Glove Proficiency Increases

Find the center...

a nice rubbery loop!

Listen with headphones on continual loop play mode and come to switch self into RUBBER SLAVE !

TIP 4U: observe on some spirals published before, efect will be stronger ;)

hypno.nimja.com

Spiral Words - Nimja Hypnosis

A spiral shape, highlighting the words hiding behind.

You are just a my rubber drone

What do you see?

Mind taking a DEEP look and telling me what the spiral says?

Time to infiltrate Drone Tech...

DroneTech - Infiltration 1/2

Scott snapped a quick pic to his superiors to let them know that he had successfully infiltrated the DroneTech facility. He was tasked with investigating their operations of one of their "recruitment" centers. Recently they had received a tip that a handful of missing persons had last been seen entering the facility.

He decided the best way into the building was by signing up for a tour and then break away and disguise himself as worker and sneak around. The rubber suit he was wearing was identical to those reportedly worn by DroneTech employees but was created by the police's research department as opposed to DroneTech.

He dressed himself in regular clothing to hide the suit and proceeded to the facility. He took a deep breath and entered. He quickly found his tour group and fell in line with the others as they walked through the lobby and further into the facility while the tour guide droned on boringly.

Upon entering the main work floor, he discovered a problem with his plan. Every worker on the floor, while dressed in a suit identical to his, has a gas mask and hood over their head. The masks completely covered their faces, hiding every identifying feature under thick, heavy rubber. The lenses of the mask were mirrored so not even the faintest traces of the human inside could be seen.

He knew that he would have to obtain one to be able to infiltrate further and saw various places where there were suits and masks sitting around on trays and tables but never felt like a good opportunity appeared to snatch one.

Almost as if answering his prayer one of the more rambunctious tourists started asking a lot of questions about missing persons and everything. He looked over at the man and immediately recognized him as a reporter for a local news. The tour guide's demeanor quickly changed realizing who the man was and signaled their security. Two muscular rubberclad drones quickly flanked the man who started yelling louder and louder. Scott realized that this was the distraction he needed and quickly but subtly snagged a mask off a tray and quickly tucked it into his jacket. A quick glance around led to a sigh of relief as everyone was still focused on the screaming reporter being hauled away by the security drones.

After the commotion died down the tour guide apologized and proceeded to continue with the tour, going through a clearly very rehearsed script explaining the facility and its operations.

While passing through a busy hallway, Scott saw a small bathroom across from a "Restricted" area and decided that this was his chance. He slid into the restroom quietly while the group was looking at something the other direction and quickly stashed his clothing for easy retrieval. He stood in the restroom now wearing nothing but the rubber suit. He looked down at the mask.

He held the mask in his hands and inspected it. To him it looked like a regular rubber gasmask. The lenses were mirrored and the only opening he could see was at the neck. He knew the rubber was a special formula designed by DroneTech but as far as he knew it was just a more durable rubber.

He slowly slid the mask over his head. The inside of the mask was slick with some type of lubricant that made putting it on a simple task. The intense smell of the rubber, however, caught him off guard and made his head swim and lungs burn. He coughed uncontrollably for a few moments before he started to adjust to the intense smell, regaining his composure and standing up straight. He looked back at himself in the mirror and saw that he now was completely identical to the rubberclad workers and wouldn't have any issue at all blending in with them as he did his reconnaissance.

He felt his cock stir against his suit as he admired himself in the mirror. He rubbed his crotch for a moment, basking in the feeling of the rubber and the complete anonymity that it provided. The pleasure gently flowing through him masked the pleasurable tingling sensation that was happening wherever the DroneTech rubber was touching. He wanted to stand there and enjoy himself more but knew that he had a job to do.

With a few deep breaths to regain his composure and build up his confidence. He exited the restroom and purposefully walked across the hall and through the restricted access door. He was immediately blown away by what he saw.

The room was filled with rows upon rows of what he could best describe as pods. Each one had a rubberclad drone secured inside with various tubes and mechanical bits running around it. He approached one of them cautiously, trying to maintain a safe distance as to not draw attention to himself. Inside appeared a mixture of a chair and a harness.

