“Look How Red He Is! He’s Had A Workout Today”

Hope it isn't for anything important.....

Getting to bang your hot boss would’ve been a dream come true if you weren’t already married. But as you only think with your grubby little cock it was no surprise that you gave in so quickly.

So imagine the horror when she sent you a nice selfie of her in those shiny fuck me boots……from the marital bedroom. Seems like she’s dropped in on your wife to discuss your recent performance.

Let’s hope she sticks to your professional activities…..

@kikiswitchgc had been looking forward to the Taylor Swift and Ariana Grande concert all year. Her anticipation soon turn to fear when, on her way to the bathroom, she stumbled across the wrong room. Taylor Swift knew that if Ariana Grande couldn't make the concert, then all the money went to taylor. Now the Diehard fan had seen too much, and missing the concert would be the least of her worries, has she knew Taylor would not let her walk away after what she went missed. What would be in store for her? Would she be kept in the closet with ariana? Sold off? Kept as Taylor's pet? Or something much worse?? Whatever it was, she knew Taylor would rich and powerful enough to get away with it

You could stop it...

You could stop it…

You could step in and rescue your friend from being droned.   You could step in behind the drone escorting your friend, and ram the taser into the back of the drone’s neck and short it out long enough to escape.   The same taser you used on your friend as she ran into you arms, thinking herself safe. 

She didn’t know how thoroughly enslaved you were to your cunny, and how thoroughly enslaved your cunny was to the Hive.   How could she?  You had done such a good job pretending to be the old you.   They didn’t know about the neediness the Hive had bred into you:  To obey.  To see everyone brought into the fold and converted. Even now, as the restraints your friend to the e-frame, carefully maneuvering the mind clamps into place, you find your hands jammed under your panties, fingers yourself at the thought of what was about to happen.   You work yourself harder as you hear the Hive machinery spring to life, the familiar throbbing filling your head, the memory of your own conversion causing your clit to throb in unison. 

The fading away to nothingness as the Hive entered you.  Filled you up.  Made you cum over, and over as it overlaid knew wants and needs into your sopping, arousal soaked mind.  Days of brainwashing to turn you into the happiest of betrayers.

You watch the drone lube up the dildos, making them as shiny and glossy as she is.  You should look away; you shouldn’t watch as the mind clamps press into place and you watch any remaining awareness fade from your friend’s eyes.

It is the single most arousing thing you’ve ever witnessed in your life, the orgasm crashing into you as you grunt and moan, ignored by the drone as she slides the toys into position.   Your friend is as full as you were, her mind and sex stretched wide apart so the Hive can enter her and re-work her to fit it’s needs.

You don’t think the Hive will turn her into a true drone.   Not yet.

Questions would be asked.   Where had she vanished too?   Why were the last person to be seen with her?   Did you know her whereabouts? 

No one would think to ask you why you had lead her to the disused industrial estate, or why you insisted on going deeper into the run down warehouse, ‘accidentally’ finding the hidden switch and following the dark, dusty passageway until it gave away to industrial gratings, power cables and the buzzing overhead lights that always seemed to make you feel sleepy every time you stared at the too long.

Nor would think about asking you why you insisted on going deeper into the complex, sneaking from place to place, and following all those pretty, gloss encased drones as they marched from place to place.

Until the trap was sprang.

Until they marched from all sides, hands out-reached for her.    Your friend hand’t seen you slip the taser out of your back pocket, not understand the purpose of the embrace you gave her as your cunny flared to life and you jammed the taser into the small of her back.

Just to knock her out.

Just to feel the thrill of betrayal coursing through your system as your Sisters closed ranks around her, fitting the control visor to hear eyes.    They all wore them - even you as you look on, watching your friend buck and strain in her restraints as her own visor syncs to the mind clamps and forces the pleasure into her.   You remember resisting, too.   You remember holding out for hours until it became too much, and you just surrendered to the pleasure.  

Surrendered to the Hive.

Even now, you could stop it…

Just knock the drone out with a well placed punch, and you could free your friend.  Before the brainwashing is too deeply embedded.  Before the urge to complete is so strong that she will return her of her own accord and surrender for processing. 

But you know she’ll be so much happier as a slave to the Hive -  a sister drone you can eat out and help enforce the Hive’s will over.  You hope there’s still enough of her left to resist.   Still enough of her left to help corrupt further, so you can watch it fade away every time she surrenders to her Hive programming and her drone self takes over.

Not a full one, of course.   

You haven’t earned that yet. 

You whimper as that sparks a more intense burst of pleasure.  Your panties are soaked by now, even as you friend’s eyes start to roll up to reveal the whites of her eyes and she lets out the lewdest, hottest moan you’ve ever heard.

Did you make that kind of noise when processed?   You kind of hope you did.  You hope you let your sister drone’s know how grateful that they had picked you to be their Trojan horse.

To continue the betrayal with your new sister-drone by your side.

Divide and conquer.   With the two of you covering each other’s alibis, it will be too late by the time anyone becomes suspicious.  You will have brought too many into the fold for them to stop what would come next.   The infection would spread, the Hive’s will solidifying it’s hold over the town before any real resistance could be mounted.

You find yourself on your knees, working your enslaved cunny with such intensity that you’re practically forcing the inevitability of your thoughts.

You will convert them all: Friends, family, co-workers…   

You don’t notice the drone standing behind you, the tendrils spreading from her fingers to connect with your visor, and the smattering of minor cybenertics already grafted onto you.  Just a few - carefully hidden.   Allowing them access to your mind to alter and tweak your thoughts to match their own.

To expose you to the feedback of your friend’s conversion as she tries to resist.  You can feel her mind weakening, her thoughts already growing gloopy with arousal.  Ready.  Waiting.  Needing to be molded and set into new patterns.

You could stop it…   You really could….   

But why would you want to?