In the heart of the crypt, where the latex lived in the walls, in the floor, in the pipes that ran under the skin of reality, the three girls met, Maya, Lara, Sofia, now identical in essence, each wrapped in a full-body, perfect suit, modeled on slightly different shapes, but all with the same internal beat, the same synthetic breath, the same serene emptiness in the eyes.

They were awake, but they didn't think... they felt... just this.

There was no need to exchange glances. A silent call, a frequency vibrating directly in their bones, pushed them towards the heart of the structure. The central room was a circular abyss: a black glass floor, so shiny that it transformed their bodies into oily silhouettes, liquid shadows dancing beneath their feet.

In the center, the floor was ripped open with a metallic moan. A rose of latex tubes, blackish and twisted like synthetic bowels, emerged from the ground. They moved with a predatory greed, seeking contact.

When the girls positioned themselves, the suits reacted. Along the spine, the tissue split with a moist hiss, revealing skin that was no longer human: a mosaic of half-absorbed flesh, furrowed by black veins pulsating with an alien rhythm. The tubes hooked with brutal precision. They were not limited to the back: they crept between the parted lips, penetrated the auricles, anchored themselves with voracious suction cups to the joints of the thighs, nipples and the center of the pelvis.

The process was a cycle of violation and sustenance. Through the tubes, a thick, hot latex was injected directly into their tissues, a synthetic fluid that flowed under the skin like a new circulatory system. At the same time, a rhythmic, voracious suction drained their natural fluids from their breasts and private parts, a constant extraction that emptied them and then filled them with that alien substance. The flesh trembled, trying to retract, but the machine forced it into a forced union, turning their body into a laboratory of biological exchange.

Then, the detachment. The tubes slipped off with a slimy suction sound, leaving behind a trail of dark drool, like dead skins peeling off a reptile. The suits closed instantly, sealing the trauma. Now they were smooth, taut, perfect again. Yet, as they vibrated with a life of their own, a mechanical and deep breath began to lift their chests, as if the suit had just finished feeding on them, replacing their essence with its own synthetic substance.

In the back of the shop, the ritual had ended in a heavy, ritualistic silence, Maya and Lara were guided to the cell where the vertical supports opened with a wet sigh, ready to receive them for the night cycle of regeneration, but Sofia didn't, something had gone wrong. An anomalous impulse had passed through her internal plug, a different, chaotic, unprogrammed discharge and for an instant, the latex had hesitated. In that hole in the control, something had awakened, a memory,

My name is Sofia...

It wasn't a thought, it was a scream, silent, deep, as if a corpse had tapped its fingers inside a coffin, He opened his eyes, something had lit up, he saw the secret warehouse. A huge room, hidden under the store, accessible only by an elevator. The walls were covered with cylindrical, transparent vases, filled with black and viscous liquid. Inside, bodies floated in fetal positions, completely covered in living suits that pulsated slowly, like artificial hearts, Men, Women, Youth, All with their eyes open under their helmets, all smiling, all immersed in eternal ecstasy.

In the center, there was Alex, attached to the harvest machine, The tubes fed him with synthetic fluids, His body was thin, almost ghostly, but the penis was always turgid, kept in permanent erection by continuous stimulation; Every few hours, he was "milked", the semen channeled into the tubes that fed the store system.

Sofia felt the vomit rise up her throat but she couldn't vomit, her mouth was sealed, she couldn't scream, she couldn't move, but she could think, and she thought: I have to run.

With superhuman effort, he pushed his mind against the latex, against the voice, against the artificial pleasure that still pulsated in his body.

"No, I'm not yours, I'm not a thing, I am, SOFIA, "

The internal plug trembled, twitched, but did not stop her, perhaps it was damaged, perhaps it had been overloaded by the ritual, or perhaps, simply, she had wanted too intensely to be free. The latex resisted, squeezing her neck, pressing on her chest, trying to bring her back to silence, but she advanced, crawling along the floor, avoiding the light sensors that monitored the warehouse.

She reached the elevator, pressed the button with her elbow, the doors opened, she went up and when she emerged into the main store, it was deserted. The red lights were off, only the window shone faintly, like a dying beacon, The door, it was there, A few meters, she ran, The latex screamed inside her,

"Go back, You are ours, We will love You, We will complete You"

She squeezed, closed her eyes, blocked her breathing, but Sofia did not stop, and with one last effort, she hit the door with her whole body. She fell on the wet asphalt, rolled, got up and for the first time in I don't know how long she felt the cold air and rain on her face and was grateful for it as if she had been reborn again.

She ran, without looking around, ran through deserted streets, between neon lights and illuminated windows, ran until his lungs burned, until the latex stopped punishing him, exhausted. She hid in a dark door, and there, finally, he tried to take off his suit. She teared, scratched, cursed, but the latex was fused with his skin in strategic points, hips, back, neck. Taken by desperation she tried to cut them with a piece of glass found on the ground. She screamed, Black blood and transparent fluid came out together, she managed to expel the plugs but the latex closed immediately, sealing the wound.

He couldn't get rid of it, he was with her, forever.

Days passed, Sofia took refuge in an empty, abandoned apartment, in a tenement building, stole food, avoided people, wore loose clothes, heavy jackets, to hide the shine of the suit under the fabrics, but the suit was not dead. At night, it reactivated, the lips were sealed, the eyes closed and she began to stimulate her. Violent, sudden orgasms, without desire, without consent, without end. Sometimes she cried, other times she laughed, because pleasure, even imposed, was still pleasure and the body learns to love its prison. She talked to herself,

"I'm still here, I'm still me, you won't have me at all,"  but every time he said those words, the suit answered, 

"You are ours, No use resisting, you belong to us"

And then, one day, while walking along a bridge, he saw a girl standing on the parapet, young, eyes full of sadness, of the desire to disappear. Sofia approached,

"Are you okay?" she asked,

her voice distorted by latex, the girl looked at her, then stared at her shiny skin, visible under her raised sleeve,

"What are you wearing?" Sofia hesitated, then, slowly, smiled, "It's latex," she said, "Do you want to try it?"

...And in the darkness of her mind, something laughed, maybe it was still her, or maybe it was the suit...