[Article to be found in the summer issue, at your newsstand or on subscription.] Fetish subculture nourished by science fiction, dronification eroticizes the loss of control and the disappearance of the ego in the condition of a submissive robot.
Illustration: Olivier Heiligers for têtu·
“Dronification: come and shed your identity”. For fans of humans transformed into obedient drones and with an empty mind. On Reddit, the forum dedicated to the practice gathers more than 7,000 members and hundreds of posts each week. Purple and blue lights, latex tight-fitting suits, futuristic gas masks… The images unfold: users hypnotized by spirals on their screens, kneeling drones, bondage sessions. Under the posts, the same phrases keep returning: “drone activated”, “drone is drone”, “drone in programming”…
A fetish subculture that emerged in the late 1990s, dronification is nourished by science fiction and transhumanist fantasies. From the Borgs of Star Trek to the humanoid robots of Ghost in the Shell, these half-human, half-machine figures have permanently marked the erotic imagination of some practitioners. “At the time I was exploring my submissive side and I focused on latex”, recounts Raskur, who describes himself as a “drone programmer.” “While looking for fetish content, I came across a story where two guys who love latex have a session. One of them gradually gets transformed and programmed into an obedient object-machine, ready to serve dominant men. I found that seriously sexy.”
Nameless machines, but a real community
In the BDSM imagination, one often has in mind the figure of the “gimp,” an anonymous sub entirely covered in latex. The drone can borrow some of its aesthetic codes, but it explores another form of submission. “He obeys commands like a computer. He won’t go beyond the rules given to him, while a gimp can be a bit insolent”, explains Raskur. He maintains regular relationships with several drones, mostly online. “When they get in touch, we start by discussing what they like, their limits… Then I give them tasks, a routine to follow. They must also refer to themselves using ‘this’. And we do hypnosis sessions, or role-playing where I train them to obey me.”
These D/s dynamics, for dominant/submissive, often rest on highly codified protocols. “To properly shape a drone’s identity, what I like to do is assign them a number. A machine doesn’t need a name, he continues. It’s like for puppies, who often use a pup nickname to enter the role. In both cases, it’s also often the handle that will be used online for a kinky profile. A name is important in the kinksters’ identity.”
As with many fetish scenes and queer BDSM, dronification has largely developed thanks to the Internet. Drones can be found everywhere: on X, Instagram, Bluesky, Discord, Fetlife or Recon. The networks allow users with ultra-niche fantasies to meet, exchange, and build a shared culture. “There are some who do this in group settings, on specialized platforms like Discord, or on dedicated sites like HexCorp. They’re called ‘servers’ or ‘hives’.”, explains Raskur.
HexCorp is one of the best known and counts tens of thousands of followers on X. Uniforms, collective hypnosis sessions, internal rules: these spaces blur the boundaries between social community, sexual playground and roleplay universe. “Many meetings still happen through kinky networks like Recon or Fetlife, or simply via mainstream social networks. A lot of kinksters already explore several roles and practices that can overlap with droneplay. You can have muscle drones, where commands are tied to muscle gain, or drone puppies…”
An intense link with erotic hypnosis
The range of practices is wide. Some drones define themselves as asexual and mainly seek the famous dronespace, a mental state associated with dronification. “You’re completely relaxed, with no intrusive thoughts and focused on simple tasks. It helps to concentrate”, sums up the guide. Like other fetish practices related to embodying roles, dronification relies heavily on this very precise psychological state sought during a session. The puppies, for example, speak of “pupspace” to designate this more playful and regressive state. In the case of drones, the fantasy often revolves around erasing oneself, discipline and the sensation of being transformed.
The practice is also closely linked to erotic hypnosis, another expanding universe. “That’s part of the fantasy, notes Raskur. Erotic hypnosis is fairly unknown and it can be scary, but in general it’s fairly safe if practiced with trusted people.” He does warn against certain content found online: “One can find plenty of erotic hypnosis files on the Internet, without needing to be in direct contact with a hypnotist, and it can be risky to listen to them and encounter suggestions with which you aren’t necessarily comfortable. The best is always to have someone in front of you to discuss your limits.”
For Raskur, the interest of dronification goes far beyond the sessions themselves. “Having a kinky profile on social networks has allowed me to grow as a kinkster by learning from others, educating myself and discovering new perspectives on sexuality in general, even my identity, he confides. We can meet really great and enriching people.” Behind the futuristic masks, the hypnotic spirals and the cyberpunk fantasies, dronification tells of a need to let go and to play with one’s identity. It also speaks of finding a community where one can freely experiment with desires.
