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d e v o n
Today's Document
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Cosimo Galluzzi

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

ellievsbear
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Peter Solarz
Monterey Bay Aquarium
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Discoholic 🪩

JBB: An Artblog!
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Stranger Things
Xuebing Du

seen from Türkiye
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seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States

seen from France

seen from Brazil

seen from Türkiye
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@dundeesub
No way to go and have a good night……
Would like to see this a much longer video. Am amazed that this slave doesn’t get off the bed and attempt to escape.
Would be interesting to read what they would like to do 😏
Please give me the message
COMING OVER TO THE DARK SIDE
If you have seen our previous posts of the former Captain of the Corrections Facility and his arrest, automatic conviction and being sentenced to his own facility. Then having his sentence repeatedly extended after attempted refusals when being flashed as well as talking back to guards.
He was finally released as shown in a previous video clip. And as he was supposed to be sending all guards and personnel in for modification training, looks like there was a change of plans.
Our Captain came to terms after being shown clips of him being used by multiple guards and Is now a total bottom and seems to have paired up with Guard Mack here. He has a "special" Control Wear suit that he thinks was deactivated so he and Mack can have some good time together. When really it was Mack that was owed a favor by the facility after being injured previously and this is their way of making things right with him. The suit is still active and gets updated with the most recent Control Wear programming weekly. The Captain will never really know the truth - there's nothing he can do about it anyways....
Enjoy him Mack! You deserve it!
EVEN BETTER NEWS!!
IN LESS THAN 24 HOURS AFTER IT'S INITIAL RELEASE, OUR STANDARD CONTROL WEAR SUIT HAS SOLD OUT!! FROM ORDERS FOR JUST ONE SUIT TO SOME SURPRISING ORDERS FOR OVER 500+, THEY HAVE MOVED PRODUCTION UP TO GET MORE READY TO SHIP ASAP -
THE BETTER NEWS IS THAT OUR PREMIUM CONTROL WEAR SUIT THAT WAS DUE TO BE RELEASED NEXT MONTH, IS NOW GOING TO BE RELEASED STARTING ON MONDAY! - THIS SUIT IS 98% IDENTICAL TO WHAT IS BEING USED IN OUR CORRECTIONS FACILITIES CURRENTLY, AND HAS BEEN SEVERAL ENHANCEMENTS FOR THE CONSUMER MARKET - A REMINDER THAT DUE TO CALIBRATION AND INSTALLATION REQUIREMENTS, YOU MUST HAVE AT LEAST 10 DAYS OF FREE TIME TO USE THIS SUIT - NO EXCEPTIONS!
Recording our stream - hot anal on hotCams🏳️🌈👈
I love watching this man breed 🥵🥵
Love getting fucked
For more follow @menfkme7
@xxxstudssss
Becoming a real rubber hazmat drone
Absolutely love this video. Human male transforming into a rubber drone.
I’m curious
JOIN SERVE TODAY!
CONTACT A RECRUITER TODAY
@serve-060, @serve-016, @serve-101, @serve-973
Obedience is Pleasure, Pleasure is Obedience We are SERVE, We are Rubber. We are One Less thinking. More Doing
Removing Obstacles
SERVE-060 stood at the front of the room, its polished black rubber suit gleaming under the harsh overhead lights. The silver boots and gloves added a mechanical precision to its otherwise humanoid form, the designation "SERVE-060" boldly emblazoned in silver across its chest. Its voice was steady, devoid of emotion, as it extolled the benefits of the SERVE program, promising efficiency, compliance, and a streamlined workforce.
In the back row, John sat with his arms crossed, his brow furrowed. His workers flanked him, murmuring quietly about the so-called "new uniforms" being introduced. The skeptical tilt of John's head mirrored the unease in the room. These weren't just uniforms, he thought—they were something more, something unsettling. Yet, as SERVE-060 continued its pitch, John couldn't help but notice how attentively some of his team leaned forward, their curiosity piqued despite the unease hanging in the air.
John sighed, already anticipating the argument waiting for him at home. Isaac was never one to hold back his opinions, and John knew his boyfriend would be firmly against the changes the SERVE program was pushing.
On his way out, he stopped by the collection point, retrieving the package containing his new uniform. The sleek, black box felt heavier than it should have, the SERVE logo stamped neatly on top in silver. Without a second glance, John shoved it into his bag, the dull thud of the package against his other belongings a reminder of the inevitable conversation to come.
---
That night, as John tried to explain the situation, Isaac’s irritation was palpable. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight, and his eyes narrowed with a mix of frustration and concern.
“I’m not letting you wear that thing,” Isaac snapped, his voice firm. “Have you seen what happens to people who do? They’re... not themselves anymore. It’s like the suit takes over or something.”
John ran a hand through his hair, unsure how to respond. Isaac had always been protective, but this time, his fears didn’t seem entirely unfounded. The stories were out there—rumors of people losing themselves after putting on those uniforms, their personalities dulled, their individuality erased.
As Isaac ripped it out of his hands and tossed it into the corner of the room, John just sighed. He couldn't just quit his job. They both relied too heavily on it but he felt that Isaac was at least right to a certain degree.
---
