Papa Bear and Droidboy (mm mc asfr rubber scifi)

Copyright © 2006

Tag: Even in a friendly online community, it can sometimes pay to be paranoid.

Synopsis: A young rubberist searching for his perfect bear daddy is dogged by the unwanted advances of a rubber cyborg enthusiast.

Our Cast:

Jamie Bell as LYNCH
Rider Strong as DROIDBOY

with special appearance by
Richard Karn as PAPA BEAR

DISCLAIMER: First off, this is a work of adult fiction which contains gay fetish subject matter. It is not to be read by or shown to anyone under the age of 18, or the legal age of their area, or anywhere where viewing such material is prohibited by local laws.

That said, keep in mind that this is a FANTASY story. It is complete fiction and is not based on anyone real and not meant to indicate anyone belonging to any existing online fetish groups. I just like suspenseful stories and am a big fan of cyborgs. If you've ever seen Star Trek: First Contact, just think about what became of Ensign Lynch and you'll know where I got my main character's name. That said, enjoy.

View the dream cast for Papa Bear and DroidboyLynch was an adorably cute lad of 24 who stood 5'10", with a taut swimmer's build, smooth hairless body, and shocking blond hair trimmed to a severe military cut. Lynch was a gay rubber enthusiast with an extensive collection of bodysuits, every color of the rainbow, all skintight and ranging in length from shorties to fullsuits with attached hoods, gloves, and feet.

Lynch had very specific tastes. No twinkie chaser he, despite his own perfect fit into that category. Lynch was always in search of his very own rubber daddy, preferably a bear, to tie him up and play rubber games with him. And despite the daddy's looks, it was essential to Lynch that his chosen daddy bear be at least over 40 years old. Over 45 if he could get it.

Lynch surfed the members-only web site where he spent most of his free time, an online spot for fellow gay rubberists of all shapes, sizes, and kinks, known as Lynch adjusted his wire-rimmed spectacles (he was blind as a bat without them) and perused his profile, taking in the number of recent viewings he'd had. 19 that day alone since he'd gone into work earlier! Nearly all the hits had come from the kind of men that Lynch found most appealing. Men in their late forties, fifties, even early sixties, who had a fancy for younger lads of legal age who kept themselves smooth and rubbered and eager for a more experienced hand.

Lynch's eyes ran down the list of profile viewers, taking in the bearded, elder, and sometimes masked faces shown in their face pics that accompanied their own profile screen names.


And so the list went on. Lynch rubbed his crotch with one hand, feeling his growing member beneath the electric blue surfsuit he was wearing. His toes curled and uncurled as he clicked on the different profiles to check them out. Lynch preferred to be barefoot when in his rubber gear. It was just another one of his things.

As Lynch clicked from one profile to another, he sighed, seeing that most of the desirable older rubber gentlemen, while attractive, had their own drawbacks. Most lived too far away. Some on the other side of the country, others on entirely different continents. A few had notations in their profile descriptions saying their own "boys" had to be at least 30. It appeared Lynch's daddy search would have to keep going on.

Then Lynch noticed that his personal message tab was lit in red. He had a message. He clicked on the message section and there waiting for him was a personal message from another LatexTwilight group member. Lynch smiled brightly, hoping it was from the white-bearded XperiencedNLatex, and that the senior rubberist either loved to travel vast distances or pay for younger gays to come to him. Then Lynch's face fell. "Aw, crap. Not HIM again."

There on the screen was the face of a smiling young man of twenty-something in an open-faced black rubber hood with strange metal coils wrapped around his neck and the back of the hood. An odd little red light bulb was fastened to the coil near the top of his head. Beside his face pic was his screen name.

DroidBoy. Subject: 'Sup?? You online, latex buddy?

The message ran:

>>INTERROGATIVE: You there, my adorable little droid pal? Saw your face pic in the "Users Online" sidebar and wanted to send you a heads-up.
>>STATEMENT: Your new gallery pics look totally hot. Love the yellow latex catsuit. Intense! You would look so hot with yellow hip boots and a cyborg headset colored to match.
>>INQUIRY: How about you write me back or i.m. me and we can chat? Seriously, you would make the hottest fucking android ever. Just ask me about it and I promise you'll be hooked, even if you don't think it's your thing.
>>PROGRAMMING ORDER: Stay rubbered!

Lynch let out a low grumble and began to type a reply.


We've been through this. Why do you keep writing me? You're too young for me--I want a daddy, not a kid brother. And I'm not a "droid" or a robot or a windup toy. It's flattering that you're into me, but the feeling's not mutual. Please stop messaging me or I'll just block you.


The whole "android speak" thing you do is really annoying.

Lynch hit send and shook his head. He could almost admire DroidBoy's persistence if he weren't so damn bizarre and his tastes so different from Lynch's. He moved his cursor-arrow above the delete button to get rid of the new message, but then for some reason felt compelled to let the arrow hover instead over the smiling face of the enthusiastic robot rubberist. Lynch clicked on the face to pull up the accompanying member's profile.

Up popped the stats for DroidBoy. Age: 22. Orientation: Gay. Height: 5'9". Body type: Athletic. Hair: Brown, buzzcut when not shaved off. Other: Body kept smooth. Work out four times a week.

The main pic showed DroidBoy full figure in skintight black latex. He did have a nice toned body, if nothing else. DroidBoy had accessorized his catsuit with elbow-length metallic gray rubber gloves and matching gray hip waders with black soles. He wore a silver belt with a light-up red Halloween belt buckle and a headset with a little blue Christmas tree bulb lit over the right earpiece. There were also four different galleries below, showing the kid in different altered catsuits and hazmat gear done up to make him look like something out of a Star Trek movie. Lynch rolled his eyes. Then he glanced at DroidBoy's stats.

Scene Interests: Into rubber, rubber boots, and into cyborg and human/robot transformation. Totally into twink-looking guys, preferably in the 20-25 range. Always scanning for fellow rubber twinks to assimilate into my rubber cyborg collective.

Other interests: College student majoring in mechanical engineering, computers. Biggest interest outside of school and rubber scenes is...

Lynch hit the back button. Why was he reading this shit? He deleted the message from DroidBoy. Why did he always attract the crazies? Lynch set up his automatic digital camera on its tripod and went to work getting dressed for his latest gallery photos. He had a new forest green catsuit he wanted to show off.

It was two weeks later that Lynch was online when his instant messaging pinged. Lynch enlarged the message marquee.

DroidBoy: Howya doin', fellow twink?

Lynch gritted his teeth and groaned. Another ping.

DroidBoy: I waited a little while for you to cool down. Sorry I pissed you off with my last message. Didn't mean to.

Lynch typed back. Not pissed off. Just not interested.

A moment's pause. Lynch hoped he'd gotten through to the guy. No such luck. Another ping.

DroidBoy: That's what you say now. But I think you'd like this. Really.

Lynch sighed, knowing he'd regret this. He typed in- Like what?

DroidBoy: It's a system I've set up to help those not into cyborg role-play get into it. It's sweet! Try it? :P

That was it. Lynch hated "smilies". And why would he want to try anything to make him interested in a fetish he couldn't care less about? Lynch began to type in his final farewell to DroidBoy before blocking his transmission when another ping interrupted him. God, what did he want to add now? Lynch looked at the screen and stopped short.

PAPA_bear: You online, boy?

Lynch felt a stirring down below. He stared at the message for a moment, then typed back quickly.

I'm here, sir.

PAPA_bear: You the lad looking for a daddy to take care of him?

Lynch felt his heart beat a bit faster. He typed again.

That's me, sir. Who are you?

PAPA_bear: I'll ask the questions, boy. You just respond when spoken to. Understand?

Lynch got rock hard in a second. He had to adjust his purple catsuit to make room for his erection. Toes curling and uncurling, Lynch wrote back.

Yes, sir. I'm sorry.

PAPA_bear: That's a good lad. You will address me as Papa. Do so now.

