Drone Metastasis Chapter Two
Zach sighed, slipping on his headset. He didn't like blowing off his dad, but he had truly been waiting for this game to be released for months. He'd arranged with his friends to show up at seven sharp and he didn't want to be late, or they'd leave him behind and skip ahead.
Nothing was worse than being several levels behind friends and having new content spoiled. He was determined to avoid the inevitable disappointment this time by spending all of his spare hours pushing ahead to the end game.
He was fairly confident in his abilities, and knew that his mother wouldn't bother him. He should have at least four to five hours to himself before bedtime.
As soon as his bedroom door had closed, he had stripped out of his normal clothing and climbed into an Encounter suit. It consisted of a two piece outfit made of synthetic material with a sensory mat built into the interior.
Extending up to his neck, it allowed virtual games to apply realistic forces to his body. Yes, it could be used for erotic stimulation, but not without special attachments that he had squirreled away back at his college dorm room. He didn't want to have that particular conversation with his parents.
The headphones surrounding his ears chimed with a soft bong, a welcome sign that he was about to enter an alternate reality where he was actually good at things. Real life had been a big drag on him lately. Sure, he was doing okay at school, but his social life had been a desert.
That’s why he retreated into a virtual cocoon where he could be heroic. Save a few galaxies and kiss a few girls. Those the game would allow him to romance, anyway.
The social interface booted up, placing him in a form of purgatory. An infinite number of white blocks surrounded him, slowly building and coloring themselves in as his local world loaded.
He was standing in front of his own personal castle, at the foot of a wooden drawbridge. The portcullis was drawn up, leading to a formidable stone fortress complete with circular towers, murder holes, and crenellations.
It had taken him months to construct properly, and he was properly proud with how it had turned out. Simulated characters walked past him, donkeys carrying cart loads of goods inside.
The material they supplied could in turn be crafted into different types of blocks which he could use to expand his personal fiefdom, if he so chose.
This neutral world was a fun place to build, and since there was only a nominal monthly fee to connect, many people spent all of their time in this virtual reality, endlessly building and destroying their own creations.
Not him, though. He preferred playing more structured games, and fortunately he had a couple of friends that liked to tag along. They should be showing up soon… ah, Nate had just spawned in.
He was dressed in a full suit of plate armor, trotting towards Zach in clanking metal. "Mrmglr mrph mmm," he declared as he approached.
"Oh, come off it, man, it wasn't funny the first time," groaned Zach, shifting the bow sitting on his back.
Nate reached up and pushed his visor open with a metallic click. "Mrgl mmph hmm," he said.
Zach rolled his eyes, jumping when someone touched him gently on the shoulder. He spun around, leaping backward a few feet, heart pounding. "Dammit, Dave, that's dirty pool," he declared, shifting his glasses and blinking.
Corrective lenses weren't necessary in VR, but he thought they made him look cool. Accessories were status symbols in the virtual landscape.
"I'm very sorry, I just couldn't resist, you see – you weren't paying attention and I'm a sneaky rogue character and I thought it would be amusing," he whispered, speaking as fast as possible. His mousey face twitched, whiskers bunching furiously.
"Mmph, grph," agreed Nate, growling in his ear.
He threw up his arms. "If you guys want to be assholes, fine. I'll go play 'Drone Galaxy' by myself."
He punched the air, bringing up his virtual interface. He had preloaded the game last week and all he needed to do was hit the button. His finger itched, but he hesitated. It really wouldn't be as fun without his friends.
A heavy hand laid on his shoulder. "Don't be that way, my good sir," declared Nate in a stentorian voice. "Nobody should be forced to adventure alone."
Better. At least he was speaking now, if only in that ridiculous, ostentatious voice.
"Aw, don't be mad," said Dave normally. "We know you've been waiting for this thing to drop for ages." He opened his own interface. "Let's get this party started! See ya after the intro!" He saluted.
Zach returned the salute and punched the launch button. His avatar swirled and rippled, the world vanishing around him. The vibrant landscape was replaced with an orange loading grid in the shape of a box, a yellow progress bar stretching from the floor to the ceiling.
As the yellow bar reached the top, the loading chamber faded out, filling with a black background full of stars, his avatar drifting through space.
A sonorous voice over talked about how bad things had gotten in the galaxy and that there were billions of people crying out for a hero. A standard introduction spiel. He was tempted to skip it, but was glad he didn't when a splash screen floated in from the side.
