wakeup01

[wakeup01]

#poll

[wakeup01]

Think I might need a new sock…the last guy is almost worn out. Pfft, that loser barely even lasted a month. Whatever.

So how about it? All you need to do is give them a little sniff, and in a few minutes you’ll be a perfect fit for my smelly foot. 👅😵‍💫

What’s that? You don’t wanna be stuck on my sole for the rest of your pathetic little life? Don’t want to breathe my foot stench 24/7, to be yellowed by my sweat? Don’t want your mind warped to become feet obsessed forever? You say all that…and yet you’re already bending over. Haha.

Yeah, just like I fucking thought. Idiot. Your life is forfeit to my foot. Good sock.

#feet #inanimate tf

[wakeup01]

do you like having horny twinks PMing you lol?

Yes.

Horny twinks are adorable and needy, and quite frankly, very quick to call me sir or master. Normally after they comment on my feet. 😘

#ask

[wakeup01]

Feet Friday is here. You know the drill, on your knees and present your face. Worshipping hour starts now, footrest. You can start by dragging your tongue across the edges of my trainers, and I don’t want to hear a word out of your stupid mouth while I relax.

#feet

[wakeup01]

God. My feed is just littered with AI trash. When did people stop finding real humans attractive?

Maybe some of yous could do with being turned into mindlessly grinning, algorithmically generated dipshits. Who’s only purpose is to get horny idiots online hard as they bate to your ridiculous appearance.

Soon. 😈

#story tease

[wakeup01]

Easy

What? Thanks bud, but i’m good.

I’m just not interested, dude, you’re not really my type. You really thought I was that ‘easy’? No, not in this lifetime. Ugh, too much confidence can be a turnoff you know. So stupid…but fine, I bet you can’t change my mind. Go on, do your worst.

You want me to watch this? Oh, you think you can hypnotise me into having sex with you. You’re just gonna snap your fingers and I’ll drop my pants. Sure. Like I’m dumb enough for that. Good god. Yeah yeah, so I’m watching. Breath in and out, I get it. And again. When’s the part where I become a drooling moron? Ha.

Repeat? Sure…I’ll…I’ll humour you. ‘Repeating is easy’. ‘Saying yes is easy…easy….easy.’ Yeah, I guess that’s nice and I feel a bit relaxed but that doesn’t mean anything. Your voice is just kind of relaxing. Relaxing. Relax.

No…I’m not saying that…I…I…saying yes is easy. Easy. Easy. ‘I obey.’ ‘I obey’. Obey.

*yawn*

Are we finished yet? Eyes are feeling heavy. Heavy. Can you just admit that you failed? Failed. Failed. After all, you…you can’t change my mind…mind…mind. Can’t change…easy…

Easy

Yes sir. My mind is open and ready for your words.

Twenty minutes later…

Gosh sir. You were soooo right, I was such a silly brat. I dunno what I was thinking saying no and stuff. Thank you for showing me that pretty spiral. It made everything go all fuzzy, but like in a good way. I just feel so agreeable! Gawd, I’m soo easy. Heehee. Hot? Like, totes. You’re super hawt sir!

Definitely, good boys do lisp. Yeth, they can’t help ith.

Ummmmmm. You want me to bend over like thith? Sure! And spread my huge butt, yep! Easy. Hm. Head feels kinda light. Yusss, it needs to be stuffed with cock and cum! Wow you’re so smart sir. Trueee. Like, I would never of guessed that. I can be thuth a airhead. But…uhh. Can you pwethse help? I promise to swallow. Thanks! Uh huh, I can bounce on that!

Mmmmmmmm. Aah. You’re so biiiig! Breed me all you want. Fill my empty brain with your perfect cock. Teach me a lesson. Use me. I’m easy! I’m all yours! Sir!

…

Thuuuck!

Yum. You taste amazing! Oh right, I need to lick your fat nuts clean. No probs. A ‘cum dump’ tattoo? Of courth sir! Anything for you sir. I agree, it’ll look cute right above my hole!

I’m a good boy.

I’m easy!

#hypnosis #twink #dumbing down #caption

[wakeup01]

Conversation Chamber Conformity

Come along, l think it’s about time I show you how the drone chambers work.