Lynch typed back quick as he could.

Yes, Papa.

PAPA_bear: You make me smile, little boy. Go to the following link and view my profile. If you are interested, write back and ask for instructions. I will wait only two minutes. Good little boys do what they're told quickly.

A link to a LatexTwilight profile page appeared. Lynch clicked on it and inhaled sharply when he saw the page it revealed. Name: PapaBear Age: 54. Orientation: Gay. Height: 6'4" Body type: Large. Hair: Brown, shaggy, full beard.

Lynch licked his lips, reading on.

Scene interests: Looking for a good rubber lad of 21-26 or like appearance I can raise as my boy, keep in latex and tie up, discipline, and teach to serve. Must be smooth, cute, willing.

Lynch looked at the main pic and saw a robust man with a full beard and dark sunglasses in a red and black heavyweight drysuit. Unconsciously, Lynch began to rub his member beneath his catsuit furiously.

There was a single gallery below the main picture, showing PapaBear in dominant postures over a smaller man. The man was dressed up in a short-pantsed sailor's suit, making him look like a parochial school boy. The boy's back was to the camera, but it seemed that he was collared and the attached leash was in PapaBear's hand. In the three images the gallery contained, the submissive figure was shown down on his knees, then flat on his belly, and hauled up on tiptoes before his master, who towered over him. The captions underneath read, in order: Respectful before his master. Nap time for good little boys. and, Who's your daddy?

Lynch's head reeled. He hurriedly began to type an instant message back to his newfound papa when a ping stopped him.

DroidBoy: Dude? You still there? You get my last message? You intereste--

Lynch blocked DroidBoy's screen name and muttered, "Not now, asshole!" Lynch typed back to PapaBear-

Papa, I can be your boy.

Then Lynch waited. It seemed like an interminable amount of time. Had he taken longer than two minutes? Had he lost the contact? Damn that fucking jerk DroidBoy if he cost him this hookup. Maybe he should just go back to the man's profile and send him a message that way-- Ping. Lynch swallowed hard, then looked.

PAPA_bear: You can be or you will be?

Lynch's heart raced. He typed quick as he could.

I will if you'll have me.

PAPA_bear: Try again, sonny.

Lynch paused. What had he done wrong? His head spun, trying to think, not wanting to blow the contact. Then it hit him. He typed.

I will if you'll have me, Papa.

PAPA_bear: There's my good boy. You ready for your first order, son?

Yes, Papa.

PAPA_bear: You wearing rubber right now, son?

Yes, Papa.

PAPA_bear: Go to my profile, stare at my picture. Then jack off to it inside your suit for as long and as much as you can, reciting over and over, "I am Papa's little bear." Understand, son?

Yes, Papa.

PAPA_bear: Then what are you still typing for? Go to it!

Yes SIR, Papa!!

Lynch clicked on the profile again and gazed at the large bearded man in the heavy rubber suit. Then with a palm flat against his rubbered crotch, Lynch pressed and massaged his erection with enthusiasm. Staring at the picture with growing affection, Lynch recited, "I am Papa's little bear. I am Papa's little bear. I am Papa's little bear."

He came five times within the hour before finally falling over sideways in exhaustion, spent and smiling.

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. For the next two months, Lynch stayed in almost daily contact with PapaBear. With the exception of a few days when his Papa was out of town, Lynch communicated with his new cyber daddy every day online, sometimes two or three times a day.

It started with mainly instant messaging and PapaBear giving orders to Lynch, mostly to beat off to his photos, or type back demeaning messages putting Lynch into a submissive role, which Lynch loved. Within about ten days, they were exchanging lengthier e-mail messages through the LatexTwilight web site, discussing what they liked, what their preferences were, what fantasies they'd like to bring to life. Lynch wanted to be attired neck to ankle in colorful latex, then tied up by a daddy and used accordingly. PapaBear wanted a boy to whom he could do just that.

By the second month, Lynch was sending his internet papa new photo files showing Lynch in rubber outfits, with homemade signs of poster board and string draped around his neck labeling him as "Papa's little bear" and PapaBear's little boy". By the seventh week, they were sharing phone calls that lasted longer each time. PapaBear had a deep, gravelly voice that made Lynch's nether regions stir. At the end of the second month, the two spoke together for over two hours. It was then PapaBear made the suggestion.

"How's about you and I gettin' together, sonny?"

Lynch was in heaven. Head spinning, he learned that PapaBear was not only in the same state, he was only a three hour drive away. They agreed to meet at a halfway point between their two cities. If they liked what they saw and felt a chemistry once they were together in person, Lynch would leave his car at a parking stop and the two would drive back in the big man's car to PapaBear's home and awaiting playroom. After a festive weekend of fun and amusement, he'd drive Lynch back to his car with discussion about whether or not to leave it as a one-time encounter or continue on to a relationship.

Lynch was packing his bag full of his favorite bright-colored latex catsuits and imagining himself bound up by the burly man. Lynch checked his e-mails before packing up his car and found a message waiting at his TwilightLatex inbox from an unwelcome source.

From: DroidBoy. Subject: Where you been?

Hey, howcum you never write back anymore when I try to i.m. you? You might want to check your system. Haven't heard from you in months. Hope you're okay and that your internal spark plugs are still working and no positronic wires are crossed. :) Still have that cool thing to show you if you're interested. Write back, man.

Lynch wrote back.

My system's fine. I blocked your instant messages. Not interested in you, never have been. I've found a real man. No time for little kids and their toy robots. No need to reply, I'm blocking this address, too. Bother me again from another address or screen name and I'll notify the site managers.

Lynch sent the message, blocked DroidBoy's e-mail address, and left for his dream weekend, hoping PapaBear would be all he'd hoped for in person. An hour and a half later, Lynch was buckled into the passenger's side of PapaBear's range rover, the bag of colorful latex suits tossed into the backseat.

They rode to PapaBear's place in silence. Lynch was too excited about what awaited him to do more than ask what he felt were stupid questions ("So you always been into younger guys, then?" "Are we there yet?") so he kept his trap shut and tried to keep from fidgeting. The strong silence of his new rubber daddy created a sense of power and authority for Lynch. Before too long, they drove off the main roadway and into a more rustic region.

"Your place is out in the country?", Lynch asked unnecessarily.

"That's right, son", Papa drawled. "No one around to wonder why a man and his son are dressed in rubber. Or why the latter of the two may be wearing a collar, down on his knees..."

"Or tied up?", Lynch offered.

PapaBear looked over at the anxious young man and grinned. "Or tied up. Exactly."

The home of PapaBear was out "in the boondocks" as the old saying goes, but it was far from being a dilapidated old heap. It was a two-story cabin with smooth paneled siding and an energy-efficient skylight upon it's slanted roof. Sliding glass doors could be seen as the truck approached and entered the driveway. The twin doors opened onto a neat concrete patio flanked with some sophisticated grilling equipment. Rather than looking tumble-down, the place looked definitely upscale.

"We're here", PapaBear said as he parked the truck in the driveway.

Lynch looked out the window and took in the cabin. Not exactly what he'd expected. "This is it?"

"It is", answered PapaBear, already out of the cab and seeming a bit annoyed that his new boy was not. "Well, what are you waiting for, son? Go right on in the front door. It's open for you."

Lynch reached around behind his seat to gather up his bag of latex outfits, when PapaBear stopped him. "Those'll keep. Just go on in."

Lynch did as he was instructed. The inside of the cabin was even neater and better organized than the exterior. Everything was neatly arranged and clean. The floor, while hardwood planking, was polished and shiny. Most of the furnishings were white, gray, or silver, looking more fitted to an office building than to a rustic cabin. There were some "outdoorsy" end tables, some older kitchen chairs, and decorations here and there, but for the most part the entire layout seemed in sharp contrast to the flannel-wearing bearded dom who had brought Lynch home.