"Drone Galaxy," it declared with an unsettling wavy spiral, white on black. Silhouetted was a figure of a man kneeling, a leather leash leading to the hand of a woman wearing stilettos.
He knew this game was adult in nature, but like most of these RPGs, he expected that it would take quite some time to get to the good stuff. He'd play around a bit, make some saves, and hopefully would have access to his sex harness at his college dorm when the good stuff came up.
He'd make do if he had to, but not in front of his friends, of course. That would be damn embarrassing.
The screen faded out and a room materialized around him. He'd never been in a ship cabin before, but he had plenty of experience from playing other games. This looked like a standard science fiction setting.
He picked up a pad from a side table and looked it over, clicking it on. He was captain of an automated ore hauler, and from the manifest he was shipping a lot of it. To some place named Praxus III, not that it mattered.
His main goal right now was to break out of the tutorial mission and get to work on leveling up his character so he could find his friends. Talking to them right now would be a distraction, so he didn't bother booting up the comm interface.
Instead, he marched through the sliding door of his quarters, looking left and right in wonder. The bridge was a literal bubble of glass, giving him excellent visibility into the blackness of space all around him, interrupted only by reinforcing structural members. In the back corner near a bulkhead was a cylindrical container containing a spacesuit. Doubtless for external inspections or emergencies.
The detail the devs had put into the game were amazing. Texturing on the interior was high quality and must have taken a large chunk of time and money to get right.
And the exterior! My goodness! He could see thousands of stars out there, and he knew for a fact that they hadn't been procedurally generated, as he recognized some of the constellations from his schooling. They had probably taken a real map of the galaxy and loaded it into the game. Yet another detail they hadn't skimped money on.
Hopefully they hadn't spent everything on making it look pretty. Good graphics were nice, but in his experience the story would make or break the experience.
A warning klaxon echoed around the small bridge, stealing his attention. Adrenaline pumping, he rushed up to the center console.
If he failed the tutorial mission or took forever to get it right, he wouldn't be able to look his friends in the face. He could already imagine the jeers, which simply increased the pressure to figure out what was going on.
He clicked on the interface, pressing on a section next to an area that was blinking. No, that displayed a picture of his ship along with his speed and cargo containers. It looked like his ship was some kind of tug, magnetically connected to the containers it was hauling.
Dropping the load would likely speed him up, but could also fail him the mission. Best to keep that as a last resort.
He clicked back, looking for the source of the alarm, which was beating itself into his brain making it harder for him to think. Intentional on the part of the devs, he was certain.
The touch screen went back to its original display, filled with irrelevant numbers. He peered more closely at the flashing section. Ah, he had pressed the wrong button. He needed to tap the red arrow.
That accomplished, the display blanked and replaced itself with a top down view of his ship, showing an arc in front of him. A red dot was approaching from starboard.
Was it an asteroid? Was he about to hit something? It did appear to be approaching at a fast rate.
He needed to steer out of danger, and quickly. He looked around for controls, spotting a large wooden wheel at a forward station.
A bit anachronistic perhaps, but this was a game, after all. Who knew? It could actually be realistic. He certainly hadn't captained a real star ship before.
He leaped over the center console, dashing to the front and spinning the wheel to the left. The ship lurched, sending him careening to the right.
Of course! The containers behind him were jackknifing, unable to follow his commands smoothly. Perhaps he should have been more gentle? He'd try that next time.
At any rate, the klaxon was still sounding, the throbbing in his temples reaching critical mass. He trotted back up to the center console and cursed. The red dot hadn't moved position. Whatever he had done hadn't been successful. Or it had adjusted course to intercept him.
The ship shuddered, tossing him forward. He barely missed hitting his head on the display, rolling and moaning as his shoulder impacted the steering wheel.
He took a few moments to regain his breath and lick his wounds. At least he wasn't in too much pain. This game wasn't pulling any punches!
There hadn't been a game over, so this must be an expected outcome, or at least there was more he needed to try before restarting.
A tone sounded, followed by a calm voice from the computer. "Autopilot released. Possible cargo damage. Hull breach on deck two."
That didn’t sound good, but he didn’t know what to do. Not a problem. This was a game, and games were all about experimentation. If he failed, he’d try again until he figured it out. If he got stuck, he’d go join a chat server and talk it out with his friends.
