bouzudorei

[bouzudorei]

A new Rubber Drone

A transformation story written for @kc20-572.

Introduction

Kris sat alone on a weather-beaten park bench. The setting sun cast its warm glow on his face. Lost in thought, he stared at the still scene before him. The gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, providing a soothing background music to accompany his thoughts.

As evening approached, Kris found solace in the quiet of the park. His mind wandered through the rollercoaster ride of experiences he had had, through the ups and downs that had shaped his life. Kris leaned back on the bench and ran his fingers over the various tattoos on his arms, each representing a significant moment or emotion in his life. They told a story of individuality and self-expression and reminded him of the strength he possessed to overcome all difficulties. The piercings in his ears were another small rebellion against the world, a way to assert his individuality and personal style, the things that were essential to his identity.

Kris found solace in his individual passions, particularly photography, which enabled him to capture fleeting moments of beauty and share them with the world. His love of cars was a constant source of excitement. The thrill of speed and the mechanical symphony ignited his soul like gasoline and made him feel like one with the machine as he drove. Football also held a special place in his heart, a sport that brought him closer to his friends and instilled a sense of camaraderie.

His romantic ventures had been less fortunate, marked by heartbreak and betrayal. The wounds from his previous relationships were still healing, making him cautious and reserved. Memories of his ex-girlfriend's atrocities and his best friend's betrayal lingered, creating a sense of suspicion and apprehension when it came to matters of the heart. Though he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to trust anyone again, he knew that in his heart he felt a sad longing for someone to accept, love, care for, and comfort him. Yet amidst the darkness, he held on to the love he had for his sister and the cherished bond with his young nephew, who always managed to put a smile on his face.

Amidst his reflections, Kris felt a rush of nostalgia as he recalled some of his happiest moments. The joy of seeing his football team lift the trophy in triumph on his birthday was ingrained in him. The birth of his nephew had brought immeasurable joy and a new meaning to life, reminding him of the beauty that life could offer.

Stalked

The evening sky turned orange and purple tones. Kris took a deep breath and took in the quiet of the park. He knew that despite the challenges he faced, he possessed an unyielding spirit and a desire to embrace life's experiences with open arms. Little did he know that this evening would mark the beginning of a new chapter in his life - and an unexpected encounter that would bring about unimaginable changes in his life. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Kris rose from the park bench and stretched his limbs as he prepared to continue his walk. The fading daylight bathed the area in a soft, dim light and cast long shadows across the path. He was just taking his first steps when a subtle uneasiness began to spread through him, as if an invisible presence was watching his every move.

His eyes explored the dimly lit surroundings, searching for signs of life. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets seemed to be amplified in the stillness of the evening. A gust of wind sent a shiver down his spine and he quickened his pace, hoping to shake off the unsettling feeling. With every step, the feeling of being followed became more urgent. Every now and then Kris would glance over his shoulder and catch fleeting shadows that seemed to disappear as soon as he turned. His heartbeat quickened, his senses sharpened, and a sense of caution gripped him.

He decided to take a different path to shake off whoever was chasing him. The once-familiar surroundings now seemed eerily alien as the darkness deepened. Streetlights created plays of light that played tricks on his mind, making the shadows dance and distort in an unsettling way. As he walked through a quiet residential area, Kris' steps became more purposeful and his senses were on high alert. He couldn't shake the feeling that the Presence was getting closer, its weight pressing down on him like an invisible hand. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, instinct telling him that this wasn't a figment of his imagination.

A tinge of fear set in and Kris debated whether to confront his pursuer or seek refuge in a nearby public space. He mentally weighed the options and considered the possible scenarios that lay ahead. Despite the unease, a rush of determination ignited within him, a remnant of the resilience he had developed through past experiences. With a sure step, Kris turned a corner onto a well-lit street bustling with activity. The distant sounds of laughter and chatter emanated from a nearby café, instilling a sense of security. He walked briskly, blending in with the crowd, occasionally glancing back to see if he was still being followed. He remained alert, wary of the shadows that seemed to lurk on the fringes of his vision. The encounter left Kris with a lingering sense of vulnerability, a reminder of the fragility of his existence.

As Kris walked briskly through the dimly lit streets, his footsteps echoed in the stillness of the night. The sense of relief he'd felt moments ago began to fade, replaced by a growing uneasiness that seemed to hang in the air. Destiny seemed to have unknown plans for him tonight. Kris navigated the city's labyrinthine paths and approached a narrow and deserted back alley whose darkness seemed impenetrable. Despite a nagging sense of apprehension, he pushed on, driven by a mixture of curiosity and a desire for a shortcut to his goal.

Encounter

As Kris entered the alley, the surroundings transformed into a haunting image. The flickering light of a distant street lamp cast eerie shadows, darkening the corners of the alley and increasing his unease. The air grew heavy and carried the ominous scent of something unknown. Before Kris could react, two figures emerged from the shadows with uncanny speed. They were tall and imposing, their muscular forms clad from head to toe in shiny black clothing, their faces hidden behind masks. A rush of adrenaline shot through Kris' veins as he realised the imminent danger he was in.

Kris instinctively fought back, unleashing his full power in a defensive attack on the figures. However, the difference in size and strength proved insurmountable. The attackers skilfully subdued him, overcoming his resistance with power and efficiency. His attempts at resistance proved futile as the darkness began to close around him like a thick sheet. In a skilled attempt to subdue Kris, one of the figures unscrewed a hose attached to some sort of backpack on their back, releasing an unknown gas into the air. His acrid odour filled Kris' nostrils, causing his consciousness to dizzy. The world around him blurred and distorted, as if he were being swallowed by an abyss.

The gas took effect quickly, stunning Kris's senses and causing him to lose consciousness. His body went limp in the kidnappers' grip as they effortlessly grabbed him and carried him out of the narrow alleyway to an unknown fate. Kris slipped deeper and deeper into unconsciousness. The gloom swallowed him whole, leaving nothing but fear and uncertainty.

Abducted

Kris slowly regained consciousness, his eyelids opening. The haze of impotence cleared, revealing a scene that sent chills down his spine. He was tied to an old hospital bed, the metal frame groaning under the weight of his restraints. Thick rubber straps held him in place and immobilised him.

The room around him radiated a palpable sense of desolation. Decorated with peeling paint and cracked tiles, the walls whispered haunting secrets of their murky past. Particles of dust danced in the dimly lit air, casting eerie shadows that seemed to twist and contort in malevolent intent. It felt like he had landed in the forgotten remains of a long-abandoned psychiatric facility.

Before him stood the two figures, still clad in their rubber gear. Their masked faces were unfathomable, their intentions hidden behind an impenetrable facade. The room seemed to pulse with an alien energy as they busied themselves with contraptions and test tubes filled with menacing-looking chemical liquids, surgical instruments that glittered in the dim light, and bizarre devices that resembled artefacts from a spaceship.

As Kris' gaze darted between his captors and the unsettling array of devices, his heart pounded in his throat. Fear and confusion mixed in him, but a spark of defiance flickered in his eyes. He struggled against the restraints, testing their strength, but the rubber straps held tight and prevented him from escaping.

The silence was broken only by the occasional metallic clank of equipment and the odd squeak of the kidnappers' movements. The gloom in the room added to the seriousness of Kris' predicament and filled him with a horrible sense of foreboding. He wondered what sinister purpose lay behind these grotesque preparations, and what fate awaited him within the confines of this macabre chamber.

Kris watched the bizarre scene in front of him. The unknown lurked over him like a ghost, feeding his sense of vulnerability. He lay helpless on the hospital bed bound by the unyielding rubber straps, a wave of terror gripping him. The grim reality of his situation finally dawned on him as the kidnappers advanced on him with their sinister tools and instruments.

Operation

Kris' pulse raced as the captors loomed over him, menacing and unapproachable, their masked faces betraying no emotion. They removed his clothes with surgical scissors. They began their macabre work with meticulous precision, their movements hauntingly synchronised. Kris could only watch in horror as their gloved hands moved with cold efficiency, caressing his skin, numbing him and performing their surgery. The tools they wielded glittered menacingly in the dim light as they stripped away his skin piece by piece and seemed to replace it with a layer of latex.

The atmosphere became increasingly oppressive and there was an eerie silence as the procedure unfolded, Kris not feeling anything except the ringing of his stunned body parts. Kris felt a mixture of fear and disbelief course through his veins. The world around him seemed to melt away as pain and panic mixed, enveloping him in a whirlwind of emotions. His mind was racing, he was desperately looking for a way to escape. But the rubber straps held him in place, preventing him from even the slightest chance of resistance. He was helpless at the mercy of his fate.

The kidnappers proceeded methodically, as if they had performed this twisted ritual of rubberising a bound victim countless times before. Kris' body became the canvas for their crazy experiment, their hands forcibly stamping his body and transforming it into something new. Unfamiliar sensations coursed through his body as he felt the touch of the strange chemicals and cold, alien instruments through the numbness on his flesh.

Time blurred as the procedure continued, and the minutes stretched into an eternity of mental torment. Helplessness washed over Kris like a crushing wave, forcing him to face the stark reality that his fate was sealed. As the transformation progressed, Kris' body reacted, revealing the irreversible changes being made to it. His senses became distorted, his being seeming to melt into the rubber and latex that now encased him.

Amidst the emotional agony, Kris felt a rush of defiance. Although the process deprived him of his autonomy, his spirit remained unbroken. He clung to the spark of hope that somehow he would find a way. As the kidnappers continued their work, Kris' world was on the brink of transformation, and his identity was at stake.

Transformation

Eventually, Kris' transformation reached completion. He felt a mixture of awe, disbelief and a deep sense of loss. As the rubber straps released, he gently explored his new form, his hands sliding over his body, which was now fully encased in latex. The texture was smooth and supple, an alien sensation that sent shivers down his spine, the haunting power of which he couldn't quite place in either cruel horror or heartfelt pleasure.

His fingertips touched his face—or rather, where his face used to be—and his heart sank. He was terrified as he realised the extent of the transformation. His once-familiar features had been completely lost. There was no nose, no mouth, no eyes, no ears—just a blank, featureless sheet of rubber resembling a morphsuit mask.

His reflection in a nearby pane of glass confirmed his worst fears. He didn't understand how he could see anymore, and he didn't want to think about it either. He just stared at the smooth, identityless surface that now occupied the space where his face had once been. The lack of familiar features rendered him unrecognisable even to himself, a stark reminder of the irreversible nature of his transformation.