The man in question had stepped out of Lynch's sight for only a moment, going into the kitchen area (and a rather hi-tech one at that) to retrieve something from within a side cupboard. It was a brown paper bag, which he brought back over to Lynch.

"Put this on." PapaBear held out the brown paper sack. Lynch took it and pulled out what was inside. It was a shining rubber bodysuit entirely of silver. Lynch felt the material in his hands, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. It wasn't as thick as an industrial grade rubber, but it was thicker than Lynch's usual lightweight catsuits. It felt good. Smooth, soft, supple. It clearly had never been worn before.

"Should be your size", PapaBear commented.

"Oh, Papa, it's perfect!", Lynch peeled off his clothes rapidly and tossed them aside as if they didn't matter. PapaBear picked them up and took them out of the room, presumably to store them in a dresser or closet. When the large man returned, Lynch was excitedly climbing into the silver suit, which sparkled a bit here and there in the light. PapaBear noticed that Lynch was already fully erect.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, there, son", he remarked, indicating Lynch's engorged member.

"I'm sorry, Papa, but I've always wanted a metallic latex suit, I just never had one."

PapaBear zipped up the back of his lad's suit. It fit him perfectly, clinging to his frame, accentuating every line and curve. "Now you do."

Lynch walked around the room, marveling at his new outfit. Except for his head, hands, and bare feet, he was all shining silver, with the smooth and sensual rubber pressed tightly against his skin. His upright member was clearly outlined beneath the suit, despite its thickness. It was obvious from across the room that Lynch was happy with his appearance.

PapaBear brought over a heavy, old metal kitchen chair and set it down in the center of the floor. "Sit."

Lynch gladly obeyed. "Yes, Papa."

PapaBear then proceeded to bind Lynch to the metal chair, using a long length of white rope. The rope wasn't thick, maybe only about 1/8", but PapaBear bound the silver boy around the chest, biceps, waist, and thighs with such skill and artistry that there was no way the young rubberman could free himself. Lynch struggled after being tied down, to test the yield of the rope. There wasn't any. Lynch's erect cock throbbed almost painfully. To be so turned on and not be able to do anything about it...

PapaBear turned to leave the room, saying only, "Just wait." Lynch sat there, toes curling and uncurling with anxious anticipation. What else could he do now but wait? Soon PapaBear returned carrying a large, sturdy cardboard box, of the kind seen in sporting goods stores to package outdoor equipment. PapaBear set the box on the floor before his bound boy and opened the top flap. Inside were a pair of rubber knee boots and large rubber gloves.

"You will wear these", PapaBear announced.

Lynch raised an eyebrow. PapaBear had never mentioned being into boots or gloves. And Lynch knew damn well that he never had. "Sir", he said hesitantly, "I...really don't care for gloves. Especially not boots."

"Did I ask for your opinion?", PapaBear said sharply. Lynch shook his head, suddenly nervous. "And don't good little boys do what their papa asks?"

Lynch swallowed. "Yes, Papa."

"And are you a good little boy?"

Lynch nodded, wanting to please him. "Yes, Papa. I'm a good little boy."

PapaBear nodded. "Well, then."

With deft skill, PapaBear slipped the rubber knee boots onto Lynch's feet. They shone silver, like his catsuit, with a dark trim of deep navy blue around the soles and shaft top. The boots were contoured at the ankle and fit Lynch's feet snugly. Bound as he was to the chair at his upper legs and just below the knees, there was no way he could successfully kick them off. PapaBear then put Lynch's hands into the rubber gloves. They too were silver and came up to Lynch's elbows. The bottom cuff of the gloves was colored the same deep navy blue as the boot trim, and it shone in the light with a metallic tinge. Once in the gloves, Lynch found his hands secured at the wrist to the sides of the chair. Now the gloves, just like the boots, were going nowhere.

PapaBear stood towering over the helpless, rubberized, gleaming young man. "How do they fit?"

"They fit fine, sir. I mean, Papa." The sudden alteration in his agreed-upon wardrobe had thrown Lynch off stride. "It's just a bit more rubber than I'm used to..."

"And can you move?"

Lynch gave it an honest effort. He tried to lean forward, back, to the sides. He attempted to budge his legs, his arms, to no avail. "No, Papa, I can't move."

"You are sure?"

"Very sure, sir."

PapaBear let out an exhausted sigh and threw his hands into the air in an exaggerated gesture. In a voice about five octaves above his normal pitch, the large man wheezed out, "Ohhhh, thank GHAWD!!"

Lynch looked on in complete confusion as the man he had come to see as his father figure in sexual perversion flitted about in front to him. His arms became very animated, his wrists extremely limp. "I thought this thing would last forEVer!" He put his hands on his hips and shot a shameful look at the helpless Lynch. "Oh, you and your May-December scenario, it's just so gross!!!"

Lynch's mouth fell open, his jaw slack and his mind numbing at the sight of his ideal man shifting from Grizzly Adams to Bruce Vilanch. No, scratch that. Bruce Vilanch was more masculine than this.

The transformed PapaBear (now MamaBear??) swished about, hands flapping before him as if he were trying to wave away a cloud of cigarette smoke. "And enough of these woodsy flannels! Where are my things?!" The hefty homo sprang out of the room, muttering and singing to himself.

Lynch could not make heads or tails of what was happening. "Papa?", he called out. "Sir? What are you doing?" Lynch began to really struggle at his ropes, but they, unlike his master, had not changed a bit. Fairy boy or not, the large bearded man certainly did know how to tie someone down.

PapaBear came back into the room some five minutes later looking completely different. He now wore a Hawaiian shirt loudly splashed with turquoise blue waves, yellows pineapples, lime green palm fronds, and alive with dancing pink flamingoes. He had on knee-length khaki shorts and Birkenstock sandals over gray woolen socks. The bulbous queen waved a finger at the silver rubberboy. "Now it's time for someone to meet his real master. Okey-dokey?" PapaBear swished to the front door and called out, "Alrighty then, maestro, he's READY!!"

Lynch tugged with his arms against the unyielding ropes. "Papa! Papa, what the hell's going on??"

The large man turned back to Lynch, a look of exasperation on his face. "Oh, will you just STOP with all this "papa" business?" He put a hand to his chest. "My name is Audwin."

Lynch felt the room spin a bit. He had long since lost his erection.

Audwin waved at someone beyond the porch. "Well, come ON already, it's not like we can sit around here all day." He then eyed the captive, and with a sneer added, "Despite all evidence to the contrary."

Audwin held the door wide and in entered a second figure. Even in normal street clothes of hoodie, jeans, and basketball shoes, it was clear to Lynch who he was.


"At your service, little twink bot. Or I guess I should say that you're at mine."

Lynch hopped up and down, making the metal chair legs bang against the floorboards. "I will fucking KILL you! Bastard!"

Audwin reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pair of wire-rimmed, rose-colored sunglasses. He slipped them on his face and began to fuss with his garish shirt, twisting the collar between three fingers. To DroidBoy he said, "Eight weeks, honey. Eight weeks I played to that foul-mouthed little runt. Mind you, it was fun imagining him just boppin' the old baloney to pictures of yours truly. Even if I was in that Sea Hunt getup." Audwin then gave DroidBoy a playful slap on the chest. "And didn't you just make the cutest little schoolboy to my commanding master? Shame we could only shoot you from the back. Never mind that I think that's your best side." Audwin let out a high-pitched cackle which, surprisingly enough, did not shatter his absurd spectacles.

DroidBoy reached into the front pocket of his hoodie and produced a rather fat envelope. Extending it to Audwin, he said only, "Payment in full. Nice work, Aud."

"Thennnnk-YEW!", Audwin said, snatching the envelope from the smaller man. He stuck his finger under the envelope's fold-over flap and thumbed the bills.

"It's all there", DroidBoy stated flatly, an edge to his voice.

"If you ever need to ask", Audwin said liltingly, "I assure you I was very convincing. I make such a good bad dad." He pointed at the red-faced Lynch. "Just ask him. He'll tell you."