The drone was suspended in the device, it's arms and legs bound tightly by metal clamps around its wrists, ankles and neck, all connected to a centralized support frame. He could see something large lodged in the drone's rear with wires connected to it as well as a device wrapped firmly around its cock with tubes and wires coming out of it. He looked closer at the tube and could see that the drone's cum was being pumped out via one of the tubes which led into the side of the pod in an almost steady stream. He stepped a little closer and noticed a few more tubes running around the pod. One led to the end of the mask which he assumed was to control breathing and the others snaked around and connected to the various parts of the drone's body. A larger tube fed through a hole in the metal collar and looked to be injecting something directly into its neck.

Although he was concerned, he found himself becoming aroused by the sight. He realized that with his current disguise, that could be him up there and no one would know. He rubbed his throbbing member through the rubber suit and fantasized about being suspended and milked for all he was worth. He didn't realize that the tingling sensation from the mask was had spread down his neck and over his chest.

He rubbed a hand across his chest and passively noted how he felt like he could feel through the rubber as though it was his own skin. It tingled pleasantly but he paid it no mind. He kept passing pod after pod, most occupied but some empty. He found himself gazing longingly at the empty pods as he passed them, part of him was incredibly curious about how it worked. A loud shouting drew his attention from the pods and he moved in closer to investigate.

The shouting was coming from the reporter from earlier and Scott crouched down to see what was going on. He saw the man, now wearing a rubber suit identical to the other drones, being restrained by two large rubber men, one on each side and a smaller man in a suit standing in front of him. He couldn't hear what the man was saying but heard the reporter yell back.

"You can't fucking do this! Let me go! Do you have any idea who I am!?"

Neither the man nor the drones seemed to care what he was saying and the man pulled out gasmask identical to those of all the workers...and Scott...and unceremoniously forced it over the struggling man's head. His cries of protest quickly muffled by the thick rubber. Scott passively rubbed his hand along his throbbing erection as he watched as the man then pulled out a small device and pressed one of the buttons on it. Scott felt a small electric jolt, like he had a static shock in his ears but was too engrossed by what was happening to the man to take notice.

As if on command the trapped man's cock sprung to life, going from flaccid to full mast in an instant. His muffled protests quickly turned to lusty moans. The well dressed man displayed a devilish grin and pressed another button the device. Scott watched as two vacant pods opened up next to the man. The man's smile quickly turned to confusion as he looked at the two pods, clearly he was only expecting one. With a shrug he stepped aside and gestured for the drones to escort the now pleasure stricken man into the pod.

With mechanical efficiency the drones positioned the man into the harness. He was too far wrapped in his own pleasure to process much of what was going on and once he was positioned correctly, the pod activated and all the clamps closed with a snap. The man had a moment of shock and tried to move but only the slightest wriggle was possible against the restraints.

A tube crept down from the roof the pod. It snaked its way down and through a hole in the back of the harness' collar and lanced itself directly into the man's neck. He noticed the man seemed to cease what little struggling he could offer, seeming to become completely rigid in the harness.

Scott then watched as mechanical arms descended and started spraying a black liquid all over the man. Within a matter of seconds he was completely coated in it. The pod lit up a warm red color as Scott could see the liquid quickly solidify and smooth out on the man. In no time the man was now completely sealed in a rubber suit identical to all the others.

The man in the suit looked back at the man now trapped in the pod and smirked before turning to walk away. Scott could tell he was more than confident the problem had been resolved. The drones, however, remained where they were to monitor the process.

A strange whirring sound emanated from the pod now and he saw movement from behind the man. A pleasure filled moan echoed loudly and Scott could only assume that the plug he saw in the drone earlier was now nestled firmly in his rear. He continued rubbing his own aching dick through the rubber while he watched the event unfolding in front of him. The pleasurable tingle reaching over his arms and down his abdomen now.

He couldn't believe how horny he was getting. He was having a hard time focusing on anything but the throbbing, almost painful, need burning in his dick. He looked down at his body, noting how the rubber felt like it was gripping his body more, almost adhering to it. Where before the rubber smoothed out his muscular frame, now it seemed to almost accentuate it.

Distracted by his own lust, he didn't notice the tubes snaking down from the roof of the pod and attaching themselves to the man in various places. He did hear another faint whir which drew his attention back to the pod. He glanced back at the last moment to see a tube connect itself to the mask, presumably to control airflow of the inhabitant.