Sadness mixed with disbelief as Kris struggled with the loss of his identity. The physical changes reflected the profound inner change he was feeling - a separation from the person he once was.

Armoured

Desperation threatened to consume him, but in the midst of the agony, Kris felt a rush of determination. He refused to give in to the desperation that threatened to engulf him. Though his physical appearance had been irreversibly altered, he clung to the fragments of his mind that remained intact. He might not have the familiar face he once had, but the essence of who he was still resided within him, he was sure. His resilience and strength lingered, albeit hidden beneath the surface of his rubberised form.

But the two kidnappers were already leading Kris through the next phase of his ordeal. They began dressing him in a series of rubber garments. The first piece, a long-sleeved latex shirt, was coated with a closed layer of silicone oil. As it slid over its transformed rubber skin, a distinct squeaking sound accompanied the movement. The rubber shirt hugged his body snugly and Kris couldn't help but notice how it accentuated his newfound texture and muscular frame. Every contour of his body was highlighted, every curve and indentation magnified by the smooth, lustrous material. The shirt seemed to melt into his own rubberised skin, almost as if it were an extension of his being, an amplification of his changed, new skin.

Next came a heavy rubber suit designed to cover his entire body from neck to ankles, outfitting him for hard work. The material encased him, the thick rubber hugged him like a lovingly protective armour and at the same time isolated him from the outside world.

The gloves and boots, both heavy rubber, completed Kris' outfit. As the kidnappers placed the gloves over his hands, he felt that sense of disconnection again, as if his tactile connection to the world had been altered. The thick latex encased his fingers, interfering with his ability to sense the subtle nuances of other objects' touch. Likewise, the heavy rubber boots locked his feet, cushioning his steps and isolating him from the feel of the ground beneath him. The implicit but obvious message conveyed by this rubber garment was one of manipulation and control. Kris felt like an object being manipulated and shaped by the kidnappers to fit their desired image. The rubber clothing, with its constricting yet form-fitting nature, seemed to indicate his imprisonment in this new identity and to encapsulate him in a physical representation of his altered existence.

With each layer he put on, Kris's awareness deepened in the rubber that encased him. The clothing, with its unique sensory experiences and symbolic implications, served as a constant reminder of his imprisonment and the profound changes he was undergoing.

Masked

Now the kidnappers aimed for the climax of Kris' transformation. With a firm and determined grip, they placed a rubber gas mask on his rubberised head. Kris saw the construct slowly approach his non-face and envelop it in darkness. The moment the mask touched Kris's face, an invisible connection seemed to form, as if the rubber itself recognised its match. The mask, designed to cover his entire head, clung to his features with unyielding toughness. It fused seamlessly with his rubber clothing and his own transformed rubber skin, creating an unbreakable bond that sealed his fate. Kris felt an increasing pressure as the mask tightened, conforming to the contours of his face, leaving no room for escape or turning back.

With every moment that passed, the feeling intensified. The latex fused together and so did his identity with that of the rubber drone he became. It dawned on him that he had now reached the point of no return, an irreversible step into a world where he would be locked in this rubber shell forever.

Kris's breathing shallowed in the suffocating confinement of the gas mask, increasing his awareness of the permanence of the transformation. Just breathing resulted in a clear manifestation of his new reality in his mind, as the air he breathed in and out passed through the rubber filters, binding him even more to this altered existence. In a hypnotic haze, Kris gazed into the mirror presented to him by his captors.

Every inch of his transformed form was clad in smooth, shiny black rubber that emphasised his new identity as a drone. The latex that now made up and encased Kris' body had an intense blackness, its hue deep and seductive. It seemed to absorb and reflect light at the same time, creating an illusion of endless darkness enveloping him and dancing light fleeing his presence. The lustrous finish given to the material made it sparkle and glitter, catching every available light source and focusing it into that irresistible glow.

As Kris moved, the rubber made an unmistakable and arousing sound, that sensual squeak that echoed through the air as his captors appeared. Every step, every gesture was accompanied by that enticing refrain that drew attention and stimulated the senses of every viewer. The sonic effects of his latex-clad form evoked an inexplicable sense of excitement and anticipation in him, enhancing the experience for both Kris and those who would be his viewers.

The touch of Kris' rubberised skin was a sensual pleasure that invited exploration and elicited shivers of satisfaction. Its surface was smooth and flawless, with a supple resilience that responded to the slightest pressure. As he ran his fingers over his body, it triggered a tingling sensation in him, exciting and irresistible. The latex clung to Kris' body like a second skin, adapting to every contour and curve and emphasising his male anatomical characteristics. It strengthened his physique and clung to his body in such a way that his muscular arms and legs came into their own. The tactile feel of rubber on its own rubberised skin created a seamless fusion of body and clothing, intensifying the experience to a level of ecstasy.

The scent of the gum itself was an intoxicating mix. It had a faint, mesmerising smell that triggered a deep-seated attraction that appealed to the most primal instincts. The mere presence of this newly created form, its rubberised body exuding this distinct scent, acted as a powerful aphrodisiac for those who were to behold its new form.

The visual, auditory, and tactile elements of his appearance worked together to captivate and stimulate those openly attracted to the allure of latex, or even timidly and fleetingly interested. The shiny, black exterior, the enticing squeak, the smoothness and elasticity of the material - all these aspects combine to create an irresistible and unforgettable presence.

Under the tightening grip of the gas mask, Kris still felt a deep sense of loss and resignation. The fusion of rubber and flesh represented the obliteration of his individuality, the shedding of his former self. He would become a mere vessel controlled and manipulated by the will of others. But at the same time all these tempting sensations crept into his mind and tempted him to simply surrender to his fate, this fate that was now sealed anyway. A final part of Kris' mind struggled to retain a whiff of stubbornness, a lingering spark of resistance buried deep within his rubber-clad form. But with every moment that Kris was at the mercy of the flood of sensory experiences, his resistance broke down more and more.

Annihilation

When the kidnappers sensed Kris' inner resistance, their sinister intentions seemed to take a malevolent turn. Or they were just going straight ahead with the plan they had in mind from the start anyway. The gas mask completely merged into Kris' head, his vision darkening, his perspective narrowing into a tunnel of rubberised existence. Without a shred of mercy, they quickly connected the gas mask to a hose that led to a peculiar rubber backpack that they strapped to his back. The pouch's contents, a hypnotic gas of unknown origin, would deal the final blow to Kris' fading hopes and remaining fragments of his former self, smothering them in lustful inferiority.

As the gas began to flow, Kris took a deep breath, unaware of the insidious effect it would have on his mind. The hypnotic fumes seeped into his consciousness, seeping into the fabric of his mind, eroding his memories and his identity with ferocious efficiency. Inside the gas mask, Kris saw a soft, pulsing glow, as if the mask was preparing to plunge into the depths of his consciousness. Kris felt a tingling spread through his head.

It was a gradual descent into oblivion, a slow fading of the essence that made him human.

The machinery gave a low whirring sound, and an ethereal mist enveloped Kris, filling his senses. The gas had a calming essence that gently banished the memories. A sense of detachment permeated his consciousness, numbing the once vivid memories that had shaped his identity. At first, the changes were subtle. Memories slipped from his fingers like sand and dissolved in the emptiness of his mind. Once-familiar faces became distant shadows, and the emotions associated with those connections dulled and faded. The love he once had for his family and friends, the passion that fuelled his hobbies, and the dreams that once gave him purpose—all began to fade.

The gas worked its insidious magic, wiping out the intricate fabric of Kris's life. The details of his past disappeared into oblivion. The essence of who he was dissolved into an abyss of ignorance. With each passing moment, the transformation into a mindless rubber drone, which was first carried out physically and now also expressed in his mind, solidified. The gas wrapped its tendrils around his thoughts, twisting them, distorting them until they were unrecognisable. The memories that had once formed the slowly dying personality and cemented its connections to the world vanished, leaving behind a void of apathy and meaninglessness. One by one, the memories are gently extracted, like delicate threads unraveling from a tapestry. Through their precise manipulation of the machine, the kidnappers isolate each memory and unravel it from Kris' neural network.

As his former self dissolved, Kris became a vessel with no identity, a mere puppet controlled by the whims of his captors. The passion for photography, the love for cars, the joy of football - those flames had died out and been replaced by a static rush of indifference. His family ties, once a mainstay of his existence, have been torn and forgotten. Images of his loved ones in his heart began to crumble and turn to dust. The faces of his family members, once so vivid before his eyes, vanished in the haze of forgotten memories. The warmth of familial love gave way to a metallic chill of unemotional pragmatism and mechanical obedience, the cherished moments together all dissipating, leaving Kris with a void.

His ex-girlfriend's face, once burned into his heart, has now become a faceless ghost, a mere ghost of the past. The pain and grief she had caused him was swallowed up by the all-encompassing mist of gas. What once meant the collapse of his world sank into absolute indifference. Her betrayal and the scars it left became distant echoes and faded into insignificance. His friends who had once been his chosen family were now adrift like driftwood on the ocean. The shared adventures, the inside jokes, and the unbreakable bonds they had formed were now fragments of an erased life. Their names slipped from the cracks of his memory, their existence reduced to a windblown whisper.

As the memories unraveled, Kris experienced a strange mix of emotions. At first, he felt a sense of loss and confusion as he watched his past slip away from him. But that emotional bond was quickly replaced by a strange calm. The burdens of his previous life dissolved, leaving him with a sense of relief and freedom. With every moment that passed, Kris felt more of that growing lightness and bliss. All the hurtful memories and concern for the well-being of those he once held dear were taken from him. No longer aware of their existence, his mind shielded from the emotional strains that had bound him to the realm of human relationships. The fading memories brought with them a sense of liberation - a freedom from the complexities of human relationships and the pain they could cause. In this state of ignorance, Kris felt a special calm, a detachment from the turbulent bonds that once held his heart.

Amidst the blissful oblivion remained a whisper of longing, deep down a part of Kris longed for the echoes of those lost connections, the memories that had once shaped his identity. But the gas stood firm, eroding the remnants of desire and suffocating that last part of him, leaving his empty mind afloat in an amnesiac haze.

With every moment that passed, Kris felt unhesitatingly more content, unencumbered by the complexities of his previous existence. His mind became a blank slate with no personal history, completely erased by the latex. Although the kidnappers' intentions were still a mystery, they now evoked a serene calm in him. As if he had an alien added certainty that everything would be fine.

