most. And you're not even saying it with your words. Not that I need your mouth to make words, though someday I might need it for other things. Like filling up, like kissing, like using. No no… your body betrays you. I can FEEL it."
Leaning against her waist. Feeling the heat. "I can hear my plugs inside you. Filling you. Thrumming. Waiting, though, for my commands. By the time orgasm comes it'll feel like you were waiting your whole life with it…"
"Oh, I'm only getting started!" she says as the reporter starts to beg "no."
"You're lying to yourself, saying no because you're bashful. But you're gone from the outside world. This is my Vault. My place of trophies. Where only those that see me, who I let see me, get to stay. Soon enough the webbing won't be enough. You'll need it more, tighter, more pressure. And I'm HAPPY to oblige. Those rigid cocoons feel like diamond on the outside, and you'll be so perfectly protected for your protected transformation," she says with a sober nod. She rubbed her hands over one of her glossy drones.
"See, little miss hotshot reporter, tougher than diamond. You'll have better luck cutting titanium with a butter knife."
The reporter made a cute sound that reminded her of a kitten; the way it looked cute, trying to avoid predators.
"And look at that… once I talk about processing you start to wiggle your toes. How naughty. No wonder you had all those pictures of my Dollies.'
Fear and excitement. Pain and pleasure. The co-mingling of opposites was creating so much more intense pleasure, so much more sustenance for a busy little MistPhantom. Just coincidental that breaking them is easier and more enjoyable when you crack that civilized veneer and expose the lustful beast that lurks within. Reveal to them just how depraved they are just beneath the surface … and feed on their perversity.
It was her tradition, her deepest kink. Holding up a mirror to their own deepest, darkest desires … Before it was a vicarious thrill, now it's a hearty, nourishing breakfast for MistPhantom.