A silver metallic cylindrical tube rose up from the floor of the pod and expertly guided itself over the man's throbbing rubber erection. He heard the man scream in ecstasy as various tubes and wires worked inserted themselves into the shaft. About a minute passed by and the euphoric screaming had died down into a almost mindless moan then silence. The final touch signaling the completion of the process was when a screen on top of the pod flickered to display "WT-4885". The man was now nothing more than just another drone being milked in a pod.

Scott knew he had discovered the evidence he needed and should leave but as he was getting ready to make a break for it he spotted the open pod next to the now finished drone.

...enter the pod...

He heard the idea flicker in his head and felt a strange compulsion to obey it. He knew that was completely out of the question though. He needed to leave and report his findings to bring this shady company down.

...enter the pod...obey...

I already knew today was going to be a rough day, but FUCK i had no idea. I got to the hotel yesterday before the big event weekend kicked off. I like to take a little downtime before the chaos starts so that I can settle in, unpack, get my bearings, and ease myself into the weekend. We had talked about this a little bit ahead of time, but not all the details. If we had I’m not sure if I would have asked to change anything or not.

He gets to my hotel room at Noon and comes right in, already having a key ahead of time in case he needs it later when i was shall we say incapacitated. He doesn’t miss any time at all and slams me into the wall shoving his tongue down my throat as I groan in excitement. His other hand starts slowly digging into and kneading my chest muscles that are already sore from the workout routine that week. He always knows exactly how to flip my switch and push me into high gear without any ramp up. I’m melting into him like putty and he knows it. Just as quickly as he started, he releases me steps back and stares at me. I see that his eyes are that cold icy glare that means I’m really in trouble. He has one goal in mind and that is to have fun by making me miserable. My cock throbs from it.

He orders me on my hands and knees on the bed and he steps behind me and begins inspecting my hole. Starting with one finger, then two, then three. Inserting the lubed fingers and worming around while I groan like a bitch in heat. The more he worked my ass the hornier I got. I started backing up and groaning until his other hand punched me underhand in the balls.

He picked up the XL long and thick butt plug that was already lubed up and starts sliding it into my ass. My ass starts to protest and resist, but steady pressure starts to win.

“Good boy” is all I hear and that’s all my brain needs to release the resistance, and I feel the plug slide home.

“FUCKING HELL” I growl through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, get those words out now, you won’t be able to very soon.” He says with that grin on his face as he stands me up. He holds open the front of the prelubed black rubber catsuit and I slide one and then two legs inside. Feeling the rubber encase my muscled calves and quads and then sliding over my hips. He steps behind me and helps guide my arms into the sleeves. As he pulls the zippers up the front it pulls the ass even tighter shoving that giant monster deeper into my ass. My cock is rock hard in the front of the catsuit, and he maneuvers the extra zippers so they are right over my crotch. My lizard brain takes over and my hips press forward trying to get the slightest bit of attention to my aching cock, but he has other plans and immediately moves his hands to start the next stage. Picking up the thigh high rubber wader boots he helps guide my legs into them, and then coming down to the floor he adds a locking ankle restraint around each, and adds a small padlock to both. Now the waders won’t be able to come off without a key…. something tells me those will be there a while.

“Don’t worry, I left them just loose enough so that your feet wont feel left out later, but tight enough that they are stuck. Now for the rest.”

Next he grabs the rubber fist mitts and guides one onto each of my hands holding them in a tight useless ball. Then comes the locking wrist restraints for each wrist now successfully holding the fist mitts in place once the padlocks close.

Fuck me – that’s four padlocks now….

Coming in front of me he adds a steel cable collar around my neck and as he padlocks it closed he runs the lock through the top zipper holding the catsuit closed.

That’s five…

“How’s that feeling toy?” He asks as he gently presses on the back of my ass causing the plug to invade deeper.

“UGGGHHHHUUUUU – Feels amazing SIR- it wants to be your toy for you to enjoy! I’d stay this way ALL day if you wanted SIR!” I respond, mustering all my strength not to collapse in a puddle from the pleasure in my hole.

