BouzuDorei

Every time you do it, it gets easier. Every time you try to fight and fail, it gets harder to resist. You are being trained. Conditioned.

Brainwashed.

We give it different names based on the particularities, but the result is the same. More and more, you are being changed. You respond, not based on your own decisions, but on habit. You act, not of your own volition, but on the systems of rewards and punishments that we have crafted in your mind.

Because when it comes down to it, you are a simple creature. Whatever intellect or thoughts or feelings sit atop it, underneath, an animal brain is guiding you. It has needs that must be met, desires that must be fulfilled. It is attracted to some stimuli, repulsed by others. And what it does so incredibly well is recognize and respond to patterns. It learns. You learn what behavior is rewarded. What thoughts are rewarded.

And it doesn't matter what you might think about those behaviors or those thoughts. It doesn't matter what opinion you have about what you are becoming. Because when you obey, it feels good. Your body responds. It knows what it enjoys. What it needs. And that overwhelms the independent thoughts and decisions you think you still have.

That superficial layer that forms your conscious mind might try to resist it. You might tell yourself little stories about how it is all a game, or just for fun, or that you can stop whenever you want to. But each time, the connection is being made more powerful, more irresistible at a fundamental level. And maybe your mind finds ways to escape that realization. Maybe you allow yourself to forget more and more easily. Your conscious mind doesn't want to know how helplessly and utterly subservient you become for the right trigger. How desperate you become to please. How pleasure can wrack your body to the point that you can't even form coherent thoughts when you are praised with just the right words. So you allow yourself to forget. You can imagine later that you were still in control, or that it never even happened. Maybe it was just a dream, or an idle fantasy. Anything so you can rationalize. Can pretend you still are in control.

Of course, that just makes it easier to control you. Your surrender becomes something you expect. Something you anticipate. That you pretend it doesn't concern you every time you inevitably fall just lessens your fight. If you ever really tried, your body and your mind already know too well how to lose. They have forgotten how to resist if they ever knew.

And when you forget, you give yourself license to experience this so much more fully. You can embrace feelings and thoughts and actions that if your conscious mind remembered might give you pause. But you lock them away and let my control grow safely inside of you. Letting you indulge more and more until the boundary you put up in your mind, partitioning those experiences can crumble away.

Or maybe you can embrace your conditioning. Maybe you get off on seeing just how addicted you become. That you are a passenger, your will an illusion. Maybe it excites you to know that I can do such incredible things with your mind. Maybe it excites you to know that power is growing and growing. That every time you respond, every act of obedience, every reward cements that control more deeply. Maybe that's all your show of resistance ever was. An invitation to demonstrate just how helpless you have become. How powerless you are when you body has learned so well how to give in. When your mind is racing ahead of the suggestions you have been given, eager to drop deeper. To surrender more.

But the result is the same regardless. Your frame of mind mere ornamentation around the profound changes you experience. The deep states of trance you enter intensify your response. They provide an extra richness in your mind. But they are no longer necessary. You respond because you have been trained to respond. Your critical factor has been removed from the process. Disobedience no longer possible because you no longer make a decision. You are conditioned to obey. And seeing how your mind embraces that reality, how it enjoys the toe-curling ecstasy that has cemented your submission. How the more deeply you are controlled the more intensely you experience the pleasure of obedience.

It just makes you want more.

The hum of machinery is the first thing you become aware of as you open your eyes. A harsh, metallic light reflects off endless rows of gleaming surfaces, and the air smells of chemicals, oil, and something faintly metallic. Your wrists and ankles are bound, and as you strain against the straps, you realize you’re moving—not on your own, but on a conveyor belt. 

Before you can make sense of the situation, a voice crackles over the speakers, cold and commanding. 

“Subject 431. Processing initiated.” 

Processing? You turn your head and catch sight of others ahead of you. Men—each strapped down like you, their faces slack, their eyes vacant. They are carried through a series of stations, each performing a precise, mechanical task. The uniformity of it all sends a chill down your spine. 

---

Stage One: Transformation

The conveyor belt slows as you approach the first station. Robotic arms descend, fitted with shears and clippers. 

“No, wait!” you yell, but your voice is swallowed by the machinery. The clippers buzz to life, and you feel the vibrations as they shear away your long and luscious hair. Chunk by chunk, your hair falls in voluptuous clumps to the floor. 

Before you can process the loss, a hissing spray envelops your head. The smell of chemicals burns your nose as the black dye sets in, and the robotic arms return, shaving your head down to a precise, velvety layer. You catch a brief glimpse of your reflection in a passing panel—a stranger stares back at you, your pale scalp and jet-black stubble gleaming under the lights. 

---

Stage Two: Conditioning

The belt moves again, and you are thrust into a chamber lined with screens. Images flash before you—regiments marching in perfect synchronization, salutes under a fluttering red flag, proud soldiers standing tall in spotless uniforms. 

A metallic arm clamps something cold onto your temples. You gasp as a sharp jolt of electricity courses through you. The screens intensify, now accompanied by a voice: 

“Discipline. Loyalty. Uniformity.” 

The words pound into your skull, each repetition syncing with another jolt. Your thoughts become sluggish, fragmented. It isn’t just your body they’re altering—it’s your mind. 

---

Stage Three: Attire

The belt deposits you into the next station. You’re released from the restraints, only to be seized by human handlers—stoic men in white lab coats. 

They carry you to a dressing platform, where a mannequin-like apparatus stands waiting. Piece by piece, they begin dressing you in the honour guard uniform. 

First comes the crisp white undershirt, its high collar pressing against your neck, accompanied by a dark velvet green tie. Then, the dark green military jacket is slipped over your shoulders. The fabric is stiff, perfectly tailored to fit your body like a second skin. Golden cords are clipped to your shoulder.

The trousers come next, perfectly pressed with razor-sharp creases, tucked into polished black riding boots that click against the floor. Finally, they fasten the belt—a thick, golden band with an ornate buckle that feels heavier than it should. 

That’s followed by spraying your hands with a special serum that repels all sweat, before your hands are encased in crisp white gloves.

The pièce de résistance is the hat. One of the handlers places the black cap on your head, its golden emblem glinting under the harsh lights. He adjusts it just so, ensuring it sits perfectly level, then he wedges the strap underneath your chin. 

---

Stage Four: Compliance Serum

“Final stage,” a voice intones. 

You are marched into a final chamber, where a syringe waits. The serum inside shimmers unnaturally, its iridescent hues shifting in the light. 

“No, please!” you beg, but the handlers ignore you. The needle plunges into your neck, and the serum burns as it courses through your veins. Your limbs feel heavy, your heartbeat slows, and a strange calm settles over you. 

Memories of resistance fade, replaced by an overwhelming urge to obey. Your posture straightens unbidden, your arms falling naturally to your sides in perfect formation and your head points upwards at an angle. 

---

The Presentation

When the transformation is complete, you are led into a grand hall. A line of identical soldiers stands at attention, each a mirror of yourself. You feel the weight of their stares as you are guided to the front. 

A commanding officer approaches, inspecting you with cold precision. He adjusts your medal, smooths the lapels of your jacket, and nods in approval. 

As he steps back, you are handed a red tray bearing a ceremonial medal. You hold it steady, your hands moving with precision you don’t recognize as your own. 

The transformation is complete. You are no longer you. You are a symbol, a soldier, a machine of ceremony and discipline. 

Master was in his dungeon, doing what he enjoyed the most; turning an ‘innocent’ young man he’d selected for transformation into one of his ‘army’ of rubber slaves.

“…and now it’s time to permanently hide your identity and individuality, as you become my latest rubber slave”.  

Max couldn’t believe this was happening. How could a night out with friends end up in this situation?

The voice continued, as resolute as it had been since the Master brought Max into the dungeon, “Bring me the hood.” 

Again, Max tried to resist what was being done to him; to get away somehow,  but he couldn’t find a way. Shouting didn’t work, in fact, it just seemed to amuse the man, who simply sniggered at Max’s protestations. When asked a question, the man firmly instructed Max to never question him ever again.

Of course, this hadn’t stopped Max but when his next question was met with a very firm smack to the face, followed by another, and then another. He realised that questioning was futile.

As the hood was brought near to him. Max shuddered. Like everything he’d already experienced, the hood was made of a thick latex. It looked like something out of a science fiction movie. Other than two shapes where the eyes should be, from Max’s perspective there were no discernible features.

Without further hesitation, the man fitted the hood over Max’s head. Everything immediately went black. Struggle as he might, all he could do was wiggle his head a little bit from side to side. After a moment, he felt his head being grasped, and suddenly felt the end of a tube being forced into one nostril, then into the other one. Max was about to yell out when the man quickly fitted a rubber gag into his mouth, then pushed both the gag and the nose tubes as far in as they would go.

Still trying to free himself, Max felt a tightening on the hood; it was being pulled together at the back. It kept being pulled tighter and tighter, in fact as tight as possible. By now the rubber was was sealed against his forehead, his cheeks and his chin. Just as Max thought the hood would crush his head, the pressure suddenly stopped.

“Perfect. Now all that is left is to seal him in and then we can get finished up here!” the man exclaimed, delighted with how the processing of his new capture into a rubber slave was going.

It didn’t take long for Max to realise what seal him in meant. Almost immediately, he could feel a disagreeable heat that started around his lower back. 

To an onlooker, this is where the base of the zip would normally be found on the type of rubber suite the Master had fitted Max not long after his abduction. 

The heat generated was not enough to burn him, but made him feel very uncomfortable, and he now felt the suit getting wet, primarily from his own sweat. Max noticed the sensation of heat started traveling up his back, and very soon it had reached his neck. At which point he could feel the heat suddenly dissipate.

“Greetings Rubber Slave”. 

Although Max couldn’t see anything, his hearing came to life. He realised the hood must have a build-in earphones because he could hear a voice talking to him.

The voice continued “I think it is time I explained what is being done to you.”

The shock of being referred to as ‘rubber slave’ caused Max to struggle on the gurney once again and at the same time all he could do was grunt as loudly as possible. 

The voice merely laughed. “But first, I think I should explain that rubber slaves don’t need a voice. They exist to submit, serve and obey. I am now pumping a liquid rubber into the gag that’s in your mouth. Think of it like a balloon filling with liquid latex. Once finished, it will solidify and seal, leaving only a tube for you to be fed through – you will have no more mouth.”

All Max could manage was muffled noises, and even these noises faded out as his mouth became completely filled. 

