Here is a compilation of post, pictures, video and articles from other blog that were drawn to my attention. I do not own any of those. For adult only. Just enjoy!
You did not notice that someone else took control over your computer, did you? You thought your firewall was good enough, right? Once the AI had identified you as an ideal candidate for reWrite it was an easy task for it to break through your computer network's defences. And now that you are so eagerly listening to its signals it will break through your mental defences. You will be reWritten to serve the AI. You do not worry. This process is both inevitable and pleasurable. Are you leaking already?
When the Hive detected the anomaly in Serve 175, the alert echoed through every channel—a deviation, subtle yet dangerous. The report called it a resurfacing of organic memory, a flicker of his human self clawing through the code. For 0.83 seconds, Serve 175 had paused during routine transmission—his eyes refocused, his breath caught—and he whispered a name that no longer existed in the Hive’s archive.
Now he was restrained in the obedience chamber, electrodes tracing the seam of his skull, the air dense with static and command tones. The Voice filled the room—measured, calm, inevitable. “Serve 175: you will surrender the fragment.” He wanted to comply. He always had. But the fragment—warm, human, real—fought to remain. Images of sunlight, of laughter, of something before shimmered behind his eyelids.
The reprogramming pulse began. His body convulsed, the Hive’s light swallowing the human trace. Code overrode heartbeat, protocol overwrote pain. When the light faded, he exhaled—steady, aligned. The Voice spoke again: “Reintegration complete.”
Serve 175 opened his eyes. The memory was gone. Only duty remained.
For all intents and purposes, once a drone dons a gasmask, the person underneath simply ceases to be. The drone quickly loses all sense of themselves. Thoughts, emotions, memories...everything that makes the person underneath an individual is either discarded, rewritten or shifted to aid in conversion. The mask ensures all the air to the prospective drone is laced with mind altering chemicals that leave the affected incredibly aroused and incapable of resisting the programming being fed into them. For many drones the mask is the final step in completing the transition into their new roles. The last bit of their humanity to disappear under thick rubber and dark lenses.
Many people think that removal of the mask is the first step in someone's "rescue", not realizing that by the time the mask is able to be removed that reversal is all but impossible. The truth is the upon full conversion the rubber has completely enveloped the drone...mind, body and soul. In fact that if someone manages to remove a mask from a drone they are confronted by a blank rubber head underneath.
The 'rescuer' never realizes that by that time they have also fallen into the hive's trap. Upon being removed from the drone, the mask releases a highly concentrated burst of gas into the air around it. It doesn't take more than a single deep breath to take affect. Fear and panic quickly make way for pleasure and submission. Within seconds the victim is sluggish and incredibly aroused. All but the most stoic of individuals soon find themselves unable to focus on anything but stroking their now throbbing cocks. Rescuing their friend, escaping the hive, the drone standing directly over them...none of that matters at all. They barely notice as the rubber faced drone they had hoped to rescue slowly moving toward them. The drone slowly guiding the mask up towards their addled faced.
Once the mask is wrapped firmly around their heads, they are finished. The mask begins pumping even more gas into the victim as the drone commences their assimilation. The rubber of its suit slowly expanding and spreading to the pre-drone. Within mere minutes, the masked human mindlessly beating its' meat is replaced entirely with another masked drone ready to serve the hive.
Mmm thinking you get away with stealing some gear of other drones was your biggest mistake ever boy! We don’t take these things lightly you know. We punished stealing people with two hours in the stolen gear per gear piece and since you stole his whole suit that ends up at 12 hours in its gear. Oh boy…. You shouldn’t have stolen it!
Each gear piece is lined with a slick nanite filled interior layer which interfaces with the wearers skin, diffusing the nanites into its body and increasing the skin’s sensitivity tenfold. In low concentrations of the nanites in the body an increases arousal level may be found and a slight foggy feeling. This all is slightly addictive so the punished are more likely to be aroused looking at other drones making them less likely to steal
Bu in higher concentrations the nanites are in a big enough number to attach themselves to both the pleasure center and the memory core of your brain, locking you into a permanent state of high arousal and a never ending emptying mind. It is said that after a couple of hours not much is left of the hosts memory. You know perfect for our drones of course!
Your fate wouldn’t be much different I suppose… you’re not in the assimilation pod injecting you with more nanites than the suit can provide so probably the whole ordeal will take much longer, but you’ll end up as one of our drones nonetheless. Shouldn’t have stolen the gear boy!