"Seeing him bound to that chair is evidence enough, thanks", DroidBoy said.

"By any chance do you think I could use you as a reference on my next acting job?", Audwin asked. "Because it's not as if I have a Playbill from this to show anybody or anythi--"

"Goodbye, Audwin", DroidBoy said with emphasis.

Audwin nodded, and as he turned to leave he put a meaty hand on DroidBoy's shoulder. "And rest assured, one day I will be a regular on Hollywood Squares. Have fun." He gave a playful wave to the bound Lynch. "Toodles!" And with that, he bound out the door.

DroidBoy walked slowly over to Lynch, taking in the young man as he seethed in his chair, his face getting redder by the minute. DroidBoy smirked. "You know, you look totally hot in those boots."

"Fucking asshole", Lynch snarled. "Do you have the slightest clue how deep a pile of shit you're in? This is kidnapping."

"You came along willingly."

"Not with you! This is fraud!"

"Someone with a screen name ID hooking up with someone else with a screen name ID. Everyone online could be called a fraud."


"Hey, I never said that I was PapaBear."


"Oh, Audwin never knew why he was doing this. He just needed the acting job. Found him at one of those froofy coffee bars. He makes an incredible mocha latte."

"Untie me, you little shit!" Lynch struggled some more and only succeeded in hopping around a bit and tiring himself out from frustration.

DroidBoy made a frowny face. "No, I don't think so." He then pulled off his hoodie to reveal a short-sleeved skintight black latex T-shirt with a silver "V" pattern lancing downward across his chest. He tossed the hoodie casually over the back of a nearby couch.

"What--what are you doing?", Lynch asked, suddenly concerned. The expression in DroidBoy's eyes was not one of the overeager happy kid he'd seen in the face pics on the LatexTwilight site. These eyes were focused, hard, and determined.

DroidBoy undid his belt.

"I-I'm still not into twinks, man", Lynch stammered. "Just because you've got a hot bod, you can't expect me to just respond to you."

"Can't I now?" DroidBoy let his jeans drop to the floor. Underneath them he wore skintight black rubber leggings with a silver stripe that arced down the side of each leg in a lightning pattern. Lynch swallowed hard. DroidBoy had impressive legs.

From the pockets of the jeans DroidBoy produced two jet black rubber wrist cuffs. He deftly snapped them upon each of his wrists. The cuffs extended from the wrist to the middle of the forearm and were lined with slender pocket compartments. Once the cuffs were securely in place, DroidBoy stepped out of his jeans, never reaching down to pick them up off the floor. They were no longer of any importance to him.

DroidBoy kicked the jeans aside. They skidded across the smooth floor to stop in a heap beside the couch upon which his hoodie rested. Slowly he pulled off his athletic shoes using his heels. DroidBoy was barefoot underneath the shoes, which he carefully carried to a nearby drum table. DroidBoy opened the front cupboard of the drum table, placing his basketball shoes inside and removing a pair of rubber knee boots which awaited him within. DroidBoy easily slipped on the boots, which hugged his muscular legs. The boots were jet black, polished to an intense sheen, and sparkled slightly around the trim of the sole, which was a metallic silver. Casually, DroidBoy produced a small zipped case from atop the drum table and withdrew a very slick pair of black sunglasses that gleamed a strange blue as they caught the light. With a flick of the wrist, DroidBoy snapped open the bows of the sunglasses and slowly slipped them onto his face.

The effect of watching DroidBoy suit up in his rubber uniform and shades was akin to watching him transform from a young man into something else. Something inhuman, artificial, and imposing. Lynch had to pause for a moment in his outrage just to admire the impressive figure that stood before him, made even more formidable by Lynch's helplessness. The bound fetishist whispered in admiration, "Fuck me..."

"That comes later", DroidBoy said with a flat tone.

Deftly, DroidBoy produced a small metal object. It was rectangular, perhaps half the width of a business card, no more then 2mm thick, with rounded corners. From where had he gotten it? Lynch could see no pockets or pouches on DroidBoy's outfit. At second glance, Lynch saw DroidBoy refastening one of the compartments on his wrist cuffs. His movements were so deft that Lynch had not even seen his captor withdraw the device from one of those pockets. The slender young cyborg enthusiast stepped close to Lynch, holding the device up to his captive's eyes. Upon the surface of the small device was a tiny readout screen, perhaps 10 x 20mm, if that. It gleamed a soft green as DroidBoy held it out for Lynch to scrutinize.

"Wh-what is that? What's that for?", Lynch asked, now becoming more frightened than angry.

"It's for you", DroidBoy said simply, pressing it gently to Lynch's forehead, where it attached itself vertically from his hairline to his brow. Lynch could feel that the device was staying upon his forehead, despite the total lack of any glue or tacky feeling of an adhesive. Lynch shook his head to dislodge the device, but DroidBoy grasped him roughly by the chin, holding Lynch in place.

Lynch locked eyes with DroidBoy, who simply shook his head slightly. No. The unnerving sight of DroidBoy's tight-lipped expression and the unreadable gaze of his sunglasses lenses caused Lynch to sit still for fear of some reprisal.

Slowly, DroidBoy released Lynch's chin. As Lynch sat there motionless, the cold surface of the metal card began to grow warmer. Then, tiny wires, three on each side, extended from the card and injected themselves into the skin of Lynch's brow. Lynch felt almost nothing as the technical feelers made their way into his body's system, but he was still horrified at the idea that something foreign and mechanical was attaching itself to his body, digging its way into his nervous system.

There was an almost imperceptible hum as the card got a readout on its subject. DroidBoy leaned forward and looked at the tiny screen as code scrawled across it at a tremendously high speed. Quiet beeps and clicking emitted from the device, like a muted spool adding machine calculating equations. It was getting a preliminary reading on Lynch.

"What's that sound? What's it doing to me?", Lynch gasped. "What's happening?"

DroidBoy held one finger to his lips. Quiet. Lynch closed his mouth and swallowed.

DroidBoy watched as the scrawling text code on the small screen slowed to a more relaxed pace, making its computations almost legible. After another few seconds, the scrawling code slowed to the point of being discerned. DroidBoy read:


DroidBoy touched his thumb against the base of the device upon Lynch's brow. The readout blinked once then began to scroll down a list of stats defining who Lynch was.



DroidBoy's mouth curled into a smile. "Yes, you'll do nicely."

"W-wait a minute", Lynch stammered, trying to work his way out of the situation in which he'd found himself. "Maybe I was kind of rude telling you off and everything", he offered. "It's not that you're ugly or anything, it's just that twinks aren't my thing is all." Lynch saw no change in DroidBoy's expression or posture. He wasn't getting anywhere with apologies. "But maybe I could get into this whole cyborg thing after all. You know, I could give it a try! I could go for one play session. You never know, I might get into this scene. B-but you need to let me try it at my own pace, is all. Ju-just untie me and we can talk about it." DroidBoy raised one eyebrow. Lynch offered a weak smile. "What exactly are you into again? What's the big attraction to the robot thing? And...and what is this thing you put on my head?"

DroidBoy shook his head. "You see, I tried to tell you this before." Lynch looked up at him, puzzled. DroidBoy went on, "When I was sharing my other interests. Mechanical engineering, electronics, computer programming, robotics. And did you even pick up what my next biggest interest was?" Lynch shook his head. DroidBoy smirked. "Genetic engineering and modification. And it's high time you were modified, you know?"

"Modified?", Lynch said. "What do you mean by that? What does that mean?"

"You'll see", DroidBoy answered, tapping the device upon Lynch's brow with his index finger. One word appeared on the tiny readout screen.


A ripple of electric energy discharged from the readout device, sending small arcs of miniature lightning across Lynch's forehead. Lynch twitched in his seat, his arms and legs spasming against his bonds, his penis growing instantly erect beneath his tight rubber suit. Lynch inhaled sharply in short puffs. "Huh! Huhh!" The corners of Lynch's mouth began to turn upward against his will, forming the start of an intoxicated grin. Whatever Lynch was experiencing, it felt pretty good.