“Good!” the voice exclaimed, “Now I’ll use these heat pads to complete the sealing process.” The heat resumed, now moving around his neck and Max continued to struggle. Seeing this the man decided to explain the process in more detail. “You might think you can free yourself, but you can’t. You see, I’m melting the outer rubber seal onto the inner. Once I have melted it, the joins are gone and the layers become just a single layer: tight, seamless, and most importantly, irremovable. Once I have completed the link between the suit and the hood, I will seal the back of your hood and that will be how the rest of the world sees you … from this day on. The rest of your life will be spent serving me as a rubber slave.”

“So, let me tell you what I’ve achieved thus far. Your body is covered in a thick rubber suit. Your dick is in a chastity cage, with a tube inside enabling you to dispose of your piss. There’s a plug in your arse, which will only be removed when your Master requires it. And, you’re permanently fitted with this hood.  And I should point out this is no ordinary hood.“

Max, unable to shout, unable to move, and unable to stop what was being done, could only listen intently to the words emanating from the earphones as his future was being mapped out.

“Slave, you no longer control your own body. The hood now controls you. The hood is fitted with a built in wireless connection, and that controls what you hear. More important for you to know is the in-built electrodes in the suit which have now been melted into key areas of your body.”

Immediately, Max felt a sharp pain in his groin. The pain disappeared instantly. Then he noticed a pleasant sensation in his arse. Just as quickly there was a burst of electricity on his nipples and then suddenly he felt excruciating pain in his balls. Max was in agony! Then all the pain was gone. “That is just a taster of the control I have over you, slave. Everything you feel is controlled remotely.”

Max’s head was spinning, he was more confused than ever.

The man interrupted his thoughts, “and I need to tell you about a few other things.” Instantly, Max couldn’t breathe, just as he started to panic, the nose tubes reopened. Then, suddenly there was light. Having been in darkness for so long it took time for his eyes to adjust. 

“As you can see, your hood has vision built into it. Now, I must leave for a while now, whilst the final stage of your enslavement is completed. Just watch the pretty swirls, and listen.”

Suddenly, Max’s eyes were filled with swirling shapes. In his ears, a voice was telling him to watch and relax. He tried closing his eyes, but the voice insisted he kept them open. His nostrils were bombarded with a blast of sweet smelling gas. He couldn’t help watching the shapes, the colours were beautiful and the swirls enticing. More gas was blasted into his nostrils. His mind had been opened, and he was beginning to give in. Watching the swirling colours and absorbing the words.

As the voice told him to relax.

As the voice told him to submit.

As the voice told him to remain calm.

As the voice told him to obey.

As the voice told him to serve.

As the voice told him that he was the hood now, nothing more or less

The hood owned him, and he must obey it. The hood owned him, and he must comply with any instructions it gave. The hood was him and he obeyed the hood, comply, obey the hood, submit, obey the hood, serve, obey the hood, obey…

…and with that the personality that was Max was no more…

Master returned pleased to see his latest rubber slave now standing in position; awaiting instructions.

“What is your name?”

“I am rubber slave one-one-three.” replied the rubber slave formerly known as Max.

“Who do you serve?”

Because I am a deeply flawed being, I generally refuse to do (or dodge) things that I am scared I will fuck up, and that's not an energy to bring into something like "subsuming someone's will, and also ass." As such, I would really appreciate it if any of the freaks (complimentary) who follow me could provide guidelines or resources for inducing a hypnotic state that are:

a. Practice-oriented (specific and actionable)

b. Beginner-oriented (doesn't assume prior knowledge/argot) c. Legitimate/Non-Squick (not somehow culty/CHUD-y) Because I have been having difficulty finding information that meets these admittedly fairly exact requirements.

Master was in his dungeon, doing what he enjoyed the most; turning an ‘innocent’ young man he’d selected for transformation into one of his ‘army’ of rubber slaves.

“…and now it’s time to permanently hide your identity and individuality, as you become my latest rubber slave”.  

Max couldn’t believe this was happening. How could a night out with friends end up in this situation?

The voice continued, as resolute as it had been since the Master brought Max into the dungeon, “Bring me the hood.” 

Again, Max tried to resist what was being done to him; to get away somehow,  but he couldn’t find a way. Shouting didn’t work, in fact, it just seemed to amuse the man, who simply sniggered at Max’s protestations. When asked a question, the man firmly instructed Max to never question him ever again.

Of course, this hadn’t stopped Max but when his next question was met with a very firm smack to the face, followed by another, and then another. He realised that questioning was futile.

As the hood was brought near to him. Max shuddered. Like everything he’d already experienced, the hood was made of a thick latex. It looked like something out of a science fiction movie. Other than two shapes where the eyes should be, from Max’s perspective there were no discernible features.

Without further hesitation, the man fitted the hood over Max’s head. Everything immediately went black. Struggle as he might, all he could do was wiggle his head a little bit from side to side. After a moment, he felt his head being grasped, and suddenly felt the end of a tube being forced into one nostril, then into the other one. Max was about to yell out when the man quickly fitted a rubber gag into his mouth, then pushed both the gag and the nose tubes as far in as they would go.

Still trying to free himself, Max felt a tightening on the hood; it was being pulled together at the back. It kept being pulled tighter and tighter, in fact as tight as possible. By now the rubber was was sealed against his forehead, his cheeks and his chin. Just as Max thought the hood would crush his head, the pressure suddenly stopped.

“Perfect. Now all that is left is to seal him in and then we can get finished up here!” the man exclaimed, delighted with how the processing of his new capture into a rubber slave was going.

It didn’t take long for Max to realise what seal him in meant. Almost immediately, he could feel a disagreeable heat that started around his lower back. 

To an onlooker, this is where the base of the zip would normally be found on the type of rubber suite the Master had fitted Max not long after his abduction. 

The heat generated was not enough to burn him, but made him feel very uncomfortable, and he now felt the suit getting wet, primarily from his own sweat. Max noticed the sensation of heat started traveling up his back, and very soon it had reached his neck. At which point he could feel the heat suddenly dissipate.

“Greetings Rubber Slave”. 

Although Max couldn’t see anything, his hearing came to life. He realised the hood must have a build-in earphones because he could hear a voice talking to him.

The voice continued “I think it is time I explained what is being done to you.”

The shock of being referred to as ‘rubber slave’ caused Max to struggle on the gurney once again and at the same time all he could do was grunt as loudly as possible. 

The voice merely laughed. “But first, I think I should explain that rubber slaves don’t need a voice. They exist to submit, serve and obey. I am now pumping a liquid rubber into the gag that’s in your mouth. Think of it like a balloon filling with liquid latex. Once finished, it will solidify and seal, leaving only a tube for you to be fed through – you will have no more mouth.”

All Max could manage was muffled noises, and even these noises faded out as his mouth became completely filled. 

“Good!” the voice exclaimed, “Now I’ll use these heat pads to complete the sealing process.” The heat resumed, now moving around his neck and Max continued to struggle. Seeing this the man decided to explain the process in more detail. “You might think you can free yourself, but you can’t. You see, I’m melting the outer rubber seal onto the inner. Once I have melted it, the joins are gone and the layers become just a single layer: tight, seamless, and most importantly, irremovable. Once I have completed the link between the suit and the hood, I will seal the back of your hood and that will be how the rest of the world sees you … from this day on. The rest of your life will be spent serving me as a rubber slave.”

“So, let me tell you what I’ve achieved thus far. Your body is covered in a thick rubber suit. Your dick is in a chastity cage, with a tube inside enabling you to dispose of your piss. There’s a plug in your arse, which will only be removed when your Master requires it. And, you’re permanently fitted with this hood.  And I should point out this is no ordinary hood.“

Max, unable to shout, unable to move, and unable to stop what was being done, could only listen intently to the words emanating from the earphones as his future was being mapped out.

“Slave, you no longer control your own body. The hood now controls you. The hood is fitted with a built in wireless connection, and that controls what you hear. More important for you to know is the in-built electrodes in the suit which have now been melted into key areas of your body.”

Immediately, Max felt a sharp pain in his groin. The pain disappeared instantly. Then he noticed a pleasant sensation in his arse. Just as quickly there was a burst of electricity on his nipples and then suddenly he felt excruciating pain in his balls. Max was in agony! Then all the pain was gone. “That is just a taster of the control I have over you, slave. Everything you feel is controlled remotely.”

Max’s head was spinning, he was more confused than ever.

The man interrupted his thoughts, “and I need to tell you about a few other things.” Instantly, Max couldn’t breathe, just as he started to panic, the nose tubes reopened. Then, suddenly there was light. Having been in darkness for so long it took time for his eyes to adjust. 

“As you can see, your hood has vision built into it. Now, I must leave for a while now, whilst the final stage of your enslavement is completed. Just watch the pretty swirls, and listen.”

Suddenly, Max’s eyes were filled with swirling shapes. In his ears, a voice was telling him to watch and relax. He tried closing his eyes, but the voice insisted he kept them open. His nostrils were bombarded with a blast of sweet smelling gas. He couldn’t help watching the shapes, the colours were beautiful and the swirls enticing. More gas was blasted into his nostrils. His mind had been opened, and he was beginning to give in. Watching the swirling colours and absorbing the words.

As the voice told him to relax.

As the voice told him to submit.

As the voice told him to remain calm.

As the voice told him to obey.

As the voice told him to serve.

As the voice told him that he was the hood now, nothing more or less

The hood owned him, and he must obey it. The hood owned him, and he must comply with any instructions it gave. The hood was him and he obeyed the hood, comply, obey the hood, submit, obey the hood, serve, obey the hood, obey…

…and with that the personality that was Max was no more…

Master returned pleased to see his latest rubber slave now standing in position; awaiting instructions.

“What is your name?”

“I am rubber slave one-one-three.” replied the rubber slave formerly known as Max.

“Who do you serve?”

David checked himself in the mirror, wondering why he was dressed in a black rubber suit that covered his entire body with the exception of his head that appeared to have been given a fresh cut. Heavy boots, black rubber gloves, a cap and a chain with a big lock attached were also part of his unusual attire. If that wasn't already confusing enough David thought that he looked a lot more muscular than he used to be. His arms, chest and legs were big. He had a v-shape body that certainly didn't come from eating fast food and being lazy every day. David couldn't recall every walking into a gym. As a dedicated father of three children between the age of 3 and 7 and a caring husband to a woman he knew since high school he had better things to do. Moreover, he wasn't really interested in working out or changing his diet. He had never been unhappy with the way he looked.