He needed to be down on deck two to get the measure of his enemies. Casting about, he located a ladder near the rear of the bridge. There was probably a lift somewhere, but he didn’t have time to find it.
Rushing over, he started to climb down, noting stencils helpfully applied to the walls of the shaft. The next floor down was deck three, which meant the ship must be numbered up from the bottom.
Passing a locked hatch, he continued down, stopping at the next one. This must be it.
He wrapped his hands around a large red wheel, startled when it moved smoothly under his hands. Some would probably complain about the shitty starter vessel, but at least it was well maintained.
He rotated the steel hatch inwards, stepping into a corridor. There were no klaxons here, but orange lights ran in two strips down the hallway, interrupted by doorways.
It was at this point that he brought himself up short, realizing that he was being incredibly stupid. He was about to encounter either a hull breach or some form of invaders. Dressed in a uniform which contained… wait, what did it contain?
He furrowed his brow and rifled through his pockets. A comm unit, yes, that was expected. A wallet with a plastic ident card. Some change. No weaponry, mores the pity. He’d need to look elsewhere.
Curious, he walked up to one of the nearby cargo doors. Large, and imposing, they failed to register his presence. A red light highlighted the periphery. Locked, perhaps, though as captain he should have access to all parts of his ship. Probably just the game designers putting in some guard rails to keep the players focused.
He shrugged and continued on, a niggling worry at the back of his brain that he had missed something from earlier which could have helped him. No matter, he’d look for it next time.
He walked to the next section of the corridor, frowning and stooping down to inspect a collection of metal spheres lying on the ground. They were odd and out of place in the otherwise meticulously clean space ship. Spare supplies?
He picked up one of the globes and examined it more closely. The metallic surface was finely textured, intricate circuitry visible just below the transparent surface. Even stranger. What was advanced technology doing aboard a cargo freighter?
Turning it over, he thought he caught a glimpse of blue light. That couldn’t be a reflection – the orange warning lights couldn’t possibly create that attractive hue. There, at an intersection of several creases of circuitry, there was a hole leading deeper inside the device.
Peering into it intently, he barely noticed as his jaw dropped open and his curious thoughts circled the drain. All he could do was look closer, look at the small amount of light filtering from within the sphere. The mystery here was his to unlock, if he could but figure it out.
Stiff, he failed to notice as two more large, spherical robots arrived, rolling down the corridor. Small port holes opened in their chrome exterior, robotic legs unfurling from inside. Smaller robots rolled along the ceiling, blue liquid sloshing in their bellies.
One by one they dropped to the floor with loud metallic clunks. Zach paid no them attention, so absorbed was he by the fascinating light which had seized control of his mind.
Prehensile tendrils extended from the robot closest to him, wrapping around his legs and levering itself upwards onto his torso. Two of its appendages wrapped around his shoulder blades, moving the heavy orb closer to his face, hiding the globe which held his attention.
Before he could react, a rubbery mask attached to the side of the robot slipped over his nose and mouth, sealing against his head with a sudden suction.
He smiled uncontrollably as blue gas diffused into his lungs, carrying his conscious mind away.
***
Zoe wasn't sure how long she had been dancing. The bright lights swirled back and forth as the band played on. She couldn't make out the lyrics, but they were making her body feel comfortable as she gyrated. Her entire body felt warm.
The thick blue mist on the dance floor made it impossible for her to tell who she was even dancing with, but the slender silhouette indicated it was a woman. A faint frown creased her brow before vanishing. She wasn't like that. She was into guys, but here she was bumping and grinding with a woman. How strange!
The thumping music vibrated her body. She moved to the primal beat, pressing herself against the unknown woman. It felt nice. There was a sense of rightness, as if she was doing exactly what she should be.
Suddenly, the hand grasping hers began to tug her, leading her away from the dance floor. She stumbled, confused. An arm wrapped around her shoulder, helping to guide her up the steps, towards the rear of the club.
Escaping the cloud of mist, her thoughts began to clear just a little. She was being led forward by a blue skinned woman, her left hand clasped as she was urged onward.
"What is going on?" she asked with vague concern, giggling.
A shiny metal helmet pressed against her head, a warm breath against her ear. "You're doing just fine. I'm taking you to a more private setting. Your friend will be joining us soon."
