Mass Produced Rubber Pups.

Cursing his luck, the young man knew he wouldn’t be able to follow the figure from this far away, not in the fog and ran after it. He rushed into the fog and immediately noticed that it felt strange. He could still breath fine but there was a faint taste to it, one that he couldn’t place. The scent hung in the back of his throat and seemed to nag at his mind. He looked around for the figure but couldn’t see anything in the fog. He continued walking deeper in, the scent never leaving him. He lost track of time as he wandered through the fog, his mind slowly drifting as he walked.

Hours had passed before a cracking twig broke him free of his stupor. He turned around to see the figure, now clearly clad in right rubber and gasmask, its’ eyes hidden behind thick darkened lenses. As strange as the figure was, he didn’t feel afraid. He didn’t really feel alarmed in any way, quite the opposite. The figure approached him slowly and extended its’ hand toward him. He looked down and saw that it was handing him a mask similar to its’ own. Without thinking he took the mask from the figure and held it in his hands. The rubber felt amazing to this touch and he found himself growing hard just thinking about it. He wanted to feel it more, he HAD to feel more. With little hesitation, he lifted up the mask and wrapped it around his face. The smell of the fog, the smell of rubber, intensified tenfold as it invaded his very being. The feel of the rubber on his face and head nearly made him cum on the spot but he needed more. He looked through the dark lenses of his mask at the rubbery figure in front of him. He wanted to feel the rubber all over him, he NEEDS to feel the rubber. He NEEDS to follow. He NEEDS to obey. He NEEDS to be a DRONE.

He NEEDS to be a DRONE He NEEDS to Obey

He IS a DRONE He WILL Obey

DRONE WILL OBEY… DRONE WILL OBEY… DRONE WILL OBEY…

Drone stood there for a few moments as the rubber invaded its’ mind when finally it spoke.

“Drone 11504 AWAITING ORDERS” “Drone 11504 WILL OBEY”

I would get home, and the voice would tell me that I needed to be plugged, how much happier I would be with my hole filled like it should be.  I began to put it in as soon as I got home.  I would be plugged whenever I was home.  The last thing I would do before leaving would be to remove it.

At work, I would be in the restroom, and I would hear the voice telling me I should be plugged always.  So I started wearing my plug always.  I was was hornier that way.  I would only remove it as needed - to make sure my hole was clean and ready to refill.

I was more productive at work.  I was happier than I’d been.

I kept seeing myself in rubber in every mirror I’d pass.  The voice would go on “You are a rubberboy - why aren’t you in rubber?  I’d get home and my ass would throb thinking of rubber… So I said to myself, fuck it, and started wearing rubber at home.

I would get geared up, relax, hard as a rock, eat my food, watch tv, clean the house - all while wearing my rubber suit.  At the end of the night I would have a wank, clean myself off, then fall asleep in my rubber.  In the morning, I would get up, shower with it on, remove my suit while showering, hang it to dry and head off to work.

The voice wouldn’t stop.  You should be in your gear.  It makes you feel so good doesn’t it?  You’re a rubberboy.  You NEED to be in rubber all the time.

I was wearing my plug all the time already and it wasn’t hurting my work, but I was worried about doing more than that.  But I thought maybe there’s a middle ground.  I decided to buy a sleeveless catsuit…this way I wouldn’t have to worry about sweat running down my arms at work…  Yeah - that would do it.  The voice was quiet as I searched on my computer for the right gear.  It didn’t seem to have an opinion on brand, color, or style.  But I knew what I needed had to be black, heavy, and tight,

The voice knew I needed to feel enclosed in my gear.

The new suit arrived surprisingly quickly.  I had also bought a larger plug without even thinking about it.

My routing grew accordingly.  Wake up.  Shower. Remove plug.  Clean fullsuit.  Clean plug. Clean self.  Do calisthenics and such while naked.  Reinsert plug. Put on sleeveless suit.  Go to work.

All the while I was happy and horny.  I didn’t need to socialize. I didn’t care about other people.  Just my work, and my gear, and my routine. And the voice.  Always the voice.  I would find myself rubbing my crotch during the day at work.  Enjoying it being trapped an unreachable under my rubber. I’d find myself clenching my butt around the plug, gently fucking myself now and again during the day.  I’d enjoy the feeling of the precum dribbling out of my dick under the rubber, lubricating it.

It was some time before I realized just how scheduled this behavior really was.

And the voice kept me company all along. 