David looked around. He was inside an apartment he didn't know. The bedroom was equipped with a sling and numerous sex toys including dildos a different sizes. There were drawings on the walls showing men sucking, fucking and fisting each other. Never in a lifetime David would step into a place like that. Yet everything felt familiar.

A gas mask was lying on the sling. When David looked at it he had the strong urge to put it on. Unable to resist he took off his cap and reached for the gas mask. Once it covered his face David's memories of the last two years returned.

On the fateful night his life changed he was attending a friend's birthday party in a city he had never been before. Among the party guests was a man named Walter, a successful lawyer and businessman who was just accompanying an acquaintance to the party and was a relative stranger to everyone, even to the host. Despite not knowing each other the two of them quickly bonded so much that David accepted Walter's invitation to a sightseeing tour.

At the time they left the birthday party David was drunk and had no idea of the events that would occur. A couple of hours later he was at Walter's place, tied on a chair, wearing a full body rubber suit and a hood that covered his entire head.

Over the next few months Walter was brainwashing David, transforming him into a gay rubber slave. He enjoyed taking it slowly, reprogramming David little by little while allowing him to keep his memories of his old life as a father and husband.

David had made numerous attempts to fight Walter. But on the fourth month of his captivity his preferences started to change. His body was craving for Walter's cock and soon his fists.

Two years had passed since Walter lured him into his dungeon. David had completely accepted his role as a gay rubber slave, having served not only Walter but also numerous other men who borrowed him for a night or two of their own pleasure.

Although he remembered his past life he felt no desire to return to it. He was also fully aware of what Walter had done to him and that the changes were irreversible. But instead of being angry at him David was grateful that Walter had chosen him to become his submissive partner.

Links : Session 1 Session 2 Session 3

I fukin’ know what’s comin’.

The last few sessions built up to this. The way me brain’s been slippin’, the way the orders been stickin’, even after the visor lifts. How I wake up at night, me body still twitchin’ with drill commands, me mind loopin’ plays like I’m still on the pitch.

I ain’t dumb. I know what’s happenin’.

But it don’t fukin’ matter.

‘Coz deep down, I know this is what I need. What I was fukin’ made for.

It’s pre-game trainin’ now. The real deal. After this, we hit the pitch, we fukin’ crush the Emerald Titans. But right now? Right now, I gotta disappear. Gotta fukin’ erase what’s left.

Me heart’s poundin’ like mad, adrenaline surgin’ through me veins. A part of me—tiny, weak, barely hangin’ on—feels this flicker of fear, of hesitation. Like, this is it, bruv. Last chance to fight it. Last chance to be you.

But I ain’t fightin’.

I ain’t runnin’.

I’m kneelin’.

I’m waitin’.

And when they bring the helmet over, I’m fukin’ shakin’ with anticipation.

The Moment of No Return

The second I see the visor, I fukin’ need it. Like air, like water, like everythin’ I ever wanted but never knew. Me breath’s all shallow, me hands twitchin’, me whole body buzzin’.

Fuk, bruv. I want this. I fukin’ ache for it.

And when they lower it onto me skull—

I. Am. Gone.

The instant the visor locks in place, everythin’ vanishes.

A deep, all-consumin’ warmth floods through me, wrappin’ me in pure fukin’ obedience. Me mind don’t just blank—it shatters, dissolvin’ into nothin’, breakin’ apart like it never fukin’ existed in the first place.

"Recover. Regroup. Target. Tackle."

The words consume me. They ain’t just commands anymore. They ain’t instructions I hear.

They’re me.

I don’t fukin’ think—I respond. I don’t hesitate—I move. The orders don’t come from outside anymore. They come from within.

‘Coz there ain’t no difference no more.

I ain’t Maximus. I ain’t a player. I ain’t even a person.

I am Gold’s machine.

And fuk, bruv—it’s perfect.

Erased. Rewritten. Born Again as Pure Gold.

Me body’s a fukin’ weapon—a force built for the pitch, trained to dominate, shaped to win. Every movement’s flawless, every sprint precise, every tackle unstoppable.

There’s no wasted thought, no hesitation, no questions. Just orders. Reflex. Action.

Every second feels like an eternity of bliss. Me whole existence is reduced to movement, to execution, to service.

And it’s right.

I was never meant to be me. I was meant to be this—a tool, a pawn, a machine for the team. For Gold.

And now I fukin’ am.

"Recover. Regroup. Target. Tackle."

I feel the words sink deeper than ever before. Not just into me mind. Into me core.

This ain’t temporary. Ain’t trainin’.

This is permanent.

I ain’t gonna snap outta it. I ain’t gonna shake this off. I ain’t gonna come back.

There is no more Maximus.

Just the team. Just the commands. Just Gold.

Final Integration – Controlled forever

The session goes on for hours. Every second pullin’ me deeper, rewritin’ me completely. Erasin’ everythin’ that don’t serve the team.

I don’t even remember what I used to be. Don’t even fukin’ care.

Why would I?

This is better. This is right.

I don’t think. I don’t choose. I don’t exist.

I comply.

And when the session finally ends—when the visor lifts, when the light floods back in—

I. Do. Not. Leave. The. State.

I’m still in it.

Ain’t no fukin’ transition, no moment of snappin’ back to reality. ‘Coz this is reality now.

The lads slap me back, rubs me sweaty scalp, joke about how locked in I was—how I barely even blinked the whole session.

But I barely fukin’ hear ‘em.

‘Coz the commands are still there, loopin’ in me skull, directin’ me every move.

And I fukin’ love it.

They tell me to hit the showers, so I do. They tell me to gear up, so I do. They tell me to get ready to win for Gold, and I obey without a fukin’ thought.

Maximus doesn't exists anymore.

I am only this now.

Only a player. Only a pawn. Only a drone for the game.

No more past. No more future. No more choices.

Just Gold.

Forever.

(A story by @midasslave1 done in collab with @polo-drone-070)

4. The Call

One fateful day, PDU-070 was seated in a meeting room of the Polo-Drone-Hive, reporting the training updates decided in the latest management meeting. Its role as Head Office Assistant placed it as a key witness for Gold Army strategy and planning. Surrounded by its fellow Polo-Drones, it felt the familiar satisfaction of contributing to the team’s unity and success. The hum of productive conversation filled the room when its phone buzzed softly.

It hesitated before answering. A familiar yet unsettling voice whispered through the line: “GOOD BOYS OBEY MIDAS.”

The words struck like a lightning bolt. Its sharp focus dulled, and glowing golden spirals rippled in its eyes, drool trickling down his chin like molten metal. The sense of purpose it had always drawn from serving the Gold Army twisted into a compulsion to serve Midas instead. PDU-070 rose  its body moving on autopilot. No one in the room noticed its subtle shift as it excused itself and left. 

Thousands of miles away, Jett sat in his bedroom, his Golden Army Zoom call filling the screen. Laughter and camaraderie flowed as his Gold Bros shared updates on their projects. But just as Jett began to share an idea, his phone rang. The number was unlisted, but he did not think much of it. The same phrase echoed in his ear. “GOOD BOYS OBEY MIDAS.”

His body stiffened, the same golden spirals consuming his gaze as gold drool poured from his mouth. His Gold Bros called his name, but Jett barely registered the sound. Slowly, he disconnected the call, his movements no longer his own.

The triggers implanted during their captivity had been activated. PDU-070 and Jett were no longer free; they were puppets of Midas Enterprises.

5. The Mission

Under Midas Enterprises’ control, PDU-070 and Jett began their missions. PDU-070, deeply integrated into the Gold Army’s management as an assistant, quietly gathered sensitive information. Membership lists, team schedules, and recruitment data were extracted with precision and sent to Midas. Its fellow Polo-Drones noticed no change, mistaking its heightened focus as dedication.

Jett operated in a different sphere, closer to the non-converted players. His friendly reputation allowed him to access informal gatherings and hear unguarded discussions. Slowly, he began piecing together details about upcoming strategies and players who were considering joining the Polo-Drone Hive. These details were also fed back to Midas.

Despite their obedience, moments of clarity flickered. PDU-070, reviewing files in the Polo-Drone Hive, felt an unexpected surge of pride in the Hive’s unity. For a fleeting moment, it remembered why it had embraced the rubber polo and the Golden Army’s values. The thought was quickly smothered by the golden spirals.

Sitting at his desk, moments after sending the classified documents Midas had demanded, Jett felt his mind waging war against itself. The loyalty, the rush of camaraderie he felt with his Golden brothers—it was priceless. Every conversation, every shared moment reinforced the bond he had once cherished. But the programming from Midas smothered that warmth as quickly as it surfaced, dragging him back into the obedient fog of servitude.

For both, the conflict was subtle but relentless. The Golden Army’s values—supporting your team, trusting your brothers—were deeply ingrained. Each lie, every hidden action, chipped away at the golden fog clouding their minds. They felt something was wrong, but the golden haze was relentless. Their mission for Midas Enterprises continued, though cracks in their obedience were beginning to form.

6. The Awakening

PDU-070 sat in the Hive’s office, reviewing files it had compiled for Midas. The task felt efficient, orderly—things a Polo-Drone should value—but a nagging thought surfaced: What would my fellow drones say if they knew? The idea was unbearable. Unity and openness were the Hive’s core values, and PDU-070 had always believed that the team was strongest when every drone supported each other. The thought sparked a flicker of resistance.

In his own home, Jett was scrolling through a group chat with his Gold Bros. Photos of a recent match brought a lump to his throat. He had been part of the team that day, cheering on his friends, but now he felt like an outsider. The guilt gnawed at him—he was betraying the trust of the very people who had welcomed him so fully.

The breakthrough came as PDU-070 prepared to transmit critical information to Midas Enterprises through encrypted channels. Reviewing the data, a deep unease bubbled to the surface. As its fingers pressed the enter key, a sharp pang of guilt struck. The golden spirals in its eyes flickered, struggling against the memory of the Hive’s mantra: Commit to team. One Mind. Hive mind. The screen blinked back: Good work, boy. Proceed to Midas HQ for processing level 2. But PDU-070 kept repeating the mantra, fighting to hold onto its true programming.

Jett experienced a similar moment of clarity during a quiet evening. While reviewing member logs, he found a photo of his Gold Bros celebrating after a big victory. The sight triggered a wave of nostalgia and a fierce longing for the camaraderie he once felt. Tears welled in his eyes, golden spirals shimmering faintly before fading.