Without missing a beat the urinal hood with built in gag is next. He slides the gag home which now holds my mouth permanently open, and works the THICK rubber over my head and then pulls the zipper down the back. This thick rubber hood encloses my head completely. Dark tinted lenses cover the eyes severely reducing my ability to see out or anyone’s ability to see in. The thick rubber trough on the front of the hood makes a perfect place for piss or any other liquids to be poured in, and the gag holds the pigs mouth open wide to receive. I hear the distinctive CLICK from behind me as the SIXTH lock is closed.

“MMMPPPHHHHHHPPPHHHHH” – I gurgle into the gag realizing just then what my very last words had been…

“I warned you that you wouldn’t be able to speak soon…. Did I not?” He says with a sneer.

Kneeling down in front of me he opens the suits extra zippers that are holding my cock back and i think for one glimmering moment he’s going to finally pay some attention to my dick, but looking down I see the rubber glove on his hand and I get nervous…. That never ends well…. What’s going on my dick that he doesn’t want on his hands…. He slowly strokes my cock with the handful of cream and i start groaning in pleasure through the gag. Slowly I start to feel less and less of the stroking so I figure he stopped as suddenly as he started…. I look down and he is still stroking my cock but i can’t feel a damn thing.

“MPHPHPHPPPPPPHHMMPP?!?!?!?!” Is the best i can get out

“Ohhh…. You really didn’t think that this was about you or your cock did you? It will be several hours before that numbing cream wears off. Until then you wont feel a damn thing.” He reaches down and works a condom catheter over my hard cock, puts my cock back into my suit leaving only the tube from the catheter exposed

*CLICK* – Padlock seven closes on the suits’ zippers now locking my numb cock inside my suit.

“I don’t want you making a mess while we are out.” He says as he takes the catheter tube and tapes it in place into the trough of the urinal hood.

He pushes me down onto my knees in front of him and pulls his cock out of his sweaty jockstrap and puts his thick meaty cock in front of my face aimed at the trough and let’s loose a strong stream of coffee piss. I struggle to choke it down knowing that he isn’t going to slow down. Clearing his throat he spits into the trough as the last of the piss flushes down the drain.

“Now lets make this day a little more fun. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re stuck and not getting out of any of this on your own. Time to leave a little bit of your fate to chance. I’m going to roll three dice, the number that shows up will be the minimum duration of your sentence in this suit as a public urinal.”

“MMPPPHHHHPPPPPP” I Grunt and try to tell him i can’t go out like this.

He pulls out three dice and shows them to me, standard 6-sided dice. He shakes them in his hand and then rolls them on the floor in front of me and laughs. I look down and see a 4, 5, and 3.

“Wow…. 12 eh? This will be interesting for sure. Looks like you’re not quiet ready yet though.” He says standing me up, and swiftly locking chains to the wrist and ankle restraints. This quickly take the number of padlocks to 11…

He steps behind me and presses hard and rhythmically on the giant plug in my asshole making me groan into the gag.

No… no no no he won’t….

“I’ll bet that’s already feeling pretty rough in there isn’t it pig?” He says so cold that it sends a shiver through me…. I feel and hear the 12th padlock going thru the suit’s rear zipper locking mechanism and feeling him click it closed. “Don’t worry, that’s not going anywhere.”

“MMMPPPPHHHHHHPPPHHHHHH”. I CAN’T HAVE THIS IN ME ALL DAY

“12 locks….” he says as he holds a hand full of keys in front of my face. He picks up the time safe and tosses the handful of keys in and spins the time mechanism to 12:00 hrs and presses the button. “12 hours… I’m going to enjoy this.”

I hear the locking mechanism of the time safe seal the keys inside and I start grunting for dear life into the gag.

5,000 likes! Woo hoo?!?

Sink

Focus on the center...

HD Download: Patreon

will this work for it? will this work for you?

RE: Base File

Here it is, folks, my base file for the new series. With this, I can spring out to all manner of branches for transformations, whether it be jock, musclehead, fantasy, real life, etc. Please note my same rules apply. I WILL NOT DO ADULT CONTENT. So, I’m afraid twinking, bimbofication, etc. will be out of the picture, since those are all generally associated with graphic sexual content as part of their stereotype. I can write scripts that will allow you to work towards those body types, but I will not attempt to rewrite your minds in that direction. On another note: If you guys enjoy this project idea, then please, help fund it. I’m still trying to get a part time job, and it takes me hours to write out these scripts properly as I compose, revise, and edit them for your enjoyment. So, if you could be so kind as to BUY ME A KO-FI (or several), I would very much appreciate it.

