The Rubber Drone

By Rubber Romeo
published November 24, 2019
2655 words

A rubber drone is born.

Author’s Note:

It’s done, the story is over! Just wanted to say thank you all the comments and stuff, I’ve really enjoyed writing this and your ratings have been a big factor in that. I hope to have something new up soon, in the meantime, enjoy, and thanks again.

“What…?” Jake stared at his rubber covered hands, feeling around the wrist where the suit’s sleeve should have ended. “What the fuck have you done to me?”

The big blond man smiled wider. “Isn’t it obvious? I’ve made you better.”

“Better!?” Jake’s hands grabbed at his cock, trying to pull the cage off. He knew it was useless, his cock basically was the cage, but he didn’t stop. “You’ve made your gimp! A fucked-up rubber slave with no brain! Get it OFF!” Jake began pulling frantically at the rubber on his body, trying to find a seam, a loose part to grab and tear off, but the suit was a perfect fit. His breaths came short and sharp and his heart was going triple time. Tears welled in his eyes as his vision began to cloud. He was having a panic attack.

“Shush now, come here.” Thick arms encircled him. Jake pushed away but he was too weak, and soon he fell into the rubber chest in front of him. He was held in the embrace for a while, and, even though he hated himself for it, he began to relax. Despite it all, he shared a bond with this man, and it comforted him.

“See? This is what I’m offering, a life without pain or thought. If you stay with me, you’ll never feel like that again.”

His heartbeat back to normal, Jake pulled away again, and this time the arms released him.

“You fucker, I’m only feeling this way cos you’ve sealed me in an inescapable rubber suit. Let me go.”

His Mast – no, the man, frowned. “I can if you want. You can go home, leave all the gear behind and go back to your life. But I know you, Jake. I know your life. How many close friends do you have? Does your job bring you fulfilment? Have you ever been loved? Is a life of servitude and pleasure really worse than going back to a life you hate?”

Jake thought. His life was boring at times, and he did struggle with anxiety. That hadn’t been his first panic attack. He struggled to maintain friendships, people often tiring of him after a few years. Relationships were the same. Jake hardly made it past the first date; the choices were rubbish and he was too picky. He knew some people, but not well, and he didn’t really miss them when they weren’t around. And his job did suck. Did he hate his life?

He shook his head. “Shut up, you’re messing with my head! You took away my free will, made me your puppet. I was nothing, just a toy for you to whore out!”

The rubberman looked offended then. “Yes, you were a toy, but you were never nothing. I adored you, looked after you, provided you with all you needed.”

“Things you made me need!”

“And those things replaced things you didn’t need! Empty friendships and worries about money, popularity, . I chose you so you could find your purpose. So what if it’s a purpose I’ve chosen? Do you deny it brought you pleasure? Made you happy?”

Jake began to respond but bit his lip. He had been looked after by this man, maintained and moulded. No one had taken such an interest in him before. And that point about purpose had really hit home. What had he had before? Free will meant nothing without direction, and Jake had been drifting aimlessly for ages. As if sensing that Jake was wavering, the man moved closer to him, a rubbered hand cupping his cheek.

“I can empty you of everything useless, leaving behind a productive drone that can help me build a something special here. Physical activity to keep you healthy, rubber sex to keep you happy. My nanites can change your body and mind to be fit for any purpose, to help make others feel good. What better calling is there?”

The man’s thumb traced his lips, and Jake locked his mouth around it without thinking. He had to admit, it did feel good, standing so close to a man that wanted him, even if he’d changed him. Nanites. That explained it all. He’d been altered by tiny robots, changed to meet his Master’s requirements. What else could they do? And more importantly, was he willing to leave himself behind to find out?

Thinking of the nights he’d spent in the park and upstairs in this warehouse, used as cumdump and a urinal, he realised he’d never felt more alive or more needed. He wanted that feeling again. Jake knew his answer, and with it the butterflies in his stomach dissipated. He released the thumb from his mouth and stared into the grey eyes in front of him. Life was hard, but he hadn’t worried about a thing since he’d first put the gauntlets on. It had been easy, waiting for commands, and he’d enjoyed carrying them out. He’d been made to enjoy them, but it all amounted to the same thing in the end.

