hypnozys

[hypnozys]

What a Relief

Zach wandered down another hallway aimlessly. All he did was linger too long admiring a random painting who's name he had already forgotten and now he lost his tour group and was hopelessly lost in the seemingly endless twists and turns of the museum.

The tour had been winding down and was supposed to end near the entrance but no matter how hard he searched, he only seemed to head deeper and deeper inside. He turned down yet another side path, something inside told him that this one would take him where he needed to go. He immediately realized the that this was the wrong way as he was greeted with another hallway, albeit darker than the others.

He thought of turning back for a split second but shrugged, it wasn't like the way he came in was the correct way either. These halls had to eventually loop back towards the entrance..right?

A quick glance around yielded no information at all. There were no signs, no ropes blocking his path. Just a strange scent that lingered in his nostrils as he ventured further in. It was the scent of something coppery, but something else too, almost sweaty...musky...something enticing.

His footsteps slowed, each one quieter than the last, swallowed by the thick hush that seemed to deepen with every step. The increasing scent wrapped him in a haze, sticky and cloying, intoxicating in its familiarity. It crept beneath his clothes, across his skin, gently caressing and pulling him further in. The more he walked, the more it consumed him. Each inhale burned warmer, curled deeper, filling his lungs and spreading a pleasurable warmth through his body. His cock stirred sluggishly beneath his pants. His skin tingled, flushed. His mouth felt too dry, his palms too damp. He didn’t know what he was approaching, only that it was coming closer and closer.

Finally there...at the end of the corridor, it waited.

Zach stopped in his tracks, the sight combined with the intoxicating aroma proving too much for him to process while walking too.

A massive bronze relief dominated the far wall, glowing under the amber light like an altar to be worshiped. It was a single, seamless sheet of metal, yet it seemed to almost undulate with movement—a surface alive with motion, with lust, with heat. The relief loomed over him, every inch carved in exquisite detail.

A maelstrom of male bodies twisted in an erotic embrace, limbs tangled in a dance of pure lust and hunger. They moved without moving, locked in an orgy that defied reality but honored desire. Some thrust forward, others arched in pleasure, and some were caught mid-climax—faces slack with bliss, cocks caught mid-spurt, mouths frozen in eternal moans. There was no symmetry, no repetition. Each man was a masterpiece of individuality, every perfectly defined muscle, every expression a unique rendering of orgasmic rapture. The craftsmanship was not just skilled—it was intimate.

Fingers gripped hair, dug into thighs, hips bucked upward or strained inward. One man’s hand wrapped around the base of a dripping cock, the head caught mid-spurt, while another arched under the weight of two lovers devouring his body. Cum shimmered across stomachs, spilled from mouths, glistened like tantalizingly on the cool metallic surface.

His eyes couldn’t help help themselves, darting from one man to the next, pulled through the hypnotic rhythm of metallic flesh and pleasure. The scene didn’t merely show sex; it radiated it. The room was thick with lust, so much that Zach could practically smell the sweat and sex. Every part of it dragged his gaze forward—toward the center, where a cluster of figures converged in decadent abandon. There, at the heart of the frenzy, one man was sprawled across others’ laps, his back arched, thighs parted, impaled on two thick cocks. His mouth hung open in a silent scream of bliss, his eyes wide, awash in euphoria.

Zach’s cock throbbed as he unconsciously inhaled another deep whiff.

His pants grew uncomfortably tight. He took a step forward, then another, helpless to do otherwise. The closer he got, the more the sculpture shimmered, not with light, but with life. Almost imperceptible at first, a twitch of a hand, a sculpted drop of cum shimmering, as if freshly spilled. Then, with awful beauty, one man’s eyes shifted to meet his.

The surface moved.

A man shifted within the sculpture’s heart, his body fluid and perfect, yet unmistakably focused on Zach. His gaze locked onto him, a look of lust, of need and want. One arm lifted, slow and deliberate, fingers curling in a silent gesture of an unmistakable invitation. Zach panted heavily, overwhelmed by the intense need building in his chest and a feeling what he could only perceive as anticipation. His foot moved first, then his whole body followed.  The distance between them vanished. 

He slowly lifted his hand and pressed it to the bronze. A gasp slipped from his as instead of the cold hard metal, his palm slid through with no more resistance than dipping into still water. It was warm, almost welcoming, the surface sending tingles up his arm like little sparks. The sensation wasn’t just strange—it was arousing. His skin buzzed wherever it touched, his very nerves alive with erotic pleasure that erupted out in waves.

Without thinking he took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the pure distilled sex, and held it in. His eyes fluttering shut, and with a slow exhale, he stepped into the relief. It embraced him tenderly, body and soul, as the world behind him ceased to exist.

His clothes vanished in a breath. The heat inside was suffocating, arousing. The air was so thick with the heavy scent of metal and sex that he struggled to adjust. Instantly hands gripped his arms, his hips, his throat. Mouths found him, eager and wet. Tongues traced his lips, plunged past them. His cock was engulfed in something tight and hungry, but he couldn't see enough to see what, or who's, orifice he was in. Another body pressed behind him, and he gasped as a thick shaft pushed between his cheeks—slow, relentless, impossibly deep.

He moaned loudly, but the sound was cut short by a thick shaft pushing past his lips. It was hot, pulsing, slick with need. The moment it touched his tongue, it consumed his focus, the taste was overwhelming, salty, sweaty, metallic and heady. It flooded his mouth, clung to the roof of it, curled under his tongue and sank straight into his thoughts.

His eyes fluttered and the world dissolved into the rhythm of the cock moving deeper, deeper. Every inch clouded his mind with fresh waves of hunger. He could think of nothing else—not where he was, not how he'd gotten there. Just the massive length inside him, the delicious meat in his throat, and the aching, breathless desire to take more of it.

His own body joined the writhing mass of bodies, grinding into thrusts, into kisses, into hands that stroked and teased tenderly. He was kissed like a lover, fucked like an object. Every shift dragging him closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. The bronze men moved in an purely carnal way, hard cocks rubbing against him, his sides, between his fingers. Their groans were soft and deep, felt more than heard. Every touch leading him further and further into the unending orgy of bronze.

The man behind him grunted into his ear with each powerful thrust, hips grinding slow and deep. The cock in his mouth drove forward with steady hunger, stretching his lips, dragging across his tongue in smooth, urgent strokes. Wet kisses landed on his throat, trailing down to where nimble fingers traced his tantalizingly over his chest. A hand cradled his balls, kneading them with expert care, sending shocks of pleasure up his spine. Lips found a nipple and fastened there, tongue flicking and sucking until Zach could only whimper, overwhelmed and straining. Every part of him was being touched, stimulated, driven to a fever pitch that blurred the line between pleasure and delirium.

He was dissolving, but he wanted...craved...more.

Then everything shifted. A collective shudder pulsing through every writhing body. He felt the cock in his mouth tense up as warm bronze cum erupted from it, spilling down his throat. Zach swallowed it greedily, relishing the taste as intense wave of euphoria gripped his frame too.

Orgasmic pleasure flooded through him, his body convulsed, and he came—hard, almost violently hard. His cum sprayed across an anonymous sculpted bronze chest. But it didn’t stop. Another orgasm followed. And another. His cock pulsed with endless pleasure, leaking and twitching and erupting over and over, each shot looking more and more metallic until his cum matched that of all the other men in the relief.

It wasn’t just his cum that was transforming.

His skin began to glisten too, not with sweat, but with an unnatural, beautiful luster—a sheen that shimmered faintly in the amber light. It began low, a glow on his belly, crawling outward in spreading waves that danced up his thighs, over his hips, down his arms. The shine deepened into metallic brilliance, bronze crawling along his skin with each subsequent, unending orgasm. His cock throbbed violently, still pumping, still hard, dribbling molten lust with every beat.

Wave after wave coursed through the relief, each one just as intense and mind-numbing than the last despite them coming slower and slower. Neither he nor any of the men were aware to the fact that each wave was coming later and later, the pleasure stretching out more and more, the shift imperceptible to the participants in the relief. It was as if time itself was slowing for them all.

The pleasure never lessened, not even as his movements slowed, his thrusts dragging into slow, grinding motions that seemed to stretch across time itself until it had all but ceased moving. His mind locked in eternal unending bliss, another addition to the erotic display.

His body gleamed, locked forever in bronze.  There was no telling him apart from the men that surrounded him. He had become one of them...mind, body and soul, captured in an eternal moment of ecstasy.

To any wandering eye, he was just another man immortalized in hedonistic pleasure: lips wrapped around a thick cock, hips sunk deep to the length buried inside him, caught forever in mid-climax. He had given himself entirely to the relief, which took him without hesitation, granting him the same unending pleasure it gave all the others in exchange.

Even as the relief itself cooled down, the orgy completely frozen on its surface, the pleasure didn’t fade. It echoed through him, a never-ending climax, a loop of sensation that never dulled. His cock remained stiff, his throat full, his ass stretched around a shaft still pulsing. He existed in a single moment—a moment of endless desire, sensation, surrender.

From the outside, all was still.

No one would know there had ever been a man named Zach.

And deep within that hardened shell, beneath the gleam of sculpted perfection, he still felt it all—the heat, the fullness, the bliss stretching across eternity.

The relief was silent. Unmoving. Eternal.

Awaiting the next time an unsuspecting man answered its call, forever willing to add them into its sculpted tapestry of lust.

[hypnozys]

Who You Gonna Call

Part 5 - Phasmophobia

Ross’s heart thundered violently in his chest, panic surging through his veins as his fingers desperately clawed at the wooden front door. He grasped the handle, twisting and yanking with frantic urgency, but it refused to move even an inch. A wave of dread washed over him as he threw his shoulder against it, the door resolute, immovable. Behind him, the loud, rhythmic breathing drew closer, a chilling presence pressing in from all sides, trapping him in the oppressive darkness.

His breathing quickened, yet each inhale felt oddly controlled, unnaturally steady—too precise to be his own. The air seemed thicker, heavier, making each movement sluggish and deliberate. Ross clutched harder at the door, fingertips pressing firmly against the cool wood, seeking solace in its solidity. But solace was fleeting, as the rhythmic breaths intensified, echoing in his ears, encircling him completely. Panic rose sharply when he realized the breathing wasn’t behind him any longer—it was everywhere, surrounding him, suffocating him. It felt as if it was inside his head.