That seemed odd. How did this woman know that she had come with a friend? Her lips moved with apprehension, but all thoughts flew from her mind when the woman's hand wrapped around her neck, keeping her focused. She marched forward, like a doll.
"Good girl," whispered the feminine voice. "You're going to have so much fun!"
Zoe marched, her legs moving robotically. They walked through a set of double doors and down a long corridor, past openings closed off with dark blue curtains. Cool laughter and cheerful voices chased them as they moved on.
The guiding hand squeezed, and she halted in front of one of the curtains. Her curiosity had seized control. At this point she just wanted to know what came next.
The woman moved in front of her and pulled the curtain aside, revealing a small chamber.
It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkened interior, but once they did she blinked with astonishment. Sitting on the back end of a couch was a large, blue skinned woman, completely nude. She was entirely hairless, except for her eyebrows, a sparkling blue gem shining from her breastbone.
Her arms hung negligently over the necks of two nude women who nestled into her body on either side. They weren’t blue skinned as she was, but appeared entranced, kissing and licking the sides of her breasts. One of them mouthed a purplish nipple, gently sucking. The woman grunted, but didn’t shift her posture. She sat up straight, as if on a throne, lending her an air of regality.
In front of the women was a large spherical glass sculpture that took pride of place in the center of the room, the circular sofa surrounding it like a half moon.
The sphere was three quarters full of a blue liquid, bubbles spiraling up from below. Lit from within, it looked similar to a lava lamp.
A hazy blue gas gathered near the top, where it was fed into numerous curled loops of glass. At the end of each loop was a spigot that connected to a woven tube.
As she watched, the two submissive women inhaled from tubes that were coiled over their arms. As they exhaled, a blue mist swirled towards the ceiling, spiraling around the head of the alien looking woman nestled between them. They were clearly smoking the liquid.
They cooed and their bodies relaxed back into that of their mistress, jamming their heads under her arms. Eyes dulled, they looked like they belonged there. Belonged to their Mistress. What power did this woman wield over them?
She felt a faint urge to leave, but after a few deep breaths, it left her. She felt calm, and curious.
"Why have I been brought back here?" she asked, her words a little slurred.
The woman sat up, despite the protests from her groupies. A bright smile lit her rouged lips. "We’ve been watching you, and I find you interesting."
Zoe frowned, her thoughts moving more slowly than usual. "That’s… an invasion of my privacy."
The woman chuckled. "It’s hardly illegal. We watch everyone who enters the club as a matter of course, but you are more interesting than most."
She gestured at the globe in the center of the room. "Would you like to take a seat and try it out? We can discuss this further while you relax. It’s a very exotic mixture, quite difficult to obtain."
The container burbled, bubbles dancing as the gas swirled inside. The two girls took another pull from the canister, groaning with ecstasy as they exhaled.
Zoe stared at her, waiting through a pregnant pause with lifted brows. There was no way in hell she was about to accept mysterious drugs from a stranger, even if her inhibitions were currently deadened.
The woman shifted, sitting up and looking at her with intensity. "Very good. The way you finessed the bouncer, my dear, showed a range of independent thought we’ve been looking for. Your refusal to venture into the unknown via our special mixture demonstrates intelligence. The sort of intelligence that is sorely lacking in much of the general populace. We need people like you."
"To what?" she slurred. "To help you run your club?"
"No, of course not," she said in her velvety voice. "To help us turn everyone into Hive Drones. Hive is actively recruiting for open positions, and I do believe you have the abilities necessary to be a Director. You may have the talent to reach for something higher, but that’s not something we try to ascertain during an initial interview."
Zoe looking around, a strange sensation tickling her neck. "I’m being interviewed?" she asked, not really looking for an answer.
It was starting to dawn on her that she might be in real trouble. This talk of Hive was really making her uncomfortable.
"No," replied the woman, caressing the heads of her two slaves, one of which was actively trying to go for her crotch. "Your reactions so far have shown that you are already acceptable material. You have been Chosen."
Chosen for what? The discussion had finally gotten too weird for her. She needed to find a way out. She turned to leave, but the curtain drew back and Simone rushed though. "There you are, Zoe!" she declared brightly, leaning over to give her a chaste peck on the cheek. "I’ve been looking all over for you, and the staff have been stonewalling me!"