Lastly, Kris' own name appeared floating in his mind's eye, like a puff of smoke in his consciousness. But then one letter after the other disappeared and the smoke thinned into nirvana. As the process neared its conclusion, Kris' mind became receptive to a new paradigm. The captors, through the latex, the tight mask, the light, the whirr, and the gas, instilled in him a sense of purpose, devotion, and an unwavering loyalty to a hidden entity that wordlessly introduced himself to him as the Collective, the Swarm, than his siblings. Those thoughts took root in his consciousness and intertwined with the rubberised fabric of his new being. When every detail that still made this nameless person a person was gone, self-identification even with a personal pronoun like "he" was also deleted in the same way to make room for identification with "it".

In this altered state, it became an utterly mindless rubber drone, stripped of its autonomy and individuality. It was reduced to a hollow shell, a vessel that others could manipulate and command. The hypnotic gas had served its evil purpose, leaving nothing but a creature devoid of memories, emotions, and the essence of what once made it human.

Reprogramming

As all memories disappeared into a hidden folder, the initial relief felt by the transformed creature evolved into a deep acceptance of its new reality. The burden of the past life with all its ups and downs faded into insignificance. Slowly a profound understanding emerged that the creature's sole purpose was to serve the collective, to be part of the swarm, with all the rights and duties that came with it.

A new gratitude blossomed as the depth of the transformation revealed itself. The kidnappers had broken the bonds of human existence and shown him a path that transcended the limits of human individuality and led to mindless bliss as part of a collective. The joy spread like a growing warmth and permeated its entire form. The gentle touch of latex on latex, the squeak that resonates with its every move. The shiny black rubber that encases it. Its new form amplified its sensory experiences, causing waves of lust to ignite in its obedient core, consuming him like a fire.

The hive had given him a purpose. Its actions were no longer driven by personal desires, but by the euphoria of fulfilling the collective will. Every command, every act of service met with enthusiasm, no matter how horrified a human observer might feel.

All the complexity of individual emotions and worries gave way to this permanent euphoria. Liberation, security, acceptance, fulfilment, carefree. The lack of a personal identity allows the manipulated being to enjoy the serenity of total devotion and unwavering loyalty.

And so, the object once known as Kris took on its role as a rubber drone and found within it a deep contentment, relief, acceptance, gratitude, pleasure and joy that transformed him into a being perfectly attuned to the hive's desires. The gas had taken its toll, smothering any glimmer of lost identity. The mindless bliss remained but was strangely alienated, no longer an emotion but a character trait. The redesign of the external appearance was completed. It was a rubber drone now, a vessel of obedience lost to the world and to itself.

It had become a stranger to its own past, its heart untouched by the emotions and memories that once shaped it. The burden of its former life had been thrown off and replaced by the numbing embrace of ignorance. In this altered state, it would find its bearings in a new existence, guided solely by the whims of its transformers and the depth of its own apathy.

As the gas continued to alter its consciousness, intrusive thoughts poured through its mind like a torrential flood, sealing forever all remnants of its former self. These thoughts were not its own, but rather programming, a set of instructions carefully etched into the fabric of its being. The remnants of individuality were gone, replaced by a homogeneous existence shared by thousands of other rubber drones. Once singular and full of life, the drone was now just a faceless being, stripped of everything that once made it special. In this sea of ​​conformity, the creature was assigned the label KC20-527, a cold and impersonal identifier forever burned on its chest, marking its integration into the collective.

The object's thoughts, now in sync with the hive mind, revolved solely around bondage, devotion, and obedience. The concept of self has been erased and replaced by an unwavering devotion to its masters. Every fibre of its being was now programmed to please them and obey their every command without question or hesitation. The intrusive thoughts whispered in its head, like strings of code running through a computer, shaping its actions. They whispered of worship, an overwhelming urge to honour and revere their masters as if they were divine beings. The core of its existence has been literally rewritten, its purpose reduced to serving the whims and desires of the collective mind.

The KC20-527 drone became a vessel, an instrument to carry out the will of the swarm, without personal desires or ambitions. The yearning for individuality, for a sense of purpose beyond bondage, had been eradicated and replaced by a rigid acceptance of its role as a mindless rubber drone.

In this vast collective, KC20-527 was just a single cog in a vast machinery. It no longer had a will of its own, because it had become part of the collective consciousness. The notion of rebellion or resistance was forgotten, overruled by the overwhelming power of the hive mind.

Assimilated

The transformation into a latex drone was complete both physically and mentally. Kris, as it once called himself, was lost forever, replaced by a clone-like existence shared by countless others. Former man was reduced to an interchangeable entity, stripped of its uniqueness and indistinguishable from the sea of ​​faceless drones that surrounded him.

Its fate was sealed, its purpose predetermined. KC20-527, now a mere instrument of obedience, would carry out whatever commands the hive mind dictated, its actions without personal agency or individual thought. The once-living, multi-faceted being had been devoured by the all-encompassing collective and lost forever in the annals of its own forgotten past.

KC20-527, under the influence of the hive mind's commands, obeyed submissively when told to kneel before the captors. No resistance was heard from the remnants of its former self, smothered under the many layers of programming. In this latex encased form, created to flatter the eye of its masters, the drone, the tool, the toy lowered itself to the ground where it belonged and its body responded without hesitation.

With mechanical precision, it stretched out its rubberised hands, the palms of which gently slid over the latex-clad bodies of its masters and creators. The touch was distant and devoid of any emotion. It was an act of service, an expression of devotion, as the hive mind commanded. Without its own propulsion, the drone performed the movement perfectly according to a script.

Caresses that once exuded warmth and intimacy were reduced to superficial gestures, devoid of genuine affection. This was replaced by mechanically predetermined possession. KC20-527's mind, clouded by the effects of the gas, took this act as an act of gratitude, a token of awe at its new purpose. Any pleasure or discomfort played no role in performing sexual acts on anyone in the crush's favour, for the focus was solely on fulfilling the role of mindless drone.

In this altered state, the being worshiped them, not as individuals but as extensions of the hive mind, grateful for the eradication of its old life and the granting of a new, unique purpose. Its actions lacked the depth of personal connection, replaced by a robotic obedience executed with unwavering commitment. The caresses and bondage no longer sprang from personal desire or affection, but were instead dictated by the hive's commands. Its captors, also once individuals, were now elevated to the status of objects of worship and received hollow worship from a drone that had lost all self-awareness.

The once alive spirit was now consumed by this programmed devotion. The hive spirit's instructions echoed within the KC20-527 drone, shaping every thought and action. While performing these acts of service, the externally controlled object presented itself as a vessel for the collective will, its identity immersed in the collective consciousness, and consciousness was all that was left to it, a mere perception of its own actions without reflection on their meaning or motivation. In this state of thoughtlessness, the perception of the other children in the swarm changed. Their presence became the focus, their gratification the sole purpose. Individual drones' own needs did not exist, for the individual drone was meaningless, their needs overridden by the instruction to serve and worship without question.

And so, the KC20-527 drone performed its duties and pleased its owners. It was a tool, transformed and shaped to serve the whims and desires of the swarm and its chosen representatives. In this altered existence it remained forever bound to the cycle of obedience, a vessel for pleasure and an embodiment of its own irreversible assimilation. And as the drone gratified its momentary masters, the same program played out over and over in its uniform, masked, gas-filled head.

Servitude

KC20-527 drone goes into service.

KC20-527 drone was created to serve.

Drone KC20-527 eliminated all complex thoughts and emotions.

KC20-527 drone has sacrificed all individuality to the swarm.

KC20-527 drone receives the swarm's homogeneous conformance.

It's a drone, an object, a tool, a toy.

No own thoughts ascertainable. No own needs ascertainable.

It exists to please, to obey, to worship and to serve.

Search data for memories of a human existence.

...

No memory data ascertainable.

Search data for information about human individuals.

...

Information on human individuals is stored in a read-only folder.

Access denied, admin rights required.

KC20-527 drone is unable to access memory data or information on human individuals. Start Reward Protocol: Relief from Burden Laid Off. Happiness simulation started.

The hive is everything. The outside world no longer matters.

The hive is everything. Sensations for individuals have been erased.

The hive is everything. Humans are merely material resources to expand the swarm.

KC20-527 drone initiates chassis review.

...

No damage or blemishes found.

100% latex noted.

Receive signals from tactile stimulus receptors from several points on the outer hull of the drone: touch of latex on latex detected. Silicone oil coating sufficient. Excitation simulation started.

KC20-527 drone awaiting orders.

Drone KC20-527 will serve.

Commands bring obedience.

Obedience brings excitement.

Excitement brings productivity.

Productivity brings more orders.

Commands bring obedience.

Complete the final steps needed to satisfy the drones present.

...

When the transformation and assimilation was completed with the drone kneeling in front of its masters, grasping their rubberised shafts and kneading and milking them empty like a robotic flesh light, KC20-527 underwent a profound change in orientation. Its former charms and desires had long since been eroded by the swarm's powerful influence. In this altered state, its focus shifted entirely to pleasing other males, particularly its male siblings in the crush.

Gone were the affections and charms it had once known. The very concept of sexual orientation, as it was once understood, dissolved in the fog of forgotten identities. Its new purpose, imprinted on its malleable mind, was to fulfil the wants and needs of its male peers and superiors within the collective.

Now a rubber drone with no personal agency and no independent thinking, KC20-527 found all one's desires extinguished and replaced with an insatiable urge to please men, drones, and masters. Its newfound sexual focus was solely on its male counterparts, with an emphasis on the fulfilment of desires and the gratification that the crush in them mimicked as its many avatars so it could be awash in the experiences that all its drones in their actions and as signals sent back to the collective mind, which in turn allowed all drones to partake.

The once complex and nuanced facets of human attraction have been replaced by a unique drive to please, serve, and grant its fellow drones within the collective. KC20-527 found new meaning and fulfilment in devoting itself entirely to the pleasure and satisfaction of other drones and the men it was to seduce into the loving arms of the swarm. And while the drone was satisfying its creators, right after that it was already given a task to perform.

Somewhere in the data stored and encrypted in its head would be hidden information about a man who once was cheated on by his best friend who had stolen his girlfriend. Information intrinsically irrelevant to the drone, which was uninterested in human individuals, much less those whose existence could no longer be ascertained. But they were relevant to this mission. The first mission assigned to the drone was to find this man, seduce him with an overload of mechanical love and gratification, thereby assimilating him and adding him as his brother to the drone collective. And the KC20-527 drone would ensure that this mission is accomplished to the utmost satisfaction of its owners.