No, it won’t take too long, I know you’re very busy in the office building. I’m sure you’ve seen our drones around and wondered about how it happens. The conversion process is quick and efficient. Subjects can come from a variety of places. Some volunteer, if you can believe it, others…let’s say sometimes they can fall right into our lap. Ah, what luck, a live demonstration. Take our poor ex-coworker Jeremy here, he tried selling company secrets to a competitor. Tut tut. A clear violation of the employment contract. Clause 152, I think. Oh, did you know him? I guess that doesn’t really matter anymore. His effects have already been burned.

As you can see through the viewing glass, he’s already strapped snugly into the chamber. ‘One I prepared earlier’, so to speak. Sorry, just a bit of nerd humour there. No idea what he’s shouting about thanks to the sound proofing, but he sure is animated! Look at him go. Kinda embarrassing for him I imagine, having people see you completely naked like that. Jeremy might not be a fan of the next stage then.

*hhhhhmmmmmm*

What did you say! You’ll have to speak up! Forgive me, the chamber machinery on this part can be a bit loud. The spray from those nozzles is preparing his body for the conversion. And of course, the brushes are removing all trace of hair, we learned our lesson there the hard way. Goodbye to his adorable fringe. Huh, how about that, Jeremy looks quite good completely bald. A nice preview of what’s to come. Shame about the angry expression though. Not to worry. Next up is the ‘suiting’.

I’m sure you already know, but our patented suit formula is state of the art. Here it comes, piped in from above. The black latex coating effortlessly bonds with the treated skin. Clinging tightly into every crack and crevice, covering the entire body. It sets almost immediately, so Jeremy’s desperate struggling won’t achieve much.

Ha, ol’ Jere really didn’t want that gag in his mouth. But trust me, it’s necessary. Uh huh. I told you, their face is completely covered by the substance, obscuring all facial details - removing any semblance of individuality, leaving only blank shiny latex behind. Fantastic. Just look at that sleek featureless head. It could be anyone in there. I’m already forgetting what our friend looked like.

Believe it or not, we did at one point experiment with a flesh coloured mixture but frankly it was a bit too creepy. Like faceless dolls. These days we just reserve that for the muscle goons, they make for great security guards. Anyway, there’s a few more tweaks left.

In this case his, ahem, dick isn’t necessary. He’s not a ‘Fuck’ drone after-all…they get made in warehouse C. That process is a bit more hands on. Much better, the latex leaves behind a cute, round null bulge. Consider his cock privileges revoked. We find drones are more productive when left in a perpetual state of pleasure. Always kept on edge. It’s not really visible from here but be assured his rear entrance is being adequately plugged, the latex stretching him out and fusing to his insides. Holes are so…unseemly for the perfect base specimen. It does tend to have the side effect of plumping them up a bit around the back, but I’m not complaining.

Ah, the mind laser, right on cue. My personal favourite. Don’t worry, it’s not a real ‘laser’ - this isn’t the movies. Ha! No, it’s just sending an unending stream of superfluous information to his brain until it’s nothing but slush...

With the use of an infinite feedback loop, his mind is overwhelmed and erased in a matter of minutes. Dehumanised and ready to be synched up with The Program. Any sense of identity and self is disintegrated. Free will, just a distant memory. Freed from the burden of thought.

I’d even be a bit envious of them, if not for the dumb, subservient slave part.

You can see his final attempts at resistance now, slowly ebbing as his brain is overworked like a rusty engine to it’s breaking point. And…snap. Like turning off a light bulb. ‘Jeremy’ has been wiped clean.

Essentially he’s now an empty husk, waiting to be programmed. That’s done via the fused butt plug, somewhat inelegant I admit, but it gets the job done. It does mean they can be a bit slow at times, commands have to basically be delivered by rear end. See him slightly squirm? He’s being setup as a basic grunt model so the programming is very simple. You’ll tell when it’s fully installed as soon as—there, his back stiffens straight to attention like an obedient soldier.

Finally they are barcoded on the forehead - like so, and registered into the network. Honestly, that stuff is exceedingly dull…but don’t tell the eggheads I said that.