Zoe felt a burst of relief. For once, her friend’s impulsiveness was going to save her instead of getting her into more trouble.
Simone stared angrily at the woman in the back, who raised her hands, shrugging. "I have not attempted to detain her, simply entertain her, but she refuses to relax." Her eyes narrowed and she gestured at the bubbling container, picking up one of the tubes and offering it to Simone with one of her slender arms.
Her hypnotic gem winked as she flexed her arms. "Would you like to give it a try?"
Simone grinned, reaching out for the tip. "How generous of you! This club is the best!" She placed it between her lip, closing her eyes as blue mist flowed through the transparent hose.
"No, wait!" shouted Zoe, reaching out, but it was too late.
Simone grunted, exhaling a large, blue cloud. Her eyes dulled, losing some of their shine. She turned to Zoe, her lips parting. "Exquisite," she declared, sticking the pipe back into her mouth for another pull.
The woman in the back laughed. "So suggestible. She’ll make a fine slave."
She stood up, brushing aside her attendants. She loomed forward over the globe, looking impossibly tall. "It's a common misconception that the most assertive personality is the best fit for the role of Director. With assertiveness comes impulsiveness. That’s why we want someone who thinks before acting. Her sort of obedience is perfect for the common Drone. She is not destined for something greater. Not like you are."
Zoe was only half paying attention to her words, desperately trying to pull Simone away. Simone rebuffed her efforts, taking a third breath of the blue gas. She seemed well and truly caught.
It wasn’t working. She made a distressed noise, fear blossoming in her chest. She didn’t want to leave without her friend, but she didn’t have the physical strength to get her away from here. She’d have to get help by herself.
"Of course, there is also a place for those who act," chuckled the woman.
The curtain behind Zoe drew open and numerous hands seized her from behind.
***
Zach stood stock still, watching the crowd attentively. He wanted to stop, but couldn’t. The interface had been Installed in his throat and he could not disobey the commands being fed to him through the Gestalt.
He had been standing there most of the day, breathing in the blue mist fed to his lungs via his gas mask. An intense concentration had settled over his thoughts, making him extremely focused. He must look for threats. That was his duty.
There, over on the left side of the crowd, near the colonnade. There was a small group that wasn’t looking up at the balcony with adoration. They were shoving aside some of the faithful, forcing them to fall to their knees. Possible dissidents, attempting to infiltrate and find a way to get to his Queen.
A bright blaze of pleasure burst through his mind when he thought of Her, but only for a moment. Not enough to prevent him from doing his job.
He pressed a hand against the side of his throat, activating an embedded transmitter. His mouth clicked in Drone speech. A short reply, and he was away, darting through the entranced crowd, heading towards the disturbance in his slick, black bodysuit with unnatural speed.
They had seen him, of course. It was hard to mistake his lanky figure in black latex. There wasn’t much they could do, however. He had angled his approach, putting him behind a column when they finally got up the gumption to take a few shots at him.
It didn’t matter. He wasn’t the only one who had been sent to quell the intruders. He could hear the clicks of their smooth thoughts in his brain. They all worked as one in Hive.
Feeling their presence, he knew the exact time to round the corner and pull out his shock prod, jabbing one of the miscreants in the side.
Crying out, the man fell to the floor, his laser pistol spinning away into the murmuring crowd. If necessary, Hive could recruit some of the Drones to capture the intruders, but that might damage some of them. Best to let the specialists handle the interlopers.
In this case, he and two other guards had the situation well in hand. The four intruders were disarmed, spherical robots arriving to apply the necessary bondage. They had dressed themselves in latex Hive uniforms to help them blend in, but it was their actions that had given them away. They would be removed and converted, becoming more Hive Drones. Hive was ascendant.
Nobody would touch the Queen. He would see to it.
He smiled brightly inside his mask, almost manic, taking another puff of gas, which soothed and rewarded his mind for doing such a good job.
He stood back at attention, clacking his boots together, scanning the crowd. The other Drones were recovering, reforming into perfect ranks. His eyes rose upwards, taking in the balcony above.
He briefly spotted dark purple eyes that pierced his heart like a dagger. From this distance, they should have been inconsequential, but he could feel a firm pressure through the Gestalt. One arm lifted up slowly, her hand gesturing at him. He was being summoned.
Excited, he took another breath of the gas, which calmed him back down and focused his thoughts. He lived to serve.