The small electrical discharges that had criss-crossed over Lynch's brow now made their way down the length of his arms. Small bursts of blue sparks crackled from the ends of Lynch's fingertips as they discharges ran their course down his arms. The device upon Lynch's forehead let out a soft series of hums and clicks. Whatever tiny mechanism were locked within were whirring busily away at something.

Lynch's eyes looked upward, trying in vain to make out what the little machine was doing. Small lightning-arc of electricity continued to stretch here and there across his body in apparently random flashes. Across his chest. from right thigh to left boot. Down the left arm then sharply back up to his right shoulder. Then the whirring within the machine upon Lynch's forehead rose slightly in pitch. With that change in tone, a prickling sensation crawled rapidly across Lynch's skin. The small but intense orgasms of pleasure Lynch felt when the machine first began its work shifted to discomfort. Not quite pain, but Lynch felt the flesh across his arms and legs grow taut, as it might after too much exposure to the sun.

Lynch looked down at his arms and could see a strange ripple effect running down the length of his rubber sleeves. Another glance at his legs showed the same phenomenon happening there, too. Then, with a sharp buzzing sound, tiny pinpricks opened up all along the extremities of Lynch's rubber bodysuit.

Fpp. Fpp. Fpp. Fpp. Fpp. Fpp. Fpp. Fpp. Fpp. Fpp. Fpp. Fpp. Fpp.

Even as the small openings appeared, thin side panels extended outward from the armrests and the front legs of the heavy metal chair with a steady, subdued mechanical hiss.


With the panels firmly in place, stiff wires extended from the pinprick holes in Lynch's arms and legs. Slender as fishing line, as stiff as coat hangers, the wires stretched out and locked themselves into miniature sockets lined within the panels.

Sshhhhhhrrrrrrrrrvp. Tk. Tk. Tk. Tk. Tk. Tk. Tk. Tk. Tk. Tk. Tk. Tk. Tk.

Upon contact with the panels, the wires began to vibrate slightly, an invisible current running through their lengths, into the schematic panels, being fed into the chair and back into Lynch. The panels came alive with small flashing lights of a variety of colors and intensities. A single white light on the end of the left armrest panel, beaming from within a sphere about the size of a flashlight bulb, glowed steadily. Lynch began to convulse again.

"Uhh! Huhh! Ohh!"

His breath came in quick, sharp gasps, as wave after wave of pleasure was forced, more than filtered, through his body. As the wires did their work, carrying messages of sybaritic sensations across his skin and back again, Lynch was overcome by the feeling that several sensuous, supple hands were treating every inch of his body to an erotic massage.

Lynch's head lolled backward, his eyelids fluttering as invisible hands seemed to caress his chest, talented fingers pressing delicately and then firmly against his pecs, moving their way down to massage his abs, and then working their way skillfully around his waist. Though gentle, there was a strength to the hands that clearly marked them as masculine. Lynch twitched and fidgeted in his seat. His did not want to be experiencing this, did not want to feel this good. But he knew he was not going anywhere. Even as DroidBoy made his way around the chair, cutting away the rope work which bound his captive, Lynch felt himself still bound to the chair, his own inner wiring having literally plugged him in.

And as the invisible hands began to carefully knead Lynch's buttocks, squeezing his cheeks and spreading them, delicately fingering his hole, the captive young rubberman gasped anew. With a small humming sound, the wirework created a second pair of hands which began to work their way across Lynch's thighs, around and down his legs to knead his calves, and massage his feet from within their thick rubbered boots.

"Huhh! Oh man, oh God", Lynch gasped. "This is too"

Then another humming sound, separate from the previous sounds, and a third pair of hands worked their unseen magic upon Lynch's neck and shoulders, virtual fingers and thumbs massaging out all tension in the muscles there. Lynch tried to squirm away, but the implied hands could not be shaken. He tried to deny that this felt incredible. As if the wiring within his flesh had conjured a small team of male masseurs to tend to every inch of him. His neck and shoulders, his chest and abs, his legs and feet, his ass...of dear Lord, his ass, where the fingers worked their way into and then out of his hole even as his cheeks were kneaded and plied.

Then Lynch gasped again, louder than before. "HAAOOOUHH!"

A final pair of hands came to life over Lynch's crotch, fingering his ball sac and lovingly massaging his penis. Ethereal, invisible fingers pulled and rubbed at Lynch's member, making his erection ache, his growing arousal yearn for release. Lynch looked down at himself, taking considerable effort to force his eyes open. He could see the rubber against his skin ripple and move as tiny wires and circuits created an interlacing network across his skin, underneath the taut latex casing, leaving in their wake the feeling of tender hands playing upon every nerve and pleasure center. Small sparks flitted here and there from the plugs that held the wires, indicating that the connection was quite active.

Lynch could believe what he was seeing even less than what he was feeling. He whispered desperately, his eyes beginning to water, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth as he fought to process the onslaught of intoxicating sensations. "'s too much...make it stop...just dial it back a little...ease off...oh God, oh Jesus...."

DroidBoy came up behind Lynch, tossing aside the last of the cutaway rope. Tenderly, DroidBoy began to kiss Lynch's neck. Lynch's head snapped back, his muscles tensing, his eyes closing again, putting forth every effort to suppress a smile. He couldn't allow himself to show any sign that he was enjoying this. DroidBoy whispered into Lynch's ear as his fingertips played upon the other side of his neck.

"Shh, shh, shh", DroidBoy hushed. "Give into it. Let the program run. Let it do its work."

Lynch continued to try his best to strain against his predicament, but at this point, under the continuous assault of pleasure upon every inch of his body, his resistance amounted to little more than odd twitches and jerks.

DroidBoy moved around the chair to face his quivering captive. He tapped one of the compartments on his left wristcuff and a small stylus slid out into his hand. using as he would on a palm pilot, DroidBoy activated a small release button on the slim edge of the device still affixed to Lynch's forehead. A small view screen extended out from its side. It blinked to life, first in a hail of static and hissing, then it went to a black view screen, bearing two words.


A small downloading bar appeared beneath the words of request, moving rapidly from left to right of the screen. In only two seconds, the bar completed its path and a new word appeared upon the tiny screen.


What followed was a series of images of all the men held within Lynch's brain that he found desirable. Remembered online profiles, photos from magazines and actors from adult films, even idealized imaginary figures appeared upon the screen, one after another. Each one past middle age, each one wrinkled and drawn, with white or graying hair, many with scruffy beards or balding scalps. Lynch's hips twitched, his lower lip quivering as his ideal sex objects were drawn to the surface of his mind. He moaned softly.

DroidBoy, his face placid, used his stylus to tap at a series of miniscule menu buttons along the bottom of the small screen.


One by one, the images of the older men in their rubber gear and weathered physiques were deleted in harsh, staticky flashes, to be replaced by images of hard bodied, hairless younger men, blond hair and fresh-faced. Lynch tried to shake his head in denial, but could only manage a slight rocking side to side of about a quarter of an inch. His lips moved to mouth the words "No, no no..." over and over.

DroidBoy's fingers played deftly upon the switches of the chair's right armrest, and Lynch's neck muscles tensed, as the circuitry within his body reenacted the feeling of DroidBoy's lips kissing Lynch's neck. Lynch inhaled deeply and seemed unable to breathe out. DroidBoy tapped more buttons upon the device's screen menu.


The images upon the screen came more and more rapidly, and were deleted and replaced just as rapidly. Older men, daddies, and bears, flashed upon the screen only to disintegrate in a whirl of pixels and digitized cubes, instantly overwritten with muscular college boys and gym rats. Blond hair, thick black brush cuts, and brown crew cuts topped smooth bodies ranging from tropically tanned swimmer's builds to golden oiled gymnast's bodies.

