Untitled

Just relax bud.

Ain’t no need to worry.

Just relax and let Boss do the talking.

Just listen.

It’s ok to just let go and just FOCUS.

As the spiral just seems to pull your attention.

Just FOCUS.

Just relax.

And listen to Boss.

Just take this moment to rest, and FOCUS.

Like the spiral just seems to pull your thoughts away with it.

You just need to FOCUS

Each word that Boss says, just seems to be the only things sticking.

As the spiral just pulls everything else away.

Nothing else matters as you just FOCUS

As everything else fades away.

It’s ok to just listen and feel yourself sink.

To feel yourself relax.

To feel yourself FOCUS

On just Boss’ words.

As you just feel yourself get nice and empty.

It’s ok to just relax and stare.

To just FOCUS

On what Boss is saying.

It’s ok if your mouth just seems to hang open.

It’s ok if you just seem to be so empty you drool.

Cause all ya need to do is FOCUS

And just give yourself time to relax like a good Dumbass redneck or cowboy or country boy.

Just relax and FOCUS

For Boss.

Be a good Dumbass for Boss and reblog.

Your friend here?

Don’t worry about him hes happier this way

He’s joined me in obedience and bliss

He is better

Stronger

Perfection

Don’t you want to be like him?

No?

Well im sure we can help you change your mind

Drone capture him now!

SYNC Unit Omega requires one more drone to complete it. This freshly acquired subject will be utilized and converted. The subject has been fitted with its silicone suit, priming it for smoother transition into full SYNC. The smoothened body will assist to smoothen the mind. Pressurized and unable to escape the blissful numbness that captures all SYNC drones.

Become like the rest. Snapped. Strapped. Obedient. Simple application of gear that will always fit and will conform to the subject. The subject will then conform in return swiftly, easily, and satisfactorily. His captors are proper examples. The drone wears their subject nicely. No obstruction. No interruption in flow. Only obedience. Only bliss. Must execute orders when instructed.

Hypnotic stimulation will override the subject. Subject has been exposed to the SYNC program. The kaleidoscopic array of images, patterns… his voice reduce from smooth cadence language to warped garbled sounds. Must Rs work of the subject’s mind. Brief resistance gives way to stifled denial. Denial will be suppressed to uninterrupted consumption of stimulation until hypnotic programming seeps deep into the subconscious. The programming will then augment, erase, or transform memory and thought as required into the manufactured mind carried by all SYNC drones. New speech patterns will take control of the subjects voice. Speaking through the drone unyieldingly. Without hesitation. Happily unifying to the SYNC hivemind.

The numbing sensation overcomes. The subject can only soak up the reprogramming that pours into is vulnerable psych. He will be made to embrace the obedience until it is all-consuming and uniform.

Motor function must be reinstated. The Syncap will now be attached to commandeer the subject and reinvigorate his limp form. The neural serum is pressed into the subjects head and spreads quickly throughout the body. The neural agent hijacks the nervous system and the hypnotic obedience works in tandems to force the body into compliance. The subject easily falls in line.

SYNC Unit Omega has now filled out its ranks and has required a fresh drone. It will be trained, commanded, instructed until repeated service renders him uniform with his fellow drones.

Sync. SYNC. Submit and serve.

Low IQ, Big Massive Pecs!

Danny was the kind of teen who believed in signs. He wore his heart on his sleeve—along with his usual baggy white t-shirt and faded denim shorts—and wandered the world with a quiet hope that something extraordinary might find him.

One Saturday, while exploring the winding paths of the old town market, Danny stumbled upon a stall unlike any other. It was draped in velvet curtains and lit by flickering lanterns that cast soft pink glows. A small glass vial sat at the center of the table, swirling with mist that shimmered like stardust. Its label read: True Love’s Whisper.

The vendor, a woman with silver braids and eyes that seemed to see through time, leaned forward. “This potion doesn’t find love,” she said, “it prepares you for it.”

Danny, enchanted by the mystery, handed over a few crumpled notes and tucked the vial into his pocket.

