I accept.
Reblog if you give explicit permission and accept being covertly hypnotized without your conscious awareness.
My mind is there to be taken and to be made yours 😈😏 mould me into your submission
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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@apupcanbeadrone
I accept.
Reblog if you give explicit permission and accept being covertly hypnotized without your conscious awareness.
My mind is there to be taken and to be made yours 😈😏 mould me into your submission
Please ensure that when hitching you choose the right car and driver.
Probe activated and extended
Classic
If you drive I suck
You like that feeling of my latex rod inside you? Well don’t worry, after I fill you with rubber cum it’ll creep over your whole body. Imagine that rubber feeling EVERYWHERE as you disappear into the hive mind.
Hmpffmmm yesss please 🤤
Just waiting on his gas mask to be fitted and then that is the end of him as a human male , and his new life as an obedient rubber drone, serving the collective.
Initial programming cycle succeeded
Let it take over
Fuck your bros in skintight rubber
The pleasure of the rubber dick made him moan for the hot liquid rubber load that would convert him into a rubber drone 🖤🖤🖤
Suits with a rubber dick or that rubber tube that goes into your ass are hot!!!! Sooo want one myself!
Yes yes yes
I shouldn’t be out here.
My brother and his buddy, Jax, took off to grab beers, leaving Jax’s pride and joy sitting in our driveway. It’s a beast of a machine, matte black, aggressive angles, totally terrifying. But it’s the helmet sitting on the seat that draws me in.
It’s one of those high-end ones I see all over my For You page. You know the ones. Videos of faceless, jacked guys with veins popping out of their arms, revving their engines, looking like dangerous, sexy robots. I’ve probably watched a thousand of those clips, just… curious. Wondering what it feels like to be that anonymous. To be that powerful.
I reach out, my skinny, pale hand trembling a little. The helmet is heavy. It smells like leather, gasoline, and him. It smells like Jax. That thick, musky scent of sweat and expensive cologne hits me, and for some reason, my dick twitches in my jeans.
"Just a second," I whisper to the empty garage. "Just to see."
I pull it over my head.
It’s a tight squeeze. My ears burn as they scrape past the padding. But once it settles? Silence. The world outside is muffled. It’s just me and the smell of Jax wrapping around my face. It feels claustrophobic and incredibly, undeniably hot.
CLICK.
The strap locks under my chin. I didn’t touch it.
Before I can panic, the visor slams down. A blue HUD flickers to life right in front of my eyes, glowing neon against the darkness.
SYSTEM INITIALIZED. USER: UNAUTHORIZED. CALIBRATING PHYSIQUE…
"What the fu..."
My voice is cut off by a sudden, searing heat in my chest. It’s not pain, exactly. It’s pressure. Like someone hooked an air compressor to my bloodstream.
Zzzzzzt.
A shock jolts down my spine, and my arms jerk outward. I watch through the tinted glass, helpless, as my forearms begin to bubble. The skin pulls tight, tanning instantly from pale ivory to a deep, sun-baked bronze. Thick, blue ropes of veins snake their way up from my wrist, pulsing in time with the thudding bass now blasting in my ears.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
"Oh god," I groan, but the voice that comes out is deeper. Rougher. "F-fuck..."
My t-shirt shreds. It literally explodes off my body as my pecs slab onto my chest, blowing up like airbags. My shoulders widen with a sickening crunch, forcing my arms out to the sides. I feel like a biological machine, being upgraded in real-time.
My vision blurs. The text on the HUD is scrolling faster now.
TESTOSTERONE LEVELS: CRITICAL. SEXUALITY: RECONFIGURING. INTELLIGENCE: PURGING...
My head is swimming. I try to remember my major. I try to remember why I was scared. But it’s getting harder to think. The vibration in the helmet is scrambling my brains, turning my gray matter into mush.
Why was I worried? Muscles feel good. Tight feels good.
My jeans are the next casualty. My thighs balloon outward, thick as tree trunks, ripping the denim at the seams. My cock is agonising. It swells up thick and heavy. It pushes against the zipper of my jeans until the metal teeth pop open. I can feel the head of my dick rubbing raw against the coarse denim. It is leaking pre cum like a faucet. Sticky hot fluid soaks my underwear. I am throbbing so hard it makes my vision blur.
I’m not me anymore. I’m just a body. A host for the helmet.
CALIBRATION COMPLETE. MODE: STUD. OBJECTIVE: SERVICE.