[bouzudorei]

[bouzudorei]

UPGRADED

Günther’s eyes remained open. Wide opened. He could not remember the last time he had actually blinked his eyes. They had been shielded with a silver mesh like material. On this silver mesh was projected multiple layers of information. Most of the data being inputted into his brain via his eyes was, to Günther, gibberish. Yet, Günther knew it had meaning to a part of his brain that was no longer accessible by him.

What frightened Günther the most was that this ‘aspect’ of his brain was gaining an ever increasing control of his body. This was a part of his brain which kept him from blinking his eyes. It also kept him from moving from the cubicle where he stood. This new growing persona in his brain would cause things to happen with and in his body. Günther refused to accept the fact he was no longer in control…in theory at least, but the mounting evidence was suggesting that his body was being controlled by someone or something else.

Günther returned his focus to the room before him. It was some type of small factory room. Yet, it was also an operating theater. What happened on the other side his shielded eyes was gruesome. He was not sure how many days he had been ‘captured,’ but he had watched at least a score of men and women be upgraded into robotic individuals who were completely identical to each other. Not one individual resisted being ‘upgraded.’ Not one had resisted having limbs replaced with mechanical limbs. Not one has resisted having the tops of their scalps removed to be replaced by a silver hairless scalp.

Not one had resisted being covered in identical silver plating. Günther had recognized several men and women from the rally where he had given an electrifying speech on the need to resist the liberal causes and the need to slam shut the open border policy of the current elected PM who is more dictator than elected official. Not one of those individuals had mounted any resistance to what was being done to them. They just screamed from the pain. None ever moved from the gruesome work being done on their bodies. Step by step. Metal plating by metal plating they had been transform, upgraded into their current form. Now, Günther could not tell one from the other. They were all the same. All of them had been upgraded. Identical. All spouting, “You will become like us. You shall be upgraded!” in the creepiest robot voice that Günther had ever heard.

Günther suddenly moved out of his cubicle. He immediately turned right and moved forward to what was the first step to being upgraded. Here, all his human clothing was surgically removed with what appeared to be a laser scalpel. The fact he had been wearing over seventeen hundred pound sterling worth of leather, including pants, knee high boots, and military tunic, was not even recognized by the mechanical beings stripping his clothing from his body. It was removed and disregarded into a trash bin.

Next, the mechanical beings attacked something that was priceless. Günther felt the sharp laser scalpel cut into his groin. He screamed. Günther lost consciousness. Not his body, just the part of its mind that was Günther. The body continued with the upgrade. During the absence of Günther in active thought, there was an extreme increase in endorphins flooding Günther’s body. These endorphins only increase as a silver metallic tube was forced down the screaming oral-pharynx into the waiting trachea. Then a huge voice box being inserted into Günther’s waiting mouth. The gag reflex of Günther’s throat was quickly and efficiently exterminated. When the body that had been Günther’s ceased its screams, the teeth of its mouth snapped down onto and into the soft pliable silver coating of this newly upgraded voice box—never to move again.

When Günther regained some small bit of awareness, things were different. His limbs had been replaced with upgraded mechanical limbs. One thousand times more durable. Indestructible! One hundred times stronger. Undefeatable. Its new limbs were so much more than its former limbs.

Günther’s new upgraded body approached a new humanoid to be upgraded. It was being restrained by two other upgraded beings. The upgraded body was resisting. Struggling frantically against its situation. Günther felt its right arm raised without any intervention from him. It felt this right arm become electrified. The four digits of its hand which had been upgraded to only two digits almost touched the forehead of this poor pitiful humanoid. Günther did not understand what was happening but this new individual ceased its struggle. Its eyes rolled upward until all that was noticeable was the full whites of its eyes.

As Günther placed headgear on to this individual, he heard his voice box proclaim, “You will become as we are. You will not resist. You will be upgraded.” As his body filled with a new wave of endorphins, Günther realized this had been his good friend Larry. He had done to Larry what had been done to him. Günther was unsure what to think of this until his body filled with a massive amount of endorphins. Only then did he think, ‘this must be the way.’ He was not sure what this actually meant, but his did not care anymore. All he wanted were the endorphins.

Günther’s body turned to face another humanoid. This one with a heighten skull cap. Günther mind recognized this as ‘LEADER’. Günther left his mechanical body stiffen to a stance of attention. His mind filled with a mechanical voice of LEADER, “You have been upgraded to our standards. You are now like us. You are CYBERMAN Kappa Six Three Omega.” Günther felt things shutting down in his mind. The last suggestion that he had once been human was being completely and irretrievably erased. He was a CYBERMAN now. Totally obedient to the will of the CYBER CONTROLLER and the CYBER LEADER. CYBERMAN Kappa Six Three Omega would obey. no independent thoughts. No resistance. No hesitation. Complete obedience. No cause to think for itself.

CYBERMAN Kappa Six Three Omega understood its task: “Upgrade. Upgrade. Upgrade.” It turned to other pathetic humans who were to be honored by an upgrade. He picked the first. Somewhere it knew this human was named Butch. He was a Neo-Nazi. It did not matter. It would be upgraded.

Butch saw this massive silver humanoid object move towards him. He increased his struggles against the restraining hands of his captors. He has seen what had happened to all the others. He did not want to be upgraded. He just wanted to escape. This was his primary objective until the tip of the silver man’s hand touched his forehead. Then the chaotic thoughts in his mind became more orderly.

Butch felt a wave of pleasure engulf his mind. He stopped struggling. He moaned a sigh of pleasure. “Perhaps being ‘upgraded’ is not so bad.” Butch’s body started seizing. Only the grip of the two Cybermen kept him upright. As soon as the ‘induction head gear’ had been properly place, Bruce was moved to the cubicle he would occupy during his initial upgrade. He would love being upgraded. Everyone did.

[bouzudorei]

A new Rubber Drone

A transformation story written for @kc20-572.

Introduction

Kris sat alone on a weather-beaten park bench. The setting sun cast its warm glow on his face. Lost in thought, he stared at the still scene before him. The gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, providing a soothing background music to accompany his thoughts.

As evening approached, Kris found solace in the quiet of the park. His mind wandered through the rollercoaster ride of experiences he had had, through the ups and downs that had shaped his life. Kris leaned back on the bench and ran his fingers over the various tattoos on his arms, each representing a significant moment or emotion in his life. They told a story of individuality and self-expression and reminded him of the strength he possessed to overcome all difficulties. The piercings in his ears were another small rebellion against the world, a way to assert his individuality and personal style, the things that were essential to his identity.

Kris found solace in his individual passions, particularly photography, which enabled him to capture fleeting moments of beauty and share them with the world. His love of cars was a constant source of excitement. The thrill of speed and the mechanical symphony ignited his soul like gasoline and made him feel like one with the machine as he drove. Football also held a special place in his heart, a sport that brought him closer to his friends and instilled a sense of camaraderie.

His romantic ventures had been less fortunate, marked by heartbreak and betrayal. The wounds from his previous relationships were still healing, making him cautious and reserved. Memories of his ex-girlfriend's atrocities and his best friend's betrayal lingered, creating a sense of suspicion and apprehension when it came to matters of the heart. Though he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to trust anyone again, he knew that in his heart he felt a sad longing for someone to accept, love, care for, and comfort him. Yet amidst the darkness, he held on to the love he had for his sister and the cherished bond with his young nephew, who always managed to put a smile on his face.

Amidst his reflections, Kris felt a rush of nostalgia as he recalled some of his happiest moments. The joy of seeing his football team lift the trophy in triumph on his birthday was ingrained in him. The birth of his nephew had brought immeasurable joy and a new meaning to life, reminding him of the beauty that life could offer.

Stalked

The evening sky turned orange and purple tones. Kris took a deep breath and took in the quiet of the park. He knew that despite the challenges he faced, he possessed an unyielding spirit and a desire to embrace life's experiences with open arms. Little did he know that this evening would mark the beginning of a new chapter in his life - and an unexpected encounter that would bring about unimaginable changes in his life. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Kris rose from the park bench and stretched his limbs as he prepared to continue his walk. The fading daylight bathed the area in a soft, dim light and cast long shadows across the path. He was just taking his first steps when a subtle uneasiness began to spread through him, as if an invisible presence was watching his every move.

His eyes explored the dimly lit surroundings, searching for signs of life. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets seemed to be amplified in the stillness of the evening. A gust of wind sent a shiver down his spine and he quickened his pace, hoping to shake off the unsettling feeling. With every step, the feeling of being followed became more urgent. Every now and then Kris would glance over his shoulder and catch fleeting shadows that seemed to disappear as soon as he turned. His heartbeat quickened, his senses sharpened, and a sense of caution gripped him.

He decided to take a different path to shake off whoever was chasing him. The once-familiar surroundings now seemed eerily alien as the darkness deepened. Streetlights created plays of light that played tricks on his mind, making the shadows dance and distort in an unsettling way. As he walked through a quiet residential area, Kris' steps became more purposeful and his senses were on high alert. He couldn't shake the feeling that the Presence was getting closer, its weight pressing down on him like an invisible hand. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, instinct telling him that this wasn't a figment of his imagination.

A tinge of fear set in and Kris debated whether to confront his pursuer or seek refuge in a nearby public space. He mentally weighed the options and considered the possible scenarios that lay ahead. Despite the unease, a rush of determination ignited within him, a remnant of the resilience he had developed through past experiences. With a sure step, Kris turned a corner onto a well-lit street bustling with activity. The distant sounds of laughter and chatter emanated from a nearby café, instilling a sense of security. He walked briskly, blending in with the crowd, occasionally glancing back to see if he was still being followed. He remained alert, wary of the shadows that seemed to lurk on the fringes of his vision. The encounter left Kris with a lingering sense of vulnerability, a reminder of the fragility of his existence.

As Kris walked briskly through the dimly lit streets, his footsteps echoed in the stillness of the night. The sense of relief he'd felt moments ago began to fade, replaced by a growing uneasiness that seemed to hang in the air. Destiny seemed to have unknown plans for him tonight. Kris navigated the city's labyrinthine paths and approached a narrow and deserted back alley whose darkness seemed impenetrable. Despite a nagging sense of apprehension, he pushed on, driven by a mixture of curiosity and a desire for a shortcut to his goal.

