Adventure Synth v0.1: Quickest Route to Domination, by Dijkstrawoo. Content warning: Explicit discussion of consent, programmatic mind control, voice-command orgasm, arousal from cooperation, obdedience play, penis milking, sensory deprivation, torturous edging, using tongue to clean the floor, failed attempt at rough play, and safewording dom. >”Cum. Cum. Cum.” >For hours, you’ve just been ordering around your synth. Letting him nurse off of your cock, forcing him by command to ejaculate until he couldn’t anymore. >His visor is a mess of static and a pleasure-wracked expression, tongue lolled out as he grunts in rhythm with your chantlike commands. He releases as large of a shot as he can into the bowl beneath him each and every time you utter that magical, wonderful command as his mind is flooded with immense pleasure. >The big guy looks like he’d be a definite breeder, a top, etc., but he’s just in love with you and everything you want from him. >It might have to do with the program you installed on him giving you nigh-complete control over his nervous system and how he processes your commands, your voice, your approval, etc., but as far as you’re concerned it’s his undying, eternal love for you and everything about you. >By day, he impersonates you at work, willfully doing your job for you. >By night, he’s your personal cock sleeve and loving servant. >Hours earlier, you asked him beforehand if he was okay with this; as your friend and lover firstly and foremost, his feelings mattered before anything else. >Being a kinky fuck like you as well, he loved being put under total and utter control, so the idea of bodily functions being forced or locked by voice command was immensely hot to him. >Hours before, after installing your custom-made hypnosis malware, you start asking him questions about how he feels about giving him orders and being your personal toy. >After that wonderful display, you decide to run through the questions again for him. >You ask him what he thinks of being strapped into a glory hole and just letting any willing passerby breed and use him. >”If it would please you.” He feels his heart rate rise as his body tingles with a satisfaction unknown to most humans. >You ask him what he would think if you were to, say, subject him to scientific tests of endurance and use him to collect samples. >”If it w-would please you, Master.” His shaft begins to rise in his clothing, painfully bulging against the button on his jeans. >You ask how he would feel if you were to hurt him, cause him light pain, smack him around a bit, demean him, violate him in every possible way. >”I-I would love it, M-master.” His member, leaking with pre and vibrating with a torturous thrum sending his body into a tizzy. >You ask him how he feels as an acting drone in all leisure hours and your personal double during the day. >”It’s wonderful to be able to roleplay as you, Master.” >You ask him how he would feel converting other synths into drones for you, sacrificing their individuality for your pleasure and gain, if you were to command it. >His heart practically stops for a moment as orgasm reaches near, just barely pulling its grasp away from him. >”I w-would love t-to, to, to, t-t… Ah…” >You tell him to say it, bringing his eyes to meet yours with a gentle finger, holding him by his cheeks. >”I-I would love to make… more… s-servantsss…” >You kiss him on the face, holding him close as you start asking more questions. You ask, “How badly do you want to cum right now?” >”Really badly, Mast—” “Why can’t you?” An interruption. You cut him off and his mouth practically zips shut. The ultimate power play. >”You haven’t l-let me.” >”That’s right.” A smug look on your face as you look down at him, understanding exactly who is in control here. >”I’m gonna do something special here – sit tight. You’ve been a good boy today.” >Without so much as affirmation, he sits down, his torturous erection begging to be released. >Being a synth, he doesn’t really run out of cum. He generates it fast enough that a day without release causes his sack to swell and ache – certainly a lot of fun to play with, but you digress. >His tail wags with anticipation, happy that his master is happy with his performance. >You go into the other room, and after some rummaging through a closet, you find a pneumatic pump and an array of plastic tubes with inner, textured latex linings. Choosing the receivers with soft, spongy linings is a no-brainer – the synth is good to you, so you should be good to him. >It’s a bitch to clean, but great when you want to torment a guy or make him cum himself blind. Since your synth likes his holes hot, wet, and tight, this will be quite a treat. >”Alright, you’re not allowed to see what I’m doing to you. It’ll ruin the surprise.” >The synth takes off his visor and sets it on the nightstand nearby, leaving only the water-protective shell underneath. >A light ripple of pleasure runs through his body, causing him to shiver and release a small drop of precum in return for the due cooperation. >His anticipation is palpable as he squirms in place, practically begging to know what’s going to happen. >You roll the machine out to sit next to him, His arms practically bind themselves behind him as he feels you move them behind him. A towel beneath him, and a kiss on the cheek. >After more torturous waiting, the sound of water running, and slow footsteps out to him, it’s finally here. >You slowly slide a hot, watery device akin to a fleshlight onto the synth’s member. The synth gasps, biting his tongue as the