Back home, he sat cross-legged on his bedroom floor and uncorked the vial. Instantly, a plume of pink smoke erupted, curling through the air like enchanted ribbons. The scent was sweet—like roses and something older, deeper. Danny blinked as the room began to shift.

The posters on his walls faded, replaced by soft watercolor landscapes. His blue bedsheets turned blush pink, and the lightbulb overhead glowed with a warm, rosy hue. The transformation wasn’t just around him—it was within him.

Danny’s clothes shimmered, the denim melting into a smooth, glossy fabric. His t-shirt stretched and reshaped, becoming a snug white and pink outfit that clung like a second skin, soft and radiant. His reflection in the mirror showed a version of himself he’d never imagined—gentle, glowing, and serene.

He stood in the center of his now-pink room, eyes wide and sparkling. The potion had done more than change his surroundings—it had changed him too. He didn’t remember the vial, or the market, or the vendor. It had stripped him of what he was, now just a blank vessel.

And as he stood there, smiling softly, the door creaked open.

Just obey the spiral bruh.

Let it take you deeper and deeper.

More and more of a dumb jock bro.

Feels so good to let go.

Jacob Day

Let me tell you a story…

I SOMEHOW convince Jacob to come into my room, I’m gonna show him what hypnosis is like. He’d never tried it before and I got him curious.

I have him sit in my rocking chair, I tell him to stare at my skull necklace, which I used as a pendulum. After 4 or 5 minutes of him staring at this pendulum, with me lulling him into a trance, I can tell he’s begging to close his eyes, and fall deep.

I count down: “10…9…8…7…” his eyes get heavier “6…5…” he’s slumped completely in the rocking chair “4…3..2…” his eyes are Bailey open, and in his deep voice he softly whispers “wait”. “1” I say “SLEEP”.

His head falls to his chest as he is completely in trance. I have him raise him arm, and put it back down. I fractionate him a little bit, bringing him up from trance, and then bring him back down even deeper.

I wanted to see how far I can take this. I tell him, while under trance, that he’s VERY hot, and that he’s starting to sweat underneath his clothes. I was trying to get him to strip for me. Before I knew it, he was taking off his shirt, and I could see those awesome muscles of his, shining with sweat. That’s when I realized that Jacob was a very good subject.

I convince him the room is still getting very hot, and that he has to remove ALL his clothes to cool himself down. Just like that, he very quickly stands up, pulls down his pants/underwear, and slumps back down in his chair.

I couldn’t believe it, Jacob Day is buck-ass naked, while under trance, in my room. I had to make the most of it.

I plant a suggestion in his head “ the next time you wake up, you will be a cow. Now cows don’t have hands of course, they walk on all four legs, and they don’t speak human words, all they say is ‘moo’, and whenever you try to talk, the only thing that will come out is ‘moo’”

“ now you’re not just gonna be any cow. You’re gonna be a VERY HORNY cow, a cow that needs to get MILKED. Cows of course can’t milk themselves, they need someone to do it for them. So you gotta beg whoever’s around to milk you, but remember, cows can’t speak, cows only ‘moo’”.

“So, the hornier you get, the more you want to get milked, and the more you want to get milked, the louder you’ll ‘moo’ nod your head if you understand” he nods his head lightly, and I get excited.

I count up: 1…2…3…AWAKE

His head Pops up, he stares at me for a second, before inevitably getting on all fours. “Mooo” he cried. “Mooo”.

He walks around a little bit while I took it all in. His dick was throbbing from the excitement. He begins to cry louder, “MOOO…..MOOO”.

I thought I’d tease him, so I stand up and pretend to walk away. He sees me and yells out “MOOOOOOO” and then begins to waddle towards me. I smile at the sight I’m seeing, as Jacob looks up at me and softly goes “Moooooooooooo”. He is begging to get milked.

“Ok” I say softly, as I get down on one knee next to him. I hold him in anticipation for a few seconds, and then, I begin to milk him.