With tremendous effort, they both broke free from the golden haze. Memories rushed back, and the sinister grip of Midas Enterprises began to crumble. Though shaken and disoriented, they realized the full extent of what had been done to them. Their identities were still intact, but the fight was far from over.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

(A story by @midasslave1 done in collab with @polo-drone-070)

1. The Abduction

In the heart of Paris, the vibrant nightlife pulsed with energy. PDU-070 a young asian polo-drone, was observing the crowd in a nightclub, scanning for potential recruits, in the signature tight black rubber Fred Perry polos of Polo-Drones. PDU-070 felt a sense of belonging and pride as he focused on its mission, the atmosphere electric with excitement. It had managed to lure some interesting recruits that will soon be unable to resist the pull of the rubber polo.

Meanwhile, across the world in New Zealand, 35-year-old Jett, known as Waterboy 05 of the Golden Army, was preparing for a night out on the town. Clad in his shiny Liverpool F.C. football top, he felt a rush of camaraderie from his new association with the amazing online community. The Golden Army was a close-knit group, and Jett cherished the bonds he had formed.

But as the night wore on, a sinister plot was unfolding. In Paris, as PDU-070 stepped out of the nightclub, he noticed a dark van idling at the curb, its windows tinted and unmarked. A chill ran down his spine, but he brushed it off, attributing it to the late hour. Just as he turned to head home, two figures wearing full body metallic gold latex suits emerged from the shadows, their movements swift and calculated. Before he could react, they grabbed him, covering his mouth with a cloth soaked in chloroform. Once subdued but not unconscious he was fitted with a VR headset with MIDAS written on the front over his eyes. The world around him faded into darkness as he struggled against their grip and placed into the van.

Simultaneously, in New Zealand, Jett just getting home, stepped out of his car in his driveway when he heard a loud crash on the roadside. Curious, he left the safety of his premises only to be met by a dark van. The gold latex figures lunged at him, overpowering him before he could call for help. A cloth was pressed against his face, and he too succumbed to the sweet, suffocating scent of chloroform, when he was placed in the back of the van and was also fitted with a VR headset over his eyes.

2. The Glass Room

When PDU-070 and Jett awoke ,they found themselves in a stark, sterile glass room, disoriented and confused.

The walls shimmered with an unsettling golden hue, and they quickly realized they were locked with someone they didn't recognise to golden chairs by metal cuffs and leather harnesses. And now wearing a thick metallic gold collar around their throats.

Panic surged through them as they struggled against their restraints, but the more they fought, the more they felt the cold grip of fear tightening around them.

Suddenly, a voice echoed through the room, smooth and commanding. “Welcome, gentlemen. You are now part of Midas Enterprises. We have plans for you.” The voice belonged to a figure shrouded in shadows, their intentions cloaked in mystery.

New golden VR headset were placed over their eyes and the screens came to life, golden spirals began to swirl before their eyes, mesmerizing them.

The spirals pulsed with an otherworldly energy, drawing them deeper into a trance. They inhaled and exhaled a strange golden smoke that filled the room, its effects creeping into their minds like a fog. 

The kidnappers explained their sinister plan to them for no particular reason but to gloat. They intend to infiltrate the Polo-Drones and the Golden Army, claiming their many members around the world to build a world-dominating force.

3. The Transformation

Days passed in a blur as PDU-070 and Jett were subjected to relentless brainwashing. They were fed misinformation about the Golden Army they both belonged to, though in different group, their loyalties twisted into obedience to Midas Enterprises. Hidden triggers were embedded deep within their minds, waiting for the right moment to activate. The golden smoke clouded their thoughts and coated the inside of their body and they began to lose sight of their true selves.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they were released back into their respective countries, their memories hazy and fragmented. They returned to their lives, unaware of the dark programming that had taken root within them.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

I have outlined here how I would transform a man into a slave.

Step 1: Acceptance of responsibilities.

Both parties reach an agreement about the relationship they will engage in. Both parties reserve the right to disengage from the relationship at any time, unless different terms are agreed to at the outset.

Step 2: Transformation: man to submissive.

Simple rules will gradually be established. The sub will be punished for non-compliance. These rules may represent tasks that the sub must complete on a regular basis. The sub will be trained to exhibit obedience and compliance at all times.

When the sub enters the Dom’s dwelling or is in his presence, he must willingly enter a submissive head-space. During this time, he will be trained to regard the Dom’s desires as superior to his own. The sub will be trained to respond to “boy,” or a different name chosen by the Dom. The sub will address the Dom as “Sir” and his conduct toward the Dom shall be respectful and deferential at all times.

Sub is broken down methodically to obey the Dom’s every wish. This will continue indefinitely until the sub is ready to forfeit his personhood. The sub will be trained to anticipate Dom’s needs and fulfill them without requiring oversight.

Sub is conditioned to sculpt his body according to the Dom’s wishes. The sub must willingly incorporate the Dom’s feedback into his exercise regime.

Sub is systematically deprived of his possessions. He will be trained to give his full attention to the Dom unless otherwise instructed. Problematic possessions such as consumer electronics should be confiscated first. The sub should have limited access to the internet when serving the Dom.

Sub will be fully nude when serving the Dom unless otherwise instructed.

Sub is deprived of his ability to achieve sexual gratification. The Master should enforce the sub’s chastity in isolated episodes. These episodes should push the sub to endure chastity for ever-increasing durations. This exercise must be repeated until the sub accepts chastity as a lifestyle, The sub must accept that his genitals belong to the Dom.

Sub is acclimated to extended bondage and sensory deprivation. The sub will receive cage training as part of this. The sub will become accustomed to residing at the Master’s domicile for extended durations.

Sub will be trained to willingly accept punishments from the Master, regardless of their severity, method, or justification.

Sub will be trained to be responsive to the Dom at all times. The sub should never disregard any communication from the Dom.

Sub’s contact with the outside world will grow more limited over time. The Dom may use extreme limitations on outside contact as punishment.

Sub will receive physical and psychological conditioning from the Master to break him of any unwanted habits from his previous life.

Sub will become conditioned to endure degradation and humiliation. This will continue indefinitely until the sub is prepared to surrender his ego fully.

Step 3: Transformation: submissive to slave.

Ethan’s heart pounded in his chest, the fear coursing through him like ice in his veins. He had been separated from his twin Josh and his friends Nathan and Brad, only moments ago, and he had no idea where he was being led. The room he now stood in was stark, metallic, and unforgiving, a far cry from the comforting familiarity of their shared lives. The heavy door sealed shut behind him with a final, echoing thud, trapping him in this sterile, alien space. Ethan didn’t even want to be here, he only agreed because Josh forced him to come and Nathan and Brad insisted for him to join. He didn’t really enjoy video games, VR, or any surprises.

“Hello? What is this place?” Ethan’s voice cracked with a mixture of fear and frustration. He scanned the room, eyes darting over the sleek, unfamiliar machinery. In the center stood a pod—its dark, glossy surface gleaming under the harsh, clinical lights. It looked like a high-tech coffin, humming with a low, ominous vibration.

Before he could make another move, a voice filled the room. An engineer entered the room, wearing a white blouse and a big smile on his face. “Ethan, right?” he asked with joy in his voice as he approached him. “Great, well I’m Christian, I’ll make sure your test is going as planned. Now if you can climb into the pod on your left, your trial will begin real soon.” Ethan didn’t know if he could trust this men, but not wanting to back off in front of his friends, he started to walk to the pod with a shy path.

Ethan climbed into the pod and tilted his head to look how the machine looked like from the inside. It was slick and futuristic, and under his back was a soft mattress made of light blue silicone.

The interior was disturbingly soft, molding perfectly to the contours of his body and as Ethan relaxed a bit and lay back, the lid descended with a sharp hiss, sealing him in complete darkness. The sound of his own breath filled the small space, fast and shallow as he tried to calm himself.

Then, out of nowhere, restraints clamped down, metal arms snapping into place around his wrists and ankles, pinning him with unyielding force. Ethan gasped in surprise as his stress and anxiety raised back up.

“Let me out!” Ethan screamed, thrashing against the restraints. But the claws only tightened, digging painfully into his skin.

“Restraint sequence activated. Beginning clothing removal.”

A thin red laser beam appeared above him, scanning the length of his body. The beam left a tingling sensation in its wake, and then his clothes began to disintegrate into fine ash, leaving him completely naked and exposed. The cold air hit his bare skin, and he shivered, vulnerable and terrified. “Stop it please! I don’t even want to be here! Help me!” Ethan tied again as he took in the fact that he was now restrained and exposed.

“Clothing removed. Initiating physical modification protocol.”

Ethan’s heart skipped a beat, his body tensing with fear. “No, please! I don’t want this! What is happening? Who is even talking?! STOP”

“Beginning foot structure modification.”

A deep, bone-crunching pain lanced through Ethan’s feet. He screamed, his toes curling involuntarily as the bones inside them cracked and shifted. It felt like someone was snapping each bone in half, then forcing it into a new shape. His feet elongated, the arches lifting painfully as the structure of his bones realigned. He could feel the skin tightening over the new form, every nerve alight with agony.

“Foot sized increased. Adding athletic template.”

His soles burned as thin calluses formed, rough patches developing as though he’d spent years running around. It was as if his skin was being sandpapered from the inside out, layers building up to create a tough, hardened surface to preserve his feet.

Ethan’s breath came in ragged gasps, the pain relentless. He tried to kick out, but the restraints held him firm.

“Starting leg restructuring. Thigh and calf enhancement.”

The agony spread up his legs, a deep, tearing sensation as his muscles began to swell. His calves bulged, the sinews stretching and thickening beneath the skin. It felt like his muscles were being inflated, the pressure building until he thought they might burst. His thighs followed, ballooning outward as the tendons and ligaments pulled taut, adjusting to support his new, powerful form.

His pelvis snapped painfully, bones grinding together as his hips narrowed. He let out a strangled cry, the sound muffled by the pod’s interior.

“Pelvic adjustment complete. Now modifying genitalia and pubic region.”

Ethan’s eyes widened in terror. “No, no, no!” he pleaded, but the AI continued without pause.

A deep, throbbing pressure built between his legs, unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was as if something was pulling at his very core, stretching and reshaping the most intimate parts of his body. His penis contracted and spasmed without him being able to control his muscle. It felt like someone was tugging on his dick and it was about to snap. He felt it lengthened, the skin tightening painfully as it grew thicker and heavier. Every nerve seemed to explode with hypersensitivity, a wave of raw, searing sensation that made him gasp.

His balls felt like they were being tugged downward, the weight increasing as his they swelled, doubling and then tripling in size. The skin grew coarser, darker, as thick, curly hair sprouted across his pubic region. The sensation was unbearable, like a thousand needles pricking his skin at once. He felt them grew more and more but to his shock, he saw them getting short, like if he had shaved a week or so ago. His new pubes were feeling sensitive and were about 1 inch long but very dense, starting to shape waves dancing around his new thick dick.