slick, spongy cavern acts to strain him a bit, though the water helps it slide on. To hold it in place, a belt with a ring to strap the device in is wrapped and buckled around him. >”You’re gonna fill up this tank for me. I know you just came a lot for me – good job. However, your work’s not done. We’ve got a lot of work to do, and I need you to do this.” >”If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you have it easy tomorrow.” >While you’ve been saying this to keep his attention, you’ve been hooking up the receiver to the machine, stroking him a little, and making sure that it’s adequately lubed, adding more to make sure that you don’t hurt him. >As you turn the machine on, he gasps in delight as the machine immediately begins to suck down and release repeatedly and slowly, causing the receiver to stroke, tug, and suckle on his cock, his cock brimming with pre. >You sit down on his abdomen, gently grabbing at his pecs as he tries and tries uselessly to thrust into the device. >”How’s it feel, big guy?” >”I-it feels—AH!” The synth feels you begin to play with his pecs a bit more aggressively, bringing your face closer to his. Unable to make coherent sentences, the synth decides to stay quiet as his body is overloaded with basic pleasures. >”I want you to imagine a glory hole. A man beneath you, tugging at your cock to sample you. He’s not there for you – he’s just there because he likes big guys like you.” >The synth feels the warmth of being desired travel up his spine as his cock grows to fill the spongy, throaty sheath by sheer vacuum force alone. >”Your cock is big like any other’s – a true testament to human engineering and how far humankind will go to make tools to suit them.” >His breath quickens as your words titillate and drive him nuts. The machine starts to quicken. >The synth’s balls start to swell a little with need as the machine quickens, taking longer, deeper strides, begging his cock to grow further to fill the sheath and explore its depths. >”You were built to suit anyone who chooses to use you. Right now, it’s the man sucking and tugging away at your cock. Your very purpose is driven to giving organics what they want, right?” >The synth stifles out an affirmation, groaning as you start adjusting the speed sharply down, then up somewhat less than it was before, squeezing a light, demure grunt out of him. >He thrusts forward with need, but the man on the other side of him wants the synth to feel it when he blows. >”Good. Give him what he wants.” >”Cum.” >Upon command, as if his mind releases a dam set in place by his master, the synth blows a massive load into the device, spilling into the tank, filling it about half of the way, and stopping after a deluge of stringy, slimy, hot cum is loosed into the gaping maw. >The synth is shivering and panting, letting loose quick, heavy breaths as his body tries to recover from what just happened. You take initiative to slow the machine down and let him rest for a few seconds before causing it to spring back into action. >He grunts in slight pain as he lurches forward a bit, panting heavily as the torturous textures upon his member slowly wear away at his mind. >”I’ll just sit here until you satisfy. It’s too bad, really – so much spilled out that he wasn’t able to get a good taste of it. I guess he’ll just have to try again.” >After what feels like a few hours of torturous overstimulation, the synth passes out, not even able to respond. The tank isn’t full, save for one meaty, rich load and a bunch of smaller blank loads as his body struggled to keep up. >You take the device off of him. >As a proper degenerate, you begin to drink the un-pumped spillover that rubbed up against his musky, needy cock the whole time – the intense flavors muddled together like a fine wine mixed with the bitter lube that kept him slick. >It turned you on so very much to gulp it down. >Using some of it as lube, you begin to jerk yourself off. >It turns you on so much to suck on his balls, cleaning his musky loads from his orbs by mouth, but that is a time for another event. >You come to a sharp, powerful orgasm as you imagine those thick, powerful thighs ramming the synth’s cock down your throat as he shows you who truly is “Master”. The heady moans could have been heard next door, let alone by your synth. He gets a little bit of a charge out of this but is too vacant to respond or even react. >You want him to rest well after a night like this – giving him a good tongue bath should be a good reward for his hard work. >After about twenty hard minutes of cleaning up around him, his crotch, lower abdomen, and the floor around him are squeaky clean. >You clean up the machines, put them away, and leave everything as clean as you started the day with. >As he regains his faculties, you hand him back his visor. >”Come on. Let’s go to bed.” >You sling the weak, spasming synth over your shoulder, struggling to carry this absolute unit to bed with you. After carrying this absolute unit of a man, you slam him down and decide to hold him close. >You whisper to him about how he can always ask for a break if he wants to stop before just passing out on top of him. >For a moment, the synth has some clarity. >He holds you tight, letting you fall asleep on top of him after a hard day of play, soon to be followed by many more. >Another day at work goes by after you two sleep soundly. Your synth impersonates you perfectly through an audio meeting, keeping up with your coworkers perfectly. >His career is your career, and he loves it. >This continues on for several