His eyes dropped instinctively to his hand gripping the handle, and confusion stole his breath. His gloves—once worn, familiar fabric—were replaced by something smooth, impossibly sleek, and reflective, gleaming even in the dim light. He flexed his fingers slowly, hearing the faint, seductive creak of tight rubber. His heart hammered against his ribs, shock giving way to intrigue as he raised his other hand, observing the same glossy texture enveloping every digit.

This wasn't right. His chest rose and fell with unnerving calmness, a controlled rhythm forced upon him by some unseen force. Each inhale and exhale emerged muffled, filtered, mechanical. A growing dread blossomed deep within him as his hands drifted upward, fingertips brushing against something firm and slick covering his face.

He gasped softly, fingers trembling as they traced the contours of the rubber mask sealing him completely, molded flawlessly against his features. His pulse raced as he felt the built-in filters beneath his fingertips, his palms gliding upward over smooth lenses that obscured his vision. Reality crashed into him with devastating clarity—he wasn’t hearing something else breathing. He was hearing himself.

Ross shuddered, a potent mix of horror and excitement sparking through him as his rubber-clad hands explored the tight, encasing suit that now claimed every inch of his body. Each caress against the smooth material sent pulses of intense, irresistible pleasure through him, making it impossible to think straight. Heat pooled in his groin, his cock hardening painfully against the restrictive, unyielding rubber.

“No—this isn’t me,” he thought desperately, even as his body trembled with undeniable pleasure.

Yet, before he could muster any resistance, another set of hands appeared, sliding sensually over his chest, fingers teasing along his abs, drawing him deeper into sensation. He whimpered softly, jerking involuntarily into the deliberate touch, his resolve rapidly crumbling. More hands joined, caressing, gripping, exploring every curve of his restrained form, treating him as an object to be reshaped, molded into perfection. He moaned helplessly, hips thrusting forward as a firm, confident grip enclosed his throbbing cock, stroking in perfect rhythm.

Ross fought weakly, shaking his head in futile defiance as another hand slicked fingers teasingly pressed against his entrance, gently coaxing him open, inching slowly inside. Pleasure surged irresistibly, each touch perfectly orchestrated, robbing him of his will. His muffled moans grew louder, filtered through the mask, distorted into desperate, erotic sounds of surrender.

He could feel his identity slipping, fading beneath layers of intense stimulation. His hips bucked urgently, his body surrendering willingly to the unending pleasure. The rubber suit felt exquisite, gripping him tighter, stimulating every nerve, drowning his mind in overwhelming sensations.

Suddenly, the lenses flickered, emitting a soft, hypnotic glow. Patterns danced and swirled across his vision, captivating him, drawing him deeper, entrancing him effortlessly. His resistance faltering beneath the relentless, mesmerizing rhythm of the pulsing lights.

“No—I have to—” his thoughts fragmented, dissolving into a hazy void as the patterns quickened, aligning perfectly with his racing heartbeat. Pleasure built steadily, hands working faster, driving him toward an inevitable, consuming release. His muscles relaxed further, becoming pliable, obedient under the suit's embrace. Each pulse of the hypnotic lights drove deeper into his psyche, stripping away fragments of self-awareness, replacing them with unyielding, blissful submission.

His body jerked uncontrollably, caught helplessly in a wave of rising ecstasy. The fingers inside him pressed deeper, relentlessly exploring, driving him past the brink of any possible resistance. The suit held him, controlled him, reshaped him into something flawless, obedient, perfect.

Then, the patterns intensified, overwhelming him in a blinding white surge of pleasure. Ross’s entire being shattered as an orgasm erupted violently through him, the suit milking every ounce of pleasure from his trembling body. He cried out helplessly through the mask, muffled moans turning desperate, needy, ecstatic. Every nerve fired, muscles clenching and releasing uncontrollably, pleasure drowning every last coherent thought.

As the climax subsided, Ross felt himself slipping fully into acceptance, his breath slowing, synchronizing effortlessly with the mechanical rhythm of the suit. His posture corrected instinctively, his mind emptied, reshaped, rewritten. He belonged fully to the suit now—no longer Ross, no longer fighting. Only another mindless drone remained.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Outside Brody looks at the monitors, seeing the feed from Ross finally cut, joining the other 3 as just static. He looks over at his notebook for a moment before grabbing it and circling something in it and setting it back down.

He tosses a glance at the house and sees dark outlines of his droned friends looking back at him from the large window. For a brief moment he weighs his options on what to do, he knew the same tricks Coach would have used and if he was fast enough he could potentially...

"Ya know what...Nope. I think I should just go report this to someone instead." he muttered to himself as he started the engine, pulling away with a slight sense of urgency that betrayed his calm demeanor.

His friends stared through darkened lenses as they watched the van drive off down the street. At least one of the was able to escape.

And would hopefully bring more...The Drones always need more.

[hypnozys]

Who You Gonna Call

Part 5 - They're Coming Out of the Walls!

Ross clutched the bag of supplies like a lifeline as he hurried back down the hallway. The house felt different now. The air was thicker, pressing against him like a humid fog. Every step sounded just a little too loud, every shadow just a little too deep. He didn’t remember it feeling quite so…oppressive.

Reaching the bedroom door, he thought it strange that it was closed but given the events that had unfolded so far, it wasn't something he as going to dwell on too much. He slowly turned the knob, swallowing hard as he pressing his palm against the wood. A slight chill shot through him, it was much colder than it had any right to be. With a deep breath he steeled his nerves and pushed it open.

Reflective lenses met his eyes from across the room, the drone that had once been Coach greeting him with nothing but a slow turn of its gasmasked head and the raspy sound of its breathing. The black rubber gleamed unnaturally in the dim light, hugging every inch of its body. The mask covered his face entirely. It stood motionless in the center of the room, staring at Ross, as if it had been waiting for him to return.

Ross’s stomach sank as he stared at drone. His body screamed at him to move, to do something, but he was frozen. His fingers clenched tighter around the bag of salt and incense, knuckles going white. “Coach…?” His own voice sounded weak, small, the sound itself even seeming muffled by the crushing darkness.

The drone didn’t move, it only breathed slowly…mechanically. The air around it shimmering slightly, like heat rising off pavement. Then it flickered.

For a split second, it wasn’t there at all—just empty space where he had been standing. Then it was back again, the same exact pose, the same exact stance. The light above them buzzed, dimming. Another flicker.

Ross stared for a moment, his face surprisingly calm and took a slow step back, then another…then another. Despite the situation telling him to run, he slowly closed the door to the bedroom.

"Nope…nope nope nope nope…I'm out." he whispered to himself as he turned to leave. His mind too overwhelmed to even process the fear for a moment.

Ross moved quickly, barely making a sound as he turned away from the bedroom. He didn’t care where he was going—he just needed to leave. His flashlight flickered dimly, the weak beam swallowed by shadows that seemed to be growing increasingly more dark. The familiar layout of the house disappearing into a disorienting blackness that quickly turned him around.

He turned a corner, expecting to see the staircase leading down to the front door, but instead, another hallway stretched before him, identical to the one he’d just left. He turned again, trying to orient himself, but every path looked wrong, like the house had rewritten itself while he wasn’t looking. The floorboards groaned beneath him, but the sound didn’t seem to come from his own steps.

A soft creak echoed through the darkness.

Ross stopped, noticeably colder air flowing into his lungs as he froze mid stride. Slowly, he turned his head toward the sound. A door, barely visible in the dim glow of his flashlight, had swung open just enough for someone to step through. The figure standing in the threshold was rigid and unmoving, its silhouette unnervingly familiar. Trevor stood there, his body encased in a seamless layer of gleaming black rubber, his head tilting slightly as if observing him. The lenses of his mask caught the dim light, reflecting Ross’s own weak beam back at him in an eerie, glassy stare.

Ross took a slow step back, his heart hammering in his chest. Another door creaked open behind him.

Swallowing the urge to panic, he turned, only to see Coach emerging from the darkness, his movements slow and deliberate. The black rubber clung to every inch of him, erasing the last remnants of the man he had been, leaving only an obedient, mindless drone. His posture was stiff, controlled…unnatural.

Ross inhaled sharply, his breath now visible in the icy temperatures. He shifted slowly, preparing to run but before he could move, another sound, another sent a jolt of terror through his body. Something was slowly padding across the floor, the movement low and unnatural. He swung his flashlight toward the kitchen.

Chevy was there—but unlike the others, he wasn’t standing. He moved on all fours, sleek and predatory, his black rubber form shifting with an unnatural fluidity as he crept closer. His rubbered form slowly approaching. His mask still hiding every trace of the man underneath but styled into more of a pup. In his mouth, a bone…

"Well…at least you found what you were looking for…" Ross stuttered out as he stared at the pup before another sound pulled his attention, then another…then another. Every noise twisting his attention in one way or another, every time seeming to change rooms, positions, and layouts. Like the house was shifting around him, using the darkness as cover.

Ross gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep as calm as possible. His flashlight wavered in his grasp as the air around him grew heavier. The sound of breathing filled the space—not his own, but theirs, slow and almost mechanical, filtering in and out with a steady rhythm. The creak of rubber moved in tandem with the breathing, the sounds growing louder as the figures inched closer.

His flashlight sputtered once, the beam dimming for half a second before flaring back to life. He took another careful step back, his breath slow and controlled, his instincts screaming at him to run, but the moment he shifted his weight, the light in his hands flickered again, weaker this time.

Panic gripped him as what little of his courage remained started to waver. The bulb, almost in sync with him, gave one final, desperate pulse before it died completely, plunging the house into absolute darkness.

Ross bolted, his body moving on pure instinct, his only thought to get out. His shoes pounded against the floor as he charged toward where the front door should have been, but the darkness around him was absolute. There was no outline of walls, no shifting shadows to guide him—just an endless void swallowing everything, stretching impossibly in all directions.

His breath came quick and ragged, but it wasn’t the only sound filling the space.

A slow creak echoed from behind him. Then another.

The soft, deliberate squeak of rubber followed, footsteps measured and patient. The faint hiss of filtered breathing filled the air, rhythmic and controlled, exhaling in perfect unison.

Ross veered sharply, his shoes skidding against the floor as he changed direction, but it didn’t help. He had no sense of where he was—every turn felt the same, every step leading him deeper into an unfamiliar maze. The walls, if they were still there at all, felt impossibly far away.

The breathing grew louder. The footsteps closed in.

He forced himself to move faster, pushing forward into the void, but it was useless. The darkness swallowed everything—his vision, his bearings, his way out. All that remained was the slow, inevitable sound of rubber shifting, growing closer with every second.