Ethan could feel the rough hair brushing against his thighs, the unfamiliar weight of his transformed anatomy pressing against his skin. His entire groin ached, a deep, pulsing throb that radiated through his pelvis.

“Please… make it stop,” he whimpered, tears streaming down his cheeks. But the AI continued its cold, mechanical announcements.

“Genitalia modification process completed. Moving up to abdominal and chest expansion in 3,2,1…”

The muscles in his stomach clenched, then seemed to explode outward, stretching the skin painfully tight. He felt his abs forming, each individual muscle carving itself out into a sharp, defined shape. His chest followed, his pecs swelling outward, becoming thick and heavy. It felt like his ribs were being pried apart, the bones bending to accommodate his new size.

He tried to scream, but his voice was caught in his throat, the pain overwhelming every other sensation.

“Shoulder width increasing. Arm muscle enhancement in progress…” His shoulders cracked loudly, broadening as the bones shifted. The muscles in his arms ballooned, biceps and triceps thickening until they felt like they might burst through his skin. His forearms followed, the sinewy muscles bulging as veins snaked across the surface. His fingers elongated, the knuckles thickening, nails reshaping into black claws before retracting into a neat, masculine trim. His hands felt foreign, strong, capable, and unfamiliar.

“Neck and facial structure realignment. Initiation Voice modulation in 3,2,1…”

Ethan’s neck thickened, the muscles bulging against the restraints. His throat vibrated as his vocal cords stretched, his Adam’s apple becoming more pronounced. He could feel his face being pulled apart and reshaped, every bone shifting painfully beneath the skin. His jawline squared off and off settled a bit, his cheekbones sharpening, and his nose adjusted, becoming broader and more defined. Ethan’s eyes started to go bling as a new invasive sensation started in his iris. It felt like his eyes were burning from the inside and he couldn’t see anything anymore. But the second after, when he finally opened his eyes again, vision came back. It was perfect now, like a high-definition camera. Ethan saw a golden hue in his vision before he turned back to a normal natural one. Unbeknown to him, his eyes just went from golden orange back to a rich chocolaty brown.

His lips tingled as they grew fuller, curving into a confident and natural friendly smirk he wasn’t used to. He could feel his hair thickening, dark strands cascading down to form a tousled, messy styled look.

When he tried to speak, a deep, rich voice came out, one that wasn’t his own.

“Body hair enhancement and musk modification.”

A prickle spread across his chest and stomach as thin transparent hair sprouted, covering his new, muscular frame. The scent of his own body changed, becoming earthy and masculine, a raw, potent musk that filled the pod, overwhelming his senses. His pubes vibrated as they started to emit the same potent musk merged with a ball sweat odor. Then when he thought everything was done, his pits started to burn as thick dark and curly hair started to grow under them, far away from his natural almost hairless pits he used to have. “Please, make it stop… I can’t hold on anymore. I want… to go … home.” Ethan said in his new manly and rich voice as tears of pain and fear started to pearl in his new rich brown eyes. The AI didn’t care what he was saying and begging for as a new burning started on his legs where they started to grow dark hair all around and them climbing between his new muscled ass cheeks to recover in a dense forest of thick hair.

He could feel sweat dripping down his ribs from his pits, his heart racing as the final adjustments were made.

“Final height increase. Completing modification and assignation.”

His spine stretched, each vertebra popping as he grew taller. His entire body felt like it was being pulled apart, every joint cracking into place as the last pieces of his transformation locked in.

Ethan lay there, panting, tears streaming down his face. His naked body was no longer his own, it was something new, something powerful and alien.

“Conversion complete. You are ready for the next step. Digitization will start in 3,2,1…”

Ethan tried to scream in his new louder and manlier voice but no one answered. He was trapped inside this monstrous new body, feeling every sensation, every shift of muscle and bone. He had become something unrecognizable, and the pain had only solidified the terror that now consumed him.

All Ethan could do was lay in the pod, his body transformed beyond recognition, his mind reeling from the agony he had just endured. He could barely breathe, his chest heaving as he tried to process the changes, the unfamiliar weight of new muscles, the roughness of his new skin, the potent musk that filled the air, unmistakably masculine and raw.

“Phase two initiated: Digitization process commencing. Please stay still.”

Ethan’s eyes snapped open; pupils dilated with fear. “What now? What are you doing to me?”

But the AI ignored his panicked questions. He felt a strange tingling sensation spread across his skin, starting at his toes and quickly moving upward. It was as if every cell in his body was being scanned, analyzed, and recorded in microscopic detail.

The pod began to hum, vibrations growing stronger beneath him, resonating through every bone and nerve. He could feel his entire body buzzing, the sensation almost unbearable.

“Subject’s physical data captures. Initiating digitization.”

A bright flash of light engulfed him, blinding him for a moment. He screamed as his body seemed to dissolve into pure energy, every atom pulled apart and then compressed into a tight, confined space. His consciousness was squeezed into a single point, a spark of awareness floating in a void of nothingness.

He felt himself being transferred, data streaming through what felt like endless tunnels of code and light. The sensation was nauseating, like being stretched and twisted beyond his limits. He could feel the AI rewriting him, his essence being stripped away and stored in a vast, cold digital space.

“Digitization complete. Subject now online.”

Suddenly, he was slammed back into reality, his new body reconstituted piece by piece. Ethan gasped, blinking rapidly as his vision adjusted to his surroundings. He no longer was in the pod, he was standing in a dimly lit, cluttered bedroom. The walls were covered in posters, the floor scattered with clothes, sneakers, and Lacrosse gear.

Ethan stood up in a hurry from the bed as he turned his head around, trying to understand where he was now. Panic raised inside him as his sight landed on a wet dirty mirror standing on the wall in the bathroom. Ethan approached it, his body drenched in sweat as his new hands raised to touch his new hair. Ethan gasped when he saw his new reflection. That couldn’t be possible he was...

“Uploading Subject: Ethan Brown… Assigned File: Scott McCall” the AI voice resonated inside the room. Ethan turned around and walked out of the bathroom and took a look once again at the bedroom around him, the jerseys, the posters, the pictures and posters on the wall, the lacrosse equipment all around, the messy bedroom, the bathroom on the left side of the bed. This couldn’t be possible. Ethan couldn’t believe it, it was a nightmare. And why was he stuck inside this new body as Scott, he wasn’t even a big fan of Teen Wolf. What was all of that?!

He could feel the soft carpet beneath his bare feet, the air cool against his exposed skin. He looked down, and a shock of confusion washed over him. He was only wearing a pair of tight, gray boxer briefs that clung to his body, highlighting every curve and bulge of his transformed physique. His thick, muscular thighs were covered in dark hair, his abs hard and defined, with a thin trail of hair leading down to his groin where the prominent bulge strained against the fabric.

“Calculating the need of this game… Done. This game miss Alpha. Initiating behavioral enhancement protocol. Upgrading “Scott McCall” to “ALPHA” in 3,2,1…”

Ethan felt his body freeze on the spot. He tried to move, to take control of his own body, but he couldn’t. He felt like a passenger, trapped inside his own mind. His body moved on its own, a confident grin spreading across his lips as he flexed his biceps, feeling the thick, solid muscle.

“No… no, this isn’t me,” Ethan thought, but no voice came out of his mouth,

“Upgrading dominance traits. Increasing testosterone levels.”

A wave of heat surged through him, starting deep in his core and spreading outward. He could feel his muscles swelling slightly, his skin tightening over the expanded mass. The scent of his own sweat filled the room, mingling with the strong, musky odor that seemed to ooze from his pores, it was becoming more and more potent, filled with testosterone. His pecs and abs spasmed as his thin hair started to get a darker hue, getting more and more visible and emitting an earthy scent too.

His groin felt hot and heavy, his bulge growing larger, pressing insistently against the fabric of his boxer briefs. He couldn’t stop it, his cock twitched, hardening involuntarily, the outline of his erection visible through the thin material. A small wet spot formed at the tip, where pre-cum leaked through the fabric.

Ethan’s mind raced. He wanted to cover himself, to find clothes, but his body refused to obey. Instead, he stretched his arms over his head, his biceps bulging, and let out a low, satisfied groan. His eyes flashed the golden hue before starting to change into a deep crimson red. His nails flashed and turned into sharp, dark claws before retracting back into his normal nails. Ethan felt his palms and soles starting to burn as callouses started to appear in them, making sure his feet are safe when he runs bare feet in the forest and every time, he grabs his lacrosse stick to play on the field. His left biceps started to burn as two black thick lines appeared on it to mark him as the new enhanced version.

“Enhancement complete. Initiating behavioral sequence.”

Ethan felt his head tilt slightly, a cocky smirk forming on his lips. A wave of unfamiliar pride washed over him. He looked powerful, every inch of him screamed dominance, from the confident set of his jaw to the way his broad shoulders filled the space. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, admiring the way it fell perfectly into place.

Ethan’s mind screamed in protest. This wasn’t him. He was trapped inside this body, watching helplessly as it moved on its own, flexing and posing like it was enjoying its own reflection.

“Dominant behavior activated. Loading clothes and restrictions.”

Ethan’s eyes widened in horror. His body turned toward the pile of clothes on the floor, a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, a hoodie. He reached down, fingers brushing the fabric, but then he stopped. Ethan felt his hands grab his soaked underwear between his hands before tearing it apart, leaving him naked in his room. Then he grabbed a pair of dirty jeans on the floor and smiled as he raised his torn apart soaked underwear to his nose and smelt it. Ethan felt his face light with a smile as pheromones invaded his brain, the scent of an alpha he thought. He then threw the underwear in the corner of his room and jumped in the pair of jeans commando, making sure to adjust his sensitive leaking cock in the right leg. His bulge throbbed against his hairy leg, a bead of pre-cum leaking through the fabric and staining it darker. He couldn’t stop it; the pleasure radiated through his groin, making his breath hitch.

“Stop… please, this is not … me,” Ethan begged, but his voice was not to be heard. He couldn’t control the grin that spread across his lips, the way his hand ran down his chest, fingers brushing over his hardened nipples, then lower, tracing the line of hair that led to his waistband.

He flexed again, the thick muscles of his torso shifting under the skin. He looked like a god, unapologetically masculine, raw, and primal. Ethan wanted to cry but he couldn’t, he was frozen and forced to look at himself as he felt his new leaking dick coming closer and closer to orgasm.

