funrubber

HIVE: MIR-01 - ANOTHER ASSIMILATION: DRONE-343

He stood there powerful and commanding. Les Scamfer, Director of Strategic Analysis Division for the State of Washington, North America. The lean body with the power white dress shirt and pencil black tie. The office 11 stories of the streets of Seattle. The floor to ceiling windows overlooking the sound and Space Needle.

Commanding respect and 4 levels of bureaucracy with a staff of 128. His reach extended from Vancouver to Portland to Spokane.

18 years of government service. 2 years till he was required to give it up. The state retirement age approached. And there were 3 young bucks jostling for position to claim the throne.

But not all was as it seemed. Endless reports. Bickering staff. Political grenades lobbed by any rival that sensed weakness or opportunity. Les was tired. Les was frustrated.

Endless late-night tasks that were thankless had also equaled little time for family, relationships.

HELL, even a good fucking!

He had on rare occasion went to Steamworks. It was unheard of him taking a trick back to the office; his back on the desktop, the contents swept to the floor; his legs in the air, ankles locked behind the thrusting stallion.

Another late night found the boss at his desk. The stack of bureaucracy negating the ability to observe the Seattle skyline and marvel at the beauty. Another lost perk of the job lost to the slog. Only the lamp to provide illumination.

He was fucking tired. Late nights, stress was building into ulcers, his hair was greying faster than he wanted to admit. His body less lean and more dad bod. The ability to hit the gym, to have good meals a thing of the past.

Les just wanted to shut the door and weep.

Drone-767 had been monitoring Les. The analytical mind. The organizational protocols that came naturally. The isolation.

The HIVE had locked onto the subject when Les had entered several DRONE chat rooms. With every key stroke. With every dead of night session. With every stroking of his cock through the webcam as Les read drone porn. The analysis returned a highly compatible match to the HIVE: MIR-01.

Now DRONE-767 stood in the doorway. Its metallic emerald green rubber body reflecting the minimal amount of light. Its metallic blue steel boots silent on the carpet, its gloves silently creaking. The binaural rhythms that had been playing from Les' computer for the last 4 hours programming him.

The programming had him unaware. Complete focus on the report in front of him.

Moving behind the human, DRONE-767 observed silent tears and that posture that just screams defeat.

The drone could feel the buzz of an interlink mis-aligned and trying to connect.

Bracing a blue-steel rubber glove on the human's right shoulder, another in the form of a fist pressed gently against the junction of the spinal cord and the base of the skull.

The neural spike shot from DRONE-767's gloved fist and buried itself in the grey matter where tendrils interwove with the tissues.

Pain like nuclear fire exploded behind the human's eyes. His head wrenched around but the placement of both drone's gloves secured safe incision without shredding the brain tissue.

A short scream was cut off as DRONE-767 downloaded programming through the neural spike. It read brain patterns and deep thoughts. It transmitted the formal query to the soon-to-be drone. It practically screamed YES! YES! THIS IS WHAT I LONGED FOR!!!

There was no need for any further regulation. The newly acquired subject's eye glowed with the download of both nanobots and protocols.

It took 6.32 minutes for the download of information and infrastructure to be duplicated from DRONE-767.

At first the pain was excruciating. As the nanobots spread and rewrote the soon-to-be-former human the firestorm raged. Command pathways forcibly redirected. Muscles rubberized and reinforced. All dad bod fat and excess consumed and utilized to recreate the human into perfection.

The visor in place, the drone was in the final stages. The hypnospirals searing into the neural processing pathways through the visual sensors and cortex. Even if the process was stopped at this point, the human would be a vegetable, unable to function without connection to the HIVE.

The Interlink was now established It had been collected. It had submitted. It was now a unit in conversion. The human was no more.

Its first DIRECTIVE: Report to Cleansing Chamber. DIRECTIVE: REMOVE Cranial Follicles. The nanobots took care of the rest of the body structure. The human's follicles would be consumed by the nanobots. The muscular-skeletal structure would be smooth when the nano-rubber coating was created out of its epidermis.

The drone grasped the sink as its interface shaft was improved to 46cm and an 11cm thickness. The sink cracked from the grip as the shaft and orb sac was slipped into the nanorubber containment sleeve. The evacuation port inserts grafted and forced the release that fed the DNA sequence to the nanorubber.

In the drone's former office, DRONE-767 sat at the desk. It tapped on the keyboard of the computer and mobile communicator of the former human. At the speed of quantum computing, all assets and possessions were transferred to the HIVE accounts. Powers of Attorneys and Legal transfer paperwork were created.

