As you round the corner of the building, heading towards the car park, a figure blocks your path. The first thing you notice is his boots, gleaming under the light of a nearby street-lamp, they almost call to you. Your gaze is fixated on them for a few moments, and you feel a twitch in your trousers. “You like them boi” says a deep voice. Realising the figure is referring to you, you slowly look up to see him standing with a baseball bat over his muscular shoulders. His biceps bulge as he lowers the bat off his shoulder and grips it with his right hand menacingly. You stumble over your words before clearing your throat, “Excuse me, I must be going.” As you attempt to move around the figure to the side he steps in front of you. His muscular body feels like a wall as you bounce off his chest. “You’re not excused, we have business”. You back away as he steps forward towards you, the boots making a satisfying thud on the hard ground. You continue backing up until you hit the wall, and then the figure quickly places a hand on the wall above your right shoulder, causing the baseball bat to rest on your neck, as he grins, you feel your trousers get tight around your crotch. With his now free hand he draws a line with his index finger from your neck, down past your abs and torso, until he reaches your quivering cock. With a quick move he grabs it through your trousers and leans in. As his hand tightens around your erection, causing you intense pleasure, he whispers in your ear. “You belong to me boi”. His hand tightens again and you feel yourself sweating heavily with pleasure. Getting lost in the moment you fail to notice the incoming danger, as two hands grasp your arm and shoulder tightly from either side of you. Looking down your see the hands on either side of you are covered in a strange black material, their grips tighten and as the skin headed figure steps back you feel your shoulders being rolled forward and your hands being pushed behind your back. Panicked at the two rubbered figure restraining you, you attempt to free yourself yet their grips are like iron bands. A moment later you feel the pressure of cold metal wrapping itself around your wrists and the unmistakable sound of ratchets on handcuffs clicking shut. As you are pushed down to your knees, you hear the cold robotic sound of “Sir, target detained. Standing by for orders.” Emanated from the two rubbered figures. From your kneeling position you feel the baseball bat slowly moving up your body until it is under your chin, before it forces you head. Your eyes meet the gaze of the skinhead who hocks up a spit at you. The warm slippery alpha spit, slowly drips down your face and into the corner of your mouth. “Take him to the reconditioning centre, I look forward to having my boots cleaned by this Drone” The figure begins to walk away as you feel a gas mask getting forced onto your head. “Resistance is futile, you will obey” Shaking your head violently but in vain, the gas mask is sealed to your face as a warm gas is released. Holding your breath for as long as you can, you eventually take a deep gulp of contaminated air, your vision slowly blurs as your muscles relax. As you slowly drift to sleep you feel yourself being dragged along the floor, and as you lose consciousness you begin to hear a rhythmic pattern. “You will obey, You will obey, Drone will obey”

Everybody has dark secrets. Those secret interests which stay hidden from the world. Not me though, my secret is a deep dark desire, a pulsating passion which i want to complete more than once. Maybe you could help?

I want to experience a truly beautiful thing. I want to be kidnapped, restrained, dragged away by muscular rubber drones. Locked into an apparatus, forced to listen to and watch Drone Reinforcement Hypnosis. Slowly becoming a Drone. Slick, Black, encapsulating Rubber placed, piece by piece around my body. Teased, and edged, as my soon to be Drone brothers closely inspect my body, caressing every inch. My now rubbered feet, forced into the foot ware of Identical Brother Drones, Docs. The full body rubber suit works it’s way up my quivering body slowly, clasping around my muscular form. I try to fight, yet I am suppressed and held back by my Rubber Drone Brothers as the thick heavy gas mask is permanently placed around my face an head. The invasive intoxicating gas empties my mind as the reinforcement program continues. My Drone Brothers bring me close to excitement for the last time as a new set of rubbered hands slide a cage around my manhood, locking it down, allowing my now conditioned mind to obey. I am then moved, the Drone Programming still cycling through my mind, into a new black room. Swirling patters dance across every wall as speakers blast more Drone Reprogramming. Eventually I find myself on the streets with my Drone Brothers, hinting down the next victim to add to our Controllers Drone Collective.

Yet it’s only a desire, a dream, a deep dark unfulfilled secret… for now???

If your a Dom who likes this, and wants to help make it a reality, feel free to get in contact. Who knows, we might just get on.

Patrick grabbed Tom by the neck and threw him against the brick wall in the alleyway. Both men stared into each others eyes as Tom's lip quivered for a moment. Patrick's 6'7" broad and muscular frame towered over Tom as he placed a hand on the wall behind. Tom felt the wall as Patrick slowly moved his finger up Tom's body armour. Tom's manhood twitched as Patrick began to draw circles on the armour, before abruptly stopping and stepping away. Tom felt discouraged and sighed as Patrick slowly moved away. Then from nowhere Patrick quickly turned back and squarely punched Tom in his armoured torso. Tom's flagpole immediately stood to attention as the force of Patrick's strike vibrated through the armour and into his defined body. Slightly winded, Tom bend over in response to the strike. Patrick's hands quickly spun Tom around and pushed him into the wall face first. Patrick then began to push Tom's feet apart with his booted foot before grasping Tom's hands and bringing them behind his back. With a quick, cold, clicking sound, Tom's hands where handcuffed behind his back. His erect penis trying to dig a hole in the brick wall. Patrick held Tom against the wall with one strong, muscular hand while reaching for his radio. "1642 & 1932 going on break." The radio fell silent for a moment before a female voice responded with "Acknowledged 1642. Enjoy your break Sir." Patrick then grasped the back of Tom's collar, dragged him away from the wall, then whispered into Tom's ear, before marching him deeper into the alleyway. "Oh, I will."

As Tom awoke, his head was filled with a mass confusion that overwhelmed his senses. He tried to reach for his head but quickly discovered he was bound. A few moments passed as his mind slowly cleared and his eyes began to focus. The room, albeit moving slowly, eventually formed a still image. He found himself in an abandoned subway station, who knew how deep underground. The next sense to clear revealed that he was cold and heavily restrained with bindings, he looked down to see he was nude and had thick hempen rope binding his limbs, wrists, and ankles to a solitary anchor point. The stone floor was cold and rough like sandpaper. As he wriggled and groaned a voice spoke from the darkness. “Your finally awake, good. We have much work to do” From the darkness a figure stepped into the spotlight above Toms body. A God of a man stepped over him and sat on a set of railings nearby. “Don’t be alarmed boi, you will eventually learn your place in MY world” The figure moved his booted foot closer to Toms face, then spat on it grinning as he did so. “Lesson one boi, worshipping your GOD’S boots. Keep them gleaming, keep them polished, learn there scent, learn your place.”