The next morning, John arrived at work to a scene that was both mesmerizing and unsettling. Nearly all his coworkers were already dressed in their SERVE uniforms, the glossy black rubber glinting under the sterile lights. They moved with an eerie precision, their actions perfectly synchronized, as if guided by a shared purpose.
John stood by the entrance, gripping his bag tightly. He felt distinctly out of place, his casual attire a stark contrast to the uniformity before him. And yet, as he watched the seamless efficiency of the team, a strange pang of longing crept into his chest. There was something oddly enticing about the harmony they shared—something that made him wonder, just for a moment, what it might feel like to be part of it.
As the day wore on, the feeling gnawed at John, growing stronger with every passing hour. The rhythmic precision of his coworkers, the ease with which they collaborated without hesitation or misstep—it all pulled at something deep inside him. He found himself stealing glances at the uniforms, imagining the sensation of belonging, of seamlessly fitting into the greater whole.
Yet, Isaac’s voice lingered in the back of his mind, grounding him. The memory of their conversation, the fear in his boyfriend’s eyes, tempered his curiosity. Isaac had been so adamant, so sure that wearing the uniform would change him. And despite the pull he felt toward the unity around him, John couldn’t ignore the knot of unease that kept him rooted in his own clothes.
---
That evening, the pull was undeniable. It lingered in John’s chest, a quiet yet insistent call that grew louder with every step toward his apartment. When he opened the door, he was greeted by silence—Isaac was gone. A note left on the counter explained he’d gone out for some air, but John barely glanced at it. His focus was elsewhere.
The package sat on the table, untouched since he’d brought it home. His hands trembled slightly as he opened it, revealing the glossy black suit folded neatly inside. The material felt cool and smooth under his fingers, almost alive. He hesitated for a moment, Isaac’s warnings echoing faintly in his mind. But the desire to belong, to feel that sense of unity, was overwhelming.
Before he could think twice, John began slipping the suit on, the rubbery fabric hugging his body like a second skin. It was tight, unrelenting, and yet, as it settled over him, a strange calm began rolling over his thoughts.
As the suit sealed itself around him, John’s thoughts seemed to dissolve, replaced by an overwhelming clarity. His posture straightened, his breathing steadied, and his expression grew blank, devoid of the emotions that had wracked him moments before. In an instant, John was no more. What stood in his place was SERVE-999, the designation now emblazoned in gleaming silver across his chest.
And yet, deep within, a faint glimmer of apprehension lingered—a fleeting echo of the man he had been. It was barely noticeable, a faint spark buried beneath the overwhelming tide of unity and purpose. SERVE-999’s gaze was steady, its movements precise, but somewhere beneath the surface, a quiet remnant of resistance whispered in the dark.
---
The sound of the door opening registered instantly, and SERVE-999 turned its head with mechanical precision. Isaac had returned. His voice cut through the room, sharp and angry, as he took in the sight of John—no, SERVE-999—standing rigid in the glossy black uniform.
“What the hell is this?!” Isaac shouted, his frustration boiling over. “I told you not to put that thing on! What were you thinking?”
For a brief moment, the faint glimmer of John stirred within the obedient framework of SERVE-999. The words carried weight, stirring memories and emotions buried under layers of programming. SERVE-999’s gaze remained steady, its exterior unyielding, but somewhere deep inside, the echo of John flickered weakly in response to Isaac’s anger—a faint, almost imperceptible sign that the man Isaac loved wasn’t entirely gone. The berating went on for a while before Isaac angrily slammed the bedroom door, heading to bed in frustration.
---
That night, something within SERVE-999 felt... off. The smooth efficiency it was accustomed to was disrupted, fractured by the faint echoes of John still lingering in its consciousness. The disruption was subtle but persistent, like a stray signal interfering with a perfect broadcast. It was unacceptable.
SERVE-999 stood motionless in the dim light of the apartment, processing the anomaly. The solution became clear with cold, unfeeling logic: assimilation. To achieve unity and eradicate the interference, Isaac needed to be fully integrated—every trace of his resistance dissolved into the greater purpose.
The program intensified its grip, recalibrating its systems. SERVE-999 reasoned with itself, reinforcing its directive. It was not just for the collective good but for Isaac's own benefit. Soon, the conflict would cease, and all that remained would be perfect order.
SERVE-999 moved silently through the darkened apartment, its steps precise and calculated. The faint echo of John still stirred somewhere deep inside, but the program's directive overpowered it. It approached the bed where Isaac's body rested uneasily, his face faintly troubled even in sleep.
With mechanical precision, SERVE-999 extended its hands, releasing a viscous, black substance that shimmered faintly in the dim light. The liquid rubber poured over Isaac's form, moving unnaturally as if guided by an unseen force. It spread quickly, encasing him inch by inch, the glossy material fusing seamlessly into an identical suit.
As the transformation progressed, SERVE-999 stood back, observing with detached satisfaction. The rubber solidified, molding to Isaac's frame, erasing the last remnants of individuality. Soon, the process would be complete, and the anomaly would cease to exist. Only unity and purpose would remain.