Lynch felt the sheer pleasure, the seduction of the fingers at play upon his skin, the lips upon his neck and shoulders, the electrical charges pulsing through his rewired body, and could only try to think his resistance. His body had already fallen to the new programming. Lynch's voice was barely audible as he said without conviction, "Don't...don't..."

As if in response to Lynch's desperate pleas, the invisible virtual hands at play on and around his crotch suddenly stopped their activity and withdrew. Lynch's shoulders sagged a bit, the dim hope of some relief, or possibly even escape, entering his mind. But the program was far from allowing that.

A compartment that had remained hidden beneath the seat of the metal chair opened up and slid forward, locking into place as an extension between Lynch's legs. From the metal box came a hinged metal arm with a large cylindrical pump at its head. With a steady whirring sound, the pump-arm spun around and lowered itself forward toward Lynch's crotch.

The wires around Lynch's penis quivered and the silver rubber all around his cock melted away, allowing his erection to spring upward freely. The pump came down smoothly and locked upon Lynch's member. Lights came on in ringed strands circling the pump, blinking in rapid succession. There was an easy hiss as the pump began to work upon Lynch's dick. Soft, lubricated rubber rings within the pump sucked and blew in mechanical precision upon Lynch's erection, licking his balls while simultaneously playing what felt like a tongue upon his glans, and kissed and blew the head. The pump read the data offered by the device upon Lynch's brow which provided every possible pleasurable sensation that would appeal to him, and carried the information along the wiring for the pump to execute.

Lynch's eyes bugged and his jaw locked open. His fingers clenched, clawing at empty air, his toes curled and uncurled within their rubber boots. Lynch had never felt anything like this. It was, without question, the single greatest blowjob Lynch had ever received in his life.

His breath came in harsh, desperate gasps, and Lynch tried again to speak. Almost inaudibly, he wheezed out, "Don't...don't...don't..."

DroidBoy listened closely, his ears straining over the quiet humming of the machinery that both was and wasn't a part of Lynch, that despite it's low volume, seemed quite obstructing against Lynch's forced silence. A small spark of energy crackled over the surface of the penis pump, making DroidBoy lean in closer to his victim, his ear almost to his captive's mouth. Again, he heard Lynch's valiant effort to give his feelings voice.

"Don't...don't...", Lynch said, his voice oh so quiet, his eyes blank, staring at some distant, unseen point. "Don't...don't stop..."

DroidBoy stood back and he smiled.

Grinning, DroidBoy tapped the device upon Lynch's brow with his stylus again, calling up menus and making selections from each. Two taps, then one, then two more. The screen, still running a series of highly sensual images of impressive young men, superimposing two words atop them.


There was a harsh hiss of air being released and a hatch about three inches across slid open directly under Lynch's ass. A solid, cylindrical shaft with a rounded head emerged from the chair's metal seat and entered Lynch's hole, which the virtual hands held apart to allow its entry. Lynch quivered, feeling the latex slide fluidly away from his asshole, making room for the silver probe. The probe was thickly coated with a clear lubricant which allowed for easy access to Lynch's rear. The rod was sufficiently wide that it filled Lynch to capacity, making its way upward inside him, not stopping until it began to prod Lynch's prostate.

Lynch could barely think. The metallic rod was creating a cascade of sensations within him that was beyond any sex he had ever had. The dildo probe felt alive with electrical energy, to pulsate strange emanations that controlled everything they touched with waves of pleasure. The overwhelming feeling of ecstasy increased as the metal rod moved its way in and out of Lynch, going up, going down, gently fucking him. Each motion a charge of unspeakable pleasure, every thrust a surge of agonizing rapture. Lynch's mouth hung open and a small speck of drool began to form at the corner of his mouth.

The images that were being fed into Lynch's cerebral motherboard continued to download. DroidBoy could see on the small side screen of the forehead device that more and more image files of his ideal man were fast becoming Lynch's ideal man as well. Interspersed with the many athletic boytoys were random images of DroidBoy himself, attired in a variety of cyborg and robot fantasy gear. As Lynch recognized the images as those of his captor and tormentor, the thrust of the anal rod and the sucking of the penis pump reinforced his new programming and the corners of Lynch's drool-flecked mouth turned up slightly at the corners. He was nothing more than a receptor now, both for the mechanized fuck machine and for the information being downloaded into his conscious and subconscious mind.

After some time, once the downloading and mental overwriting was complete, the tiny device's monitor reverted to a dark screen bearing one word.


DroidBoy watched as all the wires that had held Lynch fastened to the chair unplugged from their many housings and withdrew from the arms and legs of the metal chair.

Ftt. Ftt. Ftt. Ftt. Ftt. Ftt. Ftt. Ftt. Ftt. Ftt. Ftt. Ftt. Ftt.

There was a slight hum as the extended wires retracted back into Lynch's limbs, the rubber suit sealing up seamlessly over the top of them.

Vvvzzzhhhhhhhhhttttttttttpp. Sshhhlurrp.

Lynch sat there, eyes glazed and face expressionless. His mouth hung open as slowly, the penis pumped stopped its merciless sucking and the ramrod up his ass slowed it's thrust and eventually stopped. A small light on one side of the penis pump lit up, indicating that it was either stopped or paused. A tiny hum from Lynch's back end indicated that the action of the silver fuck rod was also suspended.

DroidBoy leaned forward, his hands resting on his rubbered thighs. "Lynch? Can you hear me in there?" Almost imperceptively, Lynch nodded, his chin dipping down perhaps a quarter of an inch, if that.

"You know, if you want to, you can get up and go", DroidBoy said. The wires are retracted, the pumps have stopped. You can still bail on the final programming. Your mind might even revert to how it was before, eventually." Lynch just sat there, saying nothing, unmoving.

"All you have to do", Lynch explained, "is lift the pump off your prick, then stand up and off of the rod. Your suit will seal up and you're good to go."

Lynch sat there, still as a statue. After a moment's silence, there was a soft ping up by his forehead. DroidBoy looked at the screen there and read the words that appeared there.


DroidBoy stood up. "Very well, then." DroidBoy tapped a final sequence onto the device's current menu with his stylus, then took a step back. He did not have to read the screen again to know what it said.


The rod behind Lynch thrust suddenly upward, hard and deep. Lynch's back arched and he gasped suddenly, inhaling sharply. "HAAAUUUGHH!"

Lynch could no longer contain himself. He shot his load into the penis pump, which slurped up his geyser of semen greedily. Every inch of Lynch's body trembled as he surrendered to the powerful, exhausting orgasm. But the probe was not done with him yet.

Even as the fuck pole bore into Lynch, the penis pump gave its final few sucking draws and then popped off of him, withdrawing back into the confines of the chair's machinery, rejoining its inner workings. As Lynch's body rode the furious penetration of the silver fuck rod, his own member swung free, its engorged head bobbing atop its rock-hard erect shaft. Slowly, the silver rubber of his suit snaked its way up his penis, thick with sweat and precum, and encased it again in latex. It appeared at first as though the suit would now have a shaft for Lynch's member, but the rubber slowly pulled the achingly erect dick back to Lynch, pressing it tightly against his abdomen as the rubber which enfolded it melded again with the rest of the suit, holding him flat beneath it. the wirework within Lynch's skin began to lace back and forth over his cock, busy at some unseen work as it prevented him from reaching another orgasm.

The probe inside Lynch continued to thrust until it reached the climax of its programming. On its final push, the rod released a burst of nanites which ejaculated from the silver rod's head and saturated Lynch's insides. Lynch's head shivered and a tingling of joyous pleasure swept up from his ass, over his back and head, then flushed downward across his chest, midsection and down his legs.

The anal probe slowly lowered itself back down, permitting Lynch's rear to come to rest once again upon the metal seat o the chair, which was surprisingly cool. The probe extracted itself from Lynch's hole, sealing back up inside the mechanical chair as the latex closed once again over his ass cheeks.