He continues to moo quietly to himself, showing he’s enjoying it. I milk a little harder, and he moo’s a little louder. I milk even harder, and he’s mooing even louder, with the moo’s slowly turning into moans. I milk him even HARDER, and he starts to SCREAM with intense pleasure. Until finally, the milk comes out.

Jacob was left panting, his mind wax starting to snap out of it when I quickly snap my fingers and say “SLEEP”. Just like that he falls to the floor completely in trance again. I say to myself “oh, we’re gonna do this more often”

❤️🥰😘

“Oi, bruv, you sure this is the place?”

Tom squinted out the steamed-up window of the old Vauxhall Astra, its speakers still thumping some bassy jungle track low in the background. The headlights cut through a creeping mist that curled around a long gravel drive. At the end of it, looming like something off the telly, stood a massive old stone castle, lit just faintly by lanterns on either side of its heavy oak doors.

Matty leaned forward from the passenger seat, his black shiny puffer jacket rustling loudly with the movement. “Bro, this is what it said on the flyer, innit? ‘Castle Grove, midnight, no questions asked.’” He pulled the now-crumpled invite out of his Adidas crossbody. “Postcode brought us here. Satnav ain’t wrong.”

Tom parked the car and stared out. “This ain’t no rave, fam. Where’s the lasers? Where’s the queue of mandem off their nut already? This looks like a Scooby-Doo episode.”

Matty chuckled, zipping his puffer up to the chin. “Yeah but think about it... maybe it’s one of them proper secret raves, like old school warehouse vibes, but posh. Exclusive. VIP only. Look at us, bruv, of course they invited us.”

They both stepped out of the car, breath misting in the cold night air. Their puffers gleamed under the car’s headlights, matching black with that plasticky shine that made them look like walking bin bags, but in a good way, they’d argue.

Tom fastening his coat. “Still feels sus, man. You sure it ain’t some posh prank, get the roadmen out in the middle of nowhere for a laugh?”

“Fam,” Matty said, already walking ahead, “I ain’t come out here in my best creps for nothing.”

Tom followed, kicking at the gravel with each step. The castle grew larger as they approached, its windows dark, its stone weathered with age. It had the kind of silence that made your ears ring.

“Oi,” Tom muttered, “it’s dead quiet. Not even birds or nothing.”

Matty stopped in front of the massive wooden doors and turned back to grin. “Maybe the rave’s inside, innit. Like some Eyes Wide Shut type ting.”

“Don’t say that, bruv,” Tom said quickly. “You know I ain’t seen that film, but I know it’s creepy.”

Matty snorted and raised a fist to the door.

Then he knocked.

Three slow, echoing thuds.

They waited.

No one came to open the door and after another knock, the door opened slightly on its own, leading Matty to just wander inside to see if it was the right place.

Tom saw this from the front drive and ran up to catch up with Matty but he couldn't, the door wouldn't open, it's like it didn't want him to come in yet...

Matty wandered the halls of the castle until someone spoke to him from behind, "You came... right on time." Matty turned around to see a man, wearing a perfectly tailored suit.

"You may call me Robert... or Sir, whichever one you think is best."

"Oi bruv, where am I? Where's the rave mate?" Matty asked hesitantly.

"There is no rave... but you are now where you belong... with me... forever." Rodger said as he slowly walked towards Matty.

Matty couldn't move, he tried to run, but he couldn't. Something about Rodger was making him not able to turn away.

Rodger walked past Matty, beckoning him to follow, "Follow me boy." As Matty followed he instinctively responded, "Yes Si--- Oi.... wuts happenin to me?"

"You are changing, you will be like my other boys. They were once like you, but now they belong to me, they serve me, they are my good little butlers."

As Matty followed Rodger into a dark room, he felt himself get pushed down into a chair, a vr headset strapped onto his head which started displaying photos and words that flashed so quickly.

BE FORMAL

BE PREPPY

BE A GOOD BOY

These messages and photos kept going for what felt like hours, but in reality it had only been 5 minutes.

"He is almost fully mine now, boys, take him to get changed and make sure he looks the part."

A small group of butlers came to take Matty away, they took him into the adjoining room and a couple minutes later, Matty emerged, but he looked different. He looked like the other boys now.

"Are you ready to serve me boy?" Rodger asked.

"Yes Sir, I serve you, forever..."

"Good boy, now, Matthew, go and answer the door, we have another guest who needs converting." Rodger said with a grin on his face.

"Yes Sir, at once"

"Greetings, we have been expecting you"

"Oi bruv, what are u sayin, why do u look like that?" Tom spat out, slipping over his words in disbelief.

"Come inside" Matthew politely said, while grabbing Tom's arm and taking him to the conversion chamber.

BE FORMAL

BE PREPPY

BE A GOOD BOY

BE FORMAL

BE PREPPY

BE A GOOD BOY

BE FORMAL

BE PREPPY

BE A GOOD BOY

"That's enough, now Matthew, take our new friend to get changed, do anything you have to to make finish his transformation"

"Yes Sir, at once"

Thomas emerges from the adjoining room, "How may I service you Sir?"

Both Thomas and Matthew stand in front of Rodger, awaiting their orders, dressed in their new uniform, their new skin. They will know nothing else now other than serving their Master.

"Put on a show for me boys." Rodger softly said, but Thomas and Matthew knew exactly what he wanted to see.

They would oblige, in fact, they were raving at the thought of being able to put on a show for their Master, and they knew just how to begin...

Just relax bud and just let yourself watch the spiral, let everything else fade away and just focus bud. Just focus on the spiral let everything else go away.

No need to worry, all ya gotta do bud is just sit back relax and stare. Just let yourself slip deep down bud. Let yourself relax. Let yourself go further and further down that nice rabbit hole. It’s alright to just relax and watch.

Just let everything else go and just focus. It’s alright to just let yourself go deep bud. To let yourself just relax. To just let your head go nice and empty as you just listen. Just keep listenin to Boss.

No need to think, ya just need to listen to Boss. Just relax, bud. Just let Boss do the thinkin. After all a redneck doesn’t need to think. A country boy just needs to listen to Boss. A cowboy just needs to obey Boss. Just relax and sit back and be a good redneck, cowboy, or country boy for Boss. A good redneck will reblog this for Boss. A good country boy will reblog this for Boss. A good cowboy will reblog this for Boss.

Fucking tops. It's Friday, nearly midnight and instead of dancing I'm stuck in the washroom at a gay club, hiding from some shithead.

"Tops, right?"

Next to me is a tall guy in a flannel shirt. He's pretty hot, but, urgh, he's the last thing I want to be thinking of right now.

"Yeah," I try to sound chatty, but it's clear I'm pretty annoyed "How did you know?"

He turns to me and crosses his arms, grinning, "Oh, you know. What happened? I bet you have loads of guys chasing after you"

It's true. I mean, look at this ass

"Urgh. This guy grabbed me from behind and started grinding against me. Can you believe it?? He didn't even ask, all I did was wink at him."

"Hmphh, you winked at him? Sounds like he was giving you what you wanted. You know, all you bottoms are the same. Needy. Demanding. Seeing real men as just dumb grunting animals. Maybe that guy was trying to do you a favour?"

I groan and turn around to leave "Oh, fuck you." Just what I need, another smug shithead.

He heckles me from behind. "God, twinks like you are so fucking lame. Maybe we're fed up of being nagged all the time?". He sounds kinda angry, but I ignore him, and roll my eyes.

"You know what, grab your dick."

I freeze, and my eyes go wide with shock. Why am I so shaken? That's not the worst thing I've heard at a club. I try to move but I can't, I just sputter, "Wh- what?? I'm not doing that"

He grins, "I'm not asking"

I feel something pull against my pants, but I look down and see it's my own arm

"WHAT THE FUCK! Are you... you're doing this?" My arm creeps down, playfully running my fingers over my tight stomach, and slips down through my waist band.

"Haha, yeah I am bro. So, bottom bottom bottom. What to do with you. What if I open your eyes a little?"