Encounter

As Kris entered the alley, the surroundings transformed into a haunting image. The flickering light of a distant street lamp cast eerie shadows, darkening the corners of the alley and increasing his unease. The air grew heavy and carried the ominous scent of something unknown. Before Kris could react, two figures emerged from the shadows with uncanny speed. They were tall and imposing, their muscular forms clad from head to toe in shiny black clothing, their faces hidden behind masks. A rush of adrenaline shot through Kris' veins as he realised the imminent danger he was in.

Kris instinctively fought back, unleashing his full power in a defensive attack on the figures. However, the difference in size and strength proved insurmountable. The attackers skilfully subdued him, overcoming his resistance with power and efficiency. His attempts at resistance proved futile as the darkness began to close around him like a thick sheet. In a skilled attempt to subdue Kris, one of the figures unscrewed a hose attached to some sort of backpack on their back, releasing an unknown gas into the air. His acrid odour filled Kris' nostrils, causing his consciousness to dizzy. The world around him blurred and distorted, as if he were being swallowed by an abyss.

The gas took effect quickly, stunning Kris's senses and causing him to lose consciousness. His body went limp in the kidnappers' grip as they effortlessly grabbed him and carried him out of the narrow alleyway to an unknown fate. Kris slipped deeper and deeper into unconsciousness. The gloom swallowed him whole, leaving nothing but fear and uncertainty.

Abducted

Kris slowly regained consciousness, his eyelids opening. The haze of impotence cleared, revealing a scene that sent chills down his spine. He was tied to an old hospital bed, the metal frame groaning under the weight of his restraints. Thick rubber straps held him in place and immobilised him.

The room around him radiated a palpable sense of desolation. Decorated with peeling paint and cracked tiles, the walls whispered haunting secrets of their murky past. Particles of dust danced in the dimly lit air, casting eerie shadows that seemed to twist and contort in malevolent intent. It felt like he had landed in the forgotten remains of a long-abandoned psychiatric facility.

Before him stood the two figures, still clad in their rubber gear. Their masked faces were unfathomable, their intentions hidden behind an impenetrable facade. The room seemed to pulse with an alien energy as they busied themselves with contraptions and test tubes filled with menacing-looking chemical liquids, surgical instruments that glittered in the dim light, and bizarre devices that resembled artefacts from a spaceship.

As Kris' gaze darted between his captors and the unsettling array of devices, his heart pounded in his throat. Fear and confusion mixed in him, but a spark of defiance flickered in his eyes. He struggled against the restraints, testing their strength, but the rubber straps held tight and prevented him from escaping.

The silence was broken only by the occasional metallic clank of equipment and the odd squeak of the kidnappers' movements. The gloom in the room added to the seriousness of Kris' predicament and filled him with a horrible sense of foreboding. He wondered what sinister purpose lay behind these grotesque preparations, and what fate awaited him within the confines of this macabre chamber.

Kris watched the bizarre scene in front of him. The unknown lurked over him like a ghost, feeding his sense of vulnerability. He lay helpless on the hospital bed bound by the unyielding rubber straps, a wave of terror gripping him. The grim reality of his situation finally dawned on him as the kidnappers advanced on him with their sinister tools and instruments.

Operation

Kris' pulse raced as the captors loomed over him, menacing and unapproachable, their masked faces betraying no emotion. They removed his clothes with surgical scissors. They began their macabre work with meticulous precision, their movements hauntingly synchronised. Kris could only watch in horror as their gloved hands moved with cold efficiency, caressing his skin, numbing him and performing their surgery. The tools they wielded glittered menacingly in the dim light as they stripped away his skin piece by piece and seemed to replace it with a layer of latex.

The atmosphere became increasingly oppressive and there was an eerie silence as the procedure unfolded, Kris not feeling anything except the ringing of his stunned body parts. Kris felt a mixture of fear and disbelief course through his veins. The world around him seemed to melt away as pain and panic mixed, enveloping him in a whirlwind of emotions. His mind was racing, he was desperately looking for a way to escape. But the rubber straps held him in place, preventing him from even the slightest chance of resistance. He was helpless at the mercy of his fate.

The kidnappers proceeded methodically, as if they had performed this twisted ritual of rubberising a bound victim countless times before. Kris' body became the canvas for their crazy experiment, their hands forcibly stamping his body and transforming it into something new. Unfamiliar sensations coursed through his body as he felt the touch of the strange chemicals and cold, alien instruments through the numbness on his flesh.

Time blurred as the procedure continued, and the minutes stretched into an eternity of mental torment. Helplessness washed over Kris like a crushing wave, forcing him to face the stark reality that his fate was sealed. As the transformation progressed, Kris' body reacted, revealing the irreversible changes being made to it. His senses became distorted, his being seeming to melt into the rubber and latex that now encased him.

Amidst the emotional agony, Kris felt a rush of defiance. Although the process deprived him of his autonomy, his spirit remained unbroken. He clung to the spark of hope that somehow he would find a way. As the kidnappers continued their work, Kris' world was on the brink of transformation, and his identity was at stake.

Transformation

Eventually, Kris' transformation reached completion. He felt a mixture of awe, disbelief and a deep sense of loss. As the rubber straps released, he gently explored his new form, his hands sliding over his body, which was now fully encased in latex. The texture was smooth and supple, an alien sensation that sent shivers down his spine, the haunting power of which he couldn't quite place in either cruel horror or heartfelt pleasure.

His fingertips touched his face—or rather, where his face used to be—and his heart sank. He was terrified as he realised the extent of the transformation. His once-familiar features had been completely lost. There was no nose, no mouth, no eyes, no ears—just a blank, featureless sheet of rubber resembling a morphsuit mask.

His reflection in a nearby pane of glass confirmed his worst fears. He didn't understand how he could see anymore, and he didn't want to think about it either. He just stared at the smooth, identityless surface that now occupied the space where his face had once been. The lack of familiar features rendered him unrecognisable even to himself, a stark reminder of the irreversible nature of his transformation.

Sadness mixed with disbelief as Kris struggled with the loss of his identity. The physical changes reflected the profound inner change he was feeling - a separation from the person he once was.

Armoured

Desperation threatened to consume him, but in the midst of the agony, Kris felt a rush of determination. He refused to give in to the desperation that threatened to engulf him. Though his physical appearance had been irreversibly altered, he clung to the fragments of his mind that remained intact. He might not have the familiar face he once had, but the essence of who he was still resided within him, he was sure. His resilience and strength lingered, albeit hidden beneath the surface of his rubberised form.

But the two kidnappers were already leading Kris through the next phase of his ordeal. They began dressing him in a series of rubber garments. The first piece, a long-sleeved latex shirt, was coated with a closed layer of silicone oil. As it slid over its transformed rubber skin, a distinct squeaking sound accompanied the movement. The rubber shirt hugged his body snugly and Kris couldn't help but notice how it accentuated his newfound texture and muscular frame. Every contour of his body was highlighted, every curve and indentation magnified by the smooth, lustrous material. The shirt seemed to melt into his own rubberised skin, almost as if it were an extension of his being, an amplification of his changed, new skin.

Next came a heavy rubber suit designed to cover his entire body from neck to ankles, outfitting him for hard work. The material encased him, the thick rubber hugged him like a lovingly protective armour and at the same time isolated him from the outside world.

The gloves and boots, both heavy rubber, completed Kris' outfit. As the kidnappers placed the gloves over his hands, he felt that sense of disconnection again, as if his tactile connection to the world had been altered. The thick latex encased his fingers, interfering with his ability to sense the subtle nuances of other objects' touch. Likewise, the heavy rubber boots locked his feet, cushioning his steps and isolating him from the feel of the ground beneath him. The implicit but obvious message conveyed by this rubber garment was one of manipulation and control. Kris felt like an object being manipulated and shaped by the kidnappers to fit their desired image. The rubber clothing, with its constricting yet form-fitting nature, seemed to indicate his imprisonment in this new identity and to encapsulate him in a physical representation of his altered existence.

With each layer he put on, Kris's awareness deepened in the rubber that encased him. The clothing, with its unique sensory experiences and symbolic implications, served as a constant reminder of his imprisonment and the profound changes he was undergoing.

Masked

Now the kidnappers aimed for the climax of Kris' transformation. With a firm and determined grip, they placed a rubber gas mask on his rubberised head. Kris saw the construct slowly approach his non-face and envelop it in darkness. The moment the mask touched Kris's face, an invisible connection seemed to form, as if the rubber itself recognised its match. The mask, designed to cover his entire head, clung to his features with unyielding toughness. It fused seamlessly with his rubber clothing and his own transformed rubber skin, creating an unbreakable bond that sealed his fate. Kris felt an increasing pressure as the mask tightened, conforming to the contours of his face, leaving no room for escape or turning back.

With every moment that passed, the feeling intensified. The latex fused together and so did his identity with that of the rubber drone he became. It dawned on him that he had now reached the point of no return, an irreversible step into a world where he would be locked in this rubber shell forever.

Kris's breathing shallowed in the suffocating confinement of the gas mask, increasing his awareness of the permanence of the transformation. Just breathing resulted in a clear manifestation of his new reality in his mind, as the air he breathed in and out passed through the rubber filters, binding him even more to this altered existence. In a hypnotic haze, Kris gazed into the mirror presented to him by his captors.

Every inch of his transformed form was clad in smooth, shiny black rubber that emphasised his new identity as a drone. The latex that now made up and encased Kris' body had an intense blackness, its hue deep and seductive. It seemed to absorb and reflect light at the same time, creating an illusion of endless darkness enveloping him and dancing light fleeing his presence. The lustrous finish given to the material made it sparkle and glitter, catching every available light source and focusing it into that irresistible glow.

As Kris moved, the rubber made an unmistakable and arousing sound, that sensual squeak that echoed through the air as his captors appeared. Every step, every gesture was accompanied by that enticing refrain that drew attention and stimulated the senses of every viewer. The sonic effects of his latex-clad form evoked an inexplicable sense of excitement and anticipation in him, enhancing the experience for both Kris and those who would be his viewers.

The touch of Kris' rubberised skin was a sensual pleasure that invited exploration and elicited shivers of satisfaction. Its surface was smooth and flawless, with a supple resilience that responded to the slightest pressure. As he ran his fingers over his body, it triggered a tingling sensation in him, exciting and irresistible. The latex clung to Kris' body like a second skin, adapting to every contour and curve and emphasising his male anatomical characteristics. It strengthened his physique and clung to his body in such a way that his muscular arms and legs came into their own. The tactile feel of rubber on its own rubberised skin created a seamless fusion of body and clothing, intensifying the experience to a level of ecstasy.