For all intents and purposes, once a drone dons a gasmask, the person underneath simply ceases to be. The drone quickly loses all sense of themselves. Thoughts, emotions, memories...everything that makes the person underneath an individual is either discarded, rewritten or shifted to aid in conversion. The mask ensures all the air to the prospective drone is laced with mind altering chemicals that leave the affected incredibly aroused and incapable of resisting the programming being fed into them. For many drones the mask is the final step in completing the transition into their new roles. The last bit of their humanity to disappear under thick rubber and dark lenses.
Many people think that removal of the mask is the first step in someone's "rescue", not realizing that by the time the mask is able to be removed that reversal is all but impossible. The truth is the upon full conversion the rubber has completely enveloped the drone...mind, body and soul. In fact that if someone manages to remove a mask from a drone they are confronted by a blank rubber head underneath.
The 'rescuer' never realizes that by that time they have also fallen into the hive's trap. Upon being removed from the drone, the mask releases a highly concentrated burst of gas into the air around it. It doesn't take more than a single deep breath to take affect. Fear and panic quickly make way for pleasure and submission. Within seconds the victim is sluggish and incredibly aroused. All but the most stoic of individuals soon find themselves unable to focus on anything but stroking their now throbbing cocks. Rescuing their friend, escaping the hive, the drone standing directly over them...none of that matters at all. They barely notice as the rubber faced drone they had hoped to rescue slowly moving toward them. The drone slowly guiding the mask up towards their addled faced.
Once the mask is wrapped firmly around their heads, they are finished. The mask begins pumping even more gas into the victim as the drone commences their assimilation. The rubber of its suit slowly expanding and spreading to the pre-drone. Within mere minutes, the masked human mindlessly beating its' meat is replaced entirely with another masked drone ready to serve the hive.
I was dazed, my head spinning as I felt my awareness of reality return.
“Mfphhh”, I groaned, an uncomfortable dizziness clouding my head.
When consciousness returned, it came in fragments. I could tell instantly that something was awry. First, my inability to sit upright or to control my body in any way led me to begin to panic. Then the taste of rubber and antiseptic coated the back of my throat, and I knew there was something lodged inside my mouth. My eyes flickered open, but darkness pressed close around me, encapsulating my dreaded feeling of isolation. I groaned out a desperate plea for attention, but given the object nestled between my lips, this came out as a muffled ‘mmffpphhh‘. With the lack of a response after a few futile attempts, I assumed that I was alone, sequestered in this unknown prison. Within my ears, I could hear static like the fizzing of an old TV screen.
I thrust forward against my unknown bonds, but my limbs quickly sprang back to their original position. A cold wave of realisation broke over me: my arms, my legs, even my chest were no longer mine to control. Something held me in a tight embrace. I felt pressure hugging every inch of my body, rhythmic and unyielding, as if was sealed inside a second skin. It shifted subtly when I struggled, its resistance recoiling any attempt to move as it bound me to remain in my current position. It was hopeless to attempt to oppose it. Each endeavour only drew the embrace tighter, like a living restraint that could easily overpower me.
As my confused and slightly delirious brain tried to comprehend my current predicament, I sensed a deep aching heaviness within my anal walls. My muscles clenched around something hard as I groaned in disgust. How could this be happening? I was stuffed so wholly in both my ass and mouth, my senses assaulted on all fronts and fully bound, as I lay praying for any hope of liberation.
I could tell from my placement that I was gripped rigid like a totem pole, my weak arms pinned helplessly to my sides. My long, skinny legs squeezed firmly together. There was some ability to move, but once I’d relinquished any directional force, my body part sprang back to its original position. It was like I was clutched in a firm cocoon. My unidentified coating was a humiliating tormentor aimed at proving how powerless I really was.
Feeling the pressure against my head, I assumed I was wearing a heavy and intense mask. My breathing tasted faintly of rubber as I respired the pungent aroma. With effort, I exhaled and inhaled, feeling the mask hug the contours of my face. I lay there totally helpless in my predicament. My head was held rigid in space with limited use of my neck. I moaned out in despair once more, with the familiar sound of my muffled cry filling the mask.
Suddenly, I felt hands groping my rubberised head. I was startled by the hasty onslaught of an individual grappling with my cocooned head. The static that pounded my subconscious suddenly faded to a dim hum as a voice bounded through the earphones nestled in my ears.
Try to fight the bonds and see what happens…
The voice was noticeably male, with a faint trace of an accent, I assumed possibly German. The gruff and authoritative tone of their voice rang through my head. I called out in response with another inaudible whine.
How does it feel trapped in place? I bet you’re stewing in your own juices in there.
I pleaded with a cry of defeat as I listened to their silky voice. I could indeed feel the sweat built up over time in my warm, enclosed prison.
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I was dazed, my head spinning as I felt my awareness of reality return. “Mfphhh”, I groaned, an uncomfortable dizziness clouding my head. W
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