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Description
! OPEN FOR REQUESTS !
Hi girls!
Commissions are open! Send ma'am a DM!
I'm into TG stuff, bimbofication, all kinds of kinks work for me Don't forget to watch my work ! Love you all !
I hope you'll like this one !
---------

-- In a not-too-distant future, the world had undergone a remarkable transformation where robots had seamlessly integrated themselves into every aspect of society. Humanoid machines had taken up the roles of policemen, their mechanical precision ensuring law and order, while restaurateurs and hoteliers were now automated establishments, offering efficiency and convenience to patrons. Even the realm of mechanics had witnessed a shift, as expertly crafted robotic counterparts toiled away in garages, adeptly diagnosing and repairing vehicles. Gone were the days of hailing a cab; automated vehicles silently traversed the streets, providing transportation at the touch of a button.
However, amidst this era of astounding technological progress, a man named Brad found himself harboring a deep-rooted discontentment. He stood firm against the tide of what he termed "robocratization." With fervent conviction, Brad believed that the rapid reliance on robots was leading humanity down a treacherous path. In his eyes, the constant pursuit of technological convenience was placing humans at risk, threatening to shackle them beneath the oppressive dominance of machines. Beyond that, he harbored concerns that such reliance might gradually erode the intellectual capacity of the human race.
"I can't believe how much the world has changed," Brad muttered, his voice laced with concern.
"You have to admit, Brad, the progress we've made with robots is remarkable," a colleague replied, his tone filled with enthusiasm.
"No, you don't understand," Brad insisted, his voice growing more urgent. "We're giving up our autonomy, our intelligence. We're losing what makes us human."
As a highly respected member of the New World Council, Brad's influence reached far and wide. The Council, comprised of esteemed individuals responsible for shaping the trajectory of society, held the power to enact change on a grand scale. Emboldened by his position and the authority it bestowed, Brad made it his mission to rally support against the encroaching tide of technological dominance.
He tirelessly advocated for humanity to reclaim its independence, urging people to embrace the ingenuity and resourcefulness that had once defined them. Brad argued that placing too much faith in machines would ultimately render humans vulnerable. He envisioned a world where the innate abilities of mankind were celebrated and augmented through careful use of technology, rather than being overshadowed or replaced altogether.

However, despite his persuasive arguments and impassioned pleas, Brad found himself facing an uphill battle. The majority of his peers on the New World Council were seduced by the allure of a technologically streamlined existence. They were captivated by the promises of efficiency, productivity, and an easier life. In their eyes, the benefits far outweighed the potential risks.

Undeterred, Brad organized a critical board meeting, gathering his fellow Council members to lay bare his concerns and implore them to reconsider their stance. He painted vivid pictures of a future where humans would live in constant uncertainty, under the yoke of machines whose motivations were devoid of human empathy. He spoke of the perilous consequences of relinquishing control over vital aspects of daily life, warning of a potential decline in human intelligence if their reliance on robots went unchecked.
However, the response he received was disheartening. One by one, his peers rebuffed his arguments, their counterpoints laced with the intoxicating allure of progress and convenience. They viewed Brad's warnings as remnants of a bygone era, unwilling to acknowledge the potential dangers that lay ahead. As the meeting drew to a close, Brad's hopes of changing his peers' minds were dashed, leaving him feeling isolated and defeated.

With a heavy heart, Brad made his way back to his residence, the weight of his failure pressing down upon him. Seeking solace and a temporary escape from his troubles, he poured himself a glass of whiskey. As he took a moment to gather his thoughts and drown his sorrows, his eyes fell upon an unexpected sight—a mysterious package resting on his living room table.
Intrigued yet wary, Brad approached the package cautiously. It bore no visible sender's address, but the inscription etched upon it ignited a flicker of curiosity within him. It read, "For Doctor Brad, maybe this will change your mind?" The cryptic message beckoned him, daring him to uncover its secrets. With a mix of cynicism and a lingering sense of curiosity, Brad decided to open the package, oblivious to the extraordinary chain of events that would soon unfold.
As Brad's trembling hands eagerly unraveled the layers of wrapping paper, a sense of anticipation hung heavy in the air, mingling with the lingering aroma of the whiskey that still clung to his senses. With each tear, the room seemed to grow quieter, as if time itself held its breath, preparing for the revelation that awaited within the confines of the package.
And then, in a sudden burst of movement, the world erupted into a flurry of motion. From the depths of the opened package, an otherworldly creation emerged—a robotic insect. Its gleaming metallic exoskeleton shimmered in the soft glow of the room, casting eerie reflections on the walls. A mesmerizing sight, yet one tinged with an unshakeable sense of unease.
This insectoid marvel, an intricate work of artistry and engineering, possessed an aura of purpose. Equipped with a mesmerizing array of syringes, their tips glinting with a metallic sheen, it seemed as if every detail of its design had been carefully crafted to serve a singular objective : Injecting a substance into Brad.

