A Drone Generation Experiment (Patreon)

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Bing had been obsessed with nanorubber for years, pushing boundaries with each experiment, blending the organic with the synthetic in ways no one else dared. As a bingturong, his passion for merging science with pleasure led him down a peculiar path of transformation. His latest creation, a living rubber drone technology, combined all his interests—control, pleasure, and complete transformation.

Reynard had always trusted Bing. Their work together in the lab had fostered a close bond, blending their professional collaboration with a burgeoning, complex relationship. So when Bing invited him to unwind in his private chambers, Reynard didn’t think twice. The dim light of the room flickered softly, casting deep shadows that danced over the polished surfaces. A glass of wine, soft music, and gentle touches—it all felt so right.

Reynard, with his striking black-gray fur and sharp orange accents, undressed completely, leaving his fur exposed, the only barrier between him and the world. Bing, however, was still clad in his rubber gear—gleaming underwear, gloves, and a harness that made his form appear sleek and powerful. The contrast between them was palpable, and yet, Reynard loved it.

With a gentle tug, Bing placed a rubber collar around Reynard’s neck, attached to a leash, and with a playful smile, the fox dropped to all fours, his nose brushing against the bulge in Bing’s tight, shiny underwear. There was something intoxicating about it, something beyond the usual playfulness they shared.

The moment seemed to slow as Bing caressed Reynard’s muzzle, guiding his head closer. But as their proximity increased, the rubber on Bing's underwear began to move. It liquefied, dark and shiny, slithering toward Reynard’s face. In a flash, the fox felt the cool, sticky substance latch onto his fur, swallowing his muzzle and creeping over his face.

A muffled yelp escaped as Reynard tried to claw the goo away, but it was useless. The liquid rubber worked fast, enveloping his head, sliding over his neck and shoulders. The sensation was overwhelming—cold, then warm, then tight. His vision blurred as the goo formed into a mask-like shape over his snout, red and sinister, with tubes linking toward Bing's rubber bulge.

Panic set in as his hands tried to push the goo away, but it kept spreading, wrapping around his torso and crawling down to his thighs. It slithered over his groin, forming tight layers of rubber around his cock and balls, sealing them in a smooth, round bulge that hummed with faint vibrations. Every pulse teased him, sending waves of unwanted arousal through his body.

The goo worked its way deeper, pushing into his ass, forming a thick rubber plug that stimulated his prostate, making him squirm with a mix of pleasure and terror. His attempts to speak were silenced as a rubber tube connected Bing's crotch to the mask now firmly sealed over his snout, forcing his mouth open, his throat stretched as it extended down into his stomach.

Reynard’s body convulsed as more of his vision was taken over by flashing lights and hypnotic patterns inside the mask. His eyes were now hidden behind a sleek, black visor, and his ears were sealed under smooth rubber, leaving him deaf to the outside world. All that remained were the soothing commands whispering into his mind, telling him to obey, to surrender, to let go. The fox's struggles weakened, his resistance fading with every pulse of the vibrating plug in his ass, every throb of the rubbery tube in his mouth.

Bing, still sitting comfortably, smiled as the transformation continued. The rubber encased Reynard’s limbs, pulling his arms behind his back and locking them there. His tail was the last to be consumed, its once beautiful, black-gray fur disappearing beneath a layer of gleaming red latex, sealing Reynard’s fate as a drone.

The black markings typical of Bing's creations appeared on Reynard’s chest—a prominent "119" standing out against the smooth rubber surface, along with Bing’s signature logo on both shoulders. His cock, still encased in the tight rubber bulge, pulsed with a maddening, teasing sensation, driving Reynard to the edge of pleasure without ever letting him release. A lock icon appeared on the bulge, ensuring Reynard would never find relief.

Bing ran his gloved hand over the now fully transformed Drone 119, admiring the work. Reynard was no longer a fox, no longer the lively, free-spirited creature he once knew. He was encased in rubber, every part of him controlled by Bing’s designs, from the hypnotic lights forcing his mind into submission to the deep rubber that transformed his very being.

Drone 119 knelt, his body no longer his own, his mind caught in a swirl of stimulation and commands. The collar remained around his neck, the leash still connected, though now it was purely symbolic. Reynard no longer needed to be led—he was a drone, a creation of Bing, destined for experiments and pleasures yet to be imagined.

Bing sat back, satisfied with his work. The fox that had once been his partner, his equal, was now just another product of his research—a living, breathing rubber drone, ready to serve. As Bing’s cum filled the tube, pumping into Drone 119’s throat, the bingturong couldn't help but smile. There would be more drones, more experiments. And Reynard, no, Drone 119, was just the beginning.