Becoming a Polo-Drone (7/7)
The words, although devoid of inflection, were irresistible. The command mingled with the intoxicating aroma, effortlessly melting any remaining resistance and left Scott with a profound, aching desire to obey.
In a flurry, Scott tore off his hoodie, letting it fall to the ground without a second thought. Then, with a slow, deliberate pace he slipped the polo over his head. The rubber was cool as it slid over his warm skin, sending pleasant shivers coursing through his entire body as it wrapped around him, molding itself tightly to his form.
At this point, the panic had completely disappeared from Scott's mind. Replaced with a simple calmness that seemed to radiate from the rubber gripped in his hands. In a slow and methodical motion, he slips the rubber over his head. As the cool rubber glides over his chest and torso, almost constricting itself slightly to hug his every curve until it hangs from him perfectly, like it had been made for only him. The scent emanating from him swirled in his mind until there was practically nothing left.
His hands moved up to the buttons, urged on by an impulse that he couldn't resist. The first button fastening sent another wave of ecstasy surging through him. He felt his face relax. His eyes, while now focused, his eyes dimmed slightly as his expression faded to a calm blankness.
The second button slipped into place, and with it, his remaining thoughts disappeared entirely into the rubbery fog swirling within him. In its place was now an undeniable sense of unity and belonging. The unfaltering bond between him and the other polo-drones cementing itself, making his cock strain harder than ever, each painful pulse begging for the tantalizing release the rubber promised.
Finally, as he fastened the third and final button, his mind was fully overwhelmed by the rubber's intoxicating power. A wave of pure ecstasy crashed through him, forming into the most intense orgasm he'd ever experienced. His entire body shuddered in pleasure. His cock pulsed uncontrollably, hot cum erupting forth and soaking through his jeans. Despite the mind-shattering euphoria coursing through him, his body remained still and calm, his face blank and focused. The rubber grip now absolute, claiming him entirely.
Scott was no more. In his place stood Polo-Drone-110, blissfully empty except for a singular, unwavering purpose.
Without a word, the two drones turned and headed towards the back of the club, their steps in unison. Their faces equally blank. Upon entering the room, 110 saw more drones standing in formation, their black rubber polos molded perfectly to each of their bodies, each drone's face obscured by a shiny black gas mask. Despite the intimidating appearance, 110 was calm. It recognized the team it had fantasized over earlier and felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of kinship and pride with them now.
The drone that had given 110 the polo approached once more, extending a black gas mask towards it. 110 didn't hesitate, with almost mechanical precision, it brought the mask to its face. As soon as the cool rubber touched, it seemed to adhere tightly, the straps securing themselves around its head.
110 stepped into the line of drones, blending in seamlessly. A sense of unfaltering belonging and purpose overtook him. They were all connected now. They shared the same goal, the same mind.
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