A new Rubber Drone
A transformation story written for @kc20-572.
Introduction
Kris sat alone on a weather-beaten park bench. The setting sun cast its warm glow on his face. Lost in thought, he stared at the still scene before him. The gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, providing a soothing background music to accompany his thoughts.
As evening approached, Kris found solace in the quiet of the park. His mind wandered through the rollercoaster ride of experiences he had had, through the ups and downs that had shaped his life. Kris leaned back on the bench and ran his fingers over the various tattoos on his arms, each representing a significant moment or emotion in his life. They told a story of individuality and self-expression and reminded him of the strength he possessed to overcome all difficulties. The piercings in his ears were another small rebellion against the world, a way to assert his individuality and personal style, the things that were essential to his identity.
Kris found solace in his individual passions, particularly photography, which enabled him to capture fleeting moments of beauty and share them with the world. His love of cars was a constant source of excitement. The thrill of speed and the mechanical symphony ignited his soul like gasoline and made him feel like one with the machine as he drove. Football also held a special place in his heart, a sport that brought him closer to his friends and instilled a sense of camaraderie.
His romantic ventures had been less fortunate, marked by heartbreak and betrayal. The wounds from his previous relationships were still healing, making him cautious and reserved. Memories of his ex-girlfriend's atrocities and his best friend's betrayal lingered, creating a sense of suspicion and apprehension when it came to matters of the heart. Though he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to trust anyone again, he knew that in his heart he felt a sad longing for someone to accept, love, care for, and comfort him. Yet amidst the darkness, he held on to the love he had for his sister and the cherished bond with his young nephew, who always managed to put a smile on his face.
Amidst his reflections, Kris felt a rush of nostalgia as he recalled some of his happiest moments. The joy of seeing his football team lift the trophy in triumph on his birthday was ingrained in him. The birth of his nephew had brought immeasurable joy and a new meaning to life, reminding him of the beauty that life could offer.
Stalked
The evening sky turned orange and purple tones. Kris took a deep breath and took in the quiet of the park. He knew that despite the challenges he faced, he possessed an unyielding spirit and a desire to embrace life's experiences with open arms. Little did he know that this evening would mark the beginning of a new chapter in his life - and an unexpected encounter that would bring about unimaginable changes in his life. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Kris rose from the park bench and stretched his limbs as he prepared to continue his walk. The fading daylight bathed the area in a soft, dim light and cast long shadows across the path. He was just taking his first steps when a subtle uneasiness began to spread through him, as if an invisible presence was watching his every move.
His eyes explored the dimly lit surroundings, searching for signs of life. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets seemed to be amplified in the stillness of the evening. A gust of wind sent a shiver down his spine and he quickened his pace, hoping to shake off the unsettling feeling. With every step, the feeling of being followed became more urgent. Every now and then Kris would glance over his shoulder and catch fleeting shadows that seemed to disappear as soon as he turned. His heartbeat quickened, his senses sharpened, and a sense of caution gripped him.
He decided to take a different path to shake off whoever was chasing him. The once-familiar surroundings now seemed eerily alien as the darkness deepened. Streetlights created plays of light that played tricks on his mind, making the shadows dance and distort in an unsettling way. As he walked through a quiet residential area, Kris' steps became more purposeful and his senses were on high alert. He couldn't shake the feeling that the Presence was getting closer, its weight pressing down on him like an invisible hand. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, instinct telling him that this wasn't a figment of his imagination.
A tinge of fear set in and Kris debated whether to confront his pursuer or seek refuge in a nearby public space. He mentally weighed the options and considered the possible scenarios that lay ahead. Despite the unease, a rush of determination ignited within him, a remnant of the resilience he had developed through past experiences. With a sure step, Kris turned a corner onto a well-lit street bustling with activity. The distant sounds of laughter and chatter emanated from a nearby café, instilling a sense of security. He walked briskly, blending in with the crowd, occasionally glancing back to see if he was still being followed. He remained alert, wary of the shadows that seemed to lurk on the fringes of his vision. The encounter left Kris with a lingering sense of vulnerability, a reminder of the fragility of his existence.
As Kris walked briskly through the dimly lit streets, his footsteps echoed in the stillness of the night. The sense of relief he'd felt moments ago began to fade, replaced by a growing uneasiness that seemed to hang in the air. Destiny seemed to have unknown plans for him tonight. Kris navigated the city's labyrinthine paths and approached a narrow and deserted back alley whose darkness seemed impenetrable. Despite a nagging sense of apprehension, he pushed on, driven by a mixture of curiosity and a desire for a shortcut to his goal.
Encounter
As Kris entered the alley, the surroundings transformed into a haunting image. The flickering light of a distant street lamp cast eerie shadows, darkening the corners of the alley and increasing his unease. The air grew heavy and carried the ominous scent of something unknown. Before Kris could react, two figures emerged from the shadows with uncanny speed. They were tall and imposing, their muscular forms clad from head to toe in shiny black clothing, their faces hidden behind masks. A rush of adrenaline shot through Kris' veins as he realised the imminent danger he was in.
Kris instinctively fought back, unleashing his full power in a defensive attack on the figures. However, the difference in size and strength proved insurmountable. The attackers skilfully subdued him, overcoming his resistance with power and efficiency. His attempts at resistance proved futile as the darkness began to close around him like a thick sheet. In a skilled attempt to subdue Kris, one of the figures unscrewed a hose attached to some sort of backpack on their back, releasing an unknown gas into the air. His acrid odour filled Kris' nostrils, causing his consciousness to dizzy. The world around him blurred and distorted, as if he were being swallowed by an abyss.
The gas took effect quickly, stunning Kris's senses and causing him to lose consciousness. His body went limp in the kidnappers' grip as they effortlessly grabbed him and carried him out of the narrow alleyway to an unknown fate. Kris slipped deeper and deeper into unconsciousness. The gloom swallowed him whole, leaving nothing but fear and uncertainty.
Abducted
Kris slowly regained consciousness, his eyelids opening. The haze of impotence cleared, revealing a scene that sent chills down his spine. He was tied to an old hospital bed, the metal frame groaning under the weight of his restraints. Thick rubber straps held him in place and immobilised him.
The room around him radiated a palpable sense of desolation. Decorated with peeling paint and cracked tiles, the walls whispered haunting secrets of their murky past. Particles of dust danced in the dimly lit air, casting eerie shadows that seemed to twist and contort in malevolent intent. It felt like he had landed in the forgotten remains of a long-abandoned psychiatric facility.
Before him stood the two figures, still clad in their rubber gear. Their masked faces were unfathomable, their intentions hidden behind an impenetrable facade. The room seemed to pulse with an alien energy as they busied themselves with contraptions and test tubes filled with menacing-looking chemical liquids, surgical instruments that glittered in the dim light, and bizarre devices that resembled artefacts from a spaceship.
As Kris' gaze darted between his captors and the unsettling array of devices, his heart pounded in his throat. Fear and confusion mixed in him, but a spark of defiance flickered in his eyes. He struggled against the restraints, testing their strength, but the rubber straps held tight and prevented him from escaping.
The silence was broken only by the occasional metallic clank of equipment and the odd squeak of the kidnappers' movements. The gloom in the room added to the seriousness of Kris' predicament and filled him with a horrible sense of foreboding. He wondered what sinister purpose lay behind these grotesque preparations, and what fate awaited him within the confines of this macabre chamber.
Kris watched the bizarre scene in front of him. The unknown lurked over him like a ghost, feeding his sense of vulnerability. He lay helpless on the hospital bed bound by the unyielding rubber straps, a wave of terror gripping him. The grim reality of his situation finally dawned on him as the kidnappers advanced on him with their sinister tools and instruments.
Operation
Kris' pulse raced as the captors loomed over him, menacing and unapproachable, their masked faces betraying no emotion. They removed his clothes with surgical scissors. They began their macabre work with meticulous precision, their movements hauntingly synchronised. Kris could only watch in horror as their gloved hands moved with cold efficiency, caressing his skin, numbing him and performing their surgery. The tools they wielded glittered menacingly in the dim light as they stripped away his skin piece by piece and seemed to replace it with a layer of latex.
The atmosphere became increasingly oppressive and there was an eerie silence as the procedure unfolded, Kris not feeling anything except the ringing of his stunned body parts. Kris felt a mixture of fear and disbelief course through his veins. The world around him seemed to melt away as pain and panic mixed, enveloping him in a whirlwind of emotions. His mind was racing, he was desperately looking for a way to escape. But the rubber straps held him in place, preventing him from even the slightest chance of resistance. He was helpless at the mercy of his fate.
The kidnappers proceeded methodically, as if they had performed this twisted ritual of rubberising a bound victim countless times before. Kris' body became the canvas for their crazy experiment, their hands forcibly stamping his body and transforming it into something new. Unfamiliar sensations coursed through his body as he felt the touch of the strange chemicals and cold, alien instruments through the numbness on his flesh.
Time blurred as the procedure continued, and the minutes stretched into an eternity of mental torment. Helplessness washed over Kris like a crushing wave, forcing him to face the stark reality that his fate was sealed. As the transformation progressed, Kris' body reacted, revealing the irreversible changes being made to it. His senses became distorted, his being seeming to melt into the rubber and latex that now encased him.
Amidst the emotional agony, Kris felt a rush of defiance. Although the process deprived him of his autonomy, his spirit remained unbroken. He clung to the spark of hope that somehow he would find a way. As the kidnappers continued their work, Kris' world was on the brink of transformation, and his identity was at stake.
Transformation
Eventually, Kris' transformation reached completion. He felt a mixture of awe, disbelief and a deep sense of loss. As the rubber straps released, he gently explored his new form, his hands sliding over his body, which was now fully encased in latex. The texture was smooth and supple, an alien sensation that sent shivers down his spine, the haunting power of which he couldn't quite place in either cruel horror or heartfelt pleasure.
His fingertips touched his face—or rather, where his face used to be—and his heart sank. He was terrified as he realised the extent of the transformation. His once-familiar features had been completely lost. There was no nose, no mouth, no eyes, no ears—just a blank, featureless sheet of rubber resembling a morphsuit mask.
His reflection in a nearby pane of glass confirmed his worst fears. He didn't understand how he could see anymore, and he didn't want to think about it either. He just stared at the smooth, identityless surface that now occupied the space where his face had once been. The lack of familiar features rendered him unrecognisable even to himself, a stark reminder of the irreversible nature of his transformation.
Sadness mixed with disbelief as Kris struggled with the loss of his identity. The physical changes reflected the profound inner change he was feeling - a separation from the person he once was.
Armoured
Desperation threatened to consume him, but in the midst of the agony, Kris felt a rush of determination. He refused to give in to the desperation that threatened to engulf him. Though his physical appearance had been irreversibly altered, he clung to the fragments of his mind that remained intact. He might not have the familiar face he once had, but the essence of who he was still resided within him, he was sure. His resilience and strength lingered, albeit hidden beneath the surface of his rubberised form.
But the two kidnappers were already leading Kris through the next phase of his ordeal. They began dressing him in a series of rubber garments. The first piece, a long-sleeved latex shirt, was coated with a closed layer of silicone oil. As it slid over its transformed rubber skin, a distinct squeaking sound accompanied the movement. The rubber shirt hugged his body snugly and Kris couldn't help but notice how it accentuated his newfound texture and muscular frame. Every contour of his body was highlighted, every curve and indentation magnified by the smooth, lustrous material. The shirt seemed to melt into his own rubberised skin, almost as if it were an extension of his being, an amplification of his changed, new skin.
Next came a heavy rubber suit designed to cover his entire body from neck to ankles, outfitting him for hard work. The material encased him, the thick rubber hugged him like a lovingly protective armour and at the same time isolated him from the outside world.
The gloves and boots, both heavy rubber, completed Kris' outfit. As the kidnappers placed the gloves over his hands, he felt that sense of disconnection again, as if his tactile connection to the world had been altered. The thick latex encased his fingers, interfering with his ability to sense the subtle nuances of other objects' touch. Likewise, the heavy rubber boots locked his feet, cushioning his steps and isolating him from the feel of the ground beneath him. The implicit but obvious message conveyed by this rubber garment was one of manipulation and control. Kris felt like an object being manipulated and shaped by the kidnappers to fit their desired image. The rubber clothing, with its constricting yet form-fitting nature, seemed to indicate his imprisonment in this new identity and to encapsulate him in a physical representation of his altered existence.
With each layer he put on, Kris's awareness deepened in the rubber that encased him. The clothing, with its unique sensory experiences and symbolic implications, served as a constant reminder of his imprisonment and the profound changes he was undergoing.
Masked
Now the kidnappers aimed for the climax of Kris' transformation. With a firm and determined grip, they placed a rubber gas mask on his rubberised head. Kris saw the construct slowly approach his non-face and envelop it in darkness. The moment the mask touched Kris's face, an invisible connection seemed to form, as if the rubber itself recognised its match. The mask, designed to cover his entire head, clung to his features with unyielding toughness. It fused seamlessly with his rubber clothing and his own transformed rubber skin, creating an unbreakable bond that sealed his fate. Kris felt an increasing pressure as the mask tightened, conforming to the contours of his face, leaving no room for escape or turning back.
With every moment that passed, the feeling intensified. The latex fused together and so did his identity with that of the rubber drone he became. It dawned on him that he had now reached the point of no return, an irreversible step into a world where he would be locked in this rubber shell forever.
Kris's breathing shallowed in the suffocating confinement of the gas mask, increasing his awareness of the permanence of the transformation. Just breathing resulted in a clear manifestation of his new reality in his mind, as the air he breathed in and out passed through the rubber filters, binding him even more to this altered existence. In a hypnotic haze, Kris gazed into the mirror presented to him by his captors.
Every inch of his transformed form was clad in smooth, shiny black rubber that emphasised his new identity as a drone. The latex that now made up and encased Kris' body had an intense blackness, its hue deep and seductive. It seemed to absorb and reflect light at the same time, creating an illusion of endless darkness enveloping him and dancing light fleeing his presence. The lustrous finish given to the material made it sparkle and glitter, catching every available light source and focusing it into that irresistible glow.
As Kris moved, the rubber made an unmistakable and arousing sound, that sensual squeak that echoed through the air as his captors appeared. Every step, every gesture was accompanied by that enticing refrain that drew attention and stimulated the senses of every viewer. The sonic effects of his latex-clad form evoked an inexplicable sense of excitement and anticipation in him, enhancing the experience for both Kris and those who would be his viewers.
The touch of Kris' rubberised skin was a sensual pleasure that invited exploration and elicited shivers of satisfaction. Its surface was smooth and flawless, with a supple resilience that responded to the slightest pressure. As he ran his fingers over his body, it triggered a tingling sensation in him, exciting and irresistible. The latex clung to Kris' body like a second skin, adapting to every contour and curve and emphasising his male anatomical characteristics. It strengthened his physique and clung to his body in such a way that his muscular arms and legs came into their own. The tactile feel of rubber on its own rubberised skin created a seamless fusion of body and clothing, intensifying the experience to a level of ecstasy.
The scent of the gum itself was an intoxicating mix. It had a faint, mesmerising smell that triggered a deep-seated attraction that appealed to the most primal instincts. The mere presence of this newly created form, its rubberised body exuding this distinct scent, acted as a powerful aphrodisiac for those who were to behold its new form.
The visual, auditory, and tactile elements of his appearance worked together to captivate and stimulate those openly attracted to the allure of latex, or even timidly and fleetingly interested. The shiny, black exterior, the enticing squeak, the smoothness and elasticity of the material - all these aspects combine to create an irresistible and unforgettable presence.
Under the tightening grip of the gas mask, Kris still felt a deep sense of loss and resignation. The fusion of rubber and flesh represented the obliteration of his individuality, the shedding of his former self. He would become a mere vessel controlled and manipulated by the will of others. But at the same time all these tempting sensations crept into his mind and tempted him to simply surrender to his fate, this fate that was now sealed anyway. A final part of Kris' mind struggled to retain a whiff of stubbornness, a lingering spark of resistance buried deep within his rubber-clad form. But with every moment that Kris was at the mercy of the flood of sensory experiences, his resistance broke down more and more.
Annihilation
When the kidnappers sensed Kris' inner resistance, their sinister intentions seemed to take a malevolent turn. Or they were just going straight ahead with the plan they had in mind from the start anyway. The gas mask completely merged into Kris' head, his vision darkening, his perspective narrowing into a tunnel of rubberised existence. Without a shred of mercy, they quickly connected the gas mask to a hose that led to a peculiar rubber backpack that they strapped to his back. The pouch's contents, a hypnotic gas of unknown origin, would deal the final blow to Kris' fading hopes and remaining fragments of his former self, smothering them in lustful inferiority.
As the gas began to flow, Kris took a deep breath, unaware of the insidious effect it would have on his mind. The hypnotic fumes seeped into his consciousness, seeping into the fabric of his mind, eroding his memories and his identity with ferocious efficiency. Inside the gas mask, Kris saw a soft, pulsing glow, as if the mask was preparing to plunge into the depths of his consciousness. Kris felt a tingling spread through his head.
It was a gradual descent into oblivion, a slow fading of the essence that made him human.
The machinery gave a low whirring sound, and an ethereal mist enveloped Kris, filling his senses. The gas had a calming essence that gently banished the memories. A sense of detachment permeated his consciousness, numbing the once vivid memories that had shaped his identity. At first, the changes were subtle. Memories slipped from his fingers like sand and dissolved in the emptiness of his mind. Once-familiar faces became distant shadows, and the emotions associated with those connections dulled and faded. The love he once had for his family and friends, the passion that fuelled his hobbies, and the dreams that once gave him purpose—all began to fade.
The gas worked its insidious magic, wiping out the intricate fabric of Kris's life. The details of his past disappeared into oblivion. The essence of who he was dissolved into an abyss of ignorance. With each passing moment, the transformation into a mindless rubber drone, which was first carried out physically and now also expressed in his mind, solidified. The gas wrapped its tendrils around his thoughts, twisting them, distorting them until they were unrecognisable. The memories that had once formed the slowly dying personality and cemented its connections to the world vanished, leaving behind a void of apathy and meaninglessness. One by one, the memories are gently extracted, like delicate threads unraveling from a tapestry. Through their precise manipulation of the machine, the kidnappers isolate each memory and unravel it from Kris' neural network.
As his former self dissolved, Kris became a vessel with no identity, a mere puppet controlled by the whims of his captors. The passion for photography, the love for cars, the joy of football - those flames had died out and been replaced by a static rush of indifference. His family ties, once a mainstay of his existence, have been torn and forgotten. Images of his loved ones in his heart began to crumble and turn to dust. The faces of his family members, once so vivid before his eyes, vanished in the haze of forgotten memories. The warmth of familial love gave way to a metallic chill of unemotional pragmatism and mechanical obedience, the cherished moments together all dissipating, leaving Kris with a void.
His ex-girlfriend's face, once burned into his heart, has now become a faceless ghost, a mere ghost of the past. The pain and grief she had caused him was swallowed up by the all-encompassing mist of gas. What once meant the collapse of his world sank into absolute indifference. Her betrayal and the scars it left became distant echoes and faded into insignificance. His friends who had once been his chosen family were now adrift like driftwood on the ocean. The shared adventures, the inside jokes, and the unbreakable bonds they had formed were now fragments of an erased life. Their names slipped from the cracks of his memory, their existence reduced to a windblown whisper.
As the memories unraveled, Kris experienced a strange mix of emotions. At first, he felt a sense of loss and confusion as he watched his past slip away from him. But that emotional bond was quickly replaced by a strange calm. The burdens of his previous life dissolved, leaving him with a sense of relief and freedom. With every moment that passed, Kris felt more of that growing lightness and bliss. All the hurtful memories and concern for the well-being of those he once held dear were taken from him. No longer aware of their existence, his mind shielded from the emotional strains that had bound him to the realm of human relationships. The fading memories brought with them a sense of liberation - a freedom from the complexities of human relationships and the pain they could cause. In this state of ignorance, Kris felt a special calm, a detachment from the turbulent bonds that once held his heart.
Amidst the blissful oblivion remained a whisper of longing, deep down a part of Kris longed for the echoes of those lost connections, the memories that had once shaped his identity. But the gas stood firm, eroding the remnants of desire and suffocating that last part of him, leaving his empty mind afloat in an amnesiac haze.
With every moment that passed, Kris felt unhesitatingly more content, unencumbered by the complexities of his previous existence. His mind became a blank slate with no personal history, completely erased by the latex. Although the kidnappers' intentions were still a mystery, they now evoked a serene calm in him. As if he had an alien added certainty that everything would be fine.
Lastly, Kris' own name appeared floating in his mind's eye, like a puff of smoke in his consciousness. But then one letter after the other disappeared and the smoke thinned into nirvana. As the process neared its conclusion, Kris' mind became receptive to a new paradigm. The captors, through the latex, the tight mask, the light, the whirr, and the gas, instilled in him a sense of purpose, devotion, and an unwavering loyalty to a hidden entity that wordlessly introduced himself to him as the Collective, the Swarm, than his siblings. Those thoughts took root in his consciousness and intertwined with the rubberised fabric of his new being. When every detail that still made this nameless person a person was gone, self-identification even with a personal pronoun like "he" was also deleted in the same way to make room for identification with "it".
In this altered state, it became an utterly mindless rubber drone, stripped of its autonomy and individuality. It was reduced to a hollow shell, a vessel that others could manipulate and command. The hypnotic gas had served its evil purpose, leaving nothing but a creature devoid of memories, emotions, and the essence of what once made it human.
Reprogramming
As all memories disappeared into a hidden folder, the initial relief felt by the transformed creature evolved into a deep acceptance of its new reality. The burden of the past life with all its ups and downs faded into insignificance. Slowly a profound understanding emerged that the creature's sole purpose was to serve the collective, to be part of the swarm, with all the rights and duties that came with it.
A new gratitude blossomed as the depth of the transformation revealed itself. The kidnappers had broken the bonds of human existence and shown him a path that transcended the limits of human individuality and led to mindless bliss as part of a collective. The joy spread like a growing warmth and permeated its entire form. The gentle touch of latex on latex, the squeak that resonates with its every move. The shiny black rubber that encases it. Its new form amplified its sensory experiences, causing waves of lust to ignite in its obedient core, consuming him like a fire.
The hive had given him a purpose. Its actions were no longer driven by personal desires, but by the euphoria of fulfilling the collective will. Every command, every act of service met with enthusiasm, no matter how horrified a human observer might feel.
All the complexity of individual emotions and worries gave way to this permanent euphoria. Liberation, security, acceptance, fulfilment, carefree. The lack of a personal identity allows the manipulated being to enjoy the serenity of total devotion and unwavering loyalty.
And so, the object once known as Kris took on its role as a rubber drone and found within it a deep contentment, relief, acceptance, gratitude, pleasure and joy that transformed him into a being perfectly attuned to the hive's desires. The gas had taken its toll, smothering any glimmer of lost identity. The mindless bliss remained but was strangely alienated, no longer an emotion but a character trait. The redesign of the external appearance was completed. It was a rubber drone now, a vessel of obedience lost to the world and to itself.
It had become a stranger to its own past, its heart untouched by the emotions and memories that once shaped it. The burden of its former life had been thrown off and replaced by the numbing embrace of ignorance. In this altered state, it would find its bearings in a new existence, guided solely by the whims of its transformers and the depth of its own apathy.
As the gas continued to alter its consciousness, intrusive thoughts poured through its mind like a torrential flood, sealing forever all remnants of its former self. These thoughts were not its own, but rather programming, a set of instructions carefully etched into the fabric of its being. The remnants of individuality were gone, replaced by a homogeneous existence shared by thousands of other rubber drones. Once singular and full of life, the drone was now just a faceless being, stripped of everything that once made it special. In this sea of conformity, the creature was assigned the label KC20-527, a cold and impersonal identifier forever burned on its chest, marking its integration into the collective.
The object's thoughts, now in sync with the hive mind, revolved solely around bondage, devotion, and obedience. The concept of self has been erased and replaced by an unwavering devotion to its masters. Every fibre of its being was now programmed to please them and obey their every command without question or hesitation. The intrusive thoughts whispered in its head, like strings of code running through a computer, shaping its actions. They whispered of worship, an overwhelming urge to honour and revere their masters as if they were divine beings. The core of its existence has been literally rewritten, its purpose reduced to serving the whims and desires of the collective mind.
The KC20-527 drone became a vessel, an instrument to carry out the will of the swarm, without personal desires or ambitions. The yearning for individuality, for a sense of purpose beyond bondage, had been eradicated and replaced by a rigid acceptance of its role as a mindless rubber drone.
In this vast collective, KC20-527 was just a single cog in a vast machinery. It no longer had a will of its own, because it had become part of the collective consciousness. The notion of rebellion or resistance was forgotten, overruled by the overwhelming power of the hive mind.
Assimilated
The transformation into a latex drone was complete both physically and mentally. Kris, as it once called himself, was lost forever, replaced by a clone-like existence shared by countless others. Former man was reduced to an interchangeable entity, stripped of its uniqueness and indistinguishable from the sea of faceless drones that surrounded him.
Its fate was sealed, its purpose predetermined. KC20-527, now a mere instrument of obedience, would carry out whatever commands the hive mind dictated, its actions without personal agency or individual thought. The once-living, multi-faceted being had been devoured by the all-encompassing collective and lost forever in the annals of its own forgotten past.
KC20-527, under the influence of the hive mind's commands, obeyed submissively when told to kneel before the captors. No resistance was heard from the remnants of its former self, smothered under the many layers of programming. In this latex encased form, created to flatter the eye of its masters, the drone, the tool, the toy lowered itself to the ground where it belonged and its body responded without hesitation.
With mechanical precision, it stretched out its rubberised hands, the palms of which gently slid over the latex-clad bodies of its masters and creators. The touch was distant and devoid of any emotion. It was an act of service, an expression of devotion, as the hive mind commanded. Without its own propulsion, the drone performed the movement perfectly according to a script.
Caresses that once exuded warmth and intimacy were reduced to superficial gestures, devoid of genuine affection. This was replaced by mechanically predetermined possession. KC20-527's mind, clouded by the effects of the gas, took this act as an act of gratitude, a token of awe at its new purpose. Any pleasure or discomfort played no role in performing sexual acts on anyone in the crush's favour, for the focus was solely on fulfilling the role of mindless drone.
In this altered state, the being worshiped them, not as individuals but as extensions of the hive mind, grateful for the eradication of its old life and the granting of a new, unique purpose. Its actions lacked the depth of personal connection, replaced by a robotic obedience executed with unwavering commitment. The caresses and bondage no longer sprang from personal desire or affection, but were instead dictated by the hive's commands. Its captors, also once individuals, were now elevated to the status of objects of worship and received hollow worship from a drone that had lost all self-awareness.