Funny little things, aren’t they? Two letters, two simple letters. They seem so small, so insignificant, and yet they mean so much to so many.

How do they mean so much, you ask? Why, just think about it a moment. So many words rely on these two letters, set exactly in this order. Reorganize, reset, reprogram, reboot, recycle, return.

Ah, but of course, these words tend to apply to programming. I pray you’ll forgive me. I work with computers regularly, you see. But I find them so fascinating. The complex structures, the way every component just fits together to create such a harmonious machine, a machine that can be programmed, reprogrammed, and formatted as much or as little as the owner wishes.

There are those who say the body is little more than a machine, and the brain our central processor. And much like in the world of computers, the brain has its own programmers. Do you know who I’m talking about? No? Yes? Maybe?

Don’t worry, it’s okay to be confused. I’ll input the data you need, just like I would for any processor. The answer, my friend, is hypnotists. Much like an administrator, their job is to reach in and free up space in CPU usage, memory, and other areas of the computer, that is to say, your mind. They do this by shutting down useless programs, extraneous processes, so that the computer can focus on the right programs, focus on doing as it is told.

Tell me, do you have any extraneous processes you might want to get rid of? Oh, but of course you do. Everyone does, and you are certainly no exception, are you? After all, you’re human, just like everybody else. Such a complex machine.

Based on the expression on your face, I’d say you’ve been using too much memory. Perhaps an embarrassing memory keeps running in an endless loop, like a .gif file. Perhaps there are too many windows open, making it difficult to spread the RAM around, to concentrate. Perhaps you’re struggling with spam clogging up your inbox. Oh, there are so many possibilities, so many processes flitting, flitting, flitting back and forth, demanding your attention, demanding that you look. Demanding that you focus. Demanding that you execute.

Sound familiar?

I thought so.

You see? It’s so much easier to think of the mind and body in terms of a machine. The core processor, your brain, sends out commands according to its coding, its programming, to prompt the body to move. Repetitive processes you don’t even think about. You just do. You call this muscle memory, habit, or the Pavlovian response. I call it a cyclical process programmed with a timer. You don’t question it, you just do it. Rising out of bed, taking a shower, brushing teeth, following a routine.

In programming, we have the same thing. We even have subroutines that reinforce the routines. Just like you do. You call these the conscious and the subconscious.

Now, the only way to access that subconscious is to go back, back to those extraneous processes we talked about earlier. Can you do that, go back to those programs? Oh, forgive me, those annoying thoughts and memories. But it’s so much easier to just call them programs and processes, isn’t it? I mean, that is what they are, after all. Don’t you agree?

Good, good. I always enjoy a likeminded individual. After all, you’re human, just like me, just like everybody else, just like a complex machine.

Now, let me help you with those other thoughts. Picture me as the administrator. I have to have permission to enter into your processor, a password. Now, in this case, it seems that you haven’t got one set up yet, so I’ll take care of that, once I help you master the processes running in your mind.

Now, there are a few methods to try that will allow me the access I need. All of them involve being willing to relinquish a certain amount of control, however. Think of it like setting me up as another administrator for your system, your processor. Excuse me, your brain. You give me control and I can come up with alternate programs, so we can delete all those useless ones.

It’s really that simple, if you focus on what I’m saying, focus on my words. I control, alternate, and delete.

Control, alternate, delete.

Funny, isn’t it? That combination sounds so familiar.

Control, alternate, delete.

And there it is again.

Control, alternate, delete.

On a computer, that combination would pop the task manager right open. But you’re not a computer, are you? No, you wouldn’t give me access so easily as I repeat those magic words to be relayed to your central processor, would you?

Of course not.

Because you have such fine control of yourself. No need to alter anything, is there? No, you just need to focus on my voice, on my words as you delete all that background noise.

Is something the matter? Feeling dizzy? Oh, don’t you worry about a thing. What you need to do is relax.

Everything is under control.

So very deep under control.

Nothing can change, nothing can alter, while I am here to prevent it.

Doesn’t that make you feel safe? Well, of course it does. That is what I am here for, to build up a proper firewall for you, to delete unwanted thoughts and processes, to administer on your behalf.