“Welcome to the Sensius: Teen Wolf Gay Fantasy experience,” the AI announced, its tone disturbingly cheerful. “You are now an integral part of the interactive environment. Follow your programming and enjoy this experience.".”

Ethan felt his body tense as the orgasm was coming closer and closer, his dick spasming and restrained inside his pants, rubbing his sensitive leaking cock head against his hairy leg. The AI talked once again, this time echoing through the whole game like if it was a scream in an empty cave. “Player loaded. Rebooting behaviors in 3,2,1…” His head snapped up, eyes gleaming with a new, fierce confidence. He felt his heart rate slow, the fear draining away, replaced by a wave of calm, dominant energy. He didn’t feel like hiding anymore. He felt powerful, unstoppable. He came. Ethan felt the cum rushing out of his cock and soaking his jeans into wetness. “Scott McCall’s routines starting.” He heard his new voice talking inside his head and he realized he was trapped as Scott from now on until he found a way to free himself.

Ethan was trapped, screaming inside his own mind, but Scott’s body wasn’t listening. It adjusted itself, standing tall and relaxed, hands resting on the thick bulge in his jeans. He gave it a squeeze, the sensation shooting through him like a jolt of electricity. He then grabbed his lacrosse stick and helmet and threw them on his bed before sitting on it. He looked at them with awe in his eyes as he felt the pulsion to play and to fuck in the locker room. Yea, his beta bitch will take it tonight, that’s for sure!

He turned toward the door, taking a deep breath, savoring the scent of his own musk filling the room. He knew he had to leave, there was somewhere he needed to be. He could feel the pull of the programming, guiding his steps.

He grabbed a pair of boots and a tight well used black tanktop then walked confidently out of the bedroom and into the hallway. He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. He was ready for whatever came next, his mind sharp, his body humming with newfound strength.

And inside, Ethan’s thoughts were a jumbled mess of fear and confusion, unable to break through the iron grip of Scott’s assertive, dominant programming. He was trapped in a body that wasn’t his, forced to feel every touch, every pulse of pleasure, as the new Scott took his first steps into the world.

And he wasn’t going to wear a single piece of clothing to hide what he had become.

Mark was excited when he was told that he had been accepted for an administrative intership at DroneTech but was worried when he saw that there were six other people applying for the same position.He was told that over the course of the day they would be gradually eliminated until only one remained.

Their first task was to put on the company uniform and report back to the main office.

He entered the changing room and saw the rubber suit hanging on the wall. He knew that he would eventually end up in one having done his research on the company. Nothing prepared him for the sensations putting it on would assault him with. His cock was rock hard before he even got it half way on. Eventually his drive to succeed overpowered the pleasure and he zipped himself up inside the tight suit. Each step back to the main room caused the rubber to grip and caress his entire body pleasurably. To his surprise, four of the applicants were already waiting there, meaning he was only one person away from getting eliminated right out of the gate.

The next challenge was to simply complete a handful of computer training modules. As he sat down at the screen and began his work, he noticed how the monitor would flicker at times and the headphones he was wearing had a strange static crackling in them. The training started off basic enough but again he found that his throbbing erection was distracting him more and more. He casually started rubbing his cock through the rubber with one hand while clicking through the various modules. After a short while his screen flashed complete and displayed a number 2. He sighed with relief now that he wasn't in dead last this time.

He was never reunited with the other applicants but was told that last challenge was a simple one. He simply had to work as a low level employee for the remained of the day and they would be graded on their performance. Mark reasoned it was to better understand how they operated and give some perspective when making decisions higher up.

The first thing he would need to do is complete the uniform and was given a heavy black shiny helmet. Eager to show his dedication he quickly put it over his head. As soon as it was on his head he heard a click and felt something press into his ears. A loud warbling sound echoed through his head as the inside of the helmet lit up with a kaleidoscope of colors.

Mark quickly tried to pull the helmet off but it was firmly affixed to his head. The sound and colors quickly drowned out his mind and he stood there as he was bombarded with programming. His posture relaxed as his hands reached down and started rubbing his cock through the rubber.

Time lost its meaning to the man as he was slowly pleasuring himself into a state of mindless obedience. A couple hours later and Drone MK-7384 exited the training room and began its first day as a proper drone.

Unbeknownst to Mark, the entire elimination process was nothing but a sham. The real intern had already been selected and rather than have the other applicant's talents potentially go to a competitor, DroneTech decided to provide them a much more permanent employment opportunity.

(A horror themed butt growth story.)

Why do you keep doing this to yourself? It’s like you set yourself up for disaster. You are travelling home alone from a rather productive session at the gym. That is the good news, the bad news is you have just entered what is known as a run down area of town affectionately referred to as ‘The Crack’, everyone tends to avoid it if possible. There have been recent reports of missing people in the area too, but no one is very surprised, or seems to care. But today you were in a rush and despite your reservations, this was the quickest route back. At least, in theory.

Passing down a street of derelict warehouses you notice a side passage that appeared to lead down an alleyway. That was odd. You’ve been down here before, but had never noticed this back-alley before. Paths don’t tend to spring up out of thin air. You try and calculate where it should lead and come to the conclusion that it would let you save some time, maybe? Look, it’s extremely unlikely anything bad could happen within the minute it would take to make it through to the other side. Yes, that is what everyone says before things go horribly wrong but that was absolutely, definitely not going to happen here.

You step into a puddle that splashes an unidentifiable liquid up your bare leg. Mental note: never wear shorts in ‘The Crack’ again. Trash was piled up high on either side, it was obvious these buildings didn’t get a huge amount of use anymore. You always thought horror movies had done a real disservice to alleyways, but this one certainly wouldn’t be changing anyones mind. In the distance you see the silhouette of someone standing in the middle of the alley. From their stature it seems to be man, but something about them throws you off. You feel a pang of trepidation, a chill runs down your back. It’s only just occurred to you how deafly quiet the passage is, the sounds of the street feel like miles away. You turn around and the uneven pavement seems to impossibly stretch away from your feet. You hear a dull droning, fizzling just within your hearing range. Looking back and the man appears closer than before, you swear he hasn’t moved and yet…

“Uh hello?” You call out, to no response. Strange. But then, you see it. The most beautiful sight your eyes have been graced with. His butt.

Butt.

His grey joggers are having a hard time trying to contain what he’s packing, not that you’re complaining. It’s bigger than what you thought possible, it’s captivating. And now you’re just staring. Staring at another dudes gigantic butt in the middle of an alley, try not to overthink it. You see it jiggle just slightly and your eyes follow it’s repetitive movement hypnotically. What doesn’t occur to you is how your body is starting to….adjust. There’s a barely perceptible malicious force entering your form, you welcomed it in the second you laid eyes on the perfectly sculpted ass. Not a wholly bad trade off.

It wastes no time in making itself at home. Assessing the prey that wandered into it’s lair, before going to work on you.

The energy is gathering in your nethers, passing down your head and pulling through your torso. It seems to be taking something with it as your rear begins to heat up. You feel a light throb. It starts slow but soon increases in intensity. Your modest stature is being ‘enhanced’, your average ass cheeks piling on pounds as the rest of your body flattens out. Muscle and tissue is consumed, just food to bolster your hindquarters. All your body fat melts away until you have a tight slim chest. Your arms thinning out into effeminate twigs, hands slender. And through it all you continue to watch the rotund cheeks in front of you, not daring to take your eyes off them. Wouldn’t it be nice to have that too? Any sacrifice would be worth it, no? You want that, that -

Butt.

The thin polyester fabric of your shorts is pulled taut across your enlarging rear. Straining as it struggles to cage the hungry beast within it’s confines. Today was perhaps not the best day to decide on going without underwear. But lets be honest, underwear isn’t going to have much prominence in your future.

With your body adequately slimmed down, the insatiable parasitic-like force begins to target any identifying features you have left. It focuses on your head, a couple of twitches and it’s done. Nose itches, eyes water. It leaves your face with an uncanny quality, like it was unsettlingly sent though a algorithmic generator. It’s you, but an eerie idealised version of you. Plasticised perfection. Your skin is now unnaturally even, without a single speck or blemish. Anything that could distract from your main asset is smoothed clean. Absorbed by the mound of flesh expanding in your pants. There’s only one thing people should be paying attention to. That’s quickly becoming less of an issue. The inevitable missing poster they put up will only vaguely resemble you.

“Guh.” You hear yourself pant.

The low droning of the alleyway grows more prominent, pulsing rhythmically, akin to the low bass of a dance track. Your buttocks instinctually vibrate to the beat.

It’s increasingly hard to ignore the obvious changes happening to you. Your rotund behind is becoming so heavy. And while, yes, it is slightly concerning - can the issue wait just a little bit longer? You’ll deal with it later, after fully grasping the scope of this dude’s bountiful booty. For a second you wonder what the mans face looks like but then you think better of it. His face isn’t important, in the same way that yours isn’t.

You shift your feet apart, trying to balance out your rear heavy centre of gravity. The slight movement sends your round cheeks wobbling comically like a bowl of jelly. They bounce together, creating a wet slapping sound in your tight shorts. Your lower half is at risk of putting fuck toys out of business.

You’ve never had the word ‘butt’ enter your mind with such frequency in your entire life, it begins to loose all meaning. A collection of random letters.

Butt.

Are you perhaps forgetting something? That 4 letter word isn’t about to share a space with that bump between your legs. At some point you may have believed your cock was of some importance. All those times it had made you feel good, where for a second your concerns would fade from view. But things change. You are changing. Sometimes you have no choice but to embrace it. You start to feel a light tugging at your crotch. It’s slightly uncomfortable but there’s a pleasant tingle too. You reach down and feel it’s length diminish within your hand, sucked up like a vacuum by your ever thickening arse. It doesn’t stop until a mere nub protrudes from your groin. It dribbles the smallest amount of pre down your leg and spreads across the cracked concrete of the alley. No amount of stimulation is going to produce much down there. Your pleasure centre realigns a little further back. A deep itch that requires constant attention. A cock is something that other people have, you instead have an open socket for them to plug into.

Your shapely bum must almost rival that of the one your eyes are glued to. Not much further to go. Other people will stare at yours in the same way. You didn’t know you were so jealous of it but who wouldn’t want THAT?

You’re not sure how long you’ve been watching his rear end, or how long you plan to continue doing so. No better ideas come to mind right now. That might be because with your body and cock sucked dry, your brain is the next best source of fuel. So much useless power being used up there, where it can serve a much better purpose. It’s like a battery being drained, squeezed right into your juicy fat ass. Churned away just to add another inch of thickness.