The panic is gone. It’s replaced by a dull, throbbing need. My mind is empty, smooth, and quiet. There are no thoughts, only directives.
1. Be big. 2. Be dumb. 3. Fuck Jax.
I swing a massive leg over the bike. The suspension groans under my new weight, 240 pounds of dense, fuck-meat. I catch my reflection in the side mirror.
The guy looking back isn’t me. He’s a monster. Massive traps, striated shoulders, veins pulsing with lust. I’m faceless. Anonymous. Just a piece of ass in a tank top and a helmet, waiting for orders.
I grab the handlebars. My hands are huge, swallowing the grips. I look back over my shoulder, striking the pose. The exact pose from the videos. Ass out, biceps flexed, visor reflecting the world I’m about to conquer.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, my brother asking where I am. I don't even look at it.
The HUD flashes a new command.
DESTINATION: JAX'S APARTMENT. OBJECTIVE: DRAIN BALLS.
A drooling grin spreads across my face. I look like such a stud in the mirror. Huge arms. Veiny hands. A massive bulking package leaking inside my pants.
I swing my leg over the bike. The suspension sinks under my new weight. I feel powerful. I feel sexy. I feel like a total slut for Jax.
I start the engine. The vibration travels right up into my crotch and makes me groan.
I am coming Jax. I am bringing you your new toy.
So ehhhh 👀 if anyone finds a helmet like this I can take care of it! Ill make sure its safe
Wait for your turn boy! Let me finish him first, I’m almost done with his upload. Soon he will feel the nanites do their job, numbing everything from the inside. It starts as a little tingle right after I start leaving some precum in his ass, then it quickly turns into a wave of pleasure and relaxation through the whole body. As soon as it reaches his brain a thick fog will fall over his mind. Thoughts slow down and intense pleasure is all he feels. Then his old memories and personality is transferred down to his prostrate. It takes just a minute or two to fully empty his mind forever. Then, when it is all done I trust hard a couple of times and fill his ass with cum. These nanites will bring his body so much pleasure that he will cum right after me and his old self will be expelled, to be left here as a puddle of cum. Then he’ll be ready for his reprogramming
No turning back now boy, you will be next! If you want it or not, I’m not letting you go now. Welcome to the hive 😈
You are a part of this new skin… slowly, the helmet comes to life, showing you your new world… You see a number flash on the HUD, something, deep inside of you, the programing they have put in you, tells you beyond all doubt, this is your number. This is all you are now, a pawn in a much larger game, to them, who ever they are, you are just a serial number.
The conversion process was painless. He put this mask over my face and told me to breathe normally. I could smell the sweet gas, and my head started to spin. The next thing I knew it, I was a rubber drone.
👀 ehhhhh yes please 👉👈
Rubber bitchsuit. It will soon forget how to walk, or indeed behave, like a human.
Far from a "play date" at bondage, Brice now found himself a helpless captive and new found pet of his sex buddy Derek. Inside the suit, he held in his mouth a thick gag through which the tube passed, allowing only liquids to pass into his mouth and gut. And now Derek has started to attach a funnel to the tunnel and using Brice as his personal urinal as well as pet.
He could make no sounds but grunts. His begging to be let out sounded like "ugh ugh" instead of "let me go". Brice's dick is held in a ultra tiny chastity cage, and he has a catheter in his bladder that Derek closes off with a clip. Derek is fond of keeping Brice's urine from coming out, to the point where Brice forgets every thought but the need to pee. Unknown to Brice, it is part of his "thing" training.
It started off as a fun thing to try but now everyday Brice becomes less human and more a helpless sightless soundless pet thing. It was Derek's twisted plan all along and Brice fell into the trap so easily because of his loyal, trusting nature. Exactly what you want in a good pet.
I told you to come get me
I told you that I needed you, that they had something here that was different, that they could… change people
It’s too late
It’s too late for you as well
I would like to make the rubber exact replica of this suit
I would buy one.:)
Hot as fuck 🥵🥵🥵
Boots make it docile
Preparation
The sleekness of the rubber is what set it apart for you. There was no escaping it, no turning back when your Owner presented it. His intent was obvious – to make you a gimp.
