Tutty The Fruity
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Prompt: The Shapeless Seductress (Part 8)
🕑 Added 2023-06-30 23:51:47 +0000 UTCSummary: An exotic dancer is kidnapped by an evil scientist, and is injected with foul serums, rendering her body pliable, soft, and amorphous. She struggles with her new body, sometimes claylike, sometimes gooey, always alien. Commissioned by an anonymous user.
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Wanda's existence grew increasingly dehumanizing as the days began to blur together. She felt like a bystander in her own body as it moved, shifted, reformed and collapsed, independent of her own desires. When Blackhart wasn't performing experiments or tests with her, she was routinely deposited back into her cell, returning to a formless ooze once more. She didn't want to look at herself and how far she had fallen.
The latest in a series of debilitating performances was perhaps the most soul-crushing yet. Blackhart gleefully told her that she'd be presented to investors for... God knows what reason. Nothing good, she imagined... not that Wanda would have any say in it.
Her body, clad in that latex bodysuit that seemed to fit her like a second layer of skin (and as Wanda knew intimately, essentially was), moved on its own, pacing behind Dr. Blackhart towards a dimly lit boardroom. She stood at attention, holding still as a mannequin. She didn't even feel herself breathing, or blinking... she just stood absolutely still.
As the doctor recounted various statistics about the black science that led to such a perfect creation, and as he touched on the technologies that made a feat of bioengineering possible, Wanda wanted to scream, and lash out, shout him down. But she stood at attention, ever obedient, her face etched into a dissonant, doll-like expression.
"You say you moulded this prototype from a human?" A grey-haired investor. "Why not rely on a wholly artificial creation?"
"So much has been written about the imperfections of the human mind, but not enough about its unique strengths..." Blackhart began, pressing his fingers underneath Wanda's chin, tilting her head up. "A program can only do as it's told... but the human mind can adapt, rewire itself to suit any situation... you're flexible, aren't you Wanda?"
Wanda's body quivered, shifting to life as she straightened up, as if to stand at attention, before lifting her leg upwards, above her head in a vertical split. Something inside of her shuddered as her hand pressed against her soft, smooth limb, her body creaking under the sensation of rubber against rubber. As she formed some perverse ballerina pose, her arm elongated, climbing up her leg in a spiral coil, before her fingers pressed down, tugging against the sole of her foot.
She froze up again, holding her pose without strain. Though her body remained still, her mind was frazzled; her body felt hot, as if energy was bouncing around inside her, with nowhere to escape. As Blackhart paced around her, the vibrations from the steps he took trickled up her elongated form.
"What are the applications of this... android?" Another investor asked. "Some avant-garde art installation?"
"Mm, certainly, that is one application." Blackhart conceded. "To have a voluptuous woman such as this displayed in your mansion... a tantalizing erotic prize, and a superior conversation piece."
Wanda cringed internally, but remained as stone-faced as ever, as Blackhart helped himself to one of her voluptuous breasts; he cupped the fatty flesh in his palm, squeezing firmly, maybe harshly, his thumb rolling over her erect nipple. Wanda's body rippled, the black bodysuit practically melting away to reveal her sensuous, velvety curves. As his fingers trailed her down and prodded at her swollen labia, Wanda did not physically react. She was little better than a plaything, in her current state... something that Blackhart did not ever let her forget.
"But Wanda is more than just sumptuous eye candy," Blackhart bragged. "She is the next generation of infiltration technology, able to take on the shape of anything... or anyone necessary to accomplish her mission."
There was a twinge in Wanda's body, that unpleasant shifting sensation again as she was forced to change. She could feel her curves retreating into her body, her head and neck lengthening, her form narrowing and compressing as she stretched towards the ceiling. She felt the sole of her raised foot pump up, stretch out further, before curling into unseemly, circular growths... three of them, in horizontal formation.
The audience was in awe as, in a matter of moments, Wanda had shifted entirely into an ordinary traffic light; even her skin seemed to take on the dull, lustreless texture of concrete.
"She can blend into any scene, her memory banks a well of inspiration for new disguises." Blackhart declared. "No fingerprints, no hair samples... whatever humanity remains can be modified down to the molecular level... she could even imitate one of you!"
Wanda quickly collapsed in on herself, shifting and splattering into a slick puddle of ooze again. As her height was cut in half, she morphed in front of the audience, her body popping as she reconstructed herself, her DNA rewriting itself to match a target of Blackhart's choosing. As her body reformed, her clay-like mass solidifying and paling in colour, she felt herself gaining weight, developing a slight gut from old age; sprouts of grey hair flaked out from her scalp, and as a black business suit threaded together around her, protecting her modesty, she raised her head, turning towards one of the grey-haired investors.
His face went pale as he clutched his heart. Wanda had shapeshifted into a perfect facsimile of him.
"Blackhart truly is a genius." Wanda spoke... though those weren't her own words, and they weren't coming from her mouth. Still, she stood at attention, her body bubbling and popping as it shapeshifted on its own, folded of claylike ooze wrapping around her body, pumping her up in her more erogenous zones, until she was back in her nudist splendor.
The council of investors—bankers, profiteers, diplomats abound—stirred excitedly as Blackhart immediately rattled off Wanda's various services. The manipulative bastard wasted little time in stoking their egos and pushing them towards a bidding war for her services. Wanda cringed internally, hanging her head as her dead looking eyes stared to the floor. She dreaded what sort of horrible jobs she would be put through: assassinations, prostitution, corporate espionage were all very real possibilities.
One member at the table, a well-dressed woman with blonde hair, stared carefully at Wanda's form. She silently scribbled something in a small journal, content to let the men in the room bray and bark and shout over each other for their first look at the paradigm-changing technology Dr. Blackhart had brought to the fore.
Blackhard, sneering, stepped back and let the menfolk negotiate, placing a hand on Wanda's shoulder.
"Very good," he smiled. "It is time to put you back in your chamber."