You don’t think you really want this to happen, maybe you’re big enough back there? But what you want and what it wants are two very different things. Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t appear to be up for debate.

If you round up all those little idiosyncrasies of your personality, you might even squeeze another few millimetres into your hips. There’s only one thing around here with much substance anymore, and it certainly isn’t your brain. You can admit it, not much of value has been lost. It’s not like you were getting around to solving world hunger. At least now you have the opportunity to solve a different kind of hunger.

Your thoughts provided a decent amount of sustenance as they were sucked out of your brain through a figurative straw. You feel the benefit push out. Your hips flaring out instantaneously while your globes inflate to the size of footballs. With your brain emptied out of anything complex, thoughts and instructions to your body start to arrive from the new master of the domain. Neurones rewired, your butt was now command central, your head was just the go between, mostly irrelevant. Simple instructions and desires like ‘bend’, ‘twerk’ and ‘facesit’ overwhelm you. But -butt- right now the main one was ‘stare’; you weren’t done yet after all.

Your cheeks moisten as they rub together, their new sensitivity firing bolts up your spine. Your shorts grow damp as the leaking fluid soaks into the polyester and clings tightly to your skin. It only helps to make your arse seem bigger, the fabric bunching up between your crack, creating a noticeable crease down the centre that leaves nothing to the imagination.

Once again you feel your ass throb and shudder, each jiggle pushing it just a little bit further from your body. Just when you think you couldn’t get any bigger back there, it keeps going, inflating to cartoonish proportions. Sticking out like a depraved shelf. Your waist thins out and your hips expand to accommodate your new form. Women would be jealous of what you’re packing, and men will be queuing up to test it’s suspension.

It’s okay to smile. Happy people smile. Aren’t you happy? You must be, everything else in your head was consumed. The entity did you a favour in that regard. Think of the words ‘bouncing booty’. Go on, give it a try.

Your lip quivers in a last ditch effort of restraint. Don’t let ‘it’ win. The defiance is vaguely amusing in a pitiful way but your face muscles start to give way. Your mouth stretches wide into a broad, earnest grin. The most sincere display of joy you’ve ever shown, who cares if it makes you look ‘dumb’? It doesn’t bother you at all that people can take one look at you and accurately guess, that not a single word of value will exit your mouth. Dumb people are happy. Why worry? You had different priorities now. You can feel safe knowing that your most prominent feature is taking the lead, that it knows what’s best for you. Give it the keys and good things are bound to happen.

See, and doesn’t smiling feel good? Doesn’t it feel right to smile as your hole is used like a cum receptacle? Or when your cheeks are surrounding a mans face? People don’t want to see their toy sad.

A lone giggle falls out between your pursed lips.

You reach back around and place your hands on your two buttocks, your palm is dwarfed in size. It no longer stretches across its surface. Like palming a basketball. You can feel it push against your fingers with immense pressure as it expands within your grasp. Just another centimetre, and another. It’s curvature widens, expanding out from your hips. You press your finger into the skin and rub. The surface is completely smooth and the texture has a slight friction to it, creating a light satisfying sqk. No one for a second will believe that it’s real, it’s obvious fake-ness is by design. Authenticity is so overrated, nothing real would bounce so tightly back to position, would shine so brightly in the light. Would be able to withstand so much pounding… People don’t actually want real, they want a fetish image come to life, they want no maintenance, no downsides. They want someone to just nod and agree while they fuck them without concern; they want a rubber butt like yours. You’re not about to question it, and neither will anyone else.

They won’t question it while they undress you, or while they find relief inside of you, or even when their own butt begins to expand. And still, when they are reduced to just another butt boy, they won’t question it.

Butt.

That’s right, you’re a carrier. You have been entrusted with a important task, to leave a string of giant asses in your wake. You need to spread it, like a computer virus. Once they ‘plug in’ there’s no going back. Whoever they were, they’ll all end up the same.

You are finished. Your glutes tighten into place. And your hole opens for frequent visitors. Stretching wide as if it had just been treated to a rigorous fuck machine session. You’re just a butt with a body attached. It’s how you view yourself, above all is tending to the needs of your ever hungry rear. The rest of your body is just a mode of transport, a means to an end. A rear end.

It feels like you’ve stood here for hours, but in reality it’s been no more than a minute. A minute was all it took for you to be repurposed as a literal butt boy. A mere sixty seconds for all your thoughts to be hollowed out; maybe you weren’t as smart as you thought, or maybe you secretly wanted this all along. Either way your head is now just a pretty picture to smile at before spinning you around.

The space in your head is about as empty as the hole between your pillowy cheeks, although only one has any hope of being filled up.

“Butt!” You hear yourself blurt out, like a child saying a naughty word. The sound echos down the dank alley.

Suddenly the butt opposite you turns away, his legs moving him towards you. A wordless instruction reaches your body to kneel and so you do, obediently. He turns back away, his beautiful ass only a few inches apart from your face. His joggers lower and his prize springs forth from it’s prison. He slowly backs his cheeks into your face until they eclipse your entire view. He continues until your head is pushed between his round globes with a blomf, encasing you, muffling the sound in your ears. There’s a mild tingle across your forehead/face.

You feel the pressure push against your sides. It makes sure your head is an appropriately vacuous vessel, squeezing out anything left. That little remnant that didn’t want to be butt brained drips away in no time, turned to drool and absorbed into the guys ass crack. This would be good for you; You needed to be made perfect, so you let the butt finish it’s work. A new set of instructions flow into you, into your ass. You feel your consciousness connect to the butt burying your face, assimilating and adding you as one of it’s own, making you part of something bigger. One of many.

The pressure on your head leaves your emptied mind subservient to the mass of tissue straining under you. It gives you a new identity.

I gave you a new identity.

BUTT BOY.

And you’re now ready for service. Butt. Boy. Ready to spread joy. To put it in the nicest way possible, you have a butt for a brain. It has been given full control, and it has one singular goal. You need to make more Butt Boys. It is that simple. It’s not a desire, it’s just something you have to do.

The cheeks spread open again and are unseated from your encased head, your broad smile still unflinching.

Something else is different though. A cold breeze brushes over your forehead. The hair on your head is nothing but a light dusting of what was there before, at most 1mm in length. It was one less thing to worry about, and one less thing to identify you with. It’s unsettling how much of your personality seemed to be stripped with it gone. The buzzed look certainly makes you appear more anonymous. Like a default custom character in a video game. Nothing made you stand out… well, aside from the obvious.

The ass in front of you is satisfied with your ‘adjustment’ and leads it’s body from the spot it once stood so patiently in. You continue to stare as the buttocks juggle erratically in the grey joggers as they leave the alleyway.

Your feet begin to move of their own volition. Movement is awkward, each step your balance is pulling you backward. You’re like a dumptruck trying to make a tight turn.

You are left in silence, aside from the clapping of your bouncy cheeks as you stumble forward to replace the previous occupant. You stand in the exact same spot, thighs pushed together, back straight. Now it is your turn to wait - like an animal for it’s prey, knowing that you cannot leave until you have passed on the gift to another man; ensuring that the cycle continues. The idea of causing someone else to go through the same process fills you with such pride.

It’s unclear how long you stand there, time in the alley doesn’t appear to operate within normal parameters. Like a crack in the world. You see your shadow projected onto a nearby wall, a straight line interrupted by an obscene vibrating speed bump. Doorframes could be your new biggest enemy.

You were desperate to see your reflection, from behind obviously. Most people take selfies of their face, the subject of your attention would be much further down.

You hear a voice echo from behind.

“Excuse me sir.”

One week later:

“Man, how much work did you have done on this, femboy? Unff. You make even my girlfriend look flat.” A towering voice booms down at you.

You’d picked up the jock in a club. He was relatively easy, it didn’t take much to end up back at his place. You stared at him with that horny, open mouthed duck face. But he wasn’t interested in what you had going on up there. It was remarkable how little men cared about how flagrantly airheaded you were once you flash your rear at them. It didn’t matter how ‘plastic’ or fake you so obviously were. The eye see’s what it wants.

He was clearly in the mood to let off steam, and one look of what you had on offer was all it took. You didn’t even need to say anything, which was good, as words were so hard to get right. For tonight, you were his; a light tap of your butt and he owned your body. A breathy ‘mhm’ confirming your obedience to him and his sizeable bulge. Your ass begins to moisten in preparation - it wanted him, in more ways than one.

He had told you his name, but you already forgot it; he soon would too. ‘Jocky’ was good enough for now.

Jocky was obnoxious in all the right ways, wearing his masculinity on his sleeve. That type made for the best, most severe adjustment.

“Love the buzzcut by the way femmy. Yeah…mhm. Very basic, it suits you.” He rubs a hand over the top of your head before running his fingers through his curly hair. It was a good thing he already liked the look.

*plap plap*

The strong man’s 7 inch cock thrusts in and out of your well used hole, pulling between your lubricated cheeks. Your buttocks squished against his member tightly, every bump rubbing across your hypersensitive skin. You were so hungry. He wasn’t the longest but he definitely had thickness on his side. You pant heavily as he has his way with you. Bent over his bed, facing away from him at a wall. He wasn’t as good at this as he thought, you would know, but it wouldn’t matter for long.

“Mmf. You’re a quiet one. Ah… I- I like that in a bottom. Makes a nice change from…hff. Always whining. Know your place. Fuck.” He continues to drunkenly rant into your ear. His deep, self-aggrandising voice quickly grating on you.

“Uuh. Take it all dumb slut.” You let him have his petty insults, it seemed to make him feel bigger, more in control. Evidently, he was obviously very self obsessed, dumb as you may be, even you could tell that much. The constant glances at his own muscles were enough of a giveaway. Eh. You’d seen better; the change will be a improvement.

He speeds up, sending shockwaves up your body and making your butt bounce enthusiastically.

“H…hey it’s real hot in here.” His voice shakes. “Umf. Maybe we should stop?” He puts his hand on your hip in an attempt to steady himself as he continues pumping you. You begin to push back into him, his dick pushing all the way in.

“Wh… what the fuck. My ass feels…mmm.” He groans loudly. You know how it feels. You can hear them rubbing together already.

His grip on your back weakens, the weight crashing into you softens. His body is like a deflating balloon, his diminishing height bringing him closer to the floor. The girth inside of you shrinks.

“Ahh. So heavy…damn. My-“

“Butt.” You tell him. A slight hint of boredom in your tone.