DroidBoy studied Lynch's face carefully. Lynch began to show signs of assimilating his new programming. His slack jaw closed slowly. His expression remained blank, but his eyes took on a slight glow. The glow intensified until the pupils of Lynch's eyes lit up like tiny ice blue penlights. A sign that his assimilation was nearly complete.

DroidBoy looked again at the readout screen on Lynch's brow and read:


There was a flood of digital code that raced across the tiny screen, which DroidBoy watched intently. It eventually slowed enough for DroidBoy to read it plainly.







DroidBoy frowned at the delay on the final readout. Then a new message appeared.


DroidBoy nodded. Of course. Always best to run through the program to make sure it's operating correctly. He said simply to Lynch, "Stand up." Lynch rose from the chair, body straight, back stiff, arms at his sides. His eyes looked forward at nothing. The tiny blue lights that served as Lynch's new optical receptors blinked back at his master programmer. DroidBoy grinned. He liked the upgrade. Then DroidBoy reached over to Lynch's forehead and with two fingers, easily lifted off the small device that had been attached to his subject's forehead. There was a quiet hiss as the device released itself from Lynch's brow. Lynch didn't blink.

DroidBoy looked at the final readout on the small device's screen.


DroidBoy slipped the device into whatever hidden pocket he'd drawn it from and held his right arm up toward his face. "Control band module", DroidBoy said, and a thick band of black rubber expanded out from within his rubber suit and wrapped itself around the cuff on his right wrist. It locked into place easily, occupying a concave section already on the surface of the cuff. DroidBoy balled his right hand into a fist and a front panel on the wrist cuff slid away, revealing a miniature control panel amid pinpricks of blinking lights. Into the coin-sized intercom speaker upon the wrist controls, DroidBoy said, "Heads-up display, TwinkBot_301."

Instantly, before Lynch's head there appeared a transparent holographic screen projection, roughly 8 1/2 x 11". Lynch's eyes blinked rapidly as line after line of code scrolled down the projected screen. Within fifteen seconds, only one word appeared centered upon the heads-up screen display.


"Access internet linkup", DroidBoy instructed. "Web site Latex Twilight."

In a flash, the display showed the familiar welcome page of the online community to which both young men belonged, looking just a bit different for DroidBoy, since from his standpoint the information on the screen appeared to be backwards. "Search profiles", DroidBoy commanded.

Again, the page wavered for a split-second to be replaced by the search page from Latex Twilight.

"Search profiles with images, members aged 40 and older", DroidBoy said. The heads-up display flashed through image after image of older men with graying hair, white beards, and pot bellies. Some clothed in drysuits, others in rubber raingear, still others in more daring and revealing outfits of harnesses or even less. Lynch's light-up eyes took in every image, his face remaining placid. After 30 or so profiles, Lynch's shoulders sagged slightly and his lower jaw grew a bit slack. The electric blue penlight eyes he now possessed began to blink slowly, at a steadily decreasing rate. Finally, they shifted from bright blue to a steely silver-gray color, their glow greatly diminished. By the 50th profile of mature rubbermen, a soft and annoying buzz could be heard emanating from Lynch's head. It was as if his circuits had nothing worthwhile to process.

DroidBoy looked down at Lynch's nether regions. Flat as a pancake. His silver latex suit showed no sign of even the slightest arousal from the subject. Lynch spoke one word, slowly, savoring it like candy.


Next he lifted his wrist controls again and instructed, "Switch profiles search to those with images, ages 19-25. Begin."

Now new images flashed before Lynch on his holographic heads-up. Young men appeared before him in tight catsuits, rubber riding boots, open-faced hoods. A few concealed their faces with gasmasks. Lynch's eyes went immediately back to bright blue and began to blink a bit faster.

DroidBoy nodded. Then he altered the search parameters again. "Shift search to the same age group, but include only images showing faces, no facial hair. Emphasize youth. Proceed."

The images continued, but with more and more taut young bodies. College boys, young professionals, aspiring weightlifters. All in rubber, all showing off their physiques, many shirtless, most of them smiling. Lynch's shoulders tensed up a bit and his eyelights blinked at an increased pace. One or two of the young rubberists appeared in diapers, some sucking pacifiers, making them look even younger than their twenty-some years. At the sight of these, Lynch inhaled once, sharply, through his nostrils.

DroidBoy pursed his lips at that. Well, TwinkBot_301 was really taking a shine to youthful-looking guys. Granted, the adult baby fetish wasn't DroidBoy's thing, but... Then the young programmer had a thought. Into his wrist control, he added, "Focus profile search on younger rubberists wearing boots. Rubber boots especially."

More and more profiles appeared, all of them showing the smiling and hairless faces of slender and muscular junior rubbermen showing off their rubber boots. Wellingtons, farm boots, hip waders, some even in chest waders. the corners on Lynch's mouth began to twitch, his android appearance fighting to suppress a smile. DroidBoy allowed a smile for himself. He looked down at Lynch's feet and saw his toes curling and uncurling within his own silver rubber boots. Then DroidBoy eyed Lynch's crotch and could see a definite stirring.

Last check. "Search refinement. Profiles with images, ages 19-25, faces, focus on rubber, boots, and cyborg or robot interest and fetish. Go."

The images continued to flash before Lynch's eyes on the display, but at a slower pace. DroidBoy wanted to make sure that his new bot could get an eyeful. One profile after another showed young men in rubber, some of them posing as if they were mannequins or robots, one was even dressed as a rubber puppet, strings and all. Lynch swallowed hard, his breathing growing shallow. The flash of images slowed. Each profile image remained before Lynch's eyes for five seconds. Then ten. Fifteen.

Lynch licked his lips, his fingers tensed, the knuckles of his gloves creaking slightly as his fingers flexed. He shifted his weight from one booted foot to the other. His shoulders tightened and the muscles in his neck grew taut. DroidBoy could see that Lynch was now fully erect and irresistibly aroused. His growing penis strained against the confining rubber of his android suit.

The display showed a young man of 23 in a skintight rubber suit of midnight blue, with black boots and gloves, and a black high collar. The college-age rubberist wore a headset that had been altered to appear like the receptor for some kind of remote control. Lynch inhaled sharply at the image. He groaned softly as his penis pushed against the rubber of his suit.

DroidBoy spoke into his wrist control. "Prepare response release panel. Standby." A small hum indicated the order had been received.

The next image was one of a man of 21, built like a gymnast, hair dyed a shocking platinum white. He was dressed a silver latex bodysuit with gears and hinges painted upon its surface in flat white linework, making him look like a human erector set. His expression was completely blank and emotionless, but his eyes looked out at the viewer with enticement. Lynch's entire body stiffened at the sight of the profile image. His breathing grew more labored, his eyes blinked at a rapid pace.

DroidBoy spoke into his wrist control again. "Response release panel. Open."

There was a hissing sound and the front of Lynch's suit opened around his crotch, allowing his fully erect member to spring free. Lynch's penis was now sheathed in rubber, it's head and testicles in silver latex, the shaft in a ribbed black rubber tubing. Even Lynch's cock now appeared mechanical. Still, it throbbed as if it were as plainly flesh and blood as any human's.

The last image to appear was of a grad student of 25. He was clad entirely in black rubber, polished to an intense sheen. He lay back on a slanting gray metal table. The rubberman was hooked up to different machines by way of a myriad of colored wires attached to his suit with white tape. Working on either side of him were two other rubbermen, presumably of equal age, in skintight black rubber with silver rubber robot masks covering their faces. The face of their subject on the table was boyishly handsome, with a strong chin and classic features. His hair was wavy reddish brown, with one lock falling over his forehead.

Though his eyes were obscured by a pair of jet black sunglasses, it was clear he was enjoying himself by the mild grin on his face and the very obvious erection within his tight suit.

Lynch gasped and huffed at the sight of this photo, his penlight eyes blinking at a strobe-like pace. Finally, Lynch's eyes stopped blinking and his entire body tensed. His blue eyelights went to a solid bright green.

