Taken and Prepared

Victoria was a young, vibrant soul with a zest for life that was unmatched by anyone else in her quiet town. Her blonde hair flowed down her back like a golden waterfall, and her laughter was as infectious as a catchy tune on a summer's day. She had the kind of light in her eyes that could brighten even the darkest of moments. Her friends often joked that she was the sun in their lives, a constant beacon of warmth and happiness. Little did they know, a peculiar event was about to cast a shadow over their friendship, one that would change Victoria's existence forever.

One evening, as she walked home from her part-time job at the local coffee shop, a nondescript van pulled up alongside her, the side door sliding open to reveal a group of figures in black jumpsuits. Before she could react, a burlap sack was thrown over her head and she felt strong arms lift her into the vehicle. Panic set in as she was shoved onto a cold, metal floor. Her muffled screams were met with the sound of the door slamming shut, the engine rumbling to life, and the van driving away. The world outside grew distant, replaced by the rhythmic thud of her own heartbeat in her ears.

Her captors didn't speak, not a single word, as they secured her tightly with ropes. She struggled, the coarse fabric of the sack scratching her face, but it was futile. They were too strong. The van journeyed on, the hum of the road beneath them a sinister lullaby. Victoria's mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening. Was this a ****? A prank gone too far? Her thoughts grew darker with each passing minute, fear coiling in her stomach.

The van's motion grew erratic as it took turns and drove over bumps, the men's grips tightening and loosening on her body. Each jolt sent a jolt of pain through her as the ropes bit into her skin. The silence was shattered by a lewd chuckle as one of the figures leaned over, his hands finding her breasts through the fabric of her shirt. He gave them a cruel squeeze, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. She gasped, the material of the sack growing wet with her tears. The van took another sharp turn, and the hand on her breasts moved lower, groping her ass with a disturbing enthusiasm.

Victoria felt her cheek pressed against the cold metal floor as the van lurched to a stop. The doors opened, and she was dragged out into the cool night air, the smell of grease and rain assaulting her nose. The sack was removed, revealing a grimy warehouse, lit by flickering fluorescent lights. The men, their faces hidden behind masks, pulled her along, her legs stumbling to keep up with their brisk pace. They didn't care if she could see or not; she was theirs to do with as they pleased.

One of the figures grabbed her right breast, squeezing it so hard it brought tears to her eyes. She tried to scream, but the gag in her mouth muffled the sound into a pitiful whine. Another one leaned in and whispered, "Don't worry about being gentle, the process takes any bruises away." His breath was hot and foul, sending shivers down her spine. His hand moved to her left breast, twisting it cruelly. She felt the fabric of her shirt tear and the pain was excruciating, but she knew she had to endure. It was survival instinct kicking in, a **** hope that she could somehow make it through this ordeal.

The men took turns, each one more brutal than the last. They laughed and cheered each other on, treating her like a piece of meat to be fought over. They twisted and punched her titt's watching them jiggle.The sound of her flesh being slapped and her muffled screams echoed through the warehouse, mixing with the grunts and lewd comments of her assailants.

Victoria's vision swam with pain as the blows rained down on her. Her perfect DD breasts grew dark with bruises, each hit making them more and more sensitive. She could feel the bones in her chest rattling, and she knew that if she didn't pass out soon, she might just break.

Finally, the beating of her breast ceased. Her chest heaved with the effort of breathing through the pain, and she could feel the warmth of tears streaming down her cheeks. The men stepped back, their eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. One by one, they began to remove their clothes, revealing their erect members. Victoria felt a fresh wave of terror wash over her as she realized what was about to happen. She had to find a way out. But as they approached her, their intentions clear, she knew that her struggle was far from over.

The first man, the one who had taken the most pleasure from giving her the bruises, stepped forward. His cock was thick and menacing, and he slapped it against her bruised cheek. She flinched, and he laughed. "You're going to take all of this, doll," he taunted, "and you're going to love it." With a grin, he ripped her gag away, tossing it aside.