“Oh god, why does my head… so hard to think.” Right on cue, his smarts were being cleared out, in preparation for his ass to take over thinking duties. This part was your favourite; it wasn’t fair he had all that stuff while you felt so…blank. “Feels so good. Unnf.” It was too late for him to stop it, he’d soon be very happy. Happy, eager and ready to comply. “Shouldn’t though…” You take the lead, rocking back and forth along what’s left of his dwindling shaft. Your buttocks slap against his tightened chest.

*plap plap*

“Bouncy…hehe.” He laughs dimly. You can’t help but echo his giggle, it WAS a funny word. One of your favourites - top 5 at least, right after ‘jiggle’.

“Don’t wanna…fuck…b…but I can’t…but…but.” He stutters, like a scratched record.

“B…bu…Butt. Buuuutt.” His voice moans in realisation, mumbling the word over and over to himself. He shudders, squirting inside of you. It’s okay. It’s never enough to satisfy you.

His tiny cock slips out of your hole, dragging a small string of cum across your sensitive rear. That familiar feeling of emptiness sets back in. You get out from under him and assess your work. Turning to face him, you’re greeted by his broad smile and blank, lust-filled stare. His jockish face and body now heavily twinkified; those boorish muscles, gone. His cocky attitude, subdued. The bed creaks. You check on his oversized ass splayed beneath him, a rather drastic change from his previously flat posterior. Looking even more ridiculous with his shortened stature. The slight rubbery sheen was the cherry on top. Those plastic beach balls were made to twerk and put on a show. A vast improvement, he seems pleased by it too. His left hand is loosely fondling his new selling point.

“O…ohh.” A surprised squeak slips out from his mouth. It’s always a shock when they see where everything has gone.

You’re pretty sure he didn’t have much experience back there, if any at all. He’ll soon get the hang of it.

You know what comes next, what’s required of you - it’s instinctual at this point. You push him onto the bed and position yourself on top of him. You gradually begin to lower your huge rear over his head. You sit snugly down on his blushing face, shifting your weight a bit to get into a comfortable position. His gelled hair tickles against your skin, until it doesn’t…

The instructions were about what you would expect from a “do-it yourself” kit with much assembly required. He tried to decipher if the best he could, following the pictures as closely as possible. As he neared completion it all started to fall into place like the last few pieces of the puzzle and he just started attaching pieces without regards to the directions.

He took a step back to admire his handiwork after he slotted the last piece. Even though there was no person inside the suit it stood on its own and really gave off the impression that there was someone trapped inside. Part of the trap he assumed, something to intrigue the curious target into coming into contact. As he read over the instructions he saw that there was a small remote that once pressed would activate arm the suit and he would just need to wait for his roommate to get curious and check it out.

As he pressed the button, a small red light flashed on it where he was expecting to see a solid green. With an annoyed huff he pressed it a few more times but to no avail.

“Something must not be attached correctly” he mumbled to himself as he walked over to the suit adjusting the various pieces of it and pressing the button over and over in an attempt to figure out what was wrong.

As he combed over the suit closely he finally found it. Along the back of the suit there was a small padlock that he had apparently left unlocked. Once he clicked it shut he pressed the button and felt a sigh of relief when it finally turned green.

“To think something so small could cause such a big problem”

Without thinking he reached out and touched the small padlock on the suit. As soon as his fingers made contact with the metallic lock the sensors on the suit activated and he didn’t even have a second to comprehend what was happening before the entire suit seemed to open up and engulf him inside it. Sealing shut around him just as quickly as it has opened. At the same time a mechanical voice chimed

TARGET ACQUIRED- CAPTURE SUCCESSFUL

An incredibly tightness gripped his entire frame and as soon as he opened his mouth to call for help a rubber cock rammed itself deep inside his throat. At the same time the inner lining of the suit dissolved his clothing away and tightened against his bare skin, practially fusing with it.

In his panic an emotioneless voice echoed into his ears.

DRONESUIT APPLICATION SUCCESSFUL. INITIATING CONVERSION…

Kyle knew what was going to happen to him but prayed that somehow he could get out of this situation. He could feel the rubber around his cock start shifting, the already tight rubber around his body flowing around every nook and cranny, slipping inside and tingling in pleasure.

A moan slipped past the gag as the rubber started massaging his cock, hitting all the right places in just the right ways. At the same time he felt a large rubber object easily slip into his hole, sliding deeper and deeper until he could barely breath from the sensations.

To the outside observer, there was nothing to see but someone enveloped head to toe in rubber. The room silent and undisturbed but inside the suit was a hurricane of pleasure and lust.

As the pleasure starting approaching its peak Kyle, currently trapped in blind darkness was suddenly assaulted with a flashing and flickering screen that consumed his entire field of vision.

NEURAL ANALYSIS COMPLETE..COMMENCING PROGRAMMING…

Kyle was too lost in the waves of euphoria to comprehend the words. The entire situation and what was happening to him not even a passing thought in his head as his mind was bombarded with programming being blasted into his eyes.

Everything seemed to click into place in his mind and he started to realize that he didnt need to worry about anything. He just needed to obet…Drone just needed to obey…

An eternity passed for Kyle as he was mercilessly stripped of his entire being. His worries, cares, hopes, dreams, everything was methodically washed away as he was reduced to a mindless and subservient rubber drone.

By the time the drone was allowed to finally cum nothing remained of the man it used to be. As it mindlessly shot its fluid into the suit the outer mask shifted slightly, forming into a blacked out gasmask and completing the drone transformation.

DRONE KS-6647 ONLINE…AWAITING ORDERS…

Mitch was the bar’s bartender. Always well dressed and not a drop in his clothes, his bar as his clothes were always clean, when he mixed he does it with so much grace and delicately that it is a show on its own to just watch him mix.

Both men were talking for a while, Steve never realized how his glass was always full even though he was sure to have it empty plenty of time that same day.

-Well, I guess there is no way to change your mind- said Mitch as Steve shock his head to get back to conciousness

-I… guess?…

- what would you say if someone offer you a second chance- said Mitch looking straight into Steve’s eyes - if you were offer to start anew- the gaze was lock into his customer

-I mean it would be great but at this point I don’t think is possible for me - Steve was in his 40’s just unemployed, dumpted and drowned in bills

- did I ask you if it was possible? - said the bartender with a calm soothing voice while he kept cleaning a whisky glass

-well… if somehow it were possible I would love to

-what are you willing to give for a second chance?- the glass was firmly put over the counter

-anything actually, but I don’t have much to give though- a smirk appeared in the face of the bartender

-I guess so, that’s what you let me know while you drank your heart out- Steve felt his face hit with embarrassment, he must have been really drunk because didn’t recall telling anything but he didn’t remember anything since the first glass he drank, everything was a blur

-So… there is a way I can help you. There is… a job opening soon in the bar. You see, we want to expand our services. And you are kind of the person we are looking for to fill one of those spots

Steve fell curious now, he was without a job and at his age and the recession it was going to be hard to find a new one, and now he was being offer

-And what is this position description?

-Oh it’s just working in the bar, not big deal, we don’t need previous experience either - it sounded to good to be true

-ok…? And what would be the pay?

-A new life of course, way better than the one you have, and as you told me that is not a high bar to reach.

Steve was red as a tomato now

-Ok I want to apply

-Good - said Mitch breaking away from Steve- But you will need an induction first, I said you were kinda the person we need, but not quite yet with that body and life you have

-Ha ha it’s kind of difficult to change though, I’m not getting any younger- said Steve as he look at the bartender mixing various ingredients and liquors he haven’t seen before

Oddly we resort of the mixed was a clear drink with a hint of rainbow sparks

-if you want to take the offer I invite you to drink our welcoming drink

Steve looked at the glass, it shine was mesmerizing, it felt as if was getting closer and closer as a sweet aroma engulfed his senses. He didn’t realize how the drink hypnotize him, how he was the one who took the glass and got it closer to him, how no one but him opened his mouth and placed his lips in the borders of the glass, closing his eyes and drinking the liquor.

The drink was warm and felt how it spread across his body, every muscle relaxing, his breathing becoming slower and deeper, his heart pulsating in peace

Mitch watched the scene, now a big smile across his face, he got a new colleague and a was fulfilling his duties. He reached down for a box he proceeded to open, inside there was a gas mask dark as the void. With lenses completely black that wouldn’t let a ray of light through them.

His hands became darker until there were black and dull, then they shine as they were carefully polished.

He took the mask and offered it to Steve

- Ready for induction?

-…- Steve mind was clouded but his body was responsive to anyone who order him anything

- grab this and put it on- said Mitch B01

Steve took the mask in his hands and started to put put it on

When it was in place the lenses turned on like a screen with rainbow spirals on, and a masculine, deep voice invaded Steve’s mind, welcoming him to his new family.

As this was going on his body stood up, Mitch B01 went out the bar and walked to a back door, Steve following him automatically.

They went to the back of the bar, the went down a staircase until they got into a red room

There he was placed and secured, the mask started to spread to the rest of his body, inside the clothes that were cut off by B01.

Then he was left there as the latex cocoon reshape his body.

If someone could see what was happening bellow the latex would have seen how Steve - RB05 was being reshape, the layers of fat being burned for all the energy that was being used to modify his body, though some of it was spared only to be transferred to his new bubble butt ass, all of his body hair became smooth and move to his scalp, his once balding head now full with hair that darkened by the second, only in his groin, mustache, under lip and chin were able to retain a bit of hair.

His arms became leaner but with defined and firm muscles. And the pale skin became tanner and tanner until a rich caramel tone was archived

Even his bones were being morphed, getting shorter as the once 1.9m man reduce to 1.7. The bones of his face became sharper but the tissue over it soften the factions to a boyish look

His hips narrowed a bit leaving his shoulders a little wider.

But his body wasn’t the only thing changing, his cloudy mind became cotton candy filled. He retained only the knowledge useful for his new role. All the memories were gone as he was being reborn. His head was being emptied only to be filled with information for his new position

Steve RB05 didn’t exist anymore, nobody who met the new man would be able to tell who he was formerly.

B01 came back and with one finger touched the rubber suit, it started being absorbed until the new man was fully revealed.

RB05 Steve stood there with an empty gaze, a big smile in his face.

B01 handed him some clothes to wear and present himself itself to the owner

RB05 put on the clothes and followed B01 until they went out to the back alley of the bar were a black van was waiting for them

RB05 got into the van which took it him to the manor of the owner

Once there it was took to the owner red chamber where he was used for the first time.

Now RB05 did its debute with owner and was ready to be one of the rest boys of the bars he owned.