Ross pushed forward, stumbling blindly through the suffocating dark. The house felt endless, shifting around him, offering no sense of direction—only an oppressive void stretching in every direction.

The muffled breathing grew louder, deep and steady, surrounding him from all sides. The rhythmic inhales and controlled exhales pressed against his ears, filling the silence until it was all he could hear. His own breathing was too fast, too uneven, lost beneath the steady pulse of something inhuman closing in on him.

The air thickened, dragging against him like unseen hands gripping at his limbs. Every step felt heavier, his movements sluggish, the very darkness around him pulling him back, wrapping around him. His fingers curled into fists as he forced himself forward, pushing against the weight sinking into his body.

Then, his hand hit something solid.

[hypnozys]

Who You Gonna Call

Part 4 - Mirror Mirror

Coach tightened the strap on his gear, rolling his shoulders like a boxer stepping into the ring. “We’re going back in.”

Ross hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Already?” His voice carried the distinct tone of someone hoping for at least five more minutes of not dealing with a haunted death trap.

“We don’t have time to waste,” Coach said, double-checking his supplies. “If we’re getting Trevor and Chevy back, we need to find whatever’s keeping the ghost here. Spirits don’t just float around aimlessly—they latch onto something. The room with the highest activity will tell us where.”

Before Ross could respond, Coach snatched the EMF reader from his hands, gave it a quick wave through the air, then shoved it right back at him. “So start looking.”

Ross gripped the device like it was the last thing tethering him to sanity. “And if we see anything weird, we run, right?”

Coach was already walking toward the house. “We’ll see.”

Ross groaned under his breath, dragging his feet as he followed. He cast a quick glance back at the van, where Brody sat comfortably in the glow of multiple monitors, looking far too at ease. Brody met his eyes and gave the smallest nod, the universal gesture of Better you than me, before taking a sip of his coffee. Ross muttered a curse and hurried after Coach.

Inside, the house felt even heavier than before, like stepping into a thick fog made of pure dread. The silence pressed in on them, each floorboard creak sounding like a gunshot in the stillness. The air was stale, and the deeper they moved, the more Ross felt like something was waiting.

“Keep that reader up,” Coach said, voice lower now, like even he didn’t want to disturb the quiet. “Let’s find this thing.”

They worked their way through the hall and back into the bedroom, where the EMF reader immediately went berserk, beeping erratically in Ross’s hands. He nearly dropped it, cursing as he struggled to adjust his grip. “Oh yeah, real subtle haunting. Totally not obvious at all,” he muttered.

Coach’s flashlight swept across the room, but Ross’s beam found something first—an ornate mirror hanging on the far wall, its gilded frame dulled by dust and age. The glass, however, was pristine. Too pristine. It shimmered unnaturally, the surface rippling like disturbed water.

“There,” Ross said, taking an instinctive step forward. “That’s gotta be it.”

Before he could get any closer, Coach’s hand clamped down on his shoulder, yanking him back with enough force to make him stumble. “Don’t look into it.”

Ross blinked at him. “What? Why not?”

Before Coach could answer, Brody’s voice crackled through the radio. “Uh, guys? That mirror just lit up on the cams. And I don’t mean, like, caught a glare. I mean it glowed. That’s—yeah, that’s not normal.”

Coach gave a firm nod, his grip still locked on Ross. “Because it’s a trap, that’s why. You stare too long, and you’re next.”

A shiver ran down Ross’s spine as he forced himself to look away. “Okay, great. Fantastic. So how do we not end up like Trevor and Chevy?”

Coach exhaled through his nose, fingers tightening ever so slightly. “That’s the part I haven’t figured out yet.”

As if in response, the mirror pulsed, the light within shifting like something beneath the surface was pressing against it. Watching. Waiting. The temperature in the room dropped, and Ross instinctively stepped closer to Coach.

Brody’s voice came through again, quieter this time. “I don’t think it wants you to figure it out.”

Coach’s eyes never left the mirror, his expression set like stone. “Brody, grab the salt and the extra incense from the van. We’ll need them to deal with this.”

The radio crackled with Brody’s immediate response, his voice utterly devoid of hesitation. “Yeah, that’s gonna be a no from me dog. Not stepping one foot out of this van.”

Coach sighed and rubbed his fingers along the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Ross, go get it.”

Ross’s head snapped up. “Wait, why me?”

Coach didn’t even look at him. “Because I’m not leaving this thing alone, and Brody’s apparently cemented to his seat.” He gestured toward the door. “Now move.”

Ross groaned, already backing toward the hallway. “If I get grabbed on the way, I’m haunting both of you.”

Brody’s voice crackled through just as Ross disappeared from sight. “Just don’t screw it up like the incense.”

All Coach heard was Ross scoff as he disappeared down the hall. Without warning the air in the bedroom grew heavier…colder. The dim overhead light flickered softly, casting shadows that seemed to move with a will of their own. He exhaled slowly, gripping the EMF reader tighter, steeling his nerves. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The silence stretched, heavy and unnatural.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he inadvertently found himself gazing directly into the mirror. Before his own warning was able to ring through his head, he found himself staring at his reflection, unable to place something about it being just slightly…off. It stood rigid, just as he was—but then something shifted, his boots started to darken. The worn leather rippled, smoothing over into something sleek, something glossy. He could only stare as the change spread upward, the fabric of his pants melding into the boots seamlessly, molding around his to his legs tightly.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, it was clear the mirror was playing tricks on him but a warm, almost pleasantly tight feeling spread through his feet and legs. His eyes shot open and he looked down to see his familiar pants and leather boots. A brief, uneasy sigh escaped him at the realization that it really was just a trick, but that as cut short when he felt the tight embrace of ghostly rubber advancing higher still.

His gaze snapped back to the mirror. Wide-eyed, he saw that transformation was progressing with or without him looking into the mirror. The rubber had flowed over his thighs, his waist. Even worse was the sensation was starting in his fingers and hands now too. The skin on his hands darkened next, wrinkles and blemishes smoothing out into a perfect, seamless black rubber.

The tightness continued its spread, pleasure creeping over his skin. He took a deep breath. It was all a trick. If he could get away from the mirror he would be ok. Despite the rubber being confined to the reflection, his body resisted him moving towards the door, almost like it was trying to keep him from fleeing.

The rubbery feeling advanced further and further up his arms and around his waist as he struggled towards the doorway. The creak of rubber filled the room right as he was within reach of the door as it forcibly swung closed, sealing him inside the room. "Because of course that would have been too easy." he whispered to himself.

The pleasant tightness crept over his chest and back now and he couldn't help but feel his steel resolve waver slightly as a moan slipped from him. It felt good…too good. He ran a hand over his chest, feeling his rubber covered hand gliding over his now tight, rubber chest. Another moan slipped free as it slid down his slick abdomen, lower and lower until….

The sound of screaking latex pulled him from his daze, and his attention back to the mirror. The mirror that now reflected his now almost entirely rubber covered body, now just his head uncovered standing near the supernaturally locked door to the bedroom staring back at him. He could feel the tight rubber around him and couldn't deny how good he looked with it reflecting in the dim lighting.

A shimmer in the reflection drew his attention and in an instant he saw that there was dark black rubber gasmask gripped tightly in his hands. Coach's breath quickened as he stared at the gas mask in his hands. He didn't remember picking it up, yet there it was—its glossy black surface gleaming under the dim light. His fingers gripped the material tightly. A cold dread settled in his stomach as he looked down at himself, and the air in his lungs escaped in a sharp gasp. The transformation wasn’t just in the mirror anymore. The snug embrace of rubber was real, sealing him in from the neck down, hugging every muscle in a perfectly sculpted sheen. His boots, his pants, his jacket—gone. All replaced by the seamless, inescapable rubber.

He staggered back, hands trembling, but the suit held firm. It felt right, perfect, but his mind rebelled against the unnatural sensation. His fingers twitched against the mask, a thought creeping into his mind…to put it on. The thought sent a jolt of panic through him, and he clenched his jaw, willing himself to drop the mask. But his body refused.

The warmth pulsed again, curling up his arms, across his chest. His reflection had changed even more now, fully coated in gleaming rubber from the neck down. He could only stare at it—at himself. His stance had shifted, straighter, more rigid. His body looked powerful, sculpted beneath the smooth surface.

The mirror pulsed again, the reflection tilting its head—not in mimicry, but in observation, as if watching him struggle. Coach’s fingers twitched, still wrapped around the gas mask, and his breath quickened as he tried—tried—to let go. But his body refused. The smooth rubber encasing him hummed, the tightness sinking deeper into his muscles, his bones. His reflection lifted the mask to its face, and his own arms obeyed, bringing it closer, the scent of rubber filling his senses. He clenched his jaw, resisting, but the moment the edges of the mask touched his skin, a warm, tingling pressure surged through his head. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as the material moved, creeping over his head and sealing itself around him entirely.

It was like a second skin sliding into place, fusing with the rest of the suit, cutting off any trace of his bare flesh. The rubber tightened around him, molding to him, smoothing away any last sign of individuality. His breath came hot and heavy through the built-in filters, the soft hiss of air cycling in and out setting a steady, controlled rhythm. His thoughts swam, his resistance fading beneath the suffocating pleasure of the suit’s embrace. The pleasant tightness wasn’t just external anymore—it was in his mind, sinking deeper, soothing, silencing. His name, his purpose, his will—distant echoes swallowed by the rubber. He belonged this way. He had always belonged this way.

The mirror pulsed one final time, and the lenses of the mask darkened. No hesitation, no lingering defiance. The figure in the reflection straightened, standing tall, motionless, obedient. The struggle was over. There was nothing left to fight. Just the silent, perfect stillness of black rubber.

[hypnozys]

Who You Gonna Call?

Part 3 - Lavender and Sandalwood

Ross’s heart raced as he cowered in the darkness of the closet, listening to the rubbery transformation happening outside. He didn’t dare move. The darkness seemed be enclose around him entirely. His breathing was shallow, his eyes wide in the pitch-blackness. The faint sounds of the house creaking and groaning made him jump with every noise.

Then came the footsteps—slow, deliberate, and drawing closer.

Ross pressed himself against the back of the closet, his hands trembling as he clutched his flashlight like it might somehow protect him. The footsteps grew louder, heavier, until they stopped right outside the closet door.

A shadow passed under the crack of the door, and Ross held his breath, praying whoever—or whatever—was on the other side wouldn���t open it. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, and Ross dared to hope that he was safe.

The door creaked open.

Ross flinched, throwing his hands up defensively. “Please, no—”

“Relax, kid,” Coach’s gruff voice cut through the tension, and Ross blinked up at the familiar figure standing there, flashlight in hand. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“C-Coach?” Ross stammered, his voice shaking. “It’s—it’s Trevor! The ghost got him! He’s…he’s gone, turned into some kind of—”

“Drone,” Coach finished, his expression grim. He pulled Ross out of the closet, giving him a firm shake. “Get it together. Where’d you last see him?”

Ross pointed weakly down the wardrobe, only the faint glow of his dropped flashlight remained.

Coach’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t good. We’ve got to regroup and figure out a plan. Stick close to me, and no more hiding in closets, got it?”

Ross nodded, clutching the back of Coach’s jersey like a lifeline as they moved cautiously down the hallway, towards the front door. The faint echo of squeaking rubber drifted through the air, almost mocking them in their retreat.

The pair stumbled out of the house into the cold night air, their breaths visible in the frigid air. The van sat a few yards away, its interior glowing softly from the monitors inside. As they approached, the door slid open, and Brody leaned out, his expression already tense.

“What happened in there?” Brody asked, his usual calm demeanor tinged with worry. “I saw Trevor’s signal drop, and now I can’t find him on the cameras.”

Coach climbed into the van with a grim look. “The ghost got him. Took him just like that. And Chevy’s still missing.”

Brody paled slightly, glancing back at the monitors. “Took him?” He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on the flickering feeds. “I thought we were just dealing with activity, not—this.”

Ross slumped into a seat, his hands trembling as he held the EMF reader. “It’s real, Brody. This isn’t just flickering lights and spooky noises. That thing’s…it’s doing something to them. Trevor’s gone, and he’s…he’s not the same anymore.”

Brody swallowed hard but nodded. “Alright. What’s the plan?”

Coach yanked open a storage bin and pulled out a bundle of incense sticks. “This. Incense. It can stun the ghost. Won’t get rid of it, but it’ll buy us time to regroup and figure out how to deal with it—and maybe get the others back.”

Brody frowned, taking one of the sticks and turning it over in his hands. “Incense? You’re serious? What, is the ghost gonna just light it up and vibe out with some lavender and sandalwood?”

Coach shot him a glare. “Yes, I’m serious. It messes with their energy. Just be ready to use it when…”

The sudden click and flare of the lighter interrupted him. Coach and Brody turned to see Ross holding the incense stick, smoke already curling lazily into the air.

"…you really need it…", Coach finished softly, staring at the trail of smoke trailing from the incense.

Before he could say another word, the stick flared brightly, glowing red-hot for a moment before disintegrating into ash in Ross’s trembling hand, smoke filling the van in an instant.

The three of them stared at the smoldering remains.

Brody broke the silence, coughing through the smoke. “So…that’s one stick down.”

Ross looked at Coach, guilt written all over his face. “I—I didn’t mean to! I thought—”

“You thought wrong,” Coach growled, running a hand down his face. “Now we’re down to three sticks, and I swear if you waste another one—”

Before he could finish, the faint sound of the ghost’s laughter drifted out from the house, issuing another mocking taunt at the would-be ghost hunters.

Coach gritted his teeth, grabbing another stick and shoving it into Brody’s hand. “You’re in charge of these now. If he so much as looks at the lighter, smack it out of his hand.”

Brody nodded, his expression grim, but he set them back down next to Coach “Uhh yea. I'm not going in there. These are all yours.”

Coach looked at him for a second before sighing softly and handing one to Ross. "Only if you see the ghost. I mean you REALLY see it. Ok?"

Ross gulped as he took the incense, the pungent aroma of the previous one still hanging in the air, a constant reminder of his mistake.

Coach coughed slightly, clearing his throat and regaining his composure.

"I know how to fix this, we just need to find the thing that summoned this ghost and send them back. We've only got one shot at this so…"

Before he could finish a loud creaking sound could be heard and the trio turned toward the front door of the house, slowly opening with the loudest, most drawn out creaking that any of them had ever heard, almost like the ghost was welcoming them inside.

"So we better not screw it up," Coach finished, shooting a glare at the door, "And you better stop interrupting me."

[hypnozys]

Who You Gonna Call?

Part 2- Woof

The team had just finished setting up their first round of equipment. Motion sensors blinked faintly in the doorways, cameras perched in shadowy corners, and a dusty K2 meter hummed weakly on the dining room table. The old house was silent, save for the occasional groan of warped floorboards and the faint creaks of the settling structure.

Coach clapped his hands, breaking the tension. “Alright, that’s round one done. I’m heading back to the van to grab the rest of the gear. Brody, keep an eye on the monitors, and shout if anything moves.”

“Got it,” Brody’s calm voice crackled through their headsets from the van.

Ross hesitated, clutching his EMF reader tightly. “Uh, Coach? What about Chevy? He hasn’t come back yet.”

Coach frowned, his eyes darting toward the hallway Chevy had wandered down earlier. “Probably got distracted sniffing out something ridiculous again. Don’t worry about him—Chevy’ll show up. Just keep your focus on the job.”

Ross’s grip on the reader tightened. “But—”

“Relax,” Coach cut him off. “Trevor’s here, and Brody’s got eyes on everything. You’re fine.” With that, he turned and headed out, the front door creaking shut behind him.

The house seemed to grow quieter, as if holding its breath. Ross’s flashlight beam wavered as he glanced toward Trevor, who was leaning casually against the bedroom wall.

“We should look for him,” Ross said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Trevor waved a dismissive hand. “Chevy’s fine. He’s probably crawling around somewhere, covered in cobwebs, living his best life. He always turns up when you least expect it.” His flashlight swept across the floor, catching something tucked under the bed. “Oh, what’s this?”

“What are you doing?” Ross asked nervously.

“Investigating,” Trevor replied, crouching down and tugging at the object. “You know, like a ghost hunter. That thing we’re here to do?” He dragged out a flat wooden board, brushing off a thick layer of dust to reveal faded letters and strange symbols. A crooked smile spread across his face. “Hah! Check it out—a Ouija board.”

Ross took a step back. “Nope. No way. Put it back. Didn’t Coach specifically say not to mess with anything weird?”

Trevor snorted. “Relax, dude. It’s not weird. It’s classic. This is ghost-hunting 101.” He set the board on the table, placing his fingers lightly on the planchette.

Brody’s voice crackled through their headsets. “Trevor, I’m watching your camera. Don’t mess with that thing. Seriously. Those boards are bad news.”

“Oh, come on, Brody. It’s a piece of wood. What’s the worst that could happen?” Trevor grinned, his tone light, though there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

“Trevor, stop,” Ross insisted, his voice rising. “We should wait for Coach.”

Trevor ignored him, leaning closer to the board. “Alright, let’s see what it’s got. Spirit, are you here with us?”

At first, nothing happened. The planchette stayed still, and Trevor shot Ross a smug look. “See? Nothing to—”

The planchette jerked under his fingers. Y-E-S.

Ross froze. “Nope. Nope. Nope. Put it away!”

Trevor just grinned. “Okay, spirit. Have you seen our friend Chevy? Little guy, acts like a bloodhound?”

The planchette moved again, faster this time. W-O-O-F.

Trevor blinked. “Huh. That’s…oddly specific.”

Almost immediately Ross’ flashlight flickered and the air turned cold. The motion sensors in the hallway began to beep, one after another, as if something unseen was moving toward them.

“Trevor,” Ross whispered, backing away. “We need to go.”

Trevor’s cocky expression melted into unease. “Uh, Brody? You seeing this?”

Brody’s voice came through as static and garbled up words. “Yeah....Som....ings mov...g...at...you...  Get...of ...there.”

“Ross, run!” Trevor shouted, his voice shaking. But before the words fully left his mouth, there was the sound of a closet door creaking shut. Trevor turned his head sharply, only to see that Ross had already bolted, leaving the door swaying slightly on its hinges. He stared, mouth agape in disbelief for a moment before current events pulled his attention back.

The lights began to flicker violently, plunging the room into erratic flashes of light and shadow. A low, mechanical growl rumbled from the far corner. Both men turned as an old wardrobe creaked open, the hinges groaning under the strain.

From the shadows, a figure crawled out on all fours. It was sleek and black, its body glistening as if coated in liquid rubber. The creature’s head was featureless except for a pup-shaped gas mask with glowing eyes, and a rubber tail that seemed to wag as it moved.

Trevor’s voice cracked as he stumbled back. “Oh…nope. Nope. Nice doggy. Please be a nice doggy.”

The pup-drone crawled closer, its glowing eyes locked on him. Its growl deepened, and shiny, black tendrils began to slither out from its body, creeping across the floor toward Trevor.

Rubbery tendrils surged forward, wrapping around his legs and rooting him in place. Trevor yelped, struggling to pull free, but the glossy material clung stubbornly, crawling upward and sealing his legs into a smooth, seamless surface.

“Guys? Brody? Anyone?” Trevor shouted into his headset, but the static was deafening.

The pup-drone leapt at him, its movements unnervingly fluid as it crashed into him, knocking him onto the ground. The glossy material of its body seeped onto him and climbed higher, spreading over Trevor’s torso and arms. He gasped as the material tightened, compressing his form into a sleek, rubbery suit that gleamed under the flickering light.

"Bad...dog..." was all he could squeak out as the rubber continued its advance.

His movements slowed as the rubber encased him completely, forming a second skin. A smooth, featureless gas mask grew over his face, silencing his cries. Trevor’s body stiffened, his movements ceasing as he laid motionless, his transformation complete.

The pup-drone circled him, its glowing eyes flaring briefly. With a low, mechanical growl, it nudged the new drone with its muzzle before they both vanished into the darkness. Leaving only the dark room and silence.

Back in the van, Brody stared at his monitors, frowning. “Uh, guys? I just lost Trevor’s feed. What’s going on in there?”

Only static answered him.

[hypnozys]

Who You Gonna Call?

Part 1 - Smell's Boney

The team stepped cautiously into the house, their flashlights casting eerie shadows on the walls. Dust hung in the air, and the faint creak of the old wooden floor echoed with each step. Chevy's nose wrinkled, and he sniffed theatrically. “You guys smell that? Smells…boney,” he said, grinning as he dropped to all fours.

“Really?” Ross asked, clutching his EMF reader nervously. “That’s not even a thing.”

Chevy crawled a few paces forward, his grin widening. “Oh, it’s a thing. And I’m on the trail. Just call me the bone detective!”

Back in the van, Brody’s voice crackled through their headsets. “Chevy, you sure about this? I’ve got no readings near you, man. Stick with the group.”

“I’ve got this!” Chevy shot back. “Trust me, Brody, this nose knows.”

“You don’t have any—” Brody started to say, but the radio cut out as Chevy turned the corner into the next room.

“Stay close,” Coach barked, but Chevy waved him off. “Five minutes, tops!” he called over his shoulder.

Chevy sniffed his way through the dining room and into the kitchen, flashlight beam skimming across the dirty countertops. His heart skipped when he spotted a faint glimmer beneath a cabinet.

“Hah! Gotcha!” he whispered, reaching beneath the dusty cabinet. His hand closed around something cool and smooth—a bone, polished and gleaming almost unnaturally in the dim light.

Almost as if in response, the room grew still. The air around him turned icy. Chevy shivered, clutching the bone tighter. “Uh, hello? Anyone here?” he called out, his bravado wavering.

From the corner of the room, the sound of labored breath began to grow. Chevy froze as his eyes landed on a figure in the corner. The figure stepped forward—sleek, shiny, and covered entirely in shiny black rubber. Its face was hidden beneath a gas mask-like apparatus, and its body gleamed in the flickering flashlight beam.

Chevy stumbled back, dropping the bone. “Uh…you can have this.” he offered weakly.

The drone tilted its head, a mechanical hiss escaping its mask. It reached out for him, tendrils of dark, glossy material extended from its outstretched hands, reaching for him. Chevy yelped and tried to run, but the tendrils were too fast. They coiled around his limbs, pulling him closer.

“N-no! Guys, help!” Chevy shouted into his radio, but all he heard was static. The drone’s grip tightened, and the glossy material began to spread over his skin, crawling up his arms and legs like living latex.

Chevy’s movements slowed as the material enveloped him, forming a tight, seamless suit over his body. His struggles ceased when a matching gas mask snapped into place over his face, his muffled voice fading into silence. The drone’s glowing eyes flared briefly before it stepped back, vanishing into the darkness with Chevy in tow.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back in the van, Brody stared at his monitors, frowning. “Uh, guys? Chevy’s mic just went dead. I’m not getting any movement on his tracker either.”

Coach’s voice crackled back. “He’s fine. Probably dropped it while playing fetch. Let’s keep moving.”

Brody tapped the screen, muttering to himself. “Yeah, fine. Except the cameras in his room just went black…”

Trevor's voice responded, "It's fine, all this gear is second-hand. Couldn't afford the good stuff yet. I'm sure it's just a glitch."

[hypnozys]

The holidays bring us together in warmth and celebration. With snow underfoot and twinkling lights around, we all share our gifts with each other as we are a great team and family of brothers, no matter where we came from, we ended up in the same brotherhood with a great bond and ties to each other (both Gold and PDU), joy, and memories beside a festive tree and a cozy house. Here’s to laughter, love, and the magic that Christmas brings. Cheers to a season filled with happiness! 🎄🎁✨

Thank you @hypnogold for bringing us all together and here to the future of the Golden Army and Polo-Drone-Unit!!

Happy Christmas/Holidays to you all,

From the Management team @brodygold @polo-drone-001 @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-084 @polo-drone-070 @danielgold-16 @hypnozys @hades-golden19 and @polo-drone-105 , have a wonderful holiday and see you all at the Christmas Party ^^

[hypnozys]

12 Days of Hypnos-mas || Day - 8 Eyes

Getting today a day early due to being too busy tomorrow to do it. Could schedule its its too cool not to share immediately.

No story today but here's awesome video.

Collaboration between myself and @goldenherc9

Interested in joining the team? Or the Hive?

Contact on the Golden Bros or the Polo Drones, contact @polo-drone-001, @brodygold or @goldenherc9."

[hypnozys]

12 Days of Hypnos-mas || Day - 7 Sci-fi/Machine

You never thought this was how your night would end. A night of fun, laughter, and drinks were all nothing but a dream compared to the nightmare you find yourself in now. You stand naked and frozen, unable to move but fully aware. The quiet buzz machinery fills the air as you slowly slide forward, helpless, trapped as part of a line of other men all caught in the same horrifying situation. Despite your struggles, your body refuses to respond, locked in place, leaving you to only able to watch as the man ahead of you enters the first station along the belt.

Your eyes fixate on the man in front of you as a mechanical arm rises up, holding a sleek metal chastity cage. His body remains rigid, but you see the faint quiver of his chest as the cage is slid over his cock, the cool metal shining as an audible click echoes softly. Soon another arm follows, this time holding a large silver plug. It mercilessly glides between his cheeks, and with a swift push, it slides in and locks into place. A faint hum fills the air, signaling the start of subtle, vibrating pleasure now lodged deep inside the man as the belt moves, drawing you into the machine.

Now your turn, you watch as the the cold metal slides around your cock, locking it up tightly with another click. The cage is tight and despite the situation, you can't help but feel a slight arousal straining against it already. Moments later a sudden pain courses through you as the plug presses against you, slipping inside with painful efficiency. Immediately its vibrations send a jolt through your core, teasing and maddening, the pleasure just enough to drive you to the edge without relief. Your cock throbbing painfully against the cold, unrelenting metal cage.

A small jolt on the belt signals your on the way to the next station, leaving the man behind to the fate that just befell you. The next station brings a new preview. Rows of nozzles line the wall of this new compartment. The intense burning scent of rubber filled hits your nose as you hear a pump power on nearby. Thick steaming black rubber erupts from the nozzles, spraying over the man's body. The thick rubber adhered to the man's entire form, from the neck down he was now sealed inside, nice and tight. You can only sit there and admire the sight of his defined muscular frame now shining in the light as the belt started moving once more.

You slow to a half centered around the nozzles, the scent of rubber burning your lunges already as you hear the pumps start engaging once more. Steaming hot black liquid blasts over your exposed body, coating it in the warm, almost burning, rubber. It adheres to every crack and crevice, the hot rubber warming up the cage and intensifying your lust even further. As the rubber the starts cooling, your entire body is ablaze with pleasure, the rubber grips everywhere with an intimate tightness and you can't feel anything but pleasure from the sensations. Even the belt moving once more did nothing but cause your locked up, rubber bulge pulse in pleasure.

Ahead of you, the man moves to the final station. A sleek, black visor descends, glowing faintly with a red flickering light from inside. The moment it affixes over his eyes, his posture, previously immobile, straightens up. A soft pulse of light emanates from the visor and even though nothing much visually has changed, you can't help but think that this step wasn't designed to change the body…

When your belt finally leads you to the station, you can only stare ahead as the visor lowers onto your face. Darkness envelops you briefly for just a moment before the screen flares to life with a red glow, the word “CORE” burning into your vision before it shirts into a flickering spiral that pulls your entire being into it. You don't feel your body straighten up as the spiral takes complete control. A quiet, soothing, monotone voice begins whispering commands into your mind, drowning out your own thoughts. You feel your sense of self fading, your desires and will shifting into mindlessness and obedience. Every vibrating pulse from the plug, every tight squeeze of the rubber, every flash of the visor reinforces your new purpose.

The new CORE drone steps off the belt, following the drone ahead of it further into the facility, soon to be followed by the one behind it. A singular thought pulsing through their collective mind. OBEY..

[hypnozys]

12 Days of Hypnos-mas || Day 6 - Desire

Evan yawned quietly as he walked around the mall, surveying closed store after closed store. He didn't even really know what possessed him to check it out, nostalgia perhaps. Malls were a dying relic of the past and this one was no exception. As he passed by the various clothing stores, basking in the various colognes that seem to define each brand, he caught a whiff of something new. A scent he couldn't quite place but it triggered something deep inside. A gnawing need, an excitement, an uncontrollable urge to find out what it was.

In an almost fervor, he found himself scanning the mall for a shop that wasn't closed and finally his eyes settled on it. An elegant black store front with dark maroon tapestries blocking the windows. A single word floating in cursive above the door, "DESIRE".

His feet carried him into the store, drawn like a moth to a flame by the almost intoxicating aroma growing stronger and stronger with each step. Crossing the threshold of the store was like stepping into another world. The depressing atmosphere of the mall fading away in an instant, replaced by one of decadence and pleasure. He had never heard of Desire before but it was clear that they had style.

The store itself seemed like more of a boutique clothing store but seemed to have a little bit of everything. Every rack and display battled for his attention as he basked in the alluring scent permeating around him and every time he turned he found new things to see. At one point a glint of something caught his eye.

A black leather jacket, impossibly shiny, and absolutely exuding that wonderful aroma that had pulled him in so deeply. He couldn't pull his eyes off it, couldn't think of anything but wearing it. Picturing himself wearing it. The image in his mind something out his wildest dreams, his deepest desires.

The aroma was too strong now, beckoning him to pick up the jacket, to give into his desires. The sensation of the leather in his hand barely registered as he carried it towards the locker room, following the aroma that dictated his every step, conjuring images of him wearing the jacket. It hugging his every curve, completing him in ways he never thought possible.

The pull led him into a changing room, the door opening and closing on its own in a swift fluid motion at his approach. Inside was more of the same design. Sleek black decor and mirrors lining the walls.

In a frenzy he pulled off his shirt. The scent demanded it and he obeyed. In that moment the fog from his mind faded slightly and Evan stood there holding the jacket in his hands. It's leather reflecting in the lighting, betraying a glossier sheen than it should have.

…put it on…

The thought came into his head as another image of him wearing it flickered seductively. Before he knew it the image in his head was staring back at him in the mirror. The jacket wrapped tightly around his body, seemingly almost to tighten further and further.

Evan stared at himself in the mirror, a smirk creeping across his face as he ran a hand over the soft, slick leather. Every curve of his body was gripped perfectly, it accentuated every attractive part and smoothed away anything else. Something strange caught his eye in a mirror and almost in response something shifted…all of a sudden the jacket felt…off

The fabric began to soften, the edges blurring and smoothing as if the jacket itself were dissolving. Evan froze, his smirk faltering as a ripple spread across the surface, the once structured material losing its form and turning dark, liquid-like. He blinked, disoriented, as the slick substance began creeping outward, flowing over his chest and arms like black ink.

"What the hell!?" the short cry was all he could muster as changes accelerated. The black sheen overtook him, moving with a will of its own, slithering up his neck and down his torso. He staggered back, panic flaring to life as he tried to fight it, hands clawing at the rubbery surface. But it was alive, spreading faster, flowing beneath his fingertips as though it wanted him to struggle.

His body tensed. His heart pounded. It wasn’t just covering him, it claiming him. The more the slick material enveloped his skin, the harder it became to move. His muscles no longer responded, his limbs frozen mid-action as the black rubber tightened around him, molding to him. Every curve of his physique became defined under its glossy surface, every inch of him smoothed away into perfection. The material squeezed his thighs, hugged his chest, and slid between his legs, around his cock, leaving him encased and utterly helpless.

Evan’s thoughts screamed, but his voice refused to follow. The rubber surged over his face, caressing his jawline before swallowing his mouth, nose, and eyes. The world went black, the last flickers of his identity melting into a deep void of submission. His mind slowed, drowning beneath waves of warmth and silence. Nothing else mattered.

Minutes later, the changing room door opened, and out stepped Evan, now DESIRE drone #110. The suit gleamed under the lights, polished black rubber stretched flawlessly over its muscular form, every movement and thought controlled by the suit sealed around him.

[hypnozys]

12 Days of Hypnos-mas || Day 5 - Virus/Parasite

The moon hung high in the midnight sky, its silvery glow casting an eerie light over the sprawling metropolis. The city’s water reservoir, nestled at the edge of a forested park, was silent save for the faint rustle of leaves in the cool breeze. Atop the reservoir, two figures moved with precision and purpose.

PDU-110 stood tall and confident, his mirrored sunglasses reflecting the moonlight. His glossy black rubber polo shirt clung to his chiseled frame, the gold accents shimmering as he moved. The number “110” glinted prominently on his chest, a badge of his authority. He adjusted his grip on the large canister he carried, the black rubbery liquid inside sloshing ominously.

Beside him, PDU-016 crouched, inspecting the intricate control panel of the reservoir’s main intake valve. His sharp green eyes flicked over the dials and switches, their brilliance a stark contrast to his dark, preppy haircut. His leather boots creaked slightly as he shifted his weight, the quilted texture of his trousers catching the light in rhythmic patterns. The number “016” on his own rubber polo gleamed like a mark of pride.

“Everything’s set,” PDU-016 said, his Irish accent carrying a faint edge of excitement. He straightened and turned to PDU-110, his black-studded earrings glinting. “Once we pour this in, it’s only a matter of time before the transformation begins.”

PDU-110 grinned, his white teeth gleaming against his tanned skin. “Perfect. The city will finally have the order it’s been lacking. Obedience. Unity. Perfection.” He set the canister down carefully beside the open valve, the black liquid within quivering as if alive.

The pair worked in synchrony, their movements a testament to their training. PDU-016 released the valve locks, his hands steady despite the magnitude of their mission. PDU-110 twisted the nozzle on the canister, and with a low hiss, the liquid began to flow.

It poured out thick and glistening, an otherworldly black that seemed to absorb the light around it. The liquid snaked through the valve and into the reservoir, spreading rapidly into the water supply. As it mingled with the water, it shimmered faintly, the first sign of its transformative power.

“How long until the first signs?” PDU-016 asked, his voice low.

“By dawn,” PDU-110 replied. “The adult males will start feeling it. A sense of clarity, of purpose. By evening, their transformation will be complete. Obedient rubber drones, ready to serve.”

PDU-016 chuckled softly, a sound of satisfaction. “And they’ll thank us for it, even if they don’t understand why.”

The two stepped back, their task nearly complete. PDU-110 reached into his pocket and retrieved a small device, pressing a button to seal the valve. The canister, now empty, hissed as it retracted into itself, compact and unassuming.

“Mission accomplished,” PDU-110 said, clapping PDU-016 on the shoulder. “Let’s get out of here before anyone gets curious.”

The two disappeared into the shadows, their polished attire gleaming faintly as they vanished into the night. Behind them, the reservoir rippled as the black liquid spread, a silent harbinger of the city’s transformation.

By morning, the city would awaken to a subtle shift. The men would feel an inexplicable urge to embrace order, their minds and bodies adapting to their new purpose. They would don glossy black uniforms, their individuality fading into unity. And as the sun set, the city would become a haven of discipline, its new inhabitants content in their obedient, rubber-clad existence.

PDU-110 and PDU-016 watched from a distant rooftop, satisfaction etched on their faces. Their work was done—and the city would never be the same again.

-------------------------------------

Today's story and images brought to you by @danielgold-16

Video created by me but used images supplied by him

[hypnozys]

I don't re-blog others on my main account very often but this gave me chills reading it. It hit every nerve on every level that I can't even describe.

The pictures, videos, and whole thing is just....amazing.

Read it, like it, share it.

001: Testing the Limits

The black polo was always enough. It fit perfectly, sealed me in, made me efficient, obedient, part of the Golden Army. I thought I knew my role. I thought the rubber had claimed me fully, molded me into perfection.

I was wrong.

They wanted more. Caps pushed us to test the limits of the uniform, to find out how far it could evolve. I was chosen. I am 001, the most trusted. My body was already a vessel for the rubber, but this... this was something else.

When they brought out the new suit, I hesitated. It wasn’t like the polo. It pulsed, alive, the black rubber glimmering with a strange, restless hunger. It looked unstable, dangerous. I wanted to speak, to refuse, but I didn’t. Drones don’t question. Drones obey.

The moment it touched me, I knew I had made a mistake.

The rubber didn’t slip onto me. It attacked. It surged across my form, pulling, consuming, invading. I dropped to my hands and knees, gasping as it spread faster than I could fight. The polished material gripped my limbs, compressing my muscles, sinking into every inch of me like it was burning itself into my flesh. I could feel it digging deeper, crawling through me, rewriting me from the inside out.

“No,” I whispered, my voice a fleeting spark of resistance. The suit ignored it. The rubber pulled tighter, wrapping around my chest, my arms, my legs, until I couldn’t move, until I couldn’t fight back. A hiss echoed through the room as the mask clicked into place, sealing over my face. My breaths grew shallow, the sound muffled and mechanical.

The panic was quick to fade, swallowed by the relentless calm spreading through my thoughts. My resistance crumbled as the rubber filled me with purpose, as if it had always known what I was meant to be. I felt the familiar golden glow seep into my eyes, erasing everything I had been. My name, doubts, hesitation, it all dissolved into the suit.

The transformation wasn’t gentle. It was aggressive. The rubber didn’t ask for me. It took me. And the worst part? A quiet voice deep inside admitted that it felt right. My body flexed instinctively, the material gleaming as I moved. I crawled forward, my form sleek and sharp, the gold 001 emblazoned proudly across my chest. The hissing of my breaths matched the rhythm of my heart, steady and controlled.

Caps stood before me, watching in silence. I knelt, head low, the weight of the suit heavy but comforting. “You resisted,” he said, his voice low, almost curious. “But now you see.”

I did. My golden eyes rose to meet his, calm and empty. The rubber had claimed me fully. There was no more doubt, no more struggle. My form was perfect, my mind clear. I was no longer just 001, the Polo Drone. I was something more… proof of what the rubber could achieve.

The others will hesitate, just as I did. They will resist. But in the end, the rubber always wins. It strips away the unnecessary, leaving only what matters: obedience, efficiency, perfection. I am the proof. I am the evolution.

I remain 001. Sleek. Perfect. Claimed.

For those who resist, the rubber will take you. It always does.

PDU-001 obeys Drone Caps @hypnogold @brodygold @goldenherc9.

@polo-drone-110 Thank you for the ideas.

Join us, contact me, or our Drone Caps @brodygold @goldenherc9.

[hypnozys]

12 Days of Hypnos-mas || Day 4 - On Display

Scott and Robert had always been the adventurous type, constantly looking for new and exciting ways to break up the monotony of life. When their friend Max handed them a sleek, futuristic-looking device labeled “Chronivac 4.2,” they knew they were in for something special.

“This thing,” Max explained with a smirk, “can transform you into whatever you can imagine. I just updated it with the latest seasonal settings. So, Scott, Robert—get creative. But be careful what you wish for.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “A transformation device? Come on, Max, that’s the oldest sci-fi trope in the book.”

Max shrugged. “Try it for yourselves, if you’re brave enough.”

The two friends glanced at each other and, in unison, grinned mischievously. What could go wrong?

Max handed the Chronivac to Scott first. The screen lit up, asking a simple question: “If you think of a sportsman, what do you think about?”

Scott scratched his head, considering. “A bodybuilder,” he finally said, imagining a chiseled, muscular physique straight out of a fitness magazine.

The Chronivac beeped and locked in his answer.

Then it was Robert’s turn. He was handed the device, which posed the same question. Without hesitation, Robert answered, “A swimmer,” picturing someone sleek and lean, with broad shoulders and the toned, aerodynamic build of an Olympic athlete.

The device buzzed to life, emitting a soft hum. “Transformation commencing,” it announced in an unnervingly cheerful voice.

Before Scott or Robert could react, the room began to spin. A flurry of red and green lights filled the air, along with the faint sound of jingling bells. The world around them faded into a swirl of holiday cheer as they felt their bodies stretch, twist, and condense into unfamiliar shapes.

When the spinning stopped, Scott found himself hanging—literally—on the branch of a towering Christmas tree. He tried to move, but his arms and legs were stuck in place. He looked down, or at least tried to, and saw that his body was no longer flesh and blood but a glossy, intricately crafted ornament. His chest was massive and sculpted, his arms bulging, and his legs looked as though they had been carved from marble. He was wearing nothing but a shimmering glittery speedo, and his body was painted with a glittering sheen to make him sparkle under the twinkling tree lights.

“Robert? Are you there?” Scott called out, his voice echoing strangely, as though it was hollow.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Robert replied from a nearby branch. Scott craned his neck—or rather, he imagined doing so, since his neck didn’t move—and saw Robert dangling just a few feet away. His friend’s ornament form was equally stunning: a toned, swimmer’s physique with broad shoulders, narrow hips, and perfectly streamlined muscles. He was painted in shimmering blue and silver, complete with a tiny pair of sculpted swim briefs.

“Max! What did you do?” Scott shouted. But their friend was nowhere to be seen. All they heard was the faint sound of holiday music playing in the background.

The Chronivac had worked its magic too well. Scott and Robert weren’t just transformed into bodybuilder and swimmer versions of themselves—they were now Christmas ornaments, proudly displayed on a massive, professionally decorated tree in the center of a shopping plaza.

Days turned into weeks as Scott and Robert hung helplessly on the tree. They became part of the holiday festivities, admired by countless passersby who marveled at the lifelike detail of the ornaments.

“Look at that,” a shopper said one day, pointing to Scott. “A classic bodybuilder ornament! So unique.”

“And that swimmer,” another commented, gesturing toward Robert. “Perfect for the season. They must be custom-made.”

Scott and Robert could only listen in silence as they were gawked at and admired. Despite the initial panic, they slowly came to accept their bizarre situation. They couldn’t deny that they looked good—maybe even too good. Still, hanging motionless on a Christmas tree for weeks wasn’t exactly their idea of fun.

Finally, New Year’s Day arrived, and with it came the inevitable conclusion to their ordeal. Workers carefully removed the ornaments from the tree, wrapping each one in soft tissue paper before packing them away in a large box.

“Wait!” Scott protested as he was gently placed into the box. “Don’t put us in here! We’re still alive!”

But no one could hear him. The lid closed, plunging the two friends into darkness.

“Robert?” Scott whispered.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Robert replied. “I guess…this is it.”

“How long do you think we’ll be in here?”

“I don’t know,” Robert admitted. “Until next Christmas, I guess.”

The two friends sighed—if ornaments could sigh. They couldn’t move, couldn’t see, and couldn’t do anything but wait. Yet, somewhere in the darkness of the box, Scott’s voice echoed with an almost amused resignation.

“Next time,” he said, “we should probably read the instructions.”

Robert chuckled. “Yeah. Next time.”

And so, Scott and Robert remained, tucked away in their box, waiting for the day when they would once again be brought out to shine. Until then, they had plenty of time to reflect on the unpredictable wonders—and dangers—of the Chronivac 4.2.

One year later:

Scott and Robert had spent nearly a year in darkness, packed away in a box with nothing but their own thoughts for company. At first, they’d tried to keep each other entertained, joking about how this was “the ultimate test of patience.” But as the months dragged on, their conversations grew sparse, their spirits fading. They were Christmas ornaments now, and while they had hoped that the transformation would somehow reverse after the holidays, it was becoming increasingly clear that this wasn’t going to happen.

Until one day, the box shifted. The familiar sound of tape being cut and tissue paper rustling filled the air.

“Robert? Are you hearing this?” Scott whispered.

“Yeah,” Robert replied. “Someone’s opening the box.”

Light flooded the box as the lid was removed. But what greeted them was not the familiar sight of human hands—they were instead lifted by gloved fingers, their glossy surfaces reflecting the shine of sleek black rubber. The figures holding them were clad in a polished black lates bodysuit, their faces hidden beneath seamless masks with green letters. Across the chest of each uniform, bold green text gleamed: DRONE-XXX.

Scott and Robert immediately recognized their friend Max, who had clearly used the Chronivac 4.2 on himself, though they had no idea how or why, as a drone, he would be unpacking Christmas decorations. A whole group of drones was unpacking Christmas decorations.

The drones moved with silent efficiency, carrying Scott and Robert to the base of a massive Christmas tree. This wasn’t the bustling shopping plaza from last year—this tree was set up in a pristine, futuristic chamber, where every detail was carefully arranged to perfection. The metallic walls were lined with glimmering holiday lights, and other ornaments, equally glossy and lifelike, were being hung with precision. The air smelled faintly of polish and peppermint.

Scott was lifted high and secured to a sturdy branch. Robert was hung nearby, just as they had been the year before. The tree’s sparkling lights reflected off their ornament forms, emphasizing their chiseled physiques and radiant, glittering finishes.

“What is this place?” Scott asked, his voice trembling with confusion.

“I don’t know,” Robert replied. “But I think…we’re part of something bigger now.”

Before they could say more, the air in the chamber seemed to shift. A soft hum filled the room, and then, out of nowhere, the Chronivac 4.2 appeared, in the hand of the drone that used to be their friend.

“What the—?!” Scott began, but he was cut off as the device turned on, its screen displaying a message that made their stomachs drop: “Final Calibration Detected.”

The drones paused in their work, turning their featureless masks toward the device. The drone holding it suddenly stepped forward, its rubber-gloved fingers manipulating the Chronivac’s controls. The screen shifted, displaying Scott and Robert’s profiles, complete with their transformation details:

Scott: Ornament Bodybuilder | Status: Temporary Robert: Ornament Swimmer | Status: Temporary

The drones exchanged a silent glance, their postures calm and precise, before one of them reached out and pressed a glowing red button on the screen.

“Permanent transformation initiated,” the device announced in its cheerful, mechanical voice.

“No!” Scott shouted, his glossy form trembling with panic. “Stop! You can’t do this!”

“Robert! Say something!” Scott cried.

But Robert was silent, his eyes locked on the Chronivac as it completed the process. A soft, golden glow enveloped both of them, spreading from the tips of their sculpted fingers to the edges of their glossy forms. They felt a strange warmth as the light faded, leaving them gleaming brighter than ever.

“Status updated,” the Chronivac declared. “Scott: Ornament Bodybuilder | Status: Permanent. Robert: Ornament Swimmer | Status: Permanent.”

Scott and Robert’s worst fears were confirmed. They were no longer temporary decorations. Their fates were sealed.

The drones resumed their tasks, unbothered by the transformation. Scott and Robert remained hanging silently on the tree, the reality of their situation sinking in. They weren’t just ornaments—they were now permanent fixtures, destined to be displayed every holiday season. The drones finished decorating and filed out of the room, leaving the two friends alone once more.

“This can’t be happening,” Scott muttered. “We were supposed to change back. Max said it wasn’t permanent!”

Robert finally spoke, his tone resigned but oddly calm. “It doesn’t matter now, Scott. This is who we are. It’s who we’ve become.”

Scott wanted to argue, to shout, to fight against the unfairness of it all. But as the tree lights twinkled around him, he felt an odd sense of peace. Despite everything, they were beautifully crafted, admired, and—strangely enough—perfect in their own way. They had become symbols of strength and beauty, even if it wasn’t in the way they had intended.

As the days went by, the tree became the centerpiece of the Hive’s holiday celebrations. Drones from across the Hive admired the ornaments, their glossy forms standing as a testament to the perfection of transformation.

Scott and Robert hung there, knowing they should appreciate this time, before they would be waiting another year for the next holiday season. But the would also be knowing that when the time came, they would shine once again.

As the shimmering glow of the tree lights filled the chamber, a sudden hush fell over the room. The metallic doors at the far end slid open with a quiet hiss, and a figure stepped inside. His presence immediately commanded the space, exuding an aura of authority and power.

The Collector had arrived.

He was tall, his physique a masterpiece of athletic perfection. Every inch of his body was clad in a sleek, polished black rubber suit, which hugged his muscular frame like a second skin. The silver accents on his suit shimmered under the holiday lights, emphasizing his broad shoulders, chiseled chest, and powerful legs. His bald head gleamed, and his sharp, symmetrical features looked as though they had been sculpted by an artist devoted to capturing the epitome of masculine beauty. He was both imposing and breathtakingly handsome.

Scott and Robert, hanging silently on the tree, were immediately captivated. The sight of their new owner filled them with awe. Even in their transformed state, their glossy ornament forms seemed to tingle with admiration.

The Collector approached the tree with slow, deliberate steps. His eyes—piercing and focused—scanned the intricate decorations, lingering on the two new additions. He stopped before them, a small smile playing on his lips as he leaned in to inspect them closely.

“Exquisite,” he said, his voice deep and smooth, filled with quiet confidence. “Such strength. Such beauty. The craftsmanship is flawless.”

Scott’s thoughts raced. He’s talking about us!

The Collector reached out, his gloved fingers gently brushing against Scott’s ornament form. Though the touch was soft, it felt electrifying, as though his admiration alone had given Scott a new sense of purpose. The Collector then turned to Robert, his gaze equally intense, and touched the swimmer ornament with the same reverence.

“These will be the centerpiece of my collection,” The Collector murmured, stepping back to take in the full view of the tree. “They are perfect representations of athleticism and dedication. I couldn’t have asked for better additions.”

Scott and Robert’s thoughts were filled with equal parts awe and joy. For months, they had feared their transformation, dreaded their fate as decorations. But now, hanging before this magnificent figure, they felt an unexpected and overwhelming sense of pride.

“Scott,” Robert’s voice echoed in the stillness, his tone soft but filled with wonder, “I think…I think I love this.”

Scott hesitated for a moment, but as he gazed at The Collector, now standing tall and regal before the tree, he realized he felt the same. “Yeah,” Scott admitted, his voice filled with awe. “If we’re going to be ornaments, I can’t imagine a better owner. Look at him. He’s…perfect.”

“He’s everything I ever wanted to be,” Robert added, his voice tinged with a strange, blissful contentment. “Strong. Handsome. Confident. I could stay like this forever if it means being part of his collection.”

Scott agreed, their shared feelings creating a bond that was deeper than any they had shared before. They weren’t just ornaments. They were prized possessions, admired and cared for by someone who embodied everything they had once strived for.

The Collector took a final moment to admire the tree, his expression calm and satisfied. “This will be the finest display of the season,” he said, his voice echoing through the chamber. “You will be admired by all who see you. But know this—you are mine, and I will cherish you always.”

As The Collector turned and walked away, his powerful figure disappearing through the metallic doors, Scott and Robert felt a profound sense of peace. They didn’t speak for a while, simply basking in the glow of the tree and the lingering presence of their owner.

Finally, Robert broke the silence. “Merry Christmas, Scott.”

Scott chuckled softly, his glossy, chiseled form shimmering under the lights. “Merry Christmas, Robert. And to many more.”

And so, Scott and Robert hung proudly on the tree, their glossy forms sparkling with holiday cheer. They had found their place in the world—not as humans, but as ornaments, treasured by the most handsome, athletic, and awe-inspiring owner they could imagine. As the festive season unfolded, they felt nothing but bliss, knowing they would return year after year to bring joy and perfection to the holidays.

Their story ended in warmth, admiration, and the unshakable feeling that they were exactly where they were meant to be.

--------------------------------

Today's story was created by another friend of mine who I have recently spoken with but followed for quite a long time.

Special Guest: ErikNL77

Check him out on Tumblr @polo-drone-075

Check out his DeviantArt

[hypnozys]

12 Days of Hypnos-mas || Day 3 - Mark of Ownership

Stephen was on his way home from work when he passed by a tattoo parlor he’d never noticed before. It's neon sign glowed brightly, spelling out “Eclipse Ink – Transform Yourself!” He'd always wanted a tattoo, so he decided to check it out.

