Bound in Squeaky Armor (Patreon)

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Bing had always been a tinkerer, an enthusiast for strange and experimental creations. His latest invention was a concoction of his dreams: a self-spreading, self-stabilizing rubber goo. Not just any goo, though—this one was infused with transformative properties, designed to reshape the user into their favorite character designs. Bing’s chosen inspiration? A polar bear mascot from a famous game franchise. The design was bulky, powerful, and had a unique combination of charm and intimidation.

The goo shimmered in its jar, a white with faint glimmers of silver, like it was alive. Bing couldn’t resist. With trembling excitement, he spread the substance across his chest, expecting it to simply coat his skin like a second layer.

At first, it felt cool and smooth, a pleasant sensation that spread rapidly. Too rapidly. Bing gasped as the goo surged across his torso and down his limbs, the coolness replaced by a growing warmth. His body began to change.

The goo thickened, encasing his form in a glossy, rubber-like material. His fingers stiffened, swelling into large, rounded digits as his hands transformed into powerful bear-like paws. His arms followed suit, bulking up into massive limbs that mirrored the mascot’s design. The sensation was intense, a mix of tightness and yielding, as though the goo was rewriting his very anatomy.

When the goo reached his penis, Bing froze. The material tightened around his groin, compressing him into a smooth, featureless mound. A small, unmistakable lock symbol etched itself into the surface of the rubbery bulge, signifying his enforced chastity. Bing’s breath hitched as he tried to process the sudden loss of sensation and freedom.

The goo wasn’t finished. It surged upward, engulfing his neck and head. Bing’s vision blurred as his face reshaped into the snout and broad features of the polar bear mascot. His eyes became glossy, and his mouth fused into a friendly grin.

 “Okay, this is... unexpected,” he muttered, though his voice wavered. His attempts to reach for the bulge were clumsy; his new paws struggled with finesse. The goo formed into a tight, round bulge, encasing his penis in what appeared to be a null bulge, marked with a lock symbol. This was his chastity, a playful yet frustrating element of his new form, designed to keep him in a constant state of denial, his desires locked away.

Despite the thrill of the transformation, Bing found himself grappling with an intense need that the null bulge only exacerbated. He tried to alleviate his arousal, his new bear paws awkwardly rubbing against the glossy surface of his encased manhood, but to no avail. The stimulation was there, teasing him, but the climax remained frustratingly out of reach.

Just as Bing thought the process was over, another surge of goo erupted from his shoulders, this time reshaping itself into camouflage armor. It covered his bear form with tactical gear, from neck to toe, complete with pockets, hardened armor plates, and a military-style hat. Pockets and straps formed seamlessly, filled with faux gear that jingled faintly as he moved.

A heavy helmet, styled like a soldier’s combat headgear, locked into place on his head. Bing’s reflection in the nearby mirror was unrecognizable—a professional, rubberized polar bear soldier ready to step into battle.

His thoughts were a whirlpool of panic, arousal, and helplessness. He struggled against the goo’s control, but his arms were bound tightly behind his back, leaving him unable to fight back. Every attempt to claw at the bulge or free himself was met with resistance from the goo, which seemed to mock his efforts.

Despite the lock on his desires, the warmth of need simmered within him, a cruel tease he couldn’t escape. Bing's mind screamed for release, but the goo had its own plans. It moved his body with precision, making him march forward, each step a squeaky reminder of his new form. His struggles became pointless as the goo tightened its control, forcing him to wave, to pose, to perform...

Bing realized, too late, that his invention had a mind of its own. It had turned him into a character, not just in appearance, but in purpose—a tool for some unseen game.