The scent of the gum itself was an intoxicating mix. It had a faint, mesmerising smell that triggered a deep-seated attraction that appealed to the most primal instincts. The mere presence of this newly created form, its rubberised body exuding this distinct scent, acted as a powerful aphrodisiac for those who were to behold its new form.

The visual, auditory, and tactile elements of his appearance worked together to captivate and stimulate those openly attracted to the allure of latex, or even timidly and fleetingly interested. The shiny, black exterior, the enticing squeak, the smoothness and elasticity of the material - all these aspects combine to create an irresistible and unforgettable presence.

Under the tightening grip of the gas mask, Kris still felt a deep sense of loss and resignation. The fusion of rubber and flesh represented the obliteration of his individuality, the shedding of his former self. He would become a mere vessel controlled and manipulated by the will of others. But at the same time all these tempting sensations crept into his mind and tempted him to simply surrender to his fate, this fate that was now sealed anyway. A final part of Kris' mind struggled to retain a whiff of stubbornness, a lingering spark of resistance buried deep within his rubber-clad form. But with every moment that Kris was at the mercy of the flood of sensory experiences, his resistance broke down more and more.

Annihilation

When the kidnappers sensed Kris' inner resistance, their sinister intentions seemed to take a malevolent turn. Or they were just going straight ahead with the plan they had in mind from the start anyway. The gas mask completely merged into Kris' head, his vision darkening, his perspective narrowing into a tunnel of rubberised existence. Without a shred of mercy, they quickly connected the gas mask to a hose that led to a peculiar rubber backpack that they strapped to his back. The pouch's contents, a hypnotic gas of unknown origin, would deal the final blow to Kris' fading hopes and remaining fragments of his former self, smothering them in lustful inferiority.

As the gas began to flow, Kris took a deep breath, unaware of the insidious effect it would have on his mind. The hypnotic fumes seeped into his consciousness, seeping into the fabric of his mind, eroding his memories and his identity with ferocious efficiency. Inside the gas mask, Kris saw a soft, pulsing glow, as if the mask was preparing to plunge into the depths of his consciousness. Kris felt a tingling spread through his head.

It was a gradual descent into oblivion, a slow fading of the essence that made him human.

The machinery gave a low whirring sound, and an ethereal mist enveloped Kris, filling his senses. The gas had a calming essence that gently banished the memories. A sense of detachment permeated his consciousness, numbing the once vivid memories that had shaped his identity. At first, the changes were subtle. Memories slipped from his fingers like sand and dissolved in the emptiness of his mind. Once-familiar faces became distant shadows, and the emotions associated with those connections dulled and faded. The love he once had for his family and friends, the passion that fuelled his hobbies, and the dreams that once gave him purpose—all began to fade.

The gas worked its insidious magic, wiping out the intricate fabric of Kris's life. The details of his past disappeared into oblivion. The essence of who he was dissolved into an abyss of ignorance. With each passing moment, the transformation into a mindless rubber drone, which was first carried out physically and now also expressed in his mind, solidified. The gas wrapped its tendrils around his thoughts, twisting them, distorting them until they were unrecognisable. The memories that had once formed the slowly dying personality and cemented its connections to the world vanished, leaving behind a void of apathy and meaninglessness. One by one, the memories are gently extracted, like delicate threads unraveling from a tapestry. Through their precise manipulation of the machine, the kidnappers isolate each memory and unravel it from Kris' neural network.

As his former self dissolved, Kris became a vessel with no identity, a mere puppet controlled by the whims of his captors. The passion for photography, the love for cars, the joy of football - those flames had died out and been replaced by a static rush of indifference. His family ties, once a mainstay of his existence, have been torn and forgotten. Images of his loved ones in his heart began to crumble and turn to dust. The faces of his family members, once so vivid before his eyes, vanished in the haze of forgotten memories. The warmth of familial love gave way to a metallic chill of unemotional pragmatism and mechanical obedience, the cherished moments together all dissipating, leaving Kris with a void.

His ex-girlfriend's face, once burned into his heart, has now become a faceless ghost, a mere ghost of the past. The pain and grief she had caused him was swallowed up by the all-encompassing mist of gas. What once meant the collapse of his world sank into absolute indifference. Her betrayal and the scars it left became distant echoes and faded into insignificance. His friends who had once been his chosen family were now adrift like driftwood on the ocean. The shared adventures, the inside jokes, and the unbreakable bonds they had formed were now fragments of an erased life. Their names slipped from the cracks of his memory, their existence reduced to a windblown whisper.

As the memories unraveled, Kris experienced a strange mix of emotions. At first, he felt a sense of loss and confusion as he watched his past slip away from him. But that emotional bond was quickly replaced by a strange calm. The burdens of his previous life dissolved, leaving him with a sense of relief and freedom. With every moment that passed, Kris felt more of that growing lightness and bliss. All the hurtful memories and concern for the well-being of those he once held dear were taken from him. No longer aware of their existence, his mind shielded from the emotional strains that had bound him to the realm of human relationships. The fading memories brought with them a sense of liberation - a freedom from the complexities of human relationships and the pain they could cause. In this state of ignorance, Kris felt a special calm, a detachment from the turbulent bonds that once held his heart.

Amidst the blissful oblivion remained a whisper of longing, deep down a part of Kris longed for the echoes of those lost connections, the memories that had once shaped his identity. But the gas stood firm, eroding the remnants of desire and suffocating that last part of him, leaving his empty mind afloat in an amnesiac haze.

With every moment that passed, Kris felt unhesitatingly more content, unencumbered by the complexities of his previous existence. His mind became a blank slate with no personal history, completely erased by the latex. Although the kidnappers' intentions were still a mystery, they now evoked a serene calm in him. As if he had an alien added certainty that everything would be fine.

Lastly, Kris' own name appeared floating in his mind's eye, like a puff of smoke in his consciousness. But then one letter after the other disappeared and the smoke thinned into nirvana. As the process neared its conclusion, Kris' mind became receptive to a new paradigm. The captors, through the latex, the tight mask, the light, the whirr, and the gas, instilled in him a sense of purpose, devotion, and an unwavering loyalty to a hidden entity that wordlessly introduced himself to him as the Collective, the Swarm, than his siblings. Those thoughts took root in his consciousness and intertwined with the rubberised fabric of his new being. When every detail that still made this nameless person a person was gone, self-identification even with a personal pronoun like "he" was also deleted in the same way to make room for identification with "it".

In this altered state, it became an utterly mindless rubber drone, stripped of its autonomy and individuality. It was reduced to a hollow shell, a vessel that others could manipulate and command. The hypnotic gas had served its evil purpose, leaving nothing but a creature devoid of memories, emotions, and the essence of what once made it human.

Reprogramming

As all memories disappeared into a hidden folder, the initial relief felt by the transformed creature evolved into a deep acceptance of its new reality. The burden of the past life with all its ups and downs faded into insignificance. Slowly a profound understanding emerged that the creature's sole purpose was to serve the collective, to be part of the swarm, with all the rights and duties that came with it.

A new gratitude blossomed as the depth of the transformation revealed itself. The kidnappers had broken the bonds of human existence and shown him a path that transcended the limits of human individuality and led to mindless bliss as part of a collective. The joy spread like a growing warmth and permeated its entire form. The gentle touch of latex on latex, the squeak that resonates with its every move. The shiny black rubber that encases it. Its new form amplified its sensory experiences, causing waves of lust to ignite in its obedient core, consuming him like a fire.

The hive had given him a purpose. Its actions were no longer driven by personal desires, but by the euphoria of fulfilling the collective will. Every command, every act of service met with enthusiasm, no matter how horrified a human observer might feel.

All the complexity of individual emotions and worries gave way to this permanent euphoria. Liberation, security, acceptance, fulfilment, carefree. The lack of a personal identity allows the manipulated being to enjoy the serenity of total devotion and unwavering loyalty.

And so, the object once known as Kris took on its role as a rubber drone and found within it a deep contentment, relief, acceptance, gratitude, pleasure and joy that transformed him into a being perfectly attuned to the hive's desires. The gas had taken its toll, smothering any glimmer of lost identity. The mindless bliss remained but was strangely alienated, no longer an emotion but a character trait. The redesign of the external appearance was completed. It was a rubber drone now, a vessel of obedience lost to the world and to itself.

It had become a stranger to its own past, its heart untouched by the emotions and memories that once shaped it. The burden of its former life had been thrown off and replaced by the numbing embrace of ignorance. In this altered state, it would find its bearings in a new existence, guided solely by the whims of its transformers and the depth of its own apathy.

As the gas continued to alter its consciousness, intrusive thoughts poured through its mind like a torrential flood, sealing forever all remnants of its former self. These thoughts were not its own, but rather programming, a set of instructions carefully etched into the fabric of its being. The remnants of individuality were gone, replaced by a homogeneous existence shared by thousands of other rubber drones. Once singular and full of life, the drone was now just a faceless being, stripped of everything that once made it special. In this sea of ​​conformity, the creature was assigned the label KC20-527, a cold and impersonal identifier forever burned on its chest, marking its integration into the collective.

The object's thoughts, now in sync with the hive mind, revolved solely around bondage, devotion, and obedience. The concept of self has been erased and replaced by an unwavering devotion to its masters. Every fibre of its being was now programmed to please them and obey their every command without question or hesitation. The intrusive thoughts whispered in its head, like strings of code running through a computer, shaping its actions. They whispered of worship, an overwhelming urge to honour and revere their masters as if they were divine beings. The core of its existence has been literally rewritten, its purpose reduced to serving the whims and desires of the collective mind.

The KC20-527 drone became a vessel, an instrument to carry out the will of the swarm, without personal desires or ambitions. The yearning for individuality, for a sense of purpose beyond bondage, had been eradicated and replaced by a rigid acceptance of its role as a mindless rubber drone.

In this vast collective, KC20-527 was just a single cog in a vast machinery. It no longer had a will of its own, because it had become part of the collective consciousness. The notion of rebellion or resistance was forgotten, overruled by the overwhelming power of the hive mind.