“Okay,” he said, “I’m in. You’re offering purpose and pleasure, and I want that. I’m yours, Master.”

His Master broke into a wide smile and pulled Jake into a kiss, short but passionate. He raised the rubber hood with attached collar he still held in his hand and pulled open the back, moving it towards Jake’s face.

“I’m so glad you decided to stay,” said his Master, “though I’m not sure it would’ve mattered. I don’t think I’d have let you leave even if you wanted to.”

Before Jake could respond, Master pulled the hood over his face. Tubes slithered up his nose, further than last time, and the lips moulded onto his. Earpieces slid easily into his ear. This hood had tinted lenses like the last one, colouring the world in shades of grey. Jake could clearly see the glee in his Master’s eyes as he drew the two halves of the hood together, sealing it shut. The hood met the neck of his suit and the two became one.

Master looked him in the eyes. “Goodbye, Jake,” he said, and the he closed the metal collar. The two halves met and joined and then Jake felt a stabbing pain in his spine where the collar rested. Suddenly the fog the descended, and he was lost, happy and horny in his rubber, plugged like a good rubber toy, waiting for orders. A charge ran across his body and Jake felt a mass around his head shift and the disappear, the rubber hugging tighter. His hair was gone, and all over his body the rubber clung to his skin. He could sense the nanites now, almost feel them, running through his blood and sweat, anchoring the rubber to his body at specific points and leaving the rest with a gap for sweat to glide. He could sense his Master too, somewhere in the system, sense his pride and joy. Jake smiled confusedly.

Enter the station.

The instructions came from within his mind, and Jake obeyed. His Master stepped aside, and Jake walked forward. The station was set into the wall, surrounded by machinery. Closed panels lined the back and sides, and two strange shoes were set into the floor. The looked like wellies with the tops cut off, leaving only the foot behind. Jake stepped over the half-boots and turned around to face out of the alcove. He stepped his left foot into the boot, and then his right.

“In position,” Jake intoned, his voice sounded flatter than it ever had.

The boots tightened suddenly about his feet and became solid. Jake wasn’t sure if his feet still existed in the mass of rubber, but he could feel the cold metal on which the boots stood. More rubber grew up around his ankles, reaching higher until it stopped halfway up his thighs. The new rubber remained apart from his rubber skin, forming a pair of waders. Panels in the either side open and metal cuffs emerged on long rods. They locked around his ankles and held him firm.

Two more panels opened at his side and joy bloomed in Jake’s heart. His gauntlets. They came out of the walls swiftly, rubber held rigid by nanites and matching cuffs about their wrists. Jake moved his arms wide and the gloves slipped on. As with the waders, Jakes felt his hands be consumed by the rubber The cuffs tightened and the rods held his arms in place, like a rubber Vitruvian man.

A panel opened behind him and something connected to his collar. The network exploded in his mind then, and Jake saw the extent of his Master’s work. He was part of the Collective. His Master was Command, the overseer and decision maker. The program was Control, designed to maintain and instruct the nanites and the drones. Control would run the day-to-day activities of the Collective, and its word was law. Only a direct order from Command could supersede Control.

Drones. That meant Jake. He was to be a rubber drone. He was almost there. Control was just making sure all requirements had been met and then his personality would be removed, leaving a blank slate for Control to fill with a drone’s mentality. It was already happening, Jake could feel himself vanishing, see a percentage ticker in his mind rising quickly as the port in his neck siphoned away what little remained of his individuality…

Then Jake was gone. It was empty. It could do nothing, feel nothing. There was no desire in it at all, nothing mattered, it would do nothing until the day its systems failed.

And then it felt an upload. The personality flooded in through its port and took control of its new body. It was Alpha Drone, a rubber drone of the Collective. It existed to obey Control and serve Command. It took a few seconds to run a systems check and it looked to its Master. The Master’s face was filled with happiness. Master was Command, was a part of the system, and he knew that he’d been successful. He had converted his first drone.

The drone finished its checks and spoke. Communication could occur nonverbally, but Master was liked to hear his drones speak. As a human he had many inefficient preferences, but as Command his word was law. The voice it used was flat and mechanical.

