HypnoDreamSearcher got a commission of Celestia being transformed into a latex dragon-drone. A story was commissioned to go with it.
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At first, it does not worry her. A hand brushed across a windowsill. A cool, damp spot. Nothing at all to be concerned about. It takes a few seconds to notice the odd substance and by then, it is probably too late.
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Princess Celestia lifts her delicate arm up to examine the black, glistening liquid, confused as to where it could possibly have come from. Attempting to wipe it off only spreads it to the rest of her hand, the substance seeming to jump and flow in ways it shouldn't. Perhaps that movement, that prickling, flowing feeling that seems to include more of her than it should, should raise the first threads of warning. But for some reason, it does not.
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Absently, Celestia reaches out and attempts to brush it away with her other hand and only succeeds in covering her remaining fingers in it. She stares, mesmerized, as it flows down towards her wrists, cold and glimmering in the morning light.
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That cold, and the movement, finally stirs some small bit of alarm. Not enough to break her out of it, but enough to begin to struggle.
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Dimly, she scrapes her hands together again, trying once more to wipe it away. She recognizes that it is unusual and possibly dangerous and that she needs to get it off. Gritting her teeth, she fights through whatever soporific effect it's having on her and tries to concentrate. She lights her horn and is about to try and remove it with magic, but... hesitates.
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Something feels... off, about the action. As if she's making a terrible, terrible mistake. Some curses react badly to magic. She might make it worse. She should go and get help. She should... She should...
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She... is Princess Celestia. She is an alicorn princess and the ruler of Equestria. Her duty is to raise the sun. Her sister is Princess Luna. Her faithful student is Twilight Sparkle. She cares for her subjects. She is powerful enough to resist.
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She shakes her head sharply, sparkles flying from her still lit horn. Something is wrong. She has to get help. Whatever she does, she shouldn't use her magic on the black goo. She can't.

She...
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She does.
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Despite knowing she shouldn't, her magic creeps down to contact the rubbery layer encasing her hands. And the moment it does, she loses all control of her horn.
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She feels it spit magic, glowing brightly, as it begins to craft a powerful, complicated spell. The shock of magic suddenly flowing through her finally breaks her out of her stupor, a few moments too late. Celestia cries out in surprise and stumbles, as she feels her own telekinetic grip begin to squeeze and grip at her body, and then gasps in horror as she realizes what it's doing.
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Her horn is performing a transformation spell.
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The black, tar-like goo begins to writhe and flow in earnest. It leaves cold, tingling numbness behind. And underneath it, her traitorous magic begins forcefully reshaping her flesh. Waves of hot pleasure sweep across her fur, her hands, her hooves. The bones of her fingers pop beneath their slick rubbery gloves, extending into wicked talons. Her soft white feathers are melded together, new feeling surging to life across the forming membrane of sensitive skin.
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She is Princess Celestia. She is an alicorn princess and the ruler of Equestria. Her duty is to raise the sun. Her sister is Princess Luna. Her student is Twilight Sparkle. She is powerful enough to resist.
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Magic pools in her mouth and she feels something grip her tongue, squeezing and pulling it, lengthening it past her sharpening teeth and splitting it into a forked prong. She feels two new horns press out of her head, even as the horn performing the horrible spell shortens and loses its spiral. A pulsing, massaging grip wraps around the base of her sensitive tail and she gasps as it pulls the appendage out and away from her hips, fattening and widening as it does.
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Her neck and belly feel hard and stiff, fur welding itself into armored scales. Magic passes through her skin, diving into the flesh and blood below. Something seems to grab hold of her bones, bending and shaping her very skeleton, and she fights desperately to stay upright as an invisible hoof seems to press her towards the ground. The cool black liquid wraps itself around her shoulders, flowing down her back, and it begins to squeeze at her in a way that seems to help the magic re-sculpt her body. She feels it swirl around her breasts, groping and pressing, before it starts to pull. She gasps, gripping her now goo-covered torso with her blackened arms, as she feels them begin to slide down her chest. Trying to hold them up is futile, and the pressure of her arms against them as they slip through her grasp sends a starburst of white hot pleasure through her head.
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Something surges through her mind in its wake. She realizes, to mounting dread, that the hypnotic effect she thought herself free of has not gone away. She can hear a faint droning buzz, a whisper, growing louder over the sound of her bones creaking and popping.
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She is Princess Celestia. She is an alicorn princess. Her duty is to raise the sun. Her sister is Princess Luna. She is powerful enough to resist.
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Suddenly, she realizes that the spell is about to reshape her mind as well as her body. It is a common but dreadfully effective brainwashing technique. Force the key elements of the victim's being to the surface, and then alter or erase them one by one. She must not forget any part of the mantra! She must not!
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She is Princess Celestia. She is an alicorn princess. Her duty is to raise the sun. She is powerful enough to resist.
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Has the mantra been repeating this whole time? How much has she already lost?! Is there already something missing? She can't concentrate!
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A gasp escapes her as a series of popping, bursting shudders runs down her spine as her vertebrae re-form, extending far out her too-long tail. The wave of pressure rebounds and surges towards her hips, accompanied by a surge of cool latex, and she bucks as the bones give in to the pressure with a thunderous crack. They settle into a shape that's all wrong. Too low, to horizontal. Meant for crawling on all fours like a beast. No longer able to stand fully upright, her leathery wings beat to keep her forecla- her, her hands off the ground a little while longer. But in her distraction, she feels part of the mantra slip.