Marching robotically through the crowd of other Drones, he lifted his booted heel as he climbed over the threshold of the palace. He paused for a moment, but there was no room in his controlled thoughts for disobedience.
He took in the interior, seeking potential threats. All he saw were marble floors and columns decorated with volutes, the blue texture of the stone having the appearance of ocean waves frozen in place.
He did not recall being inside the palace before, but all his memories from before were hazy. He vaguely recollected being on a ship. Something bad had happened to him, but he took another breath of gas and his concerns floated away.
He was a Controlled guard Drone. He obeyed.
His steps were measured, as were his breaths. The pressure in his head moderated his actions. He turned left, facing a series of lift doors.
His constantly scanning head picked up two more Drone forms, but his mind instantly discounted them as threats. They were wearing the slick, black Drone bodysuit, as he was, breathing the blue gas generated from silver tanks attached to their backs. Guard Drones lining up in front of a lift like him, doubtless following the commands in their minds.
The door in front of him slid open and he stepped inside, turning on his heel to face the entrance. His arms snapped to his sides, his body jolting as the doors closed and the lift began to move.
He felt a thrill at obeying the presence in his head. He could not imagine it otherwise. He was a good Drone.
The lift halted, the doors opening on a spacious interior, a gigantic dome arching overhead. At the top was a circular opening, an image of the sky above projected onto its surface. Sculptures of blue skinned heralds leaned out from the walls, trumpets pointed towards the heavens.
Mounted in the center of the room on a plinth was a large statue of a woman, sitting on a throne with her legs crossed. Carved into the rock was an elaborate outfit, ruffles decorating her neck. He imagined he could see creases in the fabric.
He shuddered as he recognized the likeness of his Queen, desiring nothing more than to drop to his knees and worship Her. He could not, however, as Hive had not ordered that behavior.
He stopped several yards into the expansive room, noting the other two guards to his left who doubtless had left their lifts at the same time as him. An inefficient means of transportation, but very ordered. All as Hive ordained.
A train of Drones arrived from his right, trotting in front of a waist high wall decorated with potted plants. They were led by a command Drone wearing a dark purple latex dress. Her nails shone green, blue eyes flashing as she approached, walking effortlessly on platform boots.
Her doll-like face twisted into a smile as she took in the guards standing at attention, red chevrons decorating her blue cheeks. An intricate collar wrapped around her neck, a small ‘five’ embossed in a rectangular square on the front.
She stepped up to Zach, lifting a delicate hand to rest on his shoulder. He stood still, staring straight ahead. He was calm. He was ordered. He was under Hive control.
"Good, Drone. You and your fellow guards have fully acclimatized to your modifications, spotting and neutralizing a threat to Hive within hours of being Implanted. The Queen is impressed."
Zach did not reply. He had only done his duty as a Drone. It was nothing special.
Five dropped her arm. "Drones are rewarded for good behavior." She snapped her fingers, and the three nude female Drones behind her turned and leaned over the wall behind her, spreading their legs.
A different kind of pressure pushed him forward, his eyes roving over the well built butt of the Drone in front of him. His penis sprang to attention, constrained by the tight latex around his crotch. The clear bulge in the shiny blackness of the slick material demanded to be set free.
"Go ahead," whispered a sultry voice by his ear. "Take your reward."
Without any reason to hold back, he breathed in a satisfied lungful of gas, unzipping his pants. His eyes riveted on his hard length as it extended from within, pointing at the inviting butt of the blue Drone in front of him.
Her thighs flexed and she leaned forward, giving him a peek at her pendulous breasts swinging below her chest. She arched her back, turning her bald head to give him a pleading gaze. He moved forward, touching the tip of his dick against her snatch, the sensations overwhelming his mind.
"Why wait?" asked Five. "She wants you as much as you want her. Drone love is the purest expression of what Hive is."
There was no reason to wait. His body wanted this. The morality of Hive was to love. He wanted to express that love.
He shifted his hips forward, grinning as the blue Drone moaned her pleasure. He wanted to please her. He wanted to please Hive.
He wrapped his hands around her waist, thrusting deep inside. She rocked her hips in coordination with him, increasing their pleasure. He was connected to her through the Gestalt, her pleasure reflecting his.