The men took turns, each one more vicious than the last. They didn't care about her protests or her pain; they were too lost in their own depravity. Her body was used in ways she had never imagined she would do, double anal and double vaginal, her holes stretched to its limits and beyond.

The ring gag was the final touch, a cruel device that kept her mouth open wide and allowed the men to take turns fucking her face. Her tongue was swollen and sore, her jaw ached from the unrelenting ****, but she couldn't scream, couldn't beg for them to stop. All she could do was drool and gag around the cocks that invaded her mouth, filling her throat with their hot, salty essence. The taste of latex and sweat mixed with their cum, painting her face and hair in a sticky, disgusting mask. They used her mouth like a toy, a hole to be filled and emptied, and she felt like nothing more than a receptacle for their depraved desires.

The boss of the operation, a man who went by the name 'Mr. Smith', watched the spectacle with a detached air. He preferred them broken before the transformation process, finding that a shattered spirit made the transition smoother. He had seen it many times before; the fight drained out of them, leaving behind a pliable shell that was easier to mold. The sight of Victoria's tear-stained face, her once-bright eyes now glazed over with pain and fear, brought a twisted smile to his lips.

"That's enough of a warm-up," Mr. Smith said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. "Now let's break her a little more. We're going to need those holes nice and loose."

The group of masked employees took this as their cue, their eyes gleaming with excitement as they formed a line. Each took turns approaching Victoria, their hands now wielding the tools of her degradation. The first man stepped forward, his fist clenched and covered in a latex glove. He positioned himself behind her, his cock already rock hard with anticipation. He pushed her legs apart, her body compliant from the earlier ****, and shoved his fist into her pussy with a sickening wet sound. She screamed around the ring gag, her body bucking and trying to escape the intrusion, but the ropes held her firmly in place.

Her cries grew louder as each fist penetrated her, one after the other, the men laughing as they competed to see who could make her squirt the most. The pain was unbearable, and she felt her insides being torn apart. With each thrust, the men grew bolder, their hands reaching for her ass, spreading her cheeks, and pushing their fingers into her tight hole. She could feel her sphincter stretching, the burning agony making her vision blur.

For hours, they explored her depths, their fists disappearing into her as they took turns pummeling her pussy and ass. Her body was a battleground, each blow leaving her weaker and more ****. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, punctuated by the occasional snap of a finger against her swollen clit. Her ass and pussy were a canvas of bruises, the delicate flesh around her openings stretched and abused. She had lost count of the number of times she had been filled and emptied, her body now a mere vessel for their perverse amusement.

As the fisting grew more intense, the men grew more eager to begin the transformation. They had received the order form, specifying a sex doll with a simplified internal structure, and they were eager to comply. With her body already broken, it was time to insert the devices that would complete her metamorphosis. They produced three long, thick tubes, the ends tapered and covered in a gel to ease the insertion. One by one, they pushed the tubes into her ass, pussy, and throat.

The sensation was like nothing Victoria had ever felt before. The tubes filled her up, the pressure building until she thought she would burst. The gel made the invasion feel cold and alien, a stark contrast to the burning pain that had come before. Her body stretched to accommodate the intrusion, the men's eyes lighting up as they watched her swell. The tubes were attached to a machine that beeped and whirred to life, the clear solution inside the hoses starting to flow into her. She felt her stomach distend, her skin tightening as the fluid filled her up.

The feeling of being trapped grew stronger with every passing moment. Her limbs were bound tightly to the table, unable to move. The fluid was cold, filling her up like an icy river. It slithered into her pussy, her ass, her mouth, even into her stomach. She could feel it moving through her, changing her from the inside out. Her skin began to feel strange, tight and unyielding. She were being turned into a doll, a mere plaything for the twisted desires of the men who had captured her.

The fluid was thick and viscous, coating her insides as it spread. She could feel it in her veins, pumping through her body like a toxic substance. It numbed the pain, replacing it with a cold, empty feeling that was somehow worse. Her movements grew sluggish as the fluid took hold, turning her into a living statue. Her eyes were the only thing she could move, and she searched the room desperately, hoping to find a spark of humanity in the faces of her tormentors.