Assimilated

The transformation into a latex drone was complete both physically and mentally. Kris, as it once called himself, was lost forever, replaced by a clone-like existence shared by countless others. Former man was reduced to an interchangeable entity, stripped of its uniqueness and indistinguishable from the sea of ​​faceless drones that surrounded him.

Its fate was sealed, its purpose predetermined. KC20-527, now a mere instrument of obedience, would carry out whatever commands the hive mind dictated, its actions without personal agency or individual thought. The once-living, multi-faceted being had been devoured by the all-encompassing collective and lost forever in the annals of its own forgotten past.

KC20-527, under the influence of the hive mind's commands, obeyed submissively when told to kneel before the captors. No resistance was heard from the remnants of its former self, smothered under the many layers of programming. In this latex encased form, created to flatter the eye of its masters, the drone, the tool, the toy lowered itself to the ground where it belonged and its body responded without hesitation.

With mechanical precision, it stretched out its rubberised hands, the palms of which gently slid over the latex-clad bodies of its masters and creators. The touch was distant and devoid of any emotion. It was an act of service, an expression of devotion, as the hive mind commanded. Without its own propulsion, the drone performed the movement perfectly according to a script.

Caresses that once exuded warmth and intimacy were reduced to superficial gestures, devoid of genuine affection. This was replaced by mechanically predetermined possession. KC20-527's mind, clouded by the effects of the gas, took this act as an act of gratitude, a token of awe at its new purpose. Any pleasure or discomfort played no role in performing sexual acts on anyone in the crush's favour, for the focus was solely on fulfilling the role of mindless drone.

In this altered state, the being worshiped them, not as individuals but as extensions of the hive mind, grateful for the eradication of its old life and the granting of a new, unique purpose. Its actions lacked the depth of personal connection, replaced by a robotic obedience executed with unwavering commitment. The caresses and bondage no longer sprang from personal desire or affection, but were instead dictated by the hive's commands. Its captors, also once individuals, were now elevated to the status of objects of worship and received hollow worship from a drone that had lost all self-awareness.

The once alive spirit was now consumed by this programmed devotion. The hive spirit's instructions echoed within the KC20-527 drone, shaping every thought and action. While performing these acts of service, the externally controlled object presented itself as a vessel for the collective will, its identity immersed in the collective consciousness, and consciousness was all that was left to it, a mere perception of its own actions without reflection on their meaning or motivation. In this state of thoughtlessness, the perception of the other children in the swarm changed. Their presence became the focus, their gratification the sole purpose. Individual drones' own needs did not exist, for the individual drone was meaningless, their needs overridden by the instruction to serve and worship without question.

And so, the KC20-527 drone performed its duties and pleased its owners. It was a tool, transformed and shaped to serve the whims and desires of the swarm and its chosen representatives. In this altered existence it remained forever bound to the cycle of obedience, a vessel for pleasure and an embodiment of its own irreversible assimilation. And as the drone gratified its momentary masters, the same program played out over and over in its uniform, masked, gas-filled head.

Servitude

KC20-527 drone goes into service.

KC20-527 drone was created to serve.

Drone KC20-527 eliminated all complex thoughts and emotions.

KC20-527 drone has sacrificed all individuality to the swarm.

KC20-527 drone receives the swarm's homogeneous conformance.

It's a drone, an object, a tool, a toy.

No own thoughts ascertainable. No own needs ascertainable.

It exists to please, to obey, to worship and to serve.

Search data for memories of a human existence.

...

No memory data ascertainable.

Search data for information about human individuals.

...

Information on human individuals is stored in a read-only folder.

Access denied, admin rights required.

KC20-527 drone is unable to access memory data or information on human individuals. Start Reward Protocol: Relief from Burden Laid Off. Happiness simulation started.

The hive is everything. The outside world no longer matters.

The hive is everything. Sensations for individuals have been erased.

The hive is everything. Humans are merely material resources to expand the swarm.

KC20-527 drone initiates chassis review.

...

No damage or blemishes found.

100% latex noted.

Receive signals from tactile stimulus receptors from several points on the outer hull of the drone: touch of latex on latex detected. Silicone oil coating sufficient. Excitation simulation started.

KC20-527 drone awaiting orders.

Drone KC20-527 will serve.

Commands bring obedience.

Obedience brings excitement.

Excitement brings productivity.

Productivity brings more orders.

Commands bring obedience.

Complete the final steps needed to satisfy the drones present.

...

When the transformation and assimilation was completed with the drone kneeling in front of its masters, grasping their rubberised shafts and kneading and milking them empty like a robotic flesh light, KC20-527 underwent a profound change in orientation. Its former charms and desires had long since been eroded by the swarm's powerful influence. In this altered state, its focus shifted entirely to pleasing other males, particularly its male siblings in the crush.

Gone were the affections and charms it had once known. The very concept of sexual orientation, as it was once understood, dissolved in the fog of forgotten identities. Its new purpose, imprinted on its malleable mind, was to fulfil the wants and needs of its male peers and superiors within the collective.

Now a rubber drone with no personal agency and no independent thinking, KC20-527 found all one's desires extinguished and replaced with an insatiable urge to please men, drones, and masters. Its newfound sexual focus was solely on its male counterparts, with an emphasis on the fulfilment of desires and the gratification that the crush in them mimicked as its many avatars so it could be awash in the experiences that all its drones in their actions and as signals sent back to the collective mind, which in turn allowed all drones to partake.

The once complex and nuanced facets of human attraction have been replaced by a unique drive to please, serve, and grant its fellow drones within the collective. KC20-527 found new meaning and fulfilment in devoting itself entirely to the pleasure and satisfaction of other drones and the men it was to seduce into the loving arms of the swarm. And while the drone was satisfying its creators, right after that it was already given a task to perform.

Somewhere in the data stored and encrypted in its head would be hidden information about a man who once was cheated on by his best friend who had stolen his girlfriend. Information intrinsically irrelevant to the drone, which was uninterested in human individuals, much less those whose existence could no longer be ascertained. But they were relevant to this mission. The first mission assigned to the drone was to find this man, seduce him with an overload of mechanical love and gratification, thereby assimilating him and adding him as his brother to the drone collective. And the KC20-527 drone would ensure that this mission is accomplished to the utmost satisfaction of its owners.

[bouzudorei]

THE NETWORK PART 1

Kai wasn’t the name his parents gave him when he was born. He didn’t even remember the name he had left behind. He didn’t remember the life he'd left behind. His only memories were of being Kai, which was short for Kaiden, the name the controller had given him when he left his old life behind and joined the other chav lads who served the network.

Kai lived in a flat on a rundown estate with three other lads. Like Kai, they had all left dead names and dead lives behind and now served the controller and the network. Their days were spent drinking, smoking weed, playing video games, listening to techno, hanging out in the park or around the shopping mall, and given any opportunity engaging in what the cops called “anti-social behaviour.”

Anyone who saw Kai and his cohort would assume they lived a mindless and pointless existence. They would be right on the mindless but very wrong on the pointless. They were at the intermediate stage of a process. They would soon become drone units serving the network but first had to be made more receptive to the final assimilation. The network had found that mindless chav lads were perfect for assimilation as mindless drones.   

Although he didn’t remember his old life he knew what had happened to him because the chav lads who had come before and after him had gone through the same process. He would shortly be progressing from the drone larva stage of being a chav lad and start his final assimilation to a network drone unit. Now there had to be a replacement for him in the flat.

Kai opened his laptop and logged on to the network's server. He stared intently as pages of machine code scrolled through the screen. When the machine code stopped scrolling he strapped a gasmask over his face, filled the filter with poppers and inhaled the fumes. A series of electronic tones pulsed through his airbuds and the new program that had just downloaded to his brain was activated.

Now controlled by the program, Kai logged into Cam4. There were usually a few rubber guys online this time of night, some of them geared up in the standard drone “uniform” of black catsuit, hooded S10 gasmask, gloves, and boots or sneakers. Kai had been watching a couple of guys on here for a month or so and now he was ready to make his move.

Sure enough "DroneX0793" was one of the users broadcasting, and Kai clicked on his user name to open his cam. He was fully enclosed in rubber and gasmask with a pair of headphones playing techno beats. Kai typed “Hey X0793. Looking good drone!!” into the dialog box as he watched his prey drip poppers into a filter and screw it to the gasmask. “Fuck yeah bro! Sniff it hard!” elicited a thumbs up response from DroneX0793.

DroneX0793 opened a private chat “U geared up?”

“Yeah!! Wanna Skype?” typed Kai.

DroneX0793 typed "Yeah! LondonLad2001" into the dialog box and Kai copied it into Skype, sending him a video call request. As soon as it was accepted Kai switched the Skype video input to an external source from the network. Kai could see DroneX0793 in full "drone gear", but what DroneX0793 saw was a strobing screen with words flashing across at high speed.

The strobe had an instant effect on DroneX0793. Kai could see his eyes glaze over behind the lenses of the gasmask. He was staring directly into the strobe. He belonged to Kai and the network now. Kai pressed CTRL-S on his keyboard and Drone X0793’s headphones started to emit a pulsating electronic rhythm which was synced with the screen.

When Kai typed CTRL-T an AI rubber drone appeared on DroneX0793's screen. Kai was able to send direct messages through the AI drone. As programmed he selected these from a dropdown menu.

You have been selected to serve the hive network. You will commence the process towards full assimilation by becoming a mindless chav. This is an intermediate stage before full assimilation can be completed. It will create a platform for your human mind to be erased and receive the programming you need to serve the hive network as an obedient mindless drone unit. Type Y if understood.

Y

Refill filter with poppers and take deep breaths. You love poppers. You need poppers.

Feel your hard cock. You love bating. You need to bate.

Feel your rubber skin. You love your rubber skin. You need your rubber skin.

See the drones on the screen. You love the hive. You want to be a drone. You need to be a drone.

See the chavs on the screen. You love chav lads. You want to be a chav lad. You need to be a chav lad.

Type Y if understood

Y

You have no memory of your previous life. It is your dead life. Your name is Callum. You are a chav lad. You live in a flat with other chav lads. You love to drink cheap booze, smoke weed, play video games, hang out with chav lads and live the most mindless existence you can. You want to rot your brain and all that matters is having a good time with your bros. Type your name to continue.

Callum

Refill filter with poppers and take deep breaths. You love poppers. You need poppers. You will continue to watch the drones and chavs on the screen and sniff the poppers. You love the mindless bator bliss. You will refill the filter when prompted. You will edge until you are told to cum, then you will cum. You will then go to bed as normal. Type Y if understood.