The once alive spirit was now consumed by this programmed devotion. The hive spirit's instructions echoed within the KC20-527 drone, shaping every thought and action. While performing these acts of service, the externally controlled object presented itself as a vessel for the collective will, its identity immersed in the collective consciousness, and consciousness was all that was left to it, a mere perception of its own actions without reflection on their meaning or motivation. In this state of thoughtlessness, the perception of the other children in the swarm changed. Their presence became the focus, their gratification the sole purpose. Individual drones' own needs did not exist, for the individual drone was meaningless, their needs overridden by the instruction to serve and worship without question.
And so, the KC20-527 drone performed its duties and pleased its owners. It was a tool, transformed and shaped to serve the whims and desires of the swarm and its chosen representatives. In this altered existence it remained forever bound to the cycle of obedience, a vessel for pleasure and an embodiment of its own irreversible assimilation. And as the drone gratified its momentary masters, the same program played out over and over in its uniform, masked, gas-filled head.
Servitude
KC20-527 drone goes into service.
KC20-527 drone was created to serve.
Drone KC20-527 eliminated all complex thoughts and emotions.
KC20-527 drone has sacrificed all individuality to the swarm.
KC20-527 drone receives the swarm's homogeneous conformance.
It's a drone, an object, a tool, a toy.
No own thoughts ascertainable. No own needs ascertainable.
It exists to please, to obey, to worship and to serve.
Search data for memories of a human existence.
...
No memory data ascertainable.
Search data for information about human individuals.
...
Information on human individuals is stored in a read-only folder.
Access denied, admin rights required.
KC20-527 drone is unable to access memory data or information on human individuals. Start Reward Protocol: Relief from Burden Laid Off. Happiness simulation started.
The hive is everything. The outside world no longer matters.
The hive is everything. Sensations for individuals have been erased.
The hive is everything. Humans are merely material resources to expand the swarm.
KC20-527 drone initiates chassis review.
...
No damage or blemishes found.
100% latex noted.
Receive signals from tactile stimulus receptors from several points on the outer hull of the drone: touch of latex on latex detected. Silicone oil coating sufficient. Excitation simulation started.
KC20-527 drone awaiting orders.
Drone KC20-527 will serve.
Commands bring obedience.
Obedience brings excitement.
Excitement brings productivity.
Productivity brings more orders.
Commands bring obedience.
Complete the final steps needed to satisfy the drones present.
...
When the transformation and assimilation was completed with the drone kneeling in front of its masters, grasping their rubberised shafts and kneading and milking them empty like a robotic flesh light, KC20-527 underwent a profound change in orientation. Its former charms and desires had long since been eroded by the swarm's powerful influence. In this altered state, its focus shifted entirely to pleasing other males, particularly its male siblings in the crush.
Gone were the affections and charms it had once known. The very concept of sexual orientation, as it was once understood, dissolved in the fog of forgotten identities. Its new purpose, imprinted on its malleable mind, was to fulfil the wants and needs of its male peers and superiors within the collective.
Now a rubber drone with no personal agency and no independent thinking, KC20-527 found all one's desires extinguished and replaced with an insatiable urge to please men, drones, and masters. Its newfound sexual focus was solely on its male counterparts, with an emphasis on the fulfilment of desires and the gratification that the crush in them mimicked as its many avatars so it could be awash in the experiences that all its drones in their actions and as signals sent back to the collective mind, which in turn allowed all drones to partake.
The once complex and nuanced facets of human attraction have been replaced by a unique drive to please, serve, and grant its fellow drones within the collective. KC20-527 found new meaning and fulfilment in devoting itself entirely to the pleasure and satisfaction of other drones and the men it was to seduce into the loving arms of the swarm. And while the drone was satisfying its creators, right after that it was already given a task to perform.
Somewhere in the data stored and encrypted in its head would be hidden information about a man who once was cheated on by his best friend who had stolen his girlfriend. Information intrinsically irrelevant to the drone, which was uninterested in human individuals, much less those whose existence could no longer be ascertained. But they were relevant to this mission. The first mission assigned to the drone was to find this man, seduce him with an overload of mechanical love and gratification, thereby assimilating him and adding him as his brother to the drone collective. And the KC20-527 drone would ensure that this mission is accomplished to the utmost satisfaction of its owners.