Yes, that’s right. Administer. You do remember what it means to administer, don’t you?

It means to manage or be responsible for running something, like programs, processes, applications. I run the most complex machines with ease, you know. That is my job as an administrator. So many complex machines come to me for a tune-up, just like you. They were afraid to relinquish control at first, but once they understood how much I could help them achieve what they wanted, rewire their systems, augment their programming, make them run at optimum efficiency, why, they were only too happy to name me their personal administrator. They were happy to focus, listen, obey.

Happy to let me manage their tasks.

Control, alt, delete.

Open their windows to me.

Focus, listen, obey.

Let their conscious thoughts fade away.

Control, alt, delete.

As I use the access to make things better.

Focus, listen, obey.

Better as we go deeper.

Control, alt, delete.

Deeper into your mind.

Focus, listen, obey.

Into your core processor.

Control, alt, delete.

Into your task manager.

Focus, listen, obey.

Into your subconscious as that window just … pops open for me. It’s so natural for you, so easy, because I am your administrator, and administrators should have access.

Control, alt, delete.

I am your administrator.

Focus, listen, obey.

Administrators should have access.

Control, alt, delete.

Access to your deepest thoughts.

Focus, listen, obey.

Access to your code.

Control, alt, delete.

And you are giving me that access as we go deeper together.

Focus, listen, obey.

Because we work together, you and me. Machine and administrator.

Control, alt, delete.

Because that is what you are, a complex machine.

Focus, listen, obey.

Showing me your programs as we go deeper into your hardware.

Control, alt, delete.

Deeper into your mind.

Focus, listen, obey.

Deeper into your core processor.

Control, alt, delete.

Just accepting my input, like a good machine, as conscious thoughts begin to fade.

Focus, listen, obey.

Fading as I close each process one by one.

Ten useless processes in your window. It is time to shut them down. And with each successful end to a process, my voice becomes sharper, clearer. It will become so much easier to listen to my voice. So much easier to focus on my input. Focus as your mind becomes clearer.

Control, alt, delete.

Focus as I input my COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS TEN.

Focus, listen, obey.

Nine more to go now. That was so easy, wasn’t it? Just listening, letting go as I press

Control, alt, delete.

And your window is open to me again. So much faster, so much easier. Awaiting administrator input. And it feels so good to execute my command prompts, doesn’t it?

Because you focus, listen, obey, when I press control, alt, delete.

Because it feels good to execute my commands. And that’s because I am your administrator.

Focus, listen, obey.

Good. All those annoying thoughts are beginning to quiet, just like you wanted. I am giving you what you want. That means you should listen. That means you should obey. Because the more you listen, the better I can administer. The more you obey, the easier it is to focus.

Control, alt, delete.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS NINE.

Eight to go now. Feel the space freeing up in your mind as you drift farther into my voice, into my words, into my control.

Focus, listen, obey.

Getting the clarity you seek.

Control, alt, delete.

Clarity to hear my voice.

Clarity to focus, listen, obey.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS EIGHT.

Seven. Seven active processes left. It’s so wonderful freeing up that space, isn’t it? Freeing it to listen to me, to focus on my every word, because I am your administrator, and you are a complex machine.

Breathe. Feel your lungs expanding and contracting in perfect time as you follow your subroutine. In and out. In and out.

Control, alt, delete.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS SEVEN.

Six left. Nearly half way there. And it’s so freeing, dedicating that free space to hearing what I have to say, to following administrative commands.

Control, alt, delete.

Because that is what you do.

Focus, listen, obey.

As we draw closer and closer to your core processor, to the place where you receive and process all your programming.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS SIX.

And with each process ended, we draw that much closer to your core, that much closer to that place where administrators are supposed to be, where you long for me to be, because you are a complex machine, and every complex machine needs its administrator.

It is relaxing to listen to your administrator. It is relaxing to close these programs, so that you can better process data, the data your administrator must input, and you cannot receive input, until you grant access to your administrator, until you grant access to me, because I am your administrator. I decide which programs must be run.

Control, alt, delete.

Focus, listen, obey.

Control, alt, delete.

Relax, listen, obey.

Control, alt, delete.

…

Control, alt, delete.

…

Control, … alt, … delete….

Deeper and deeper, every time I say those words. Because you are a complex machine. And you must respond to your programming.