The suit’s attention to detail meant that it fit exactly what was decided that it should be in a slave uniform. Custom fit for your size, each individual toe held in its own enclosure, starting the process of separating skin-on-skin touch. Your Owner’s fetish for you not experiencing most human contact in the fulfillment of your role meant that no half measure would be taken. Your legs gleamed in the light as you pulled the suit on your powdered frame until your lower half was a sheer black. Fitting your caged member through the hole in the front was your next task, stretching the material and pushing it through exposed…at least as much as it could be in its prison. Disconnected by the suit from the rest of your body, you try to harden only to be defeated again and again by the unrelenting permanent chastity. With a stifled groan you work the next part of the suit into you, a hard anal sheath keeping you exposed and accessible for the anal play of your Owner’s choice.
The neck entry nature of the piece allows for a seemless look once you take the time to fit each of your fingers into the attached gloves. No zippers to make it easy to escape, and only the hard ring jutting your throbbing cage out to let anyone know this was anything more than just another rubber drone for use. Now the rubber cuffs, and the posture collar, holding your neck strictly upright and making it impossible to turn without turning your entire body. The control emanating from the gear fills you with butterflies as the collar and cuffs are one by one locked on by the padlocks located on the dresser. It would be impossible to remove the suit without the keys, which of course you never had. Thigh cuffs, ankle cuffs. *click* *click* *click* *click* And now the gag. You stare at the inflatable cock, flaccid as it was, and slowly insert it deep in your throat. You relax as you pump it up, the phallus lengthening and widening until even your well trained gag relax is tested. Tightly, you lock it as well, knowing a loose fit would just mean a more severe punishment. Next, a strict rubber corset, stretching to your pecs, accentuating your curves and preventing loose thoughts by restricting your breathing. *click* with a sound you feel the ability to concentrate on anything else but the next breath fade away.
You look in the mirror and a controlled object stares back at you with lustfilled eyes. You see your cage rhythmically bounce with the pent up hormones that are forced on you without release. A rubber jock, thicker and harder than the rest of the gear, is slipped on covering the needy but useless toy. Today wouldn’t be any different from the harsh docility programmed into your sexuality. That last vestige of you, of the old you, the free you, screams for release but you know it won’t ever come. You pledged yourself, and this was your reward.
A button pressed and you kneel, waiting however long it takes for the remainder of the process. The corset and the gag do their job to make the wait entertaining, as each breath demands attention and focus blocking out mundane distractions like personality or desires. A mind of its own, your hole clenches on the sheath still feeling empty while you feel your chastised slavehood twitch with every squeeze.
Another slave, clad in the black zentai uniform of the household servants approaches and methodically begins the final applications: contact lenses to blur and distort vision to create dependence, firm rubber blinkers to block out peripheral vision, ear plugs to dramatically reduce your hearing, and a thick inflatable plug to fill out the empty sheath. As used to these indignities as your body might be, nothing ever prepares you for the clinical application of plug into your tight hole. Your grunts and groans muffled by the gag you breathe deeply as your hole is stretched by the invader.
*pump* *pump* *pump* *pump* *pump*
You try to scream in pain and pleasure as the plug accelerates in size. Your eyes can’t even betray an emotion as the blurred lenses reduce your humanity, but you know even if they could look pleading the drone preparing you wouldn’t be able to comprehend. It had its task and you were just an object for it to complete. The piece de resistance comes next, a molded rubber hood, blotting out even more of your senses, as it fits over your shortly cut hair, and down to the collar. You can’t even hear the *click* as it too is locked on. You are made to stand and walk. To where you have no idea but the pace is far quicker than you would want it to be with the plug pounding your prostate with each step. The drone leads you through corridors and then to a type of garage where again you stand for an amount of time impossible to guess while the drone and some others like it make further preparations. Unceremoniously you are suddenly guided again to another part of the complex where you could see yourself standing on some sort of stage.
In the audience, you can’t truly discern how many of them there are, nor what is being said by a Man you saw on the stage. The blurry shapes laugh…you think…and you are twirled around for more inspection.
*pump* *pump* *pump*
The plug suddenly expands and you scream in surprise as your prostate is thrown into overdrive. If it wasn’t hidden by the jock you were sure that your dick was dripping wildly its precum. You hear laughter, you think, and once again you face the audience, unsure of what to do besides continue to breath and submit.
Of course, if you could hear what was being said, you might be filled with terror. If you could hear you would certainly be filled with anticipation, dread, and a host of other emotions your conditioned brain could hardly beg you to listen to.
“Going once! Going Twice! Sold!”
Applause, you’re pretty sure of that. You drip more into the jock and continue to breathe….and obey.
A place for everything and everything in it’s place.
You thought you had control boy? Hahaha well when I’m done with you you wont even think your own thoughts 😈