They groaned together now, his balls slapping against her ass. He was breathing heavily, clouds of the blue gas escaping in great puffs. He pulled the Drone against him, his fingers massaging her rubbery thighs.
On either side of him, the two guards that had entered with him were fucking their own Drones. He could sense their pleasure through the Gestalt as well, enhancing his own. As they worked their Drones, they began to synchronize, fucking to the same invisible beat. Beating as one with the heart of Hive.
It was getting rather intense. He could feel his orgasm approaching, inexorably drawing closer as he increased his tempo. The Drone was milking his cock, clenching her pelvic floor. It was driving him crazy, but his body was not his to control.
He would only find relief when Hive desired him to. He was a Hive Drone.
It didn’t take long for Hive to order his completion, at the appointed time. His moans of ecstasy were swallowed within the darkness of his helmet.
***
Zoe felt really good. Woozy, but good.
She giggled. The drugs she had taken before coming to the club had made her feel as though her consciousness was expanding. The alcohol had removed some of her inhibitions. But the gas… the gas had thrown her completely for a loop.
She had been reluctant to try it at first, but she hadn’t been given much choice. Nude, blue skinned woman had blocked the exit, wrapping their arms around her shoulders. One of them had forced the tip of a hose into her mouth and squeezed her nose shut.
She had done her best to avoid taking any of the strange blue gas in, but after the first taste of it in her mouth, she was hooked. She inhaled deeply, needing more. Between each breath of the blue mist, she giggled, watching the expanding cloud with glee.
Simone was on her right side, sucking down the gas as fast as she was. They were almost in a competition to find out who could inhale the most.
Simone exhaled, a long, drawn out breath, collapsing onto the sofa. "Ohhh," she groaned. "I just can’t take any more. I have to relax."
Her eyes crossed and she laid back, her head resting on the lap of one of the other drugged girls sitting in the booth.
"See how simple that is? Obeying is your natural state. The natural state of all Drones."
Zoe still felt uneasy. "I am not a Drone," she protested faintly, an accursed giggle escaping her clenched lips.
"You may have more will than most, but even that only delays the inevitable. All will become Drones in Hive."
She wanted to protest, but she could see the silly grin pasted to Simone’s face. She was already lost, drugged out of her mind.
Still, she couldn’t give up so easily. It was against her nature.
"You can’t hold us here forever," she said weakly, coughing in an attempt to clear her throat of the gas. "My family knows where we’ve gone. They’ll search for us."
The woman laughed, stroking Simone’s forehead.
"You may be able to hold on longer than your friend, but you can’t leave her behind. She is your weakness. As you watch, you can already feel your resistance draining away. I don’t need to hold you here very long to accomplish my goals."
She realized it was true. She couldn’t even focus her eyes. What had the gas done to her? She couldn’t stop giggling.
"It won’t take that long to mold you into Drone material. You are already prepared for the next step."
She snapped her fingers. "Drones, take these two, Suspend them, and give them Treatment."
The Drones bowed. "Yes, Director," they murmured, taking Zoe and Simone by the shoulders and guiding them out of the room.
Zoe couldn’t stop giggling. She was out of control. As they marched her down a corridor, she started to wheeze, coughing.
The Drones took her by the arms, forcefully carrying her deeper into the club. She lost track of Simone, feeling weak and vulnerable. The mixture of drugs had overwhelmed her body and she had no strength.
She was marched into a darkened chamber containing a screen at one end. A soothing spiral rotated, amid a blue background with puffy white clouds. White noise in the form of waves crashing against a seashore tingled her senses. She could almost taste the salty air.
Her body sagged, the paroxysms of laughter fading as she sank into the firm grip of her Drone escort. She had almost no choice but to take in the display, as it filled her visual field.
In one glance, her eyes were caught in the spiral, following the lines around and around as they pulled her closer to the center. At the terminus of the lines, a large, open eye stared at her, capturing her and holding her fast. She simply could not look away.
She was guided by the Drones into a vertical position, her chin thrust onto a concave shaped plastic cup mounted on a steel platform which had been bolted into the floor. Hands squeezed against her cheeks, forcing her jaw open.
A rubber bulb was shoved inside, a black pump squeezed until the gag inflated to fill her mouth. An arm was swung into place, a phoropter placed in front of her face, resting on her nose. Drone hands flipped the lenses, magnifying the eye in the center of the screen. Locked in place, