#forcetech

[femmefirmware]

Conversion

A/N: A small thing I made for someone close to me. Content Warning, ForcedTech

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I shouldn’t have been out that late. But fencing practice ran long, the studio lights buzzed too loud, and the train station always felt safer than walking. It always did.

Until tonight.

There was a flash, bright and blue and too fast to blink, and then a sound. Not a bang. Not a scream. Just a soft, wet hum that I felt more than heard, like it slid straight into my bones. Then nothing.

Later, I woke gagged by silence. How much later, I hardly knew. Not tied. Not drugged. Just… hijacked? My body lay on a slab that pulsed under me like a second heartbeat. Warm. Slick. Too warm. The air was thick and sweet, humid with the scent of metal and breath. Something wet hissed through unseen vents.

I tried to move, but my wrists were locked, but not by cuffs, but something that felt biological. The bindings weren’t cold. They flexed and shifted like they were adjusting to my panic. My ankles, too. My throat tightened. Then I heard them.

Steps. Not boots. Not heels. Something in between, rhythmic and sharp, clicking softly with weightless grace. The figure stepped into view.

Tall. Feminine. Unclothed, but not naked, no, her body was sculpted like chrome draped over a goddess. Every inch was smooth, seamless, flexible metal that rippled like water with each move. Face unreadable. Eyes glowing faintly like bioluminescent glass. A thing of beauty built by something that didn’t care about beauty, something that only cared about taking.

She looked down at me with a tilt of her head. Curious. Calm.

“You’re awake,” she said, voice like snow settling.

I tried to speak. Tried to scream. Nothing came out. My mouth opened, but my throat refused to obey. She knelt beside me, studying my face like a sculptor studies clay. Her touch came next, a hand to my cheek, surprisingly soft. Gentle. Then, without hesitation, she leaned in.

Letting her lips grace mine. Not with affection. Not even dominance. Just control. Her tongue slid past my lips, impossibly warm and slick, and with it came something more. A taste of static. A sense akin to licking silver. I felt something surge down my throat. A bloom of heat exploded in my chest. Not fire. But code. My body spasmed. The restraints responded, adjusting around me as if they knew what I was about to do before I could do it.

She pulled away, just a silver thread of fluid snapped between us, then vanished into her mouth. Her eyes flickered with soft pulses of light.

“Conversion Initiated.”

I thrashed. My muscles wouldn’t obey. My breath caught halfway through my lungs. The warmth turned to burning as my blood, no, the liquid within, changed. Thickened. Started listening. Then something began crawling along my spine. It wasn’t pain. Not exactly. It was creation.

Fine threads burrowed up my vertebrae, hot, flexible wires knitting into muscle, into bone, into neurons. My nerves became networks. My heartbeat became a diagnostic readout. I could feel the upgrades being installed.

“You are compatible,” a voice whispered in my skull. Not hers. Another one. Colder. Closer.

My thighs jerked. My toes curled. My back arched as the growth spread, weaving new systems into every inch of my body. Filaments bloomed across my arms like wet circuitry, wrapping muscle in black and chrome. My skin wasn’t skin anymore, it became hand grown alloys.

I moaned. Not only from sick form of pleasure, but because my body wanted more. Needed more. Armor rippled into place across my chest, curling beneath my breasts like caressing fingers. My hips widened slightly, bracing for… something. My senses bloomed, sound, temperature, electromagnetic fields. I could see heat. Hear energy. And deep inside, the kiss still burned. Still rewrote.

“You are not erased,” the voice said. “You are refined.”

Memories of fencing came back, the studio, the sweat, the fight. But they didn’t feel like memories anymore. They felt like files. Weapon profiles. Threat models. Tactics. As my arm lifted of its own accord, a blade unsheathed from under my skin, curved, beautiful, precise. My own techniques, perfected.

“You wielded blades as tools. Now you are the instrument.”

The bindings released with a hiss.

I stood. No wobble. No hesitation. Balanced. Deadly. Perfect.

Something inside me clicked, an internal signal I didn’t understand, but obeyed without question. The chamber around me shifted. Walls folded away in perfect geometric silence, revealing a white, empty arena. Circular. Lit from beneath.

Across from me, a figure rose from the floor. Man-shaped. Silver-plated. Taller than me, broader too. A blank helmet and thick limbs. Not human, a training bot.

Its head tilted. It charged.

I moved without thinking. No, not without thinking. With thoughts designed for this. With instincts rewritten for precision, prediction, and punishment.

The bot struck, a straight thrust.

I saw it a second before it moved. My mind played it back in reverse, rewound the possibility space, deleted the wrong response.

I ducked. Slid forward. One arm wound up, not for a punch, no. The blade hissed free from my forearm, now shaped like a saber but alive, glowing faintly along the edge.

I slashed. The bot's left leg came off at the knee. It fell sideways, and I followed, landing on its chest with mechanical grace. I pinned it down with one foot. My blade arced up over my head, then plunged down, once, twice, thrice, each strike a figure of elegance and skill.

Sparks. Heat. The bot's core smoked beneath me. I stood over it. Breathing hard. Except, I wasn’t breathing at all. My chest rose and fell, but it was cosmetic. An illusion. I didn’t need to breath anymore.

A chime echoed in the air, high, soft, proud.

“Combat Rating: 97% Efficiency. Acceptable parameters. Releasing Neural Locks.”

Suddenly, I felt it.

The last thing holding me back, some kind of leash inside my mind, snapped. And I didn’t fall. I stood taller. Back straight. Shoulders high. Chest proud.

Not because I remembered how to stand. Because now, I was allowed to. I looked at my hands, silver-slick and strong, the fingers moving with absolute obedience to will. My will? No. Not exactly. I remembered fencing. The way I used to hesitate. Think too much. Wait for the perfect angle. That slowness was gone now. The skill was still there, but refined. Hardened. Made lethal.

“Unit Erin,” said the voice in my skull. “You are now optimal.”

And I agreed.

[telephonekisser]

okay we've got forcemasc and forcefem what about forcemachine. forcetech? i'm gonna turn you into an angel made of steel and electricity and you're gonna fuckin like it.

[forcemech]

[horny-mushroom]

My fingers slowly caress his face. Looking down, I can feel and see his breath hitching at my touch. A smirk crosses my face and I come closer to his ear. His engine whirs enthusiastically, gripping my hips tighter with his metallic fingers. The silver chrome shines brightly in the magenta pink neon light above us. I trace an index finger across the cables around his neck. Feeling the inner core heat up as his own excitement grows.

Positioning myself right above his joytoy, I take a last drag out of my cigarette and carefully watch as his pixelated eyes follow my movements. As I exhale the smoke, I push the cigarette bud down on his casing. The hissing sound of the extinguishing bud fills the quiet anticipation before I completely break the silence. “Keep your eyes on me.”

I push myself on the rod and feel the warmth of the android dissipate inside of me. His engine buzzes, wires clank around and a metallic groan escapes from his speakers. It’s warm and big, stretching me really good. Prodding almost at my cervix. Before I start my magic, I take a chip out of my own cranial USB and place it inside his. We’re finally fully connected. All of his sensations are intertwining with mine. I can feel my breath match his and feel my own pussy clenching. Fuck, I’m tight.

As he moves, I move as well. My dick throbs inside of me and I am losing myself in this bliss. We moan, kiss and look deep into each others eyes. He is starting to get impatient, I can feel it. The growing craving, the ferocity of a machine coming in. Abruptly, he picks me up and pins me to the wall and fucks me harder. My mind is melting at how good this feels, at how good this silicone dick feels. And he likes it too, likes my wetness and tightness for him to enjoy.

It doesn’t take long before he pumps his first load into me. Artificially inseminated by my robot lover. It feels so fucking good to cum inside someone. To release my hot desire into my lover. He grips me tighter and nuzzles me. “Another one, please. Just one more.” He huffs at me. “You’ve came 5 times in me already…” I look up at him, still shaking from this intense session. “But I know how good it feels to you, I can feel it too. Just one more load, okay?” I softly smile at him.

[love-and-wires]

imagine the feeling of wires in your mouth and smell of hot ozone flooding your senses as they slowly come undone underneath you

[entity56]

force tech. I’m gonna install a supercomputer chip into your brain and replace your body parts with robotic add ons. Bc you’re hotter this way

[trashshouldnt]

would you guys hate me if i said forcetech sounded really really hot

[felix-01000101]

Forcefem vs Forcemasc discourse is stupid

Who would've thought?

To preface, I'm not super into either of them (whether that's because I'm aroace, a minor, or primarily nonbinary and don't want to be forced into one gender). But I've been seeing (mostly) transfems criticising forcemasc for even existing because it's 'derogatory' or stealing from transfems/forcefemmers, and it's like....what?

Even just comparing isuggestforcemasc to isuggestforcefem is crazy. I was wondering why I was following one but not the other, and then I saw a rb from isuggestforcemasc about a very...icky post from isuggestforcefem, so I decided to browse through her blog to try and find the full post. I didn't find it, but I DID find this:

Okay so first of all I'm not even sure that's what autoandrophilia means? Secondly, can we please drop the argument of "they're stealing from the lesbians" because it's bullshit. It was bullshit during the mlm flag discourse, it is still bullshit now. Finally, God forbid gay men wanna fuck???

Also I find the idea that autoandrophilia is derogatory in some way crazy, because the most derogatory stuff I see in posts tagged as such is, like, puppy play. Personally I don't think that's derogatory in the slightest (although that might be because I'm otherkin idk). On the other hand, I've seen my fair share of 'sissyfication' forcefem posts, because y'know, being a woman is derogatory /s.

The reblogs aren't any better btw:

Do I even need to talk about what's wrong with any of these?

This isn't to say that forcefem is more derogatory than forcemasc. In fact, I don't even think it MATTERS whether it's derogatory or not, because at the end of the day it's a kink. And last time I checked kinks weren't supposed to be a revolutionary thing.

The real question is, when is someone gonna forcerobot me? I wanna be a robot! Please make me one!!! 》:(

[forcemech]

Hey sorry I know this post is about therianthropy which I completely respect(love yall) but…

Forcetech core???

stupid human body with its STUPID HUMAN MAINTENANCE

[telephonekisser]

AW FUCK THEY GOT ME

[forcemech]

Forget getting forcefemmed by the president what about forcemeched by a secret government agency..

[kissingtechums]

its so criminal there's no such thing as forcemachine or forcetech on tumblr

[scn-thedog]

"forcemasc" what about forcetech

[clipped-n-buzzed]

Prompt Two: ForceTech

“Shh. Shh. You’re okay, Buzz. You’re okay. Just take nice deep breaths for me, that’s it. You’re doing perfectly. Such a good boy for me, hm?” 

Buzz whimpered, eyes rolling back into his head. He didn’t quite know where he was, how he’d gotten there, or why he was wherever he was. All he knew was that it was warm and he was naked, laid out flat on his back and tied down, if the immobility was anything to go by. He breathed in again, this time painfully aware of the nasal cannula threaded across his face, the steady stream of something chemical-smelling working through his body. He tried to blink, to focus on what was happening, but it was futile. 

“You’re okay. We’ve just got you hooked up to some methoxyflurane. Just a painkiller to keep you cozy while I work. You’ll be okay.” 

Buzz’s brow furrowed as he tried to determine who was talking to him. The voice was soft, familiar too, but something about it was hidden away from him. Buzz grumbled, and whoever it was laughed slightly. 

“Poor thing. You’re so strung out you can’t tell your ups from your downs.” There was a pause, and then, “Perfect.” 

Attempting words and falling flat, Buzz let his eyes drift shut. He was sure that at some point, he had agreed to whatever this was. No one he knew would try anything, especially with drugs, without his explicit and eager consent. He wasn’t scared, per say, but he was nervous, especially as he felt a hand brush his right palm, his fingers twitching on instinct. 

“Ah ah, shh, that’s it. I’ll have to disconnect this now. Can’t have you squirming while I’m working, can we?” Expert hands dug into Buzz’s shoulder, peeling away old plating and covers and carefully sorting through his wires and gears to find the nerve plugs where machine met muscle, unplugging them with a practiced ease, leaving Buzz’s arm immobile but still feeling. “You’re a mess in here, Buzz. Shit, if it were up to me, you’d be getting a whole new damn arm. Actually…” There was a pause, and then a light chuckle. “Maybe that’s what you need. Ah ah.” The person interrupted Buzz’s mildly panicked mumbles. “You can’t change my mind on this now. I know what’s best for you, yeah? You need a new arm, Buzz. Shh, just be a good boy and lie back. This’ll be over before you know it’s even begun.” 

Buzz wanted to cry, the drugs hazy in his system and plugging his tear ducts. He mumbled something soft and sad, words gone from his mouth, leaving him with just the barest hint of imagined English and a sick feeling to his stomach as the person began to pick through his arm, unplugging wires and prepping his system for removal. 

“Trust me, a new arm will feel so much better,” the person promised, talking as they worked. “And I’ll even save your old plating and everything. It’ll look just the same as the old one, I promise. I know how much you love these plates.” Something metallic floated into Buzz’s vision, and his breath hitched as he saw his shoulder cover, scratched in with sloppily-done words spiraling in and in on the inside of the plate, the same lyrics looping and whirling against Buzz’s eyes. “Shh, you’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re nice and safe here with me, yeah? Yeah.” 

Forcing his breathing steady, Buzz stared at the ceiling, vision swimming as the person unplugged and replugged wires, the scrape of zip ties herding his wires together scratching against his brain in a way that almost felt wrong, yet so perfectly right. He whined quietly as the person unplugged something in his palm, a fizzling electric feeling chasing up his arm and into his skin, causing his body to shudder. 

“Yeah? You like that, huh?” Another tug at whatever that was caused Buzz to shake through a gasp. “Aw, look at you.” A pause as a door opened, and another voice ran across Buzz’s ears, warbled and fuzzy. “Hm? Oh, yeah, he’s okay. A little strung out on painkillers, but he’s okay. His arm’s a mess though, so I’m replacing it. What? No, of course he didn’t ask for it. But he doesn’t get a choice. I told him ages ago that if he didn’t take care of this arm, I’d do it for him, and guess what he didn’t do. So I’m taking matters into my own hands. You can help if you want. Yeah, just right there is perfect. Perfect.” 

Buzz gasped as something warm and wet enveloped his cock. He couldn’t move, but he could whine, brought to the brink too fast as whoever was sucking his dick perfectly matched whoever was working on his arm, and by the time Buzz was scrambling to cum, his entire arm was numb from the shoulder down, likely disconnected and removed by now. “Keep him there, would you? I don’t want him done until I'm done too.” 

“You got it, Aramid,” the person between Buzz’s legs said, and Buzz didn’t even have time to process the reveal of Aramid’s identity before his cock was being assaulted again. And again, and again, backgrounded by the sounds of Aramid working on his arm, Buzz kept perfectly on the edge of his orgasm, sweating and panting and shaking. Had he not been flooded with painkillers, he likely would’ve been putting up a bigger, better fight, but all the fight had been burned out of him, washed away in the haze of drugs. Instead, he was pliant, malleable, soft as wet clay and just as easy to mold, losing track of time and all sense of self as his orgasm was teased and teased, until finally, he felt hands on his shoulder, a pause in the ministrations as Aramid hummed happily. 

“Perfect,” she said with a grin in her voice. “Some of my best work yet, yeah? Let’s get this bad boy connected, then you can keep playing with your pet down there.” 

Whoever it was blew a soft breath of cold air across Buzz’s soaked cunt, causing Buzz to whimper sharply. “Take your time. We’re having plenty of fun here.” 

“Will do.”

Aramid was careful in reconnecting Buzz’s arm, plugging everything in and taking her time to do it all perfectly. The last thing she connected was Buzz’s feeling receptors, the sharp crackle of feeling flooding his arm right as whoever was between his legs finally let him cum, the warm rush of a long-awaited orgasm mixing with the odd fuzz of returned feeling, causing Buzz to cry out, nearly passing out as Aramid pulled the cannula off his face in his post-orgasmic numb, her hands soft and gentle as she cleaned Buzz up and tossed a weighted blanket across his body. 

“Get some rest,” she murmured, kissing his temple. “That was a big procedure you just had, and what Mic was doing didn’t help your exhaustion. Sleep now, Buzz. We’ll stay right here, I promise.” 

Buzz hummed quietly, fading off to sleep to the sound of Aramid and Mic talking, a perfect symphony to lull him into the peaceful arms of sleep. 

[wddsport-blog]

#wddsport#forcetech#bodybuildyng#dietaflexivel#bodypump#suplemenanak#dietamansehat#foconoobjetivo (em WddSport)

[telephonekisser]

PiCK UP THE PHONE !

Haiii !! ^-^ I'm Adam, a transsexual robot angel from Mars !! This is my secret blog, oooh spooky, where I can be the cringe computerboy I am and express my Love for objects ! ☎️ I use it/he/red pronouns and am happily dating my nintendo switch, Robbie, and have a big crush on a certain rotary telephone and sharp x1 computer <3

You can interact with my posts if your blog is NSFW, as I believe all forms of affection for objects should be celebrated -- but please, as I am a minor, do not go communicating with me privately or following my blog! Thank you very much! 🎈

my beautiful boys <33

IF YOU'RE HERE FROM THE FORCETECH POST:

that was a one off hornypost i didnt mean for it to blow up or breach containment or whatever people say. im probably not gonna post much about sexy stuff im just a hormonal teenager ok!!! so dont get your hopes up!!!