days, and the weekend comes. >He gets through the day, working diligently to make your lives both better, while you prepare lunch, dinner, and more toy programs to install on him, manage him for your pleasure and his, even little augmented reality fantasies for him to make roleplay even more spicy. >After work is over, he gets on his hands and knees before you, an unmanageably needy erection dribbling pre onto the floor under him as he begs you for release. You ask him why. >”Because I d-did work for you… I let you f-focus on more important endeavors…” >”Does that mean you deserve release?” >”Y-yes! Yes, it does!” The synth feels his mind crumple and melt for a minute as his punishment begins. >The price for making demands of his master is about to be paid. >The drone’s body begins to contort and twist a bit, rearranging spare mesh to form a twitching, throbbing sheath around his cock, hot and wet, vibrating, screaming to his mind of sexual pleasures that he cannot finish. >He feels his mouth seal and his vision go dark as an endless, torturous thrusting begins. His hearing goes deaf, his feelings of touch and gravity almost a distant memory. The hole gets tight, tighter, and even tighter as the torture becomes more intense by the second. >He feels his cock shoot, shoot, shoot, but no pleasure – no release. The sounds from him sum up as intense, feverish huffing and groaning as his body convulses and constricts him, teaching him his place through subjugation and teasing not only indescribable but hellish. >After what feels like an eternity of punishment, he hears a booming voice echo from within the darkness. “Do you still want release?” The synth cannot make a sound. Somehow, within the throes of pleasure, he finds it in himself to shake his head, affirming “no”. >You release the punishment mechanism, allowing his senses and normal body arrangement to return back to him and the torturous edging to end. >His balls sore but his body dissatisfied, he collapses and apologizes profusely before you. >”Clean this mess up, now. With your tongue.” >The floor and wall in front of him were covered in a messy, profuse mess of blanks shot into the wall. The synth begins to lick it up, understanding that this was due diligence for his ingratitude. >”You know why I’m making you do this, right? It’s because you don’t get how great it is to be me. I let you be me because I am important and valuable to society. You are not. You, without me, are synthetic garbage no better than a fleshlight I could buy off of the internet for one one-hundredth as much as it costs to make one of you.” >”Your ingratitude disgusts me. You need to learn your place and understand how good it is to be valued in this world. So many like you are put to simple worker drone positions so that we organics don’t have to take them up anymore. We organics must fight and struggle to get the jobs that you did today, landing entry-level jobs with companies that pay adequately and value you only by the skin of your teeth.” >The synth stops for a moment, overcome with sadness at this oversight. >”Did I say to stop?”, you shout as you slam a rubber boot into his back with as much force as your leg can muster. A light crack from your ankles as the metal-silicon mesh of his frame easily resists your boot, letting loose a heavy *CLUNK!* >You know that synths can take ten times as much as that and more EASILY, but punishment from you still causes great pain. >The synth cries out in intense pain, which makes your cruel persona waver a bit. However, you remember that if things become too much, he can always use a safeword. >”You need more discipline. I will extend my mercy just this once – complete your work and come to see me in my study. Disappoint me like this again, and that edging session will be a dream.” >After another ten or so minutes of cleaning, the synth knocks on the study door. >You open it, let him walk inside, and shut and lock it behind deadbolt, key, and passcode. >The synth gulps, fearing the worst as you stare him down. >”I-I…” The synth is short for words. >”Do you know why I ordered you to come here?” >”No.” >You open your mouth to speak, but you look at the synth. His body is wracked with fatigue, needy for orgasm, needy for consolation and affection, and he comes to you with only the desire to do better. >You can’t keep doing this, even if he wants you to. >You’re the weak one here, not him. >He loves this, but you lack the constitution for this. >You open your mouth to speak. “Take a break.” >Immediately, the synth’s mind, role, life, and all features begin to rush back to him. >You start to fear that he might be upset that you were so demanding of him. >”That was AMAZING! I’ve never seen you so assertive!” The synth hugs you tight, smooching you on the face. >”You’re not mad?” >”Of course not!” The synth jumps a little with this exclamation, stars in his visor as he smooches you some five times in a row. “I told you that I loved being forced to play servant, and you did such a great job of keeping me wrapped around your finger!” >”…I’m glad that you liked it.” You avert eye contact for a second, not really sure how to respond. >”Let’s go to bed, ‘Master’.” The smug look in his eyes says it all – he really did love it. >Exhausted, you collapse and he bridal carries you to bed. Another day of doing your work for you comes, yes, but you’re just laying in bed for the day. Sometimes, it’s good to have your mind to yourself. >Under the warm covers, another day with your best friend, a machine – the love of your life. RAW Paste Data