I would take care of the necessities of life geared in rubber. I paid my billed, cooked my food, surfed the web, watched tv, all while wearing my rubber suit.  The voice told me I didn’t need television.  I spent more time on rubber sites.  I started writing rubber stories. and I never stroked my uncovered dick. I would get off…but only under my rubber.  The voice told me to order heavy rubber gloves.  I ordered them.  I ordered a larger plug.  The voice told me when to piss.  When to shower. When to exercise.

I was becoming dependent on it. The only time it wasn’t whispering to me was when I was naked between suits.

And the silence was deafening.  I NEEDED to be in rubber.  I NEEDED the Voice in my head.

I would pull the zip tab of the suit up and the Voice would tell me “Good boy.  Good rubberboy.” And I would answer “I’m a good boy.  I’m a good rubberboy.”  And my head would swim and my mind would open up and the Voice would talk to me once more.

The Voice demanded a rubber sheath for my cock under my rubber suit. I wore a rubber sheath.  My cock stayed harder longer in the sheath.

The Voice directed me to suck the cum out of the sheath every time I shot now. My routine had this occurring once weekly at this point.  Monday morning before showering.

The Voice spoke of rubber socks encasing my feet at all time.  My feet disappeared under thick rubber socks.  I learned to enjoy the sweat pooling up inside them.

The Voice told me that rubber covered feet should be in rubber boots whenever possible.  I procured rubber riding boots and wore them once I walked in the door to my home.

Whenever I was at home the Voice had be online cruising rubber sites. Living more and more in this mysterious ethereal rubber world it had growing in my head and less and less in the real world.

The Voice told me my hands needed to be controlled by rubber.  I bought heavy rubber gloves that went on right after my rubber boots.

I was looking more and more like the vision of myself that the Voice would show me in the mirror.  I was thinner. I was more muscular. I looked more and more anonymous and less and less individual.

The Voice needed my hole filled deeper and more full, so an even larger plug was bought.

The Voice commanded that my body be more tightly constrained, so a harness was procured.

My productivity at work continued to rise as I focused more and more singularly on serving my company’s needs.  I processed forms faster.  I suggested improvements to procedures.  I took direction with enthusiasm and ease.  And the Voice reminded me that I was a good unit; a good rubber unit.  And my mind would twist, and I would hear myself say “I’m a good unit.  I’m a good rubber unit.”  And my cock with twitch in near orgasm and more precum would flow into my rubber suit.

And I would strip, and I would wear my suit and I would wear my boots, and I would wear my gloves and I would wear my harness.  And the voice would say ‘You’re a good unit. a good rubber unit.”  And I hear myself repeating “I’m a good unit.  I’m a good rubber unit.” And my cock throbs, and squirts more precum in my sheath.

And I eat.  And I sit at the computer and look at pics, and look at vids, and read stories, and write stories, and record videos, and record pics.  And sleep.  And listen to the Voice.

And the Voice showed me the mirror.  And I was almost as I should be.  I knew what was needed.  And I placed the order.  And I changed into my worksuit, and my work clothes, and my work shoes, and went to work, and I was a good unit, a good rubber unit.  And the Voice kept me horny and focused and my mind drifted while my body worked.  And I arrived home.  And the package was waiting by the apartment door.

And the Voice said. “Yes.  Take the package like the good unit you are.  Bring it inside.”

And I brought it inside.  And I stripped and I cleaned and I wore my home suit, and I wore my home socks, and I wore my home boots, and I wore my home harness, and I ate, and I sat at the computer.  And the voice spoke to me.  And I forgot about the box.

And I slept.

And I woke.

And I went to the mirror.

And the Voice showed me myself as I was.

And the image was the me I should be.

And I came in my sheath.

And the Voice said “Good unit.  Good rubber unit.”

And I said “I’m a good unit. I’m a good rubber unit.”

And the Voice said “Yes…and now you are ready.”

And I froze.  And the Voice became large and empty and beautiful and black.

And I shot again.

And simply was.

The new recruits are always exposed to the ComplianceGas. It opens their minds for suggestions and makes it very easy to make adjustments and mold them into the perfect breed of slaves.

Then come the AttitudeLenses, which show a continuous stream of pictures of gay men having sex, mostly from the bottom’s point of view, while the headset gives a steady stream of instruction for the open brain to absorb. It provides them with a new view of the world, where their Master is their God and their entire existence will revolve around Him.