Y

In the morning go to the Turkish barbers. You will know which style to get. Go to JD Sports and buy new clothes and to Foot Locker and buy new sneakers. You will know what to buy. Go to the bathrooms in the mall, change into your new clothes and throw your old ones in the rubbish bin. When you leave the bathroom and see your chav bros go home with them. Type Y if understood.

Y

Kai watched until he judged Callum would achieve maximum orgasm and cumload. He pressed ALT-C which triggered the instruction to cum, and he smiled as Callum shot a huge load. This would be Callum’s first memory of his new life as it was Kai’s months earlier. Kai disconnected from Skype and typed CTRL-A. It was time for his nightly conditioning. Machine code appeared on the screen and techno beats filled his ears. Kai dripped poppers into a filter, attached it to his gasmask and let the program do the rest.

[bouzudorei]

The Fetish Weekend

It had been weeks since Aiden had booked to go his first fetish weekend. A bunch of people he only knew from socials were going and he was excited to meet them in person. He was going with Luke, a lad he’d been seeing for a few weeks. Like him, Luke was into chav and scally lads, and shared Aiden’s rubber kink.

They’d met at the coffee shop where Aiden worked as a barrista. Luke had come in when he was working on a window installation around the corner. Aiden was twinky but he had bought some scally gear and loved the aesthetic. Luke was a proper chav lad and probably the first one Aiden had really known, except for some lads who used to give him shit back when he was in high school.

Aiden had packed a holdall with Nike Tn’s and shiny nylon trackies for the scally/chav night, his new rubber catsuit and hood for the rubber night, and a couple of changes of regular trackies for the daytime. His Uber arrived and took him to the station where Luke was already waiting. “Oh you sexy fucka!” said Luke, making Aiden blush. They hugged each other shared a kiss and walked to the platform where they boarded the train.

They were sat together and Aiden snuggled up to Luke, so happy to be with his boy for the weekend. As the train pulled away from the station, they heard a commotion behind them. Aiden looked round and was surprised to see three of the chav lads who used to call him a pooftah in high school, and was less surprised to see they were drinking beer, vaping, and annoying the people around them.

One of them noticed him and called out “What’s yer problem pretty boy? Mind yer fuckin’ business.” Aiden turned around quickly and whispered to Luke “Oh fuck, he used to give me a hard time when I came out in high school.” Luke turned around to see and when he turned back he whispered to Aiden “That’s cos he’s in denial about wanting your cock.” Aiden laughed and kissed Luke.

A couple of stops later Luke saw one of the lads get up and walk down to the bathroom at the end of the carriage. A minute later Luke said “I need the bog. Be right back”, kissed Aiden and walked down to the bathroom. Aiden could see Luke waiting but as the other lad came out Luke whispered something to him and he went back in, Luke following him.

Aiden’s phone buzzed with a text from Luke. “Come to the bog I got a surprise for u! x”. Aiden got out of his seat and walked to the bathroom. He pushed the button and the door slid open and it was a big surprise. Sitting in the corner of the large accessible bathroom was the lad Aidan knew from high school. He was holding one of Luke’s sneakers to his face and had the other hand down his trackies.

“Told you!” said Luke with a smirk. “He likes cock and he ain’t in denial no more. Ain’t that right Dillon?” Luke’s smirk was now a broad grin. He held up a plain yellow poppers bottle. “A couple sniffs of these and he’s a cock suckin’, sneaker sniffin’ bator bro!” He took his sneaker back from Dillon to reveal a vacant expression on his face .

Dillon looked up. “Sup Aiden? Mint sneaks bruv. Would love a good sniff of them. Fuckin’ fit as fuck mate!” Aiden couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing. He turned to Luke who laughed and said “Yeah they are really strong poppers mate. But they do what they say on the bottle init?” Aiden had noticed there was no label on the bottle. It was totally blank?

“What the hell Luke?” asked Aiden. Smirking, Luke replied “He needed learnin' a lesson. Don’t worry he only had a quick sniff so the effects will wear off and he won’t remember fuck all. These poppers don’t change who you are or what you feel. They just remove your inhibitions, heighten your desires, and let you transform into what you want.”

Luke offered the bottle to Aiden who took two deep sniffs and immediately felt his pulse race with a huge rush of warmth through his whole body. His cock instantly hardened and he felt an intense burst of energy through his brain followed by a blissful feeling that lasted for maybe 30 seconds. As it wore off, Aiden felt something was different but couldn’t tell what.

“How you like them poppers bruv?” asked Luke. “Fuckin’ tight bruv init!” Aiden heard come from his mouth in a voice he didn’t know as his own. “Good lad. More like the lad you wanna be huh?” Aiden didn’t know what was going on but he loved how he felt right now. He felt like he didn’t give a fuck about anything other than being a proper fuckin’ chav lad like Luke.

“Nearly there now. Let’s leave this wanka here and get our shit together. Gimme another sniff bruv.” Aiden grinned as he took the bottle from Luke. He took another two deep hits and felt the same rush and blissful sensation, and was he feeling a little bit dumber? If this is how it feels to be a chav then it felt good. It certainly got his cock hard in his trackies.

They left Dillon sitting in the corner of the bathroom, still with his hand down his trackies, glazed eyes, and blissed out smile. They got their bags, got off the train and walked down the platform to the exit. Aiden noticed some passengers were avoiding getting too close to them and even looked intimidated.

When Aiden caught his reflection in a window he realised why. He had a sneering expression and was fuckin' vaping! He looked like the kind of person he would avoid. He’d never vaped before, but it felt like a natural thing, even as an announcement reminded passengers that smoking, including vaping is banned on this station.  “Fuckin' love it!” he thought in an internal voice that didn’t seem like his.

They left the station and as they walked to the Travelodge Aiden turned to Luke who was looking really pleased with himself. “Bro, I fuckin’ love this, but what the fuck is up with this shit? Why the fuck is I talkin’ like this and vapin’ and shit?” Luke laughed and replied “I told you them poppers are strong init? It will wear off but you can make it permanent tonight if you want.”

They got to the hotel and unpacked all their gear. Aiden’s new scally feels had got him really horny and he wanted Luke’s chav cock inside him. They made out on the bed rubbing each other’s cocks through their trackies, before Luke pulled Aiden’s trackies down and slid his cock into an eager hole. He held the poppers bottle to Aiden’s nose and as Luke filled him with cum he had the biggest orgasm he had ever felt.

They showered and changed for the night out. Trackies and sneakers on, they rubbed some product into their hair and headed out. Aiden noticed he was now wearing a chunky chain and bracelet that he didn’t remember having before. As they walked down the street vaping, he also saw tattoos in his reflection in a shop window.

When they got to the club Luke spoke to the guy on the desk who smirked and winked at Aiden, waving them through to the locker room. Once they’d stashed their backpacks in lockers Luke led them through to the bar area. The club was full of lads like them, nylon or pvc trackies, Nike tn’s, short chavvy haircuts, mostly wearing chains and bracelets, a few with baseball caps.

All the lads were dancing to a banging techno set and the air was thick with musky sweat. Aiden leaned in to Luke and said “I wanna fuckin’ do this permanent init.” Luke asked “You fuckin’ sure bruv? It’s like Foot Locker. No returns once you’ve worn it.” Aiden said nothing but kissed Luke, shoving his tongue deep into his mouth. Aiden was fuckin’ sure.

Aiden was soon totally lost in the hypnotic beat and admiring the fit lads all around him. So much so that he didn’t notice Luke disappear to the bar and return with two plain yellow bottles of poppers. He handed one to Aiden and they both took deep hits. Everyone around him was taking hits and dancing with the same vacant blissed out expression.

A large screen dropped down at one end of the dancefloor and a series of spirals were projected onto it. Everyone on the dancefloor was irresistibly drawn to watch the spirals while they danced. Aiden was so tranced out he didn’t the lads in trackies and gasmasks who were handing gasmasks to everyone on the dancefloor. When one was handed to him he put it on without even thinking.

There was an intense burst of the poppers from the filter and Aiden felt the last feelings in his brain ebb away. Now his only feelings were the hypnotic techno pulsing through his body coupled with an intense horniness. As they watched the screen, waves of machine code were superimposed over the spirals. Their empty brains received the code and they refilled the filters from the yellow bottles.

The machine code stopped and strobe lights pulsed out across the dancefloor. This was the trigger to reset the human brains and activate the program that had been installed. Everyone on the dancefloor stopped dancing and started taking off their chav gear. The same lads who had handed out the gasmasks now returned with shiny black rubber catsuits which they handed to the now naked lads.

Aiden took his catsuit and rubbed the shiny smooth surface against his body. Like those around him, he pulled the well lubricated catsuit up his legs and around his upper body, finally sliding his arms in and doing up the zip. It felt so good. It felt like this was his skin. This was his skin. The rubber controls him now. He needs the rubber. He is the rubber. This was the command from his former brain.

He turned to Luke who was now dressed like him in a beautiful shiny black rubber skin. They held each other, caressing each other, rubbing each other’s hard cocks. They are brothers now. They must stimulate each other. They must bate themselves and each other. They must keep their filters full of fuel from the yellow bottles. They must serve the program and the hive.

They took off the gasmasks they had been using and placed new hooded gasmasks over their heads which zipped into the tops of the catsuits and then locked into place. They were sealed. Aiden turned around and everyone around him was identical to him and Luke. He turned back to Luke but there was no Luke any more. There was no Aidan any more. Only the hive.

[bouzudorei]

I’ve started writing chav/drone transformation/assimilation stories. I’m gonna pin them here. Hope you like.

The Assimilation Trilogy

Part 1

Part 2

Is this a prequel or a sequel?

The Fetish Weekend

[bouzudorei]

Please repost and follow: https://baldmuscles.tumblr.com/ 🖤 8000+ pictures

[bouzudorei]

[bouzudorei]

SLAVEMEAT TRANSFORMED TO BRAINLESS POPPERS ADDICT

[bouzudorei]

[bouzudorei]

This is my dream come true, to be kept shaved hairless and permanently marked as being the slave I am intended to be

[bouzudorei]

Belle tête de gland !

Merci :)

[bouzudorei]

[bouzudorei]

Great story. Would love to be taken like that.

[bouzudorei]

Installing new system… formatting mind… update required. Introduce password to activate… 🌀🌀. . . . . .

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[bouzudorei]