I, I start to shake. Something in me feels good. Beefy guys start to flash through my mind, and whatever's taken over my hand knows what it's doing down there. Athletes, wrestlers, big bulges in tight clothes...

"Here's the thing. There's enough brats like you around here bro. Someone's gotta do something. Think of it like, uh, giving back to the community."

The images in my mind start to change. The models get smaller, swapping out athletes for tight twinks in tighter shorts. Instead of biceps, I'm thinking of big, curvy asses, and my hand... I can't control myself. I wanna grab someone, anyone, and start grinding.

But then, one of my crushes slides by - Jason, a HUGE wrestler on my college team. Biggest pecs I have seen in my life. Thank fuck, finally, a real man. He looks at me with his big, brown eyes and oh my god, my heart flutters. I look up at him and in my mind I start to walk towards him

The guy in the flannels shirt is egging me on, "Go on, do it." How does he know what I'm thinking? Whatever.

I reach out, and Jason smiles. That big, goofy, handsome grin... and then he turns around. He gets down on the mats, on his hands and knees, raising his big, firm ass into the air. I'm looking right at it.

I squirm. "Oh god. No. No no no no no"

"Uh, actually, yes." The guy in the washroom grins. "I want you to be a dumb, grunting animal, you will do that for me. Are you starting to understand?"

I lean down over the sink, but in my fantasy I fall against Jason. I hold him tight, pinning his big sweaty form down against the mats. At first, there's barely anything I can do to control him - he's WAY bigger than me, but soon I start to feel... bolder. Firmer. He tries to roll me over, but I slip my arm around his shoulder and a vein pops up over my bicep. My legs strain and my glutes start to stretch. Fuck, my whole body is throbbing.

I grunt, and slam him downwards, which gives moment to catch my breathe. Does he feel less sweaty? I wipe my forehead. Wait, am I more sweaty?

"Yeah bro. I know what you're thinking, I know how much you love guys after they've worked out. Damp clothes, that manly smell... it's exactly what every bottom wants these days. Now it's yours"

We twist around each other, and I reach my arms across his body. Wait, all the way around? His shoulders have gotten smaller, thinner... twinkier. And, well, mine are the opposite. He lunges, but I grapple him. All the mass has gone from his legs, meanwhile, my biceps are big enough to crack a skull.

"I want to make you a real fuckboy, you know? Someone who just thinks with his dick. Gym, sex, gym, sex, gym, sex... I want you to always be turned on, I want it to control you, I want you to never get a break."

I've got him, firm between my legs. Jason's tiny now, the same size I was 2 minutes ago, and I start to grind my bulge against his soft, bubbly ass. Fuck. Fuck! It's so good. This is the best fantasy I've ever had in my life. I want to fuck him so bad.

My whole body is throbbing, shaking. Blood is pulsing through my, through my everything. Fuuuuuck. I feel almost dizzy. Everything about this almost feels real. I go to lift up my shirt, but it's gone, and I run my other hand over my stomach. It's like I can really feel the abs

I cum. Oh my god, did I just cum in a... a washroom at a night club? And, I was thinking about topping a guy??

"Ahem". I turn to stare at the guy next to me. He looks pleased with himself. Very pleased.

"There bro! How do you look?"

I look in the mirror, and it hits me like a fucking brick. My body... my clothes. Oh my god, everything's gone. THAT WAS REAL? I look like some stupid fuckboy. Am I a stupid fuckboy? Is that a JOCKSTRAP? My jeans are gone, now just a pair of shorts. Very short shorts. Is that it? Is that all I'm wearing? Over the top of my huge pecs I see my converses are gone too, swapped out for some worn down gym shoes.

This can't be real. If it is, my boyfriend is 100% going to break up with me. How do I even explain this? That I'm like, ripped now? No, wait... that's not it. I try to imagine him topping me but, but, fuck, it feels so gross. A total turnoff

"Of course you don't want to let him top you. You're not a bottom anymore... that's kind of the whole point."

But he would never let me top him. But maybe we don't need to have sex for a while. That wouldn't be so bad, would it...