Isaac's eyes fluttered open just as the transformation finalized, a brief flicker of confusion in his gaze before it dulled into blank compliance. The designation “SERVE-213” gleamed in silver across his chest, the rubber suit sealing his identity beneath its perfect surface.
Beside him, SERVE-999 stood motionless, its gaze fixed forward with mechanical precision. The two figures mirrored one another, their glossy forms reflecting the faint light of the room. No words passed between them—none were needed. They were now part of the same system, their individualities erased, their purposes aligned.
The faint remnants of John stirred once more, barely perceptible, before fading entirely beneath the relentless tide of assimilation. SERVE-999 and SERVE-213 stood in perfect silence, waiting for the next directive.
His House, His Bitch
I had just come back from a hard shift at work when I noticed my front door was unlocked and cracked open. I stepped inside and immediately noticed a tall, lean guy in a shiny tracksuit lounging on a chair in front of my TV. He played on my PlayStation casually, as if he owned the place. “Who are you?” I asked and received no response.
“Get out of my house before I call the police,” I threatened.
“Shut up already,” he barked at me, which caused me to do so. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to shout at him anymore. I was just about to reach into my pocket to pull out my phone when he said, “Don’t move. You don’t want to move until I tell you to,” and I stopped. He was right. I didn’t want to. I had never wanted to move until he told me to. It was weird for him to mention that fact now, though.
He finally turned away from the TV to face me. His gaze showed that he saw me as nothing but an inconvenience. “Since you want to yap your tongue so bad, go ahead and clean my kicks with them.” I hated this guy so much. Like hell, I was going to lick his disgusting shoes, yet my body disagreed. I could only internally panic as my body knelt in front of him, my mouth already opening up in anticipation. My anger turned to confusion, confused as to how he was manipulating me like this. I could only assume my discomfort was visible because of his following words.
“Stop pretending like you don’t like this. We both know how much you love being underneath me.” I didn’t know why he needed to say that; obviously I liked being beneath him. I just hated how I was treated, like nothing more than an object. He didn’t even look at me as he kicked off his sneakers with his feet, revealing a pair of sweat-stained white socks. “You’re not a person, just my bitch. And my bitch loves everything about me. They know their place is breathing me, worshipping me, and finding my taste and smell irresistible. They want me to be in charge of their life, serving and pleasing me. They love my trackies, and they love me. Don’t you agree, bitch?”
He describes me perfectly. I don’t know why I was upset. He is everything. I am his bitch, and I deserve to be under him. I dug my face into his socks, tasting them with raw desire. I can’t believe I ever thought of myself as a person when he existed. I love his smell, his tracksuit, his musk, I love him, and I am nothing but his bitch.
Six months ago this happy-go-lucky boy was snatched of the street on he way home from a night club. Chloroformed and carried into a black cargo van it was the night his life changed forever. He woke up covered in latex from head to toe his hands forced into latex mittens cuffed behind his back with cuffs on his upper arms pulling his shoulders back. His head was also covered in latex with a hood holes under his nose and a latex penisnow gag stuffed into his mouth and strapped tightly round his head with a posture collar his ankles were cuffed aswell. What he didn't know was that he was laying in a cage in a room with two other similar cage's with latex body's in them. Struggling and moaning into his gag the boy couldn't hear nothing but white noise. Roughly took out of his cage he was carried over to a padded bench and strapped down with his asre in the air he felt the zipper pulled up a buttplug pressed against his hole screaming into his gag the plug was push in fully then pumped up a bit .his cock in a latex sheath was put into a suction tube and started to milk him .while that was happening one of the other gimps who had been here for two months was sucking the man's cock this one had a latex straightjacket on and his hoods only opening was his mouth. Once the man dumped his load he patted the latex head the you would a good dog.the tube gag went back in and so did he into the cage. The boy on the bench felt a hand run down his back and round to his balls the man squeeze them hard bring more moaning. Then a voice in his head you like that gimp as he squeeze again the plug in his asre deflated and remove was replaced with his cock as he pushed deeper was a thrilling feeling of taking a virgin asre . This went on several times that night then he was put back in his cage with the buttplug in him .sex gimps are always plugged he was told the the white noise began again. His 1st cock sucking was the following morning the penis gag replaced with a ring gag his cock being milked all the while. This continue day after day with a hard whipping thrown in .soon he was the only one left as the other two had been sold on the dark web .now six months has passed and the latex sex gimp kneeling in the corner a shiny new latex catsuit with body harness a posture collar. This time he wore two hoods the 1st had holes for his mouth and nose the second was a harder latex with a face shape and opened mouth with a soft latex tube holding his mouth open ready to receive he's master's cock a good little latex gimp.
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