DroidBoy said calmly into his wrist control, "Allow release."

There was a soft "tzzt" as the slit atop Lynch's silver penis head opened, and Lynch's threw his head back. Eyes closed, mouth open, the newly-reprogrammed twink bot gasped loudly. "UNHH! UhhhNN!!"

Thick streaming ropes of semen burst forth from Lynch's penis head. No sooner did the excessive streams seem to ebb than Lynch's body tightened and he came again, then again. It took Lynch a few minutes to expel all that his young android body had produced simply in response to viewing and processing the pleasurable images. His release program lasted two minutes and forty-five seconds. A total of six orgasms in all.

Lynch still stood stiffly as a robot would, but his breath came in ragged gasps. Though a cyborg now, he was still very human in the most important ways.

"You'd think after that master cum spurt you let loose during the final stages of your anal probing that you wouldn't have a drop left in you", DroidBoy observed, "or the energy to do anything about it if you did." He moved close to Lynch, now TwinkBot_301, and said seductively, "There are some pretty big perks to being a cyborg, huh?"

Lynch could not help himself. He smiled broadly.

DroidBoy spoke into his wrist controller. "End display."

In a flash, the projected computer screen vanished, blipping away as if it were never there. Once more, DroidBoy spoke into his control band. "Launch Twinkbot_301 in full. Autonomy mode. Begin."

Lynch's new blue-light eyes flashed and then the illumination faded back to normal-looking human pupils. Lynch inhaled sharply and felt some of his self control return to him. Not all, by any means, but some. His postured loosened a bit, he could wiggle his toes within his boots, enjoying the feel of his bare feet against the smooth unlined rubber. He shrugged his shoulders slightly, adjusting his neck. But then he returned to standing stiff and tall. It just felt more natural that way.

"And what will your first action be in your new life as a twinkbot?", DroidBoy asked.

Immediately and without preamble, TwinkBot_301/Lynch threw his arms around DroidBoy and kissed him passionately. The two young men held each other for several minutes, lingering in their kiss, feeling their body heat rise, their automatic gauges fighting to balance their internal temperatures.

Finally they broke apart, and stood staring directly into one another's eyes. After a moment's silence, DroidBoy remarked, "No need to upgrade your kissing skills."

"I've always been a good kisser, Master Controller, sir", Lynch said.

DroidBoy grinned. "I'll bet." He rested his arms casually upon his new twinkbot's shoulders. "So, how do you like the new you?"

Lynch blinked, glanced at the ground for a moment as he gathered his thoughts, then answered. "I know...I know what you did to me. I mean, what just happened. But it's like it's on some kind of backlog data sheet or something, it's..." he stopped his description, unable to find the words. He then looked DroidBoy in the eye and said, "I know I should want to totally kick your ass, but I don't."

"What do you want?"

"Have you fuck my brains out."

DroidBoy laughed. "That all?"

Lynch smiled back. "Nah. I want you to fuck my brains out, then I want to suck you off, then have you fuck me some more. Then", and he paused, smirking, "repeat program."

DroidBoy snapped his fingers, saying quickly, "TwinkBot_301! State programming directives."

Lynch's eyes lit up once again, and his posture became stiff as he snapped to attention. "<This-unit's-programming-directives-Master-Controller-SIR. To-serve-as-an-obediant-twinkbot-obeying-all-insturctions/commands-without-thought-or-hesitation.--To-seek-out-and-indoctrinate/assimilate-other-eligible-candidates-to-be-refromatted-as-twinkbots.--Most-importantly-to-serve-the-Master-Controller-DroidBoy-to-the-best-of-this-unit's-capabilities-SIR.>"

DroidBoy, nodded, smiling. He snapped his fingers again. "Return to human subprogram."

Lynch's eyes reverted to normal-seeming pupils and he shook his head and took a few steps, as if regaining his footing after stepping off a rather disorienting roller coaster. He looked at DroidBoy, eyes widening. "Whoa! What the FUCK was that??"

"A preview of the rest of your life, buddy." DroidBoy sighed, satisfied at a day's programming work well done. "Well, I suppose we should think about reinserting back into your life with all your programming directives on silent running, huh?", he pondered aloud, not really wanting to let go of this hot new cyborg twink so soon.

"Wellll...", Lynch offered, "I did make plans to be gone the entire weekend, and it's still only Friday night."

DroidBoy felt his lips curl into an eager grin. "Why, of course it is." DroidBoy withdrew a small remote from the pocket of his right wrist cuff and hit a red button with his thumb. Immediately, there was a soft whirr of hidden machinery and a large sliding panel appeared in the polished wood floor behind the metal chair that had served in Lynch's reprogramming. Large, sturdy metallic grapples extended out from the panel and pulled down the chair, which vanished in a tinny chorus of gears and chrome extensions. Once the chair had vanished into the darkness, the panel slid closed, leaving the floor unmarred by its presence.

Lynch smiled, rather enjoying this new, technological fantasy world, and watched as DroidBoy turned the remote to point it back over his shoulder and pressed it again. This time the button he used was blue.

A new panel opened up in the floor, and rising up from it as if on an express elevator was another chair. This one was plush, upholstered in soft black leather, with chrome edging and highlights. Where the first chair had been made purely for function, this one appeared designed for comfort. DroidBoy slipped his remote back into his wrist cuff even as the floor beneath the new chair slid back into place. He extended one arm toward that chair.

"Shall we?"

Lynch smiled eagerly. "Can I blow you?"

DroidBoy shrugged. Sure, why not? "For starters", he said.

"Then let's shall!"

Lynch allowed himself to be escorted by his new master controller over to the chair. DroidBoy took his seat in the plush chair and Lynch stood before it, settling down upon his knees after his programmer was in place.

DroidBoy waved one hand over the right arm of the posh chair, and it quickly flipped over, revealing a flat screen terminal and laptop-sized keyboard. In a few keystrokes, DroidBoy was back online in one of his favorite fetish group chat rooms. He found one of his favorite group members. RbbrdUp27. He clicked on the profile information and found the listing for RbbrdUp27. Age: 27. Orientation: Gay. Height: 6'1". Body type: Athletic. Hair: Blond, wavy. Other: Curious about rubber bondage. Not sure about long term stuff, maybe like to try a vac rac.

DroidBoy tapped out a greeting and pressed "enter".
DroidBoy: Dude! Wassup??
RbbrdUp27: ehh...hi
DroidBoy: You think about what I said last i.m. session, man?
RbbrdUp: i guess. a little.
DroidBoy: You'd make one helluva hot rubber android, I'm tellin ya.

Back in the room DroidBoy occupied, Lynch found that DroidBoy's own latex outfit had been upgraded, and slid apart over his crotch to free his erection. Lynch looked up from the aroused member and spoke.

"Can I make a request, please?"

DroidBoy looked down at his new twinkbot, puzzled. "Yeah?"

"Could you take away my autonomy again, please? I want my first b/j for you to be as a robot."


"Whatever. That too", Lynch conceded. "Just, could you robotize me?"

DroidBoy smirked. Then said, "TwinkBot-301 run program."

Lynch's eyes instantly lit up and his posture stiffened, his expression went blank. DroidBoy tapped his left wrist cuff and produced a pair of slick black sunglasses, which he slipped onto Lynch's face. The transformation was indeed complete. DroidBoy waved a hand at his new robotic boytoy. "Proceed." And TwinkBot-301 went down.

Back on the instant messaging screen, DroidBoy had another message line.

RbbrdUp: thankx. just don't know if i'd like being stuck in anything longterm.

DroidBoy's back arched involuntarily as his obedient twinkbot gave him the best head he'd had in ages. The pleasuring programs downloaded into Lynch's brain had definitely taken. DroidBoy gasped with pleasure, his head flopping back onto the cushioned headrest of his puffy chair.

"Oohhhhhh, fuck, yeah!!" DroidBoy extended his hand to tap away at the keyboard one more time.

DroidBoy: Trust me, man. You will.

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