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She is Princess Celestia. She is an alicorn princess. Her duty is to raise the sun.
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A cold, wet chill runs down her latex-coated spine, as she feels the empty hole where... something was moments ago. She didn't even feel it leave, didn't have a chance to resist. How much has she lost? How much of her is gone already?
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Celestia cries out in helpless, angry despair. The sound emerges from her lengthening maw as a warbling roar, and she finally tips over towards the ground. Her fore-limbs land beneath her and she feels her shoulders crack into position, locking her to a quadruped's stance. She attempts to rear back up, but there are now four clawed legs where there should have been hooves and arms. She feels her golden horseshoes meld with her scales on her still-splitting hooves, and there are golden spines pressing out from her latex-covered back. Her head droops, heavy and hot, latex coiling up her lengthening neck. She feels something that she realizes is her own crown, gold melding and flowing into her head, joining the long row of spines as it fuses with her flesh. Twin horns curl back from her brow.
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She can feel as things are erased from her mind, leaving gaping holes. She blocks out the sensations of her surging, growing body, trying to find the magic twisting her identity.
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She feels a tug. There is something pulling, almost teasing, at a bit of herself. The bit of her that reminds her that she is an alicorn. The curling magical invader loosens the concept, letting her feel full well that it is about to erase the knowledge of what she is from her mind. She braces, clinging to the information, determined to remember her species, but she wavers. She isn't strong enough to resist. She... just isn't. The fuzzy edges of what might once have been strength lead to an empty hole.
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The magic plucks.
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She is left mentally grasping at thin air. She can feel the shape of what she's lost, but cannot recall what it was. She has forgotten her own species. She is a... She is...
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She shudders as she feels the magic return and pull a foreign concept with it. This is the next part of the mind erasure technique. Once the subject's will is eroded, new concepts are inserted to fill the gaps. Once the new information is forced in, it will become absolute truth. She will be unable to resist it, unable to question it. She... She can't stop it. She braces, hoping, one last time, to resist.
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But it doesn’t make any difference at all.
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She is Celestia. She is a DRAGON princess. Her duty is to raise the sun.
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The spell fits the correct designation into her, as easy as writing with a quill. She is a dragon. She knows it to be the absolute truth, though she can remember that it wasn’t always so. She shudders, moaning aloud as she finally realizes how futile all resistance is. It gathers itself again, and there is nothing she can do to stop it.
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She is Celestia. She is a DRAGON. Her duty is to raise the sun.
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Another gaping hole. She was... she was... something. A title. A position. A place in the world. She warbles out a pitiful sound as the magic moves in, preparing to give her a new one. She is a-
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She is Celestia. She is a DRAGON SLAVE DRONE. Her duty is to raise the sun.
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She... is a slave. A drone. This is truth. She is a dragon slave drone. It has not always been so, but it was never not so. The mantra repeats, as she struggles to remember. She must not forget. To forget it to lose herself. She is Celestia. She is a dragon slave drone. Her duty is to raise the sun. Her duty... her duty...
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Another plucking, another emptiness. No! She needs to repeat the mantra! It's all that matters! She must not lose it! Her duty, her purpose! She must have it! What is a drone slave without a purpose?! She reaches desperately for the next tendril as it brings her a new one, not caring that it will not be the one she's lost. She must remember the mantra!
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She is Celestia. She is a DRAGON SLAVE DRONE. Her duty is to SERVE KING SOMBRA.
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Ah. How could she forget. She is a dragon slave drone. Her duty is to serve king Sombra. Nothing else in her empty, echoing mind matters. That is all she needs. She must repeat the mantra. The twisting of the last bits of her latex-covered flesh does not matter. This is the body she is meant to have, to serve her master. The knowledge that she once had another does not matter, for it did not serve King Sombra. The memory of a past time does not matter. It does not matter.
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Celestia feels one last, churning surge of magic in her stubby, truncated dragon horn. She does not care that her memory tells her it used to have a different shape, though she feels she should. There is something... some struggling part of her, that pulls against her identity, her purpose. Some voice that tells her she should fight.
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The magic feels it too. It brushes carefully through her mind, pulling together the last bits of.. something. It gathers them, carefully and precisely, around her name. Here, she has one final scrap of a chance. It has been able to overwrite everything else by force, but with this one thing, it will give her a choice.
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She can resist, foolishly and futility, or she can obey.
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It commands her to forget her name, and all else associated with it. If she obeys, she will be wiped clean. If she does not, the result will be no different. She will be forced, as she already has. But the choice, the choice has some meaning. It has been offered to her gracefully. She can cling to the last parts of herself, or she can give in to oblivion and submit.
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She could fight.
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But no matter what, she must remember the mantra.
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She is Celestia. She is a dragon slave drone. Her duty is to serve King Sombra.
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She must obey King Sombra.
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Celestia obeys.
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The nameless dragon forgets.
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The creature loses all sense of self. It becomes a mindless thing, ready to serve. No identity. No free will.
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It is a dragon slave drone and it will obey king Sombra.
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It waits for orders.