*beep*

And just like that, uh…Jeremy, or should I say DroneB68 is finished. Just another mindless, anonymous, worker drone - imperceptible from any other. Probably about the fiftieth one activated today. You should watch them all lined up, it’s a sight to behold.

Oh, the empty chamber next to theirs? I’m glad you asked. Yes…that’s for the ‘sexual relief unit’ drone conversion. Or the ‘dumpsters’, as we affectionately call them. They’re a miracle for staff morale, everyone needs to…unload every now and then.

The process is a bit different, but you know, it’s the same basic principle. Although in their case, the mouth and rear are drilled open and made hollow. Afterward, they’re forced to watch their belly expand and bloat as it’s inflated to the limit, straining against their panicking hands. A horny emptiness swells and consumes their weakened mind. The added weight makes their movements a bit awkward, waddling around the facility, desperate to serve anyone. A walking hole, a condom. You can usually hear them coming by the sound of their swollen, full bellies sloshing with…well, you get the idea.

Enough banter, back to our fresh drone! Let’s get it out of there.

*click*

Oop, stand back, we don’t want you falling in. Hm. Here we are, the completed ‘product’. There is still a bit of ‘him’ in there, buried deep down. Stuck watching his body move without having control. Anything to say, drone? Ah, perfect silence, aside from the faint latex squeaking. Can you believe this thing used to be a software technician?

Eerie huh, like a statue. You can touch if you like, it won’t mind. I never get tired of that texture; the way the light bounces off it’s shiny, large rear. You should see the ‘Toy’ models. Boing.

Time to try some simple commands. Drone. Turn around. See, not even a hint of hesitation. Drone. Perform squats. Drone. Grope your big butt. Aaand…hold that pose. Mm. Sorry, I can’t help myself.

What now? Well, DroneB68 is now ready for processing and testing. It’s just down the hall from the ‘Dog Drone’ kennels. It’s mostly having it do an intense workout, running on a treadmill, assessing their endurance for menial tasks. Once—IF, if they pass, they will be given orders and set to work immediately. Fail and there’s always room for more inanimate display models; I think we’ve already found the perfect permanent pose if that’s the case. I’d show you the testing program in action but, well, we’re somewhat short on time…

Ahem…

So uhhh - sorry, what was your name again? Right. So, are you still planning to leak that email to the press? Apologies, that was rhetorical; you already made your choice. Surprised? Don’t be. Aww. It’s going to be a huge shame to lose that pretty face. Now now, hold still while we get you strapped into the ‘relief unit’ chamber. Oh hush. That big blabber mouth of yours will soon be VERY accommodating.

*whhirrrrrrrrr*

………….. ………….. ………….. ………….. ………….. …………..

*gluuckgluckgluck* *pppsssshhhh* *sqrrrkkk*

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

*uuuuurrrrrrrrrr* *beep*

…………..

*click*

Drone. Stand to attention. Aaah. What an inviting hole you have. Another flawless conversion. DroneB69. It has a nice ring to it. Don’t you agree? Step forward and on your knees. Cum. Dumpster.

………….

*sloooooshh*

#drone #transformation #brainwashing #latex #drone tf

[wakeup01]

CAUTION - DRONE demonstration commencing in 2.00 hour.

This has been a WakeTech announcement. Thank you.

[wakeup01]

Do you still write story's

Some of you need to learn how to use Tumblr. Fml. The stories are there on my page. I know it’s hard to read…and write based on your grammar. But that’s to be expected from some dumb chav who failed school.

Chav? Yeah that’s right. You knock your head or something? I’ll try and keep my words short for your benefit, you already look confused. I mean, there’s no mistaking it ‘mate’, with the way you dress. TN sneakers, a fat silver chain, black trackkies and Nike logos galore. And then there’s your extremely limited vocabulary, that’s if constant profanity even constitutes as vocabulary. Oh, ‘constitute’? It means…never mind.

I like the hair though. A french crop looks good on you, kinda simple. Basic. You’re the living embodiment - sorry that word’s also too hard for you - spitting image of ‘dense chav lad’.

The change happened somewhere while squinting at scally tumblr blogs and being turned on by foot pics. It happened so slowly - adopting their mannerisms, losing your filter. You didn’t even notice. You’re sure you used to be able to read, but I wouldn’t worry about it. Worrying takes way too much brain power, power you no longer have. Why read when pictures are so much easier. And now, now you post pics of your own smelly feet online for money, because it’s all you’re qualified to do. Selling your dirty socks to fellow depraved foot sniffers. I’m not gonna judge. Even if the stench of your own huge feet does turn you on.

Yeah that’s it, remove those ripe socks ‘bruv’ and give them a whiff. Don’t forget to take a pic, you need more content for your blog. Dipshit.

#request #chav

[wakeup01]

Selfie Saturday.

#selfie

[wakeup01]

Number 11

“And I’m like woah Callum, chill out man! Ah, The lads are so funny! I really need to introduce you mate.”

Kyle was your 21 year old best friend from college. You had known each other for years, having multiple shared interests. However, recently he had joined the college football team and ever since then it was the only thing he’d talk about. Despite your constant refusal, he wouldn’t let up on trying to convince you to join. You were both walking home, having finished classes for the day.

“Kyle, you know what I think of that stuff. Look at me, you can’t seriously picture me as a jock. Sports just isn’t my thing.” You rebute.

“But it can be! Trust me mate, it’s easier than it seems…and you do have the body for it. We still need a number 11!”

“Oh please stop calling me mate, you know I hate that!” You playfully punch his side.

You on the other hand were taking a course in creative writing, and until recently Kyle had been in art studies. After joining the team though, you hadn’t seen him draw a single piece; It was a great shame, he had been making great progress in his sketches. Instead he had been wearing his football gear pretty much everywhere, it’s like he sleep in the damn stuff.

Regardless of your dislike for the sport, you couldn’t deny he looked really hot wearing the all white and black team uniform. And his new, trendy high fade haircut really suited him. He was so much more laidback and confident than before, a small part of you envied that. You’ve been doing your best to hide the obvious crush you have on him, focus on studies first, other…stuff later. Besides there’s very little chance he feels the same way about you.

“So…still into all that writing shit ay?” He punched back.

“How’s that going?” Kyle quickly adds.

“Sigh, well, not great frankly. I’ve got to finish this short story by the end of the week. It’s about an author fighting his inner demons.”

“Bro, you’re writing about a writer?” A stifled snort escapes his mouth.

“Yes, how pretentious am I? But, I have no idea how to end it, what happens to the main protagonist, you know?” You say with notable frustration.

“Uhh, not really dude. I was never really good at that stuff. I’m sure you’ll figure it out, innit. Orrrr…you could join the football team!” You roll your eyes. At least it was a genuine attempt to placate you.

“And what about your art?”

“Oh shit!” Kyle stops in his tracks.

“What is it?” You turn back to him as he looks around in annoyance.

“Look can you do me a huge solid? I really need you to go back to the locker room.” He asks quietly.

“What?! I’ve never even been in there before. And also…I…” You trail off.

“I left something important behind. I just need you to go get it bro. Call it your daily exercise.” Kyle interjects, walking back towards you.

“Fine… but why do you need me. Can’t you go, Mr I-can-play-sports-now?” You tease.

“Can’t. Busy. Mate, you’re a lifesaver!” He shouts excitedly.

Kyle tosses a pair of keys at you, they fumble in your hands and fall to the floor. You bend down to pick them up.

“Okay but I don’t even know…” You turn back around and Kyle is nowhere to be seen.

—————————

After 10 minutes of stumbling around looking for the football team locker room, you see someone wearing the same uniform as Kyle walking your way. His clothes are soaked with sweat and he looks out of breath. He brushes right past as you attempt to get his attention.

“Book clubs that way haha.” He points behind you.

“Thanks…” You reply, through gritted teeth. He must be one of the ‘funny lads’ Kyle talked about.

This was definitely the right direction. You reach a heavy door that is clearly labelled as the locker room. You brace yourself before pulling on the door handle, who knows what you’ll find.

It’s like walking into a wall of musk, a miasma of sweat and foot funk. Jock city. You’re not sure what you had expected. Honestly it wasn’t that much worse than the nerds in the writing group, at least here they had a good excuse. There were piles of clothes littering the floor and several carry bags stuffed with underwear. It suddenly hits you, you have no idea what you’re supposed to be looking for. That idiot. He had forgotten to tell you what he forgot. You just hoped it would be obvious when you saw it.

One thing did immediately catch your attention, in the middle of the room a lone pair of beat up football cleats rested on a bench. They were accompanied by a pair of knee high socks, scrunched together. You briefly check that no one else is here, as you slowly approach the bench.

Standing in front of the boots, you ponder who they belong to. Was this what Kyle had left behind? You had never told anyone before but you shamefully had a thing for sneakers. Maybe you could… NO. Someone might come in and find you, you’d be made a laughing stock. Thinking of the humiliation, your dick begins to get hard. Just a sniff. Just one. What’s the worst that could happen to you.

Again, you check that you are alone. You lean down towards one of the cleats, your nose hovering slightly above it. You inhale lightly. Ew, that’s ripe. And then again…huh, It’s not too bad. Just one more, you think. This time you inhale deeper, your nose getting dangerously close to the shoes opening. It starts to smell strangely pleasant. The scent goes straight to your head and sends pleasure shooting down towards your semi-hard cock.

Rationally, this is where you should stop, unfortunately the rational side of your brain seemed to be in sleep mode. The strong smell is affecting your ability to think straight. It’s like an incredibly potent drug, and now you can’t get enough.

It’s not long before you take another hit, and then another. Your nose is now firmly planted within the shoe, to get it direct from the source. The concept of time fades, you forget where you are. The only thing that mattered right now was the shoe.

In your peripheral, you hear and see the door to the locker room open. Now it’s time to STOP. STOP! You scream internally, but your body isn’t listening. Your arm is desperately holding the shoe up to your face as you now sit on the bench.

“Thought i’d find you still here. Good.” A familiar voice comes from the other side of the room.

Your head doesn’t even turn to look, but you immediately know, it’s Kyle that’s found you here. Found you with your nose dug firmly into a smelly football boot. You suppose it could be worse, it could of been another member of the team. Maybe you can try and explain things to him. As soon as you can convince the rest of your body to stop huffing this shoe. The humiliation only grows upon realising that you are now sporting a rather obvious boner. A boner your best friend is bound to notice. Good grief, couldn’t Kyle have joined the chess club instead.

“I have to confess something to you.” Kyle is now standing in front of you, he gazes down on you pityingly.

“See, I really wanted you to join the team but you just had to be stubborn. But, I had noticed you checking out my feet when you thought I wasn’t looking. So…” You’re not sure what he’s getting at. You are not joining the team.

“The team’s smell has addictive properties, I found that out the hard way. It makes you more…pliable.” He states matter of factly.

What does that mean? Kyle sits down beside you and pats you on the back. You want to say so many things to him but you can barely manage a grunt. He pulls out some small earphones and precedes to place them into your ears. No matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to pull the shoe away.

“Just listen, in a minute you’ll be feeling much better mate.” The words drop on your head like a dumbbell.

“I’m afraid we had to choose the strongest file for you, I know you’ll try and resist. Its results will be more severe. Not that you’ll care anyway.” Kyle explains, with barely contained excitement.

A static like noise starts to buzz into your ears. The thoughts in your head dissipate as you desperately try and retain some semblance of control. A calm voice begins to speak.

RELAX

It hits you like a ton of bricks. The word echos throughout your brain, drowning out everything else. Each letter feels like it’s being ingrained into you.

CALM AND RELAXED

JOIN THE TEAM

The team? No… you won’t… you’re a writer. A writer.

YOU ARE NUMBER 11

SPORTS IS YOUR LIFE

YOU OBEY YOUR TEAMMATES

The words didn’t let up, they continued to bombard your weakened mind. You did your best to refuse them, but you were getting so tired. It felt like it went on for hours. Kyle leans over, removes the shoe from your hand and your arms go limp. He takes the knee high socks from the bench and pulls them up over your legs, afterwards slipping your feet into the football cleats you had just been enjoying.

YOUR HEAD IS EMPTY

LET GO OF BIG WORDS

Now that the shoe is gone, your mouth is free. You try and speak, tell Kyle to end this, that you don’t want to be a smelly, dumb, footie lad. That last thought sends a jolt to your pleasure centre. All that escapes your mouth is a dull groan. Kyle unzips your trousers and pulls your rock hard cock free, his hand softy caresses it’s length. You feel something placed around your member, it’s most probably a cock ring.

ELEVEN IS YOUR NUMBER

YOU LOVE THE TEAMS SMELL

The words become louder, reverberating around your skull. Your resistance is waning.

“Love team smell.” You hear yourself mutter, voice sounding harsher, like the accent is changing.

Was that true? You had been sniffing your football cleat until a minute ago. Yes. Yours, it was your shoe. Of course it was, no wonder it smelled so strong. Despite all the struggling, your brain was forming connections on its own accord. Your very personality was being rewritten in real time.

“That’s right footy boy, you love the musk of your teammates. Don’t need to deny it.” You hear Kyle’s muffled voice affirm.

He begins to stroke your cock. Pulling on your foreskin as his hand reaches the tip, and then going all the way back. The motion is repeated ad nauseam. All your blood rushes to your member, it quickly becomes engorged. You don’t know how much longer you can last.

YOU’RE PROUD OF BEING A DUMB CHAV

The buzzing grows stronger.

“Dumb.” You faintly echo back.

A PERFECT FOOTIE CHAV

Ugh, that can’t be true. You’re a…a…you write shit. Good with words like. It feels like your head is splitting in two, as your inner thoughts fight each other. ‘Wot da fook, you can’t rite. Ya daft mug.’

The list of words in your head shrinks to the most basic of scally jargon. Your voice and inner thoughts adjust to match. Mannerisms become cruder. It feels good to let go of all that responsibility, all the worry. Just be dumb and hung, head filling up with useless meat.

A TEAM PLAYER

That’s right, you may not be good with the smart stuff but you can kick a ball. And just like that, what little space left in your meathead fills with football knowledge. You love the team, you’d do anything for them. And as the newest member it’s your role to help relieve them of any stress. Everything starts to fall into place, things were so confusing before. You’re glad Kyle helped you understand your place in life.

NUMBER 11

“Eleven.” You slowly sound out.

“Relax, let the old you go. Let it all drain down to your big balls. Gotta think with your dick now bro.” Kyle encourages, his stroking getting faster.

BIG DICK. SMALL BRAIN

A huge weight lifts from your mind. All the thoughts you no longer need churning down into your balls. You feel them pull down and inflate to the size of grapefruit, your dick growing to an impressive 9 inches. It’s much easier to let your cock take the reigns.

YOU ARE PLAYER 11

REPEAT

REPEAT

You hesitate, a moment of lucidity. This is make or break. You’re on the precipice and a tiny nudge will send you spiralling over the edge. You gather all the willpower you have left to hold back the growing pleasure. ‘Not a stupid jock’, you repeat over and over to yourself. Kyle has other plans however.

“Hey mate, I finally thought of a perfect end for the protagonist of your short story. All this time he thought he wanted to be a writer? Nah. What he really wanted was to be a DUMB. SMELLY. FOOTBALL. CHAV.

You feel your balls tighten.

“I am player 11!” Your voice yells. The pleasure overcoming you.

“Cum!” Kyle orders.

And immediately your 9 inch cock erupts, ropes of cum splash the floor of the locker room. You look down, your dick softens to a modest 6 inches, but maintains the girth of a can. The buzz in your ears stops, but your head feels thicker than ever. Well, Kyle always said you were a blockhead. A thick block for a brain huhhuhuh.

“Feel better now? You reek dude.” Kyle pulls the earphones out.

“Fucking A, mate.” You answer with a heavy drawl, taking a long sniff of your damp armpit.

You hear the clang of the door, the rest of the team pile in. They all look very happy to see you.

“This here the new number 11?” One of them questions, Callum written on his jersey.

“Ya, proper like.” You gesture your hand at him.

Callum walks over, bumps your fist and holds out a white jersey. Emblazoned on the back is the number 11 with your name in big letters, it takes you a second to read it. You rush to pull it over your head, the silky material feels great against your skin. Someone else hands you an 11 numbered jockstrap and you put it on; the straps comfortably cup your round cheeks. A jockstrap for a jock boy, you note, your brain feeling clever for making the observation. Once you get a haircut like theirs, it would be hard to tell you apart from the rest of the lads.

“Welcome to the team!” Several congratulate.

“So, Kyle told us that you’re a big fan of feet. What say we initiate you, I think you need to be familiar with the whole team’s smell. Amirite lads?” Another one joins in, he shoots you a mischievous grin.

“Kyle’s a right knobhead.” You attempt a complete sentence, but the words fail to come.

Callum starts unlacing his sneakers.

You spend the next hour at the teams mercy, understanding that while you are one of them, part of your role is being their trusty footstool. Each member takes a turn plunging their sweaty, socked feet into your dopey face, as they laugh and high five each other. You enthusiastically sniff each one. Kyle goes last, he seems to particularly enjoy your predicament and rubs his foot smell all over you; your face drenched with his sweat.

He asks you to be his boyfriend and you happily agree. To celebrate, he bends you over the bench and roughly rails your tight arse with his 10 inch cock; the whole team watches. Upon climax he unloads a torrent of his seed into your gaping hole. Kyle makes you ejaculate into your pair of football cleats, before instructing you to put them back on. The fresh cum soaks into your socks.

“Who’s ready for a game?” Kyle asks. Everyone starts laughing and you join in.

[wakeup01]

Your boyfriend was getting on my fucking nerves. So, I found a much better use for him. He made a terrible roommate, but he’s an amazing foot protector. That’s right, I made him my filthy trainer.

What? Change him back? Nah, I have a better idea. I can already see it in your eyes, that insatiable curiosity. You are wondering about how he smells. Don’t be embarrassed, he felt the same way seconds before he wrapped around my foul foot. Surrender to the power of my stench.

You look so stupid with your face shoved inside your boyfriend. I bet he smells like a large block of funky cheddar cheese. Don’t be jealous though, you’re gonna stink so much worse soon enough. Insole.

One month later…

Phew, you fucking stink! Looks like I left an ‘impression’ though. Your mind is probably squashed to mush by now. I give you a couple more weeks before I completely wear you out and toss you in the trash. Well, back inside your boyfriend you go, you soggy sole slurper. Hahaha!

Hm. I think another shoe fucking session is needed tonight.

#inanimate tf #feet #transformation #inanimate transformation

[wakeup01]

I'm in mid thirties and I feel like I could have more to offer to the world. Don't get me wrong, I am in a good place. I have a decent job, an amazing girlfriend and I have alot of people who surround me that love and support me. I just feel like my life could be better you know?

For my wish, I want to be young again with all the knowledge that I have. Maybe this time things can be better and I can live up to my true potential...

Key Decision

Maybe. Maybe I can make you young again. But personally, I think young 21 year old you would do a lot better locked in chastity. Yes, a cock cage. Just think about it. That way you can really live up to your potential as a horny rent boy. Yes, but what colour should it be…

There we go, your dick looks much nicer locked away. Oh, there’s no need to blush, it’s cute! Pink is a good colour on you. I know a place that’s always looking for eager boys like you. A few humiliating tattoos, a shaved body and you’re set to be hired out.

Have you heard of the fuck wall? It’s where a line of guys get strapped into a wall, with only your ass on display as a public fuck hole. You’ll be ‘hole No 14’, you’ll be branded as such on your left butt cheek. There’ll still be lots of people surrounding you that ‘love’ you. Or love a specific part of you. After all, dozens of guys will use you over the course of a day, leaving your rear a gaping mess. The first time might hurt a tad, having your cherry popped by someone you can’t even see. But you’ll be conditioned to like it. Your locked nub throbbing, desperate for relief.

Your girlfriend will be aghast to see you initially, but she’ll quickly come around to the appeal of having a cuck like you around while her new man takes care of her…other needs.

You’ll take to your new role faster than expected - faster than anyone expected, acting as a footrest as they make out on the couch. Moaning as they *SNAP* the key to your cock in half. You’ll whine at the prospect of having your pleasure locked away forever, but deep down you’ll be beaming with happiness. Good boys belonged in chastity. And you were a good boy.

Things truly were better like this, you think, as a line of pre dribbles out from your tiny pathetic nub.

#twink #transformation #chastity #request

[wakeup01]

Hey there transformation fans. Here are some current highlights of my work. Also, follow the tags on my page if you want to see more! Hopefully you find something that you enjoy.

Drone TF

Chav Binman TF 😈

Airheaded Twink Slut TF 💅

Straight to Gay Jock TF 💪🏼

#transformation #chav #jock #dumbing down #inanimate tf #request #twink #brainwashing

[wakeup01]

Always very happy to add another smelly sock to my collection…

So, who’s next? 😈

"So you like my feet boy? Get down on the ground and stare at them. You're so weak for them aren't you? They hold so much power over you already and you haven't even sniffed them? Pathetic. Just give in and smell my feet so I can repurpose you to be one of my socks." Master said.

His feet held so much power over me already, just one look and I couldn't look away. Everything about them was so hot, how big they were, how sweaty they were, and their musk which was slowly already melting my mind. I couldn't take it anymore, I needed his feet, to be his sock, to serve his feet more than anything else. So I stuck my nose in his toes and inhaled.

I felt my body get lighter and lighter my mind melting away, everything about myself leaving until I was just a sock for his feet to use and wear out.

"Look at you." Master said holding me up to his eyes. "Just another pathetic little sock for me to wear out until its nothing but trash around my big sexy feet."

For @wakeup01 who provided the pictues for this caption

[wakeup01]

It’s Feet Friday. And my foot is lacking a dumb, zonked out face pushed against it. So who’s gonna lean over, surrender their mind and lick my salty toes clean?

Give in to your desire.

#feet

[wakeup01]

Huge fan. I’d really love to be a twinky dumbass chav if at all possible. Need to loosen up a bit

Pop Goes The Chav

So, lads. Who wants to go first? Yeah, I fucking know he’s never ‘done it’ before but the loser is literally asking for it. Jesus wept.

Fine, guess I’ll fuck you ‘den. Wot you gonna do, just stand there like a tospot? Take your clothes off. Geeezz. I think we found the ‘last turkey in da shop’. Well? Wot you waiting for, a letter of invitation? Bend over idiot. My cock won’t stay hard all fuck-in’-day.

Bloody hell, tight is one word for it. Stop shaking for gods sake. My fat dong is about to hammer your hole into an open cum socket, so stop moaning and take it like a man. Or as close to a man as you can possibly get while whining like a bitch dog.

There. Ughh. That’s nice. Stretch that arse mate. Yeah..fuck man….time for this plow to seed. Head down slut! I don’t wanna see you until I’m done with yeh.

Ah, wank. I forgot to mention. My ‘juice’ has certain qualities to it, like. Specifically, the ability to convert anyone I creampie into a dumb fucking chav. It’s real mint in’all. Happens instantly, with the blink of an eye. Your wide eyes, as the old you pops out of existence. *POP* Just like that. All ya need is a single dose of my potent chav juice. One sec, boring ol’ yous and the next, you a dimwit. Not to worry tho, we’ll getcha sorted with a new job. Lads, show him the before and after pics from my phone. See? Dey much better like that ay? Ye, the result is pretty much always identical, what can I say - I got’s a ‘type’. Huge ears, brutally short hair, shit eating grin. Dumb dipshits. Lush. Heh. You gonna look just like dat in a few minutes….mmm, make that one minute. Urrrhh. 30…secs.

Hold ‘im still lads!

Nah. Mmmff…Yous can’t pull away now mate. You ready to *pop*. I’m bout to literally fuk ‘the chav’ into ya. Accept your—fuck, your fate. Accept brainless chavdom.

Accept my CUM!

Urhhhhh! Take it all! Suck it up! Go fuckin’ pop, chav! POP!

Phew. Lets see what we got’s here then. Hm, just like all the others. Mate, you be looking fit as fuuuck. Ahem, and just a bit dim. Ha. Ye, let me see that smirk boi. Lads, take an ‘after’ photo of his moronic expression. Fucking numbskull. Think I’ll get dis one nice and framed.

Wot u wanna do now, chav no…37? 38? I think.

Mackie D’s? Fuck, you read my mind! Maybe we can find you a job there too. Might be a bit complicated for your thick fucking skull tho. Eh, there’s always need for toilet cleaners!

#transformation #gay #chav #request