“Alpha Drone upload complete. This unit has been added to the Collective. This unit is under Control’s jurisdiction. Alpha Drone requesting orders.”

Its Master’s joy rippled though the network, and the drone felt immense pleasure, though it showed none. Master’s voice came to it clearly though the earpieces “Alpha Drone, commence rest cycle.”

“Yes Master.”

Alpha Drone sent the signal and Control responded.

Rest cycle request confirmed. Initialising. Preparing drone.

A panel in the station opened and a thick seat of rubber emerged behind its rear. The seat met the drone’s lower back, upper thighs and arse cheeks and merged with it, raising the drone off the floor. The rods holding its arms and legs adapted and rose, keeping its limbs splayed. A panel in the right-hand wall opened and revealed a long rubber tube that attached to the cock cage, balls and all. The cage released and the drone’s penis grew to its full length, held snugly by the tube. A panel in the left-hand wall opened and a gas mask emerged. It positioned itself in front of its face and the drone opened its mouth. A penis-shaped gag sprouted from the mask and the drone held it in its mouth as the gas mask sealed to its face. The lenses were opaque.

The drone waited and performed a secondary check of the program as Control did the same. The cycle would last eight hours or until Command decreed. The rubber drone would urinate every half hour. The rubber drone would orgasm twice an hour at irregular intervals. The rubber drone would be fed throughout; piss mixed with nutrients every half hour, and cum after each orgasm. All solid waste would be removed by the nanites and repurposed. New orders would be issued once the cycle was complete.

Satisfied everything was in prepared, Alpha Drone sent another signal to Control.

Drone in position. Commencing rest cycle.

Many things started at once. The rubber plug merged with the rubber seat cradling the drone’s rear and transformed into a thrusting dildo. The gag in its mouth began to piston in and out as well, though not as fast or deep. The tube around its dick began sucking and pulling, tickling its ball occasionally. Through the gas mask came a variety of gases designed to keep the drone happy, healthy and obedient. The earpieces crackled to life and began to play a new file as the lenses flashed in its vacant eyes.

It is a drone. Drones need rubber. It is a rubber drone. Drones always wear rubber.

Rubber makes it hard. Rubber keeps it horny. Good rubber drones are always horny.

It is a rubber drone. Its holes need to be plugged. Rubber drones’ holes are always plugged. Good rubber drones need to be filled.

Drones need bondage. Bondage makes drones hard. Bondage keeps drones horny. Good rubber drones need bondage.

It is a rubber drone. Drones need rubber. Rubber makes drones submissive and obedient. Obeying orders makes it horny. Good rubber drones obey orders.

It is a rubber drone. Rubber drones do not think for themselves. Rubber drones think what they are told.

Rubber drones need rubber. Rubber makes drones horny and obedient.

Rubber drones obey Control. Rubber drones serve Command. It is a rubber drone.

Alpha Drone sighed around the cock in its mouth and began sucking contentedly as the writhing tube around its cock triggered its first orgasm. The cum was fed quickly into its mouth and the drone swallowed it down. It was a rubber drone. It had rubber, it had bondage, its holes were plugged. It was a good rubber drone.

The rubber drone was lost in bliss. It would only get to cum during these nightly cycles, unless its Master felt kind, so it had to make the most of it. Calling it a “rest cycle” might have been considered a misnomer considering the sexual assault the drone was undergoing, but it was a machine now, and eight hours in the station were more than enough to recharge it. In truth, the drone didn’t need any stimulation to make it cum, it could do so on command. The bells and whistles were all generosity on its Master part.

Alpha Drone couldn’t see its Master, nor sense his presence while it was running the rest cycle, but he was still there. He stepped forward and rubbed the legs and chest of the drone as it hung in the air, stimulated beyond all measure. The Master kissed his property on its navel and left the room. The lights flicked off behind him, leaving only the hum of machinery and the lights flickering on the computer banks and around the drone’s alcove to fill the empty space.

The Master could have watched his drone all night, but he had to sleep. There was so much more to do.

Mind Control
Wanking material
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