Sabotaged Production - Multi TF
Tags: Inanimate, Sex Toys TF, Multi, Unaware, Balloon TF, Object TF, Caption, Doll TF, Inflation, Objectification, Rubber, Latex TF
DescriptionIf you want to make a suggestion or have an unique idea join the Discord Server. Some of the other things you can find there are NSFW captions without the censorship and giveaways for free commissions!'Sabotaged Production - Multi TFLast Part:The cargo container had not been ventilated.…
The cargo container had not been ventilated. Fourteen hours of recycled air loaded with curing synthetic rubber and industrial solvent, the kind that settles into your lungs and stays. Pegasus had managed the time the way she always managed waiting, by running the facility layout in her head until she could close her eyes and place every camera mount, every conveyor station, every fire door without pausing once. She had run through it forty-three times and she was a sex doll right now. A black latex sex doll with small molded chest, soft hips and rounded thighs just like hers. Three standard holes. Her transformed face sitting at the center of all that synthetic material like it had been bolted there, which was more or less exactly what had happened. The new MIMIC suit kept agent features intact through transformation. Engineering called it a mobility upgrade and they were correct about the mobility. Inside object forms now she could move. Actually move, not just roll or get carried. Her limbs responded. Her fingers worked. She could shift her weight and control her direction and operate more like an agent and less like cargo. What she could not do was make her face fully disappear. Most of the field roster had submitted feedback within a week of the rollout. The general opinion had been consistent and direct. Being a covert object is useless if your face is looking out of it at everyone who picks you up. Pegasus had written two paragraphs. She had chosen her words carefully and kept her language professional and the summary had still basically said this is a terrible idea. Nothing had changed. The TF drive sat between her thighs, embedded in the space where her navel was. The crate unsealed. Factory air hit her immediately. Machine oil and curing latex and the sharp chemical edge of industrial floor cleaner applied recently and dried into something sweet and astringent. Pale grey epoxy concrete stretched out in every direction, scored and scuffed from years of pallet jack traffic. Fluorescent tubes ran the full ceiling length. The noise was a continuous dense layering of motor hum, pneumatic tools, voices, and the rhythmic mechanical slap of product moving through conveyor stations. A worker in a grey uniform reached into the crate and grabbed her upper arm with both hands and hauled her out. The grip was completely impersonal, practiced from repetition. He set her on a wheeled metal staging cart alongside three other units. He turned to his coworker and the coworker leaned in. He looked at her face. He looked at it for longer than he looked at the other units. His expression shifted in the specific way of someone who has noticed something that should not be there and cannot explain it. Pegasus kept her amber eyes glass flat and held. "Eyes look too real," the coworker said. "Premium production line," the first man said, not fully believing it. "High-end market." He made a note on his clipboard. "Quality check staging." The staging shelf ran along the south wall. From the fourth shelf up Pegasus had a direct view of the full eastern end of the production floor. A partition wall thirty meters away. Beyond it, the low constant hum of servers running at full load. A MIMIC logistics contact had confirmed the schedule seventy-two hours before departure. Stolen fabrication schematics from an advanced materials contract. Copied from a contractor database six months prior and moved through this facility in encrypted portable drives, packaged inside sealed export containers stamped and loaded onto the four drives. The drives were leaving this building in under three hours. She scanned the camera coverage from her shelf position and mapped her route. The QC man arrived with his clipboard. He moved fast and without particular interest, working through units in sequence. He reached Pegasus. His hands were calloused, dry, shaped by years of exactly this work. He grabbed her left breast with two fingers and pressed to check fill density. She felt every ridge of his fingertips through the latex because the suit transmitted sensation at full sensation and had no dampening filters. She had asked about dampening filters during her training evaluation. The answer had been no. His hands moved down her abdomen. Her hip seam on both sides. Then his thumb pressed the TF drive. The sensation traveled from that single contact point upward through everything the suit had routed to it. Immediate. Total. A pulse that spread outward across her lower body and had absolutely no business existing inside a production unit. "Mmmmph." She held it before it fully formed. Amber eyes locked on the fluorescent tube above his head. He pressed again. Rolled the sphere under his thumb, frowning at the density inconsistency. The heat built outward from her core in a slow, expanding wave. "Nnngh." Quieter than breath. The suit's pneumatic system disguised it as a valve release. He noted the inconsistency on his clipboard and moved on. From past the