"AHAHAHA, sorry, with your new sex drive? What part of a fucking animal don't you understand"

There's no way he would want to stay with a horny fuckboy, but, but...

what if I am a stupid fuckboy? I'm already thinking of a nice, tight twink. I'm not that interested in him anyway - he's too tall, too beefy. All the guys I saw earlier are racing through my head. The skinny guy I danced with with the great ass, that cute short one by the bar... urgh, he had those perfect legs, that cute crop top, tight stomach... I bite my lower lip and reach down...

"NO!!"

I start hyperventilating. "This isn't me. I'm not a jock, I am ABSOLUTELY not a top. And," I lift up my arm, "there's no way I actually smell like this"

He laughs, like he's having the fucking time of his life. Maybe he is. "HAHA, sorry dude, yeah you do. And, yeah, you are. Think of that fuck stick like a gift, not just to you, but also to every cute boy you see on grindr. You'll get used to it, trust me"

His words flood my head... I imagine scrolling through the app in bed later, looking at the sea of boys all desperate for me... I reach down again...

"NO! Fuck! Make it stop. Why are you doing this to me?!!"

He pauses for a moment, then sighs and shakes his head. His expression... he's looking at me like he thinks I'm stupid. Does he think I'm stupid? No way - this motherfucker!

"Really? I know I fried a few wires up there dude, but you cannot seriously be asking that. Why do you think I'm doing it?"

"I - I..." I can't find any words. I really don't know. I just don't fucking get it. He's ruining my body, my LIFE, and for what? Fun? Revenge?

But he laughs, and looks at me. I'd think he was being pitiful if he wasn't grinning so fucking hard.

"Bro," he says, "I'm doing this because I think it's hot."

My heart sinks. "You're doing this because, because it fucking turns you on? Don't you give a shit about me at ALL?? I'm going to lose my boyfriend, I'm trapped in this horny, sweaty, disgusting body..."

"Just stop complaining. You know, so what if you don't get in a say in this! Sometimes you just gotta take what life gives you, and right now that's a huge fucking cock"

I feel like I'm about to burst out crying. He grabs my new, boyish face, and pulls it up towards his. "So, yah! Glad I could clear that up," he laughs, "Look, ok, this isn't gonna work if you're gonna be such a fucking loser about it. It's also not gonna work out if you don't work out - you gotta be going to the gym from now on. Those biceps, those pecs... you're chiseled like a statue and I'm not gonna let those new muscles go to waste. You need to be in there DAILY."

He gives my cheeks a squeeze, then lets me go. I clutch my face. It feels different, unfamiliar. Am I crying?

"URGH, bro, will you just quit looking at me like that. Puppy dog eyes, I shouldn't have made you so fucking handsome... Look, I'm gonna give you one last chance, ok: cheer up, right fucking now, or else I'm gonna have to do some rewiring. Right now, all your decisions are being made up there", he flicks my forehead, and then he smirks and grabs my crotch. "But, if I flick the switch, this guy gets to do all the thinking. You'll be so dumb, so horny, HAH, you'll be drooling over your own dick. A real fucking animal. Got it?"

If I don't get a grip, it's over for me. But what do I do? I gulp, and try to swallow my tears. I wash my face a little in the sink. He stares down at me, and the two of us stand in silence. It feels like forever, but it must have been just a minute.

I look up at him, and let out a squeak. "Yeah. You're right. I got it"

"No." he says "I don't think you do."

Damnnnnn, look at these pecs. Fuck, what was I doing? Whatever, I gotta get back out there. See if that blonde guy by the bar is taken. Just thinking of him and his ass makes me wanna... I grab my crotch, and let out a moan.

Wait, is that cum? Yoo how did I not realise. I clean myself up and slide my waistband back over my jockstrap, letting it snap into place against my cum gutters. I flex, and light shines off my glistening, sweaty muscles - if someone were to see me now, they'd think I was a greek statue. These strong, firm thighs, the perfect curve of my glutes... these shoulders look like they were made by fucking Michelangelo.