With a grace that defied the laws of nature, the robotic insect darted towards Brad's face, its movements fluid and precise. Time seemed to stretch, elongating the fleeting moments, as if fate itself had slowed to observe this pivotal encounter. Brad, caught off guard by the insect's startling swiftness, found himself frozen in a state of disbelief and alarm, his heart pounding within his chest.
In the aftermath of the injection, Brad's vision blurred, his surroundings fading into a haze of swirling colors and shifting shadows. The world around him seemed to melt away, leaving him suspended in an ethereal realm—a liminal space that straddled the line between consciousness and the unknown. Time, once a steady companion, now fractured and fragmented, its linear flow disrupted by the enigmatic forces at play.
Within this suspended state, Brad's mind wandered, navigating a labyrinth of uncertainty and possibility. Visions and memories intermingled, forming a tapestry of fractured recollections and half-formed dreams. It was as if the very essence of his being was being rewritten, reshaped by forces beyond his comprehension.

And then, slowly but surely, Brad emerged from the swirling mists of uncertainty. His senses reawakened, and he found himself in an altered state of existence. Opening his eyes, he was met not with the familiarity of his own reflection, but with an unrecognizable visage—a sexy, alluring robotic doll, exquisitely designed and captivating in its beauty.
A message echoed within the hollow chambers of his new form, a synthetic voice punctuating the silence, "You are now Barbie, an entertainment doll. Your bios must be updated before you can be sent to the brothels in the light district." The words hung heavily in the air, an inescapable declaration of his fate, a haunting reminder of the chains that now bound him.
Brad was terrified, he would be nothing more than an empty shell, an allegory of what he was trying to crush, he was now one of the droids, he belonged to the machines, a very special category of robotics. She, Barbie, now served only as a form of entertainment for humans, her hard drive gradually filling up with coded messages of all kinds, most of them designed to enable her to learn new, tendentious moves to entice the customer to pull out the blue card.

6 months later, Barbie has become a rather docile machine. She had a hard time getting used to it, but a few USB sticks in her card helped her gradually forget her aversion to machines and evolve into a real little robotic whore!

Description
! OPEN FOR REQUESTS !
Hi girls!
Commissions are open! Send ma'am a DM!
I'm into TG stuff, bimbofication, all kinds of kinks work for me Don't forget to watch my work ! Love you all !
I hope you'll like this one !
---------

-- In a not-too-distant future, the world had undergone a remarkable transformation where robots had seamlessly integrated themselves into every aspect of society. Humanoid machines had taken up the roles of policemen, their mechanical precision ensuring law and order, while restaurateurs and hoteliers were now automated establishments, offering efficiency and convenience to patrons. Even the realm of mechanics had witnessed a shift, as expertly crafted robotic counterparts toiled away in garages, adeptly diagnosing and repairing vehicles. Gone were the days of hailing a cab; automated vehicles silently traversed the streets, providing transportation at the touch of a button.
However, amidst this era of astounding technological progress, a man named Brad found himself harboring a deep-rooted discontentment. He stood firm against the tide of what he termed "robocratization." With fervent conviction, Brad believed that the rapid reliance on robots was leading humanity down a treacherous path. In his eyes, the constant pursuit of technological convenience was placing humans at risk, threatening to shackle them beneath the oppressive dominance of machines. Beyond that, he harbored concerns that such reliance might gradually erode the intellectual capacity of the human race.
"I can't believe how much the world has changed," Brad muttered, his voice laced with concern.
"You have to admit, Brad, the progress we've made with robots is remarkable," a colleague replied, his tone filled with enthusiasm.
"No, you don't understand," Brad insisted, his voice growing more urgent. "We're giving up our autonomy, our intelligence. We're losing what makes us human."
As a highly respected member of the New World Council, Brad's influence reached far and wide. The Council, comprised of esteemed individuals responsible for shaping the trajectory of society, held the power to enact change on a grand scale. Emboldened by his position and the authority it bestowed, Brad made it his mission to rally support against the encroaching tide of technological dominance.
He tirelessly advocated for humanity to reclaim its independence, urging people to embrace the ingenuity and resourcefulness that had once defined them. Brad argued that placing too much faith in machines would ultimately render humans vulnerable. He envisioned a world where the innate abilities of mankind were celebrated and augmented through careful use of technology, rather than being overshadowed or replaced altogether.

