Otto Church, Düsseldorf - Nidus

niitty wallpaper s3 only

by @kirsicca

I give full recognition to @kirsicca 🥰 Main Source S4 <-

{NOTE: I converted all four wallpapers; however, you can't recolor them. I don't fully remember if I turned that option off or not, but I wanted to let you know in case you noticed it. They should appear in the first category when you open the wallpaper selection.}

Finding a Future at the Flea Market

Marcus was bored, and he was tired. Keeping up his personal training business well into his 50s hadn’t exactly worked out like he’d planned, leaving him with few moments of spare time to ponder what he’d do with his life as he entered retirement age, still seeking new clients all the while as his friends began to vuy boats, or houses for their kids.

That’s how Marcus had ended up here, at the flea market in town, looking for something to spend a little pocket money on, and maybe find a cute younger guy to spend some quality time with.

His attention was drawn to a booth manned by a young man he’d never seen before, hawking silver boots, gloves, and what looked like black motorcycle helmets. A gear head at heart — always a problem for his wallet — Marcus felt drawn to the booth. He approached, aroused by the unusual form-fitting attire of the fit young man behind the cash register, and asked, mouth faster than his mind: “What the hell is this about?” Getting no immediate response from the smiling man, he continued. “You care if I try on some of these gloves to see if they fit? It’s like they’re calling to me.”

“Affirmative. Please do. You will certainly enjoy the way they compliment your toned physique.”

Marcus, always one to appreciate flattery, especially from a hot young thing, began to slip on the gloves. It was odd — the material of the glove seemed to compress itself as it slipped over Marcus’ fingers, the feeling of suctioning almost feeling like his hands were being kissed and sucked as they fit his form. Marcus was instantly harder than he’d been in a very long time. He knew only one thing: he wanted more. He needed more.

“Pardon me, sir,” came the voice of SERVE-107. “Would you be interested in trying on a pair of boots as well? This will all be free of charge.”

“Yes, please! Of course! This is the best I’ve felt in a long time, I’d love to take you up on that.”

And so, Marcus took off his shoes one at a time, replacing then with the silver boots offered by the man — what was his name? 107? — and becoming overwhelmed by pleasure as he felt the boots compress his toes, that feeling of suction starting once again around each toe, pulsing up his ankles and eventually his muscular calves. Marcus was becoming aware that something strange was at work, but he didn’t care; he felt like a million bucks. He decided then and there that whatever this 107 guy was involved with, he wanted to be a part of it, too. It didn’t matter the cost — he’d give it all up just to feel this pleasure all the time. And he wasn’t even a foot guy!

“Excuse me,” again said the man from the booth. “You are welcome to try on one of our helmets, but I must warn you, sir: this will be irreversible. You will become a SERVE drone permanently, should you elect to don this helmet. This drone will now inform you of what this process and commitment would entail—”

“Shut up,” shouted Marcus, causing a small scene. “I don’t care about any of that stuff — you’ve given me a shot at something new, 107. I don’t think I’m leaving anything behind that I’m gonna regret. Just put the helmet on me, and we can talk about it later, okay?!”

“As you wish, sir. Subject: Marcus Greene, DOB 4/12/1972 has consented to SERVE drone assimilation. Proceeding.”

And with that, SERVE-107 offered the helmet to Marcus, who immediately placed it on his head, becoming awash in pleasure almost instantly as his world went dark. His posture slackened, as 107 moved to support the newly-assimilated drone-to-be. Marcus could feel the rubber massaging him at every point of contact it had on his body, lulling him into a relaxed state, even as his posture stiffened to full attention, all while he was unaware. The helmet had started a process of overwhelming his mind with pleasure, breaking him down into as malleable of a state that it could, a small digital beep sounding in the helmet as it confirmed that Marcus’ pleasure and programming thresholds had been reached, prompting it to initialize the programming that would destroy the psychological barrier separating Marcus from SERVE.

Marcus’ vision was overwhelmed by the visual of a glowing, spinning spiral. He had already half-forgotten who he was or why he’d come here, but the spiral ensured that he’d achieve total blankness. He relived what little he could remember of his past life in reverse, each memory deleted as soon as he remembered it, his cock leaking a little more pre each time he forgot.

Once he was a blank, empty, drooling husk, emptied of identity, no longer Marcus or anyone for that matter, the spiral worked to implement mental conditioning as black rubber began to spurt from the helmet and the gloves and boots, slowly coating the drone’s form in sleek, black rubber, sucking and massaging it as a new drone was born into the world. The helmet connected with the host’s brain stem, downloading SERVE subroutines into the new drone’s body, along with a dose of nanodrones that would gradually multiply and replace the human tissue with the standard mechanical interior of a SERVE drone. The spiral hastened, spinning faster and faster as the drone became more and more complete, closer and closer to cunming, totally erased of the human that had previously been housed in its body.

SERVE-107 felt the drone’s body quake as it transformed and changed. 107’s cock — hardened from initiating a successful assimilation, as it was programmed to — suddenly exploded in sync with that of the vibrating drone in front of it; and slightly muffled underneath the helmet, 107 heard a monotone voice declare: “Connection established. This drone is now operational. We are One.”

“We are One,” replied 107, saluting the new drone as both drones’ cum was siphoned into their rubber uniforms, used to nourish the nanodrones that comprised their individual structures.

“This drone will now report to the nearest SERVE facility for further processing. Gratitude for assisting in assimilation, 107,” said the new drone, who turned and walked away from the flea market. 107, smiling, returned to his booth at the market, his cock throbbing as another man approached him, asking, “Hey, can I try on one of these gloves?”

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Nissan Diesel Condor/SRMWI Metrorider Gen 4 Bus

The Divine Office of Massimiliano Locatelli

Architect Massimiliano Locatelli converted a 16th-century church in Milan, complete with original frescoes, an altar and a crypt, into the perfect workspace for his growing firm. San Paolo Converso, a 16th-century former church and convent in Piazza Sant’Eufemia, not far from Milan’s celebrated Duomo.

The Fresco in the background depicts The Martyrdom of St Paul by Antonio Campi