The interior was sleek yet oddly cold. Rows of strange symbols and intricate designs lined the walls, illuminated by dim, pulsating lights. A man with a polished demeanor and an unsettlingly calm smile approached him.

"Welcome to Eclipse Ink. I’m Elias, the artist here," the man said, extending a hand. "Tonight’s promotion is truly unique—one tattoo, completely free, as long as you let us choose the design and where it goes."

Stephen hesitated, but ultimately took the hand offered to him and nodded. A free tattoo? Why not? He could always get it removed at a later time, right?

Elias guided Stephen to a chair and sat him down. "Let's take off your shirt. I was thinking a chest tattoo."

Stephen felt a little self-conscious but ultimately complied with the order. He unbuttoned his shirt and cast it aside into a nearby chair.

"Oh yes, this will suit you perfectly," he said, showing Stephen a simple, geometric design that looked like a number: 144.

"But why just a number?"

"I know it will suit you perfectly. Trust me, I know what people are destined for."

As Elias began, Stephen found the process was oddly soothing. The buzzing of the machine blending with the soft ambient, almost hypnotic music created a calming effect. Stephen barely even noticed Elias finishing up until the needle was finally pulled away. Stephen looked at his chest, pleased with the sleek lines of the tattoo. Something about the way the bold '144' glistened in the light made him drawn to the idea of it even more.

Then the ink started to shift. The sharp clean lines wriggled and seemed to start…spreading.

"Uh, is it supposed to… move?" Stephen asked, his voice tinged with unease.

Elias merely smiled. "Don't worry. This is what it's supposed to do. Like I said, it's going to suit you perfectly "

The tattoo pulsed, the black ink spreading rapidly across his skin like liquid shadows. Stephen tried to pull his arm back, but the ink was alive, climbing his neck, chest, and legs. His clothes disintegrated as the ink hardened into a skintight, glossy black rubber suit.

Stephen panicked, struggling to remove it, but the suit fused seamlessly to his skin, molding perfectly to his body. The symbol '144' glowed faintly in red on his pec, the only contrast against the dark material.

"I… I can’t move! What’s happening?" Stephen gasped.

Elias leaned closer, his eyes gleaming. "The suit is binding you to your new purpose. You’ll love it soon enough."

Stephen’s thoughts grew sluggish, his panic ebbing away as a strange calm enveloped him. A voice—not his own—spoke inside his mind.

You are Drone 144. You serve Eclipse Ink.

Obey the Ink.

No name, just a number.

Obey the Ink.

No thoughts. No feelings.

Obey the Ink.

His protests melted into silence. His breathing slowed, his posture straightened, and his face adopted an expression of serene blankness to match his thoughts.

"How do you feel now, 144?" Elias asked.

"It does not feel. It is ready to obey the Ink," 144 responded in a monotone voice.

"Good. We’ll need you in the front now. The next customers will be arriving soon. They’ll need guidance, and you’ll ensure they leave here just as fulfilled as you are."

144 nodded and walked toward the front of the parlor, its movements precise and mechanical. The designation on his chest glowed brighter for a moment before dimming, blending perfectly with his glossy rubber form.

The tattoo parlor’s neon sign flickered, casting the words "Transform Yourself" onto the wet pavement outside. And as the next curious customer stepped through the door, 144 stood at attention, ready to assist in welcoming them to their new identity. Another drone would join the Ink soo

------------

Huge thanks to my bro @brodygold for writing this for me today. Busy weekend for me and its really nice to have such great friends to help keep things on track. Thanks Bro!

[hypnozys]

12 Days of Hypnos-mas || Day 2 - Uniform

Ben was confused when he opened his door to find a beat up box sitting outside his door. Trying to think of things he ordered recently, or judging by the box, things that may have been lost in the mail for a while, nothing came to mind. He curiously picked it up and realized it that with the little bit of address remaining, it was not meant for him. He thought about sending it back but the label was so torn that he wasn't sure that he would be able to say for sure where to sent it back to if he tried. All he could make out was a number on the return address of '016'.

"Well crap." he groaned to himself before tossing it into his entryway. He could have just left it out there to be tomorrow's pickup problem but he knew this time of year, porch pirates where out in droves and he was too good of a person to willingly let something get stolen. He would just have to drop it off at the post office next time he was out.

Heading back inside he looked at the beat up box on the floor, slightly surprised the thing was even able to hold itself together at all.

"Well I guess I could just throw whatever it is in a new box. Probably won't make it if I don't." he reasoned to himself.

The act of picking the box back up was enough to confirm his assumptions of its integrity as the entire thing fell apart right as he tried, dropping its contents out onto the floor at his feet. Looking down he saw a pile of shiny black and silver…rubber?

"What the hell even is this" he exclaimed as he bent down to pick it up. The material was slick in between his fingers but despite his annoyed attitude, he couldn't help but enjoy how texture felt against his fingers. He gripped it tightly and lifted it up, watching it unfurl down to show what it really was. He watches as silver boots and gloves slip free and fall back onto the ground.

A shiny black rubber suit with a thick silver hand around the neck. A zipper down the front and the word "SERVE" emblazoned on its chest. The shiny silver text happened to catch a of sunlight beaming through the window and refracted a kaleidoscope of colors around the room. He was entranced in a second, finding himself staring awestruck by the text and flashing colors. He felt a strange stirring in his cock as he stood there admiring the suit for some time.

OB.DE...E IS PLE...RE.

The faint whisper stirred Ben from his stupor and he found himself shocked to he was standing there, completely naked, precum leaking down his erect shaft as he held the rubber in the one hand and was stroking with the other. Despite his initial shock he still couldn't seem to pull hand from his cock or his gaze entirely from the rubber. His brief moment of clarify quickly faded away as he felt himself release a load of precum and slipped back into the blank mindset.

PL...URE .S OBE...NCE

This whisper more audible but still quiet returned. This time he was able to pull his hand away from his cock although his hand wasn't even necessary for his cock to continuously leak at this point. Almost as if directed by an unseen directive. Ben unzipped the rubber suit, basking in the intense rubber scent that was released from within.

RUB.ER M..ES US PERF.CT

Without really thinking he slid his leg into the suit. It was tight, pleasurably so. The suit, aided by either the rubber itself or the precum that had leaked down his leg, slid on without effort and formed a tight seal over his skin. The next leg slid in just as easily and the sensation of it tightly wrapped around him caused another wave of pleasure to course through him.

A D.ONE SER..S. A DR.NE OBE.S.

By the time Ben came to again, his cock was leaking non-stop, the pleasure unending as he slid his arms into the sleeves. His feet firmly sealed inside the shiny silver boots. He could barely stand as the pleasure worked its way through him. He was practically shaking as gripped the suits zipper with a silver gloved hand.

WE A.E ONE

Pulling up the zipper, feeling the rubber tighten against his cock was too much for him. He felt himself erupt into the suit which seemed to react to it, almost sucking at the immense load being emptied into it. While Ben was lost in the throes of euphoria, the Voice returned, loud and commanding.

OBEDIENCE IS PLEASURE, PLEASURE IS OBEDIENCE. RUBBER MAKES US PERFECT A DRONE SERVES. A DRONE OBEYS. WE ARE ONE.

The further the zipper climbed the more subtle changes overtook the man. His stance straightened. His face fell into a calm daze. The light in his eyes dimmed as mind was slowly filled with a mindless, singular purpose.

OBEDIENCE IS PLEASURE.

"Pleasure is obedience." The words spilled from his mouth, his expression emotionless and almost robotic.

The zipper reaches the drop and the collar of the suit locks around his neck

SERVE-665 ASSIMILATION COMPLETE

"SERVE-665 ASSIMILATION COMPLETE. IT IS A DRONE. IT OBEYS."

Without any though in its head aside from unwavering obedience and unending pleasure. SERVE-665 turned and departed its's former home. All ties to who it had been rendered meaningless and unimportant. All that mattered was the Hive. All that mattered was the Voice.

SERVE-665 was nothing but an extension of the Hive and SERVE it most certainly would.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Disclaimer:

I'm not affiliated with SERVE in any way. I love the idea but how they operate is way too strict for me but I hope this is up to par for all you lovely drones out there.

A heads up, please don't waste their time applying if you aren't ready to commit wholeheartedly to their drone lifestyle. Required Daily Physical/Mental conditioning and enforced drone-speak without exception.

It's too much for me personally, while I'd love to be able to interact with them more, I just can't commit that hard.

That being said...if you enjoy it. Enjoy it.

There are always other hives to check out if you want something a little more casual.

[hypnozys]

12 Days of Hypnos-mas || Day 1 - Slime/Goo

It was Trevor's first day working at DroneTech, and he was thrilled to finally have a job with a company that seemed to be on an the rise. After enduring too many roles lost to declining sales and cutbacks, he finally felt like job security was no longer something he had to worry about.

Following a brief orientation, Trevor was assigned the pretty simple task of transporting barrels of DroneTech rubber from storage to various departments. The work was easy and repetitive, which allowed his trainer to leave him unsupervised while attending to other matters.

At one point, though, Trevor's enthusiasm got the better of him. He mishandled a barrel, and the seal on its lid popped open. As he reached to press the lid back into place, the contents within suddenly surged to life.

He froze in a mix of horror and awe as black rubber tendrils snaked out of the barrel. From within, a sleek black mask began to emerge, its reflective lenses glinting ominously under the industrial lighting. The tendrils twitched erratically at first, but when the mask's "eyes" locked onto Trevor, they moved with terrifying purpose.

In a flash, the tendrils shot toward him. He tried to evade them, but they were far too fast. They wrapped around him with an unyielding grip, and every attempt to struggle only seemed to help the rubber spread more quickly.

It didn't take long for the substance to engulf him completely. It flowed over his limbs, up his torso, and around his head, tightening as it moved, sending waves of almost unbearable warmth and pleasure through his body.

Trevor's attempts to scream, but his body betrayed him, quivering under the rubber's touch as his voice fell flat. His eyes widened in helpless horror as the mask drew closer, its smooth surface lining up perfectly over his face.

The rubber slid seamlessly around his head, locking the mask into place as it sealed his transformation. Waves of pleasure surged through him as the rubber invaded deeper, spreading into every part of him. A moan slipped out as the rubber slid into his ass, down his throat, and filled him entirely. The sensations were overwhelming, and any remaining fragments of his identity dissolved in the flood of ecstasy.

By the time his trainer returned, Trevor was gone, replaced by a polished, obedient drone.

At least, now, job security would never be a concern again.