I reported earlier this year that the MaleBots site had gone down. I don’t know what happened, but — GOOD NEWS — I noticed very recently that it is BACK!
MaleBots is a site featuring cybernetic fantasy, including cyborgs, androids, robots, transformation and high-tech control of all kinds. There are plenty of images, artwork and STORIES!
One of my favorite authors at MaleBots is Biobot — and I jacked off most recently while re-reading his multi-part adventure called Robo-man.
Click for MaleBots
Hey fellow prisoners, take note that Jay Hypno Writer has updated his website with some new M-4-M kink fiction. His themes are control and transformation of men.
Hint: If you are a subscriber to his mailing list as I am, you will have gotten a password to unlock a bonus story called “The Rowdy’s Way.”
Are you sure about that, Mark?
What a twisted scenario!
To see “I Am the Doctor” go to Serious Male Bondage
By @reconkayar and @mmmph82
Denny squirms in his bondage and listens. He is grateful for the extra movement he got from Nathan undoing the tethers. But he still can’t get his head anywhere near the bunk rim to see down. Nathan and Ari have gone ahead to take stock at the cabin, leaving Chad and Ben. Ben is down with Ken, changing his gag and binding him for transport. It’s a three-rope box tie similar to what Denny had in for the escape to the getaway van.
Ben reties Ken’s cloth gag: two bandannas worked into his mouth, followed by a knotted bandanna as a cleave gag over the stuffing, and two layers of seal pulled very tight and knotted, covering Ken’s full face below his nose. It feels tight and sexy to Ken, but Ben is aware that, with some work, Ken might possibly eject it. There’ll be enough time later to fix that. Meantime Chad appears to tend to Denny. Chad sits by Denny’s head and tries to comfort him, gently stroking his temple with a gloved hand and locking eyes with him.
Denny tears up a little to see Chad. His face has always been tender and understanding. Chad wipes his tears away, saying “shhhh.” Chad has brought clothes – they’re not moving Denny in naked. He’s preparing to dress Denny, but it isn’t happening yet. They’re Denny’s same shirt, cargo pants and tactical boots he had before.
“You spent a whole day bound and gagged wearing these, bro,” Chad said. “You will probably want them washed.” Chad reaches for Denny’s shirt, bunches it up, brings it to his own face and sniffs deeply.
“Mmmmmm. Or not…”
Ben’s voice is heard from below, “INCOMING!” as he tosses a small plastic packet over the bunk rim. It lands by Denny’s head, and Chad picks it up. “Oh, new gloves. Team rules, new stop, new gloves.”
By Justin I
I know you want to know what happened but not much for two months. I will share some brief accounts of ways I tormented my now caged gorilla.
Starting off, he never left the cage. His entertainment was only as far as his mind was able. No windows, no clocks, no hearing me upstairs giving him any indications of time passing. He was in solitary confinement. This drove him almost insane, he would sleep, but not long enough, he would work out in his confined cell, but no weights meant all bodyweight burnout, and his dick was mine. This cage was a solid metal hollow tube bent in a downward angle preventing any play. He was miserable, from the live stream on the living room TV, Sam’s emotions jumped from boredom, frustration, unbearable suffering and completely checked out staring at the ceiling.
The very first day I left him down there without any visitation. He slept most of the day anyways but I knew this was short lived. I wanted him to suffer and while I knew the boredom and his hormones would torment him, I decided to make him a special diet he would be eating while incarcerated. Swinging by the store, I decided that Sam would be having three protein shakes a day. This smoothie would be made with two scoops of natural protein powder and two scoops of natural and chalky greens powder.
Continue reading Subject Neighbor – Turned Subject – Part 06
By Justin I
First day of June. I woke up to the smell of eggs, protein waffles, and coffee. I was greeted with a pleasant scent in the air but my eyes were blessed with a beautiful man. Carrying two mugs to the table was a 22-year-old, 6’2, honey blond hair all over, lean beef white boy with tan flawless skin. I dressed him in nothing except a tight, very revealing pair of bright white compressions trunk length. Along with a thin silver chain around his neck with my dime sized medallion revealing a “β” for beta. I am the Alpha.
Four years since I, Fred, met Sam, three since taking full command. Just a stranger and boy back then, now a young man and powerful. A bodybuilding masterpiece sculpted for my pleasure.
Sitting down at the table Sam was to not speak unless given approval, whether that be permission or because of the chip in his head. This was how all of his actions remained. To do nothing unless ordered via verbal or digital command. More on that to come.
Continue reading Subject Neighbor – Turned Subject – Part 01
By straitjacketkwf2
Part Three — This One Gets the Full Treatment
The two orderlies who “escorted” me to the treatment room did not speak as we moved through the corridors and down the elevator. These were large men, not overweight, mind you, but they had tremendous muscle bulk and, based on how easily they forced me along, were quite strong.
As the elevator descended to the basement level, I looked at the name tags of the “goons” who held me prisoner. On my right was Mr. Johnson, who was about six feet tall, had the build of a prize-winning body builder, with his white shirt stretched across his massive, chiseled chest. The white pants had a loose fit, but his thigh muscles were clearly visible through the fabric. His short cut blond hair and piercing blue eyes gave credence to my belief that many blond men had “attitude” problems. To my left was Mr. Nelson, almost a twin of Johnson, but with dark brown hair and brown eyes.
The elevator doors opened in front of the door labeled “Hydrotherapy Level Five,” which opened into a large room with cinderblock walls that had been painted institutional green with steel doors along the right and left walls. I was dragged from the elevator to the counter window of the nurses’ station in the middle of the room. Johnson handed a folder, my “medical chart,” to the male nurse inside the work area. The nurse looked familiar; it was Nurse Reynolds from the clinic. He looked at the chart, entered some information into his computer terminal and then looked at Mr. Johnson.