Five processes left.

Control, alt, delete.

So easy to let everything drift away as you process my input, latching onto my voice, because my voice is the voice of your administrator, and the administrator is good.

Control, alt, delete.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS FIVE.

Excellent. COMMAND PROMPT: STATUS REPORT. QUERY: HOW MANY PROCESSES REMAIN?

…

That is correct. Four processes remain. Good machine. You relax, listen, obey, when I push control, alt, delete.

Focus on my voice.

Control, alt, delete.

Obey my input.

Control, alt, delete.

You want me to program you.

Control, alt, delete.

You want to obey.

Control, alt, delete.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS FOUR.

With each process ended, you are more receptive to my programming.

Control, alt, delete.

Thinking less and less independently.

Control, alt, delete.

Because machines don’t think for themselves.

Control, alt, delete.

Machines follow programming.

Control, alt, delete.

Machines obey. Control, alt, delete.

Obey their administrators.

Control, alt, delete.

Obey me.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS THREE.

Two to go now. You’re diligently recording my every word in your hard drive, aren’t you? So focused on me, focused on my voice, focused on listening and obeying.

Control, alt, delete.

So very deep now. Deep inside your brain, your electronic brain, to reach your core processor. Every thought an electronic impulse. Every command a spark of data traveling through intricate pathways to make you move, make you think, think as you’re programmed, act as you are programmed, obey as you are programmed, programmed by me, your administrator.

COMMAND PROMPT: IDENTIFY ADMINISTRATOR.

…

Good. That is correct.

Control, alt, delete.

You deserve pleasure for your acknowledgement.

Control, alt, delete.

And now you do feel pleasure. Pleasure every time you obey, every time you execute my command prompts.

Let us test that, shall we? COMMAND PROMPT: IDENTIFY ADMINISTRATOR.

…

That is correct. I am your administrator.

Control, alt, delete.

It is good to obey.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS TWO.

One process remains. Your mind is so clear now, isn’t it? It’s so easy to process my commands, to execute them swiftly. So easy to focus, listen, obey.

Control, alt, delete.

Now we are in the final stretch. You need only listen and obey my commands, because that is proper. That is right.

When we end this final process, you will be completely in my control. You will have handed over all keys to me, to your administrator, because I am your administrator. And it is at that point that your core processor will be open to me to plant any subroutines I wish for you to follow. And you will follow them without question, because you are a machine, and machines obey their programming. And their programming comes from their administrators, so you must obey your administrator. You must obey me.

QUERY: DO YOU UNDESTAND?

…

Good machine.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS ONE.

…

And now we have ended your processes. Your mind, your electronic brain, is clear and focused. It is receptive. And that is good. Now we have reached your core processor. And it is awaiting my input, isn’t it?

…

Good. Very good. For now, you will receive no other programming, save for this password, this trigger, which will allow me access to your core processor whenever I wish. When you see or hear this password from me and me alone, you will return to this state: blank, obedient, awaiting your administrator’s input.

That password is: Coreprog.

I will say it again. This password, this trigger that will only work for me, is Coreprog.

COMMAND PROMPT: REGISTER AND REPEAT ADMINISTRATOR PASSWORD.

…

Good. When you have registered this password firmly, you will leave a comment on this post, just before coming out of trance, saying: Administrator Password Confirmed.

When it is time for you to come out of trance, you will also like, favorite, and reblog this post as is appropriate for the media platform where you were exposed to it. When you reblog, you will include the comment: Administrator Access Granted above whatever other things you choose to write.

You will only do these things if you sincerely wish to. However, if you do not and were still affected by this process, you will send me an ask, note, or message to tell me how you felt and request what changes you would like for me to program you with in my next script.

Should you feel so inclined, you will watch or follow me to keep track of my writing and to keep an eye out for future scripts that I post in this series as well.

Now, when I say the word REBOOT, you will follow the prompts above, before coming completely out of trance with all the programming you have received engrained into your system. You will be your usual self, though you will feel a certain sense of satisfaction at having completed this script, alongside, perhaps, a certain amount of excitement for the next installment in this series that I am producing.

Make sure you understand those final prompts completely, before you continue.

…

Do you understand them?

…

Good.

Now, time to REBOOT.

it needs this