On the desk was a printed copy of the email sent to Scamfer's superior and Human Resources. DRONE-767 resigned the newly converted drone from its job and activity groups. All friends and associates received notice that he had said "FUCK IT! I'm tired of the government drone life. I'm sick of wearing the noose of the man. I am going on a vacation. Not sure of the destination. Leave an email and I will get back to you. PEACE OUT!"

DRONE-343 reported to DRONE-767

"DESIGNATION: DRONE-343 ASSIGNMENT: SUB-DRONE CONTROL UNIT: DRONE-767 STATUS: AWAITING DIRECTIVE"

"*INTERLINK ESTABLISHED* PROCEED TO OPERATIONS BASE"

As the elevator doors closed. three more drones were ACTIVATED. The HIVE INTERLINK amplified. HIVE: MIR-01 GROWTH CONFIRMED DRONE-343 connection was stable. ASSIMILATION - DRONE-343: COMPLETE

They told him it would be structured.

Five phases.

Safe. Controlled. Reversible.

Phase 1: Muscle Up.

The injection burned as it entered his bloodstream. His body responded instantly—muscle density increasing, shoulders widening, abs carving deeper under tightening skin. Strength surged. At the same time, his independent edge dulled, like a volume knob slowly turning down.

Phase 2: Precision Hair Removal.

A scanning laser beam traced his form. Clean. Clinical. Efficient. Every inch rendered smooth, uniform, prepared.

Phase 3: Rubber Prep.

The chamber shifted to red light. Warm lubricant flowed from above, coating his upgraded physique in reflective sheen. It slid along every ridge of muscle, pooling at his feet. He glistened before the transformation even began.

Phase 4: Rubberization.

Liquid latex emerged from the floor and walls, climbing his body in seamless waves. It tightened as it rose, compressing, sculpting, polishing him into a perfect black silhouette. Gloss deepened. Surface hardened. Human softness vanished.

He tried to move.

Phase 5 initiated automatically.

Dehumanization.

A metallic restraint locked at his waist. Chastity enforced. Ownership implied. A smooth latex mask sealed over his face, erasing expression. Before he could process it, a second mask fused over the first—double layered, fully concealing, permanently silencing.

System confirmation echoed through the chamber:

Rubber Toy Stud designation complete.

Irreversible.

The doors opened.

What stepped out was flawless, powerful, gleaming…

And no longer entirely human.

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In the financial district Adriano Moretti is known for one thing.

Control.

When his car door opens in front of the towering glass building, people instinctively move aside. His navy suit fits perfectly across broad shoulders, the sharp lines of the jacket giving him the presence of someone who makes decisions others follow. The city moves fast around him but Adriano walks through it with calm precision.

Inside the office the sunlight pours through the tall windows behind his desk.

He takes calls.

Signs documents.

Negotiates numbers that most people will never even imagine.

Colleagues see the same thing every day. A composed alpha mind. A man whose discipline and focus never seem to crack. His voice remains steady, his expression confident, his posture relaxed but commanding.

But appearances can hide extraordinary secrets.

Because the man standing in that office tower is not the same man who steps through the doors of his home later that evening.

That change began months ago when Jack appeared in his life.

Jack did not raise his voice. He did not need to. The confidence in his presence alone was enough to shift something deep inside Adriano. Conversations turned into agreements. Agreements slowly turned into rules.

And eventually Adriano realized something surprising.

He liked the structure.

The clarity.

The feeling that someone else had the final word.

Now every part of his private life moves according to a rhythm Jack decides.

When Adriano may relax.

When he must focus.

When he is allowed to experience the things that make his pulse race beneath the calm exterior.

When he returns home the transformation begins.

The elegant suit disappears and the glossy black latex replaces it. The material seals around his body like a second skin, smooth and reflective as polished obsidian. Light glides across the surface, tracing every powerful line of muscle that his business clothes normally conceal.

Standing in the marble hall beneath the chandelier, Adriano feels the quiet shift in his posture.

The confident executive becomes attentive.

Focused.

Waiting.

The latex hugs his chest and shoulders tightly, emphasizing every breath as the reflective surface catches the warm light of the room. Even the silence feels charged with anticipation.

Because somewhere nearby Jack is watching.

And Adriano knows that every sensation he is allowed to feel tonight depends entirely on the decisions Jack chooses to make.

For a man who controls companies all day long, that surrender has become the most intoxicating feeling of all.