However, despite his persuasive arguments and impassioned pleas, Brad found himself facing an uphill battle. The majority of his peers on the New World Council were seduced by the allure of a technologically streamlined existence. They were captivated by the promises of efficiency, productivity, and an easier life. In their eyes, the benefits far outweighed the potential risks.

Undeterred, Brad organized a critical board meeting, gathering his fellow Council members to lay bare his concerns and implore them to reconsider their stance. He painted vivid pictures of a future where humans would live in constant uncertainty, under the yoke of machines whose motivations were devoid of human empathy. He spoke of the perilous consequences of relinquishing control over vital aspects of daily life, warning of a potential decline in human intelligence if their reliance on robots went unchecked.
However, the response he received was disheartening. One by one, his peers rebuffed his arguments, their counterpoints laced with the intoxicating allure of progress and convenience. They viewed Brad's warnings as remnants of a bygone era, unwilling to acknowledge the potential dangers that lay ahead. As the meeting drew to a close, Brad's hopes of changing his peers' minds were dashed, leaving him feeling isolated and defeated.

With a heavy heart, Brad made his way back to his residence, the weight of his failure pressing down upon him. Seeking solace and a temporary escape from his troubles, he poured himself a glass of whiskey. As he took a moment to gather his thoughts and drown his sorrows, his eyes fell upon an unexpected sight—a mysterious package resting on his living room table.
Intrigued yet wary, Brad approached the package cautiously. It bore no visible sender's address, but the inscription etched upon it ignited a flicker of curiosity within him. It read, "For Doctor Brad, maybe this will change your mind?" The cryptic message beckoned him, daring him to uncover its secrets. With a mix of cynicism and a lingering sense of curiosity, Brad decided to open the package, oblivious to the extraordinary chain of events that would soon unfold.
As Brad's trembling hands eagerly unraveled the layers of wrapping paper, a sense of anticipation hung heavy in the air, mingling with the lingering aroma of the whiskey that still clung to his senses. With each tear, the room seemed to grow quieter, as if time itself held its breath, preparing for the revelation that awaited within the confines of the package.
And then, in a sudden burst of movement, the world erupted into a flurry of motion. From the depths of the opened package, an otherworldly creation emerged—a robotic insect. Its gleaming metallic exoskeleton shimmered in the soft glow of the room, casting eerie reflections on the walls. A mesmerizing sight, yet one tinged with an unshakeable sense of unease.
This insectoid marvel, an intricate work of artistry and engineering, possessed an aura of purpose. Equipped with a mesmerizing array of syringes, their tips glinting with a metallic sheen, it seemed as if every detail of its design had been carefully crafted to serve a singular objective : Injecting a substance into Brad.

With a grace that defied the laws of nature, the robotic insect darted towards Brad's face, its movements fluid and precise. Time seemed to stretch, elongating the fleeting moments, as if fate itself had slowed to observe this pivotal encounter. Brad, caught off guard by the insect's startling swiftness, found himself frozen in a state of disbelief and alarm, his heart pounding within his chest.
In the aftermath of the injection, Brad's vision blurred, his surroundings fading into a haze of swirling colors and shifting shadows. The world around him seemed to melt away, leaving him suspended in an ethereal realm—a liminal space that straddled the line between consciousness and the unknown. Time, once a steady companion, now fractured and fragmented, its linear flow disrupted by the enigmatic forces at play.
Within this suspended state, Brad's mind wandered, navigating a labyrinth of uncertainty and possibility. Visions and memories intermingled, forming a tapestry of fractured recollections and half-formed dreams. It was as if the very essence of his being was being rewritten, reshaped by forces beyond his comprehension.

And then, slowly but surely, Brad emerged from the swirling mists of uncertainty. His senses reawakened, and he found himself in an altered state of existence. Opening his eyes, he was met not with the familiarity of his own reflection, but with an unrecognizable visage—a sexy, alluring robotic doll, exquisitely designed and captivating in its beauty.
A message echoed within the hollow chambers of his new form, a synthetic voice punctuating the silence, "You are now Barbie, an entertainment doll. Your bios must be updated before you can be sent to the brothels in the light district." The words hung heavily in the air, an inescapable declaration of his fate, a haunting reminder of the chains that now bound him.
Brad was terrified, he would be nothing more than an empty shell, an allegory of what he was trying to crush, he was now one of the droids, he belonged to the machines, a very special category of robotics. She, Barbie, now served only as a form of entertainment for humans, her hard drive gradually filling up with coded messages of all kinds, most of them designed to enable her to learn new, tendentious moves to entice the customer to pull out the blue card.

6 months later, Barbie has become a rather docile machine. She had a hard time getting used to it, but a few USB sticks in her card helped her gradually forget her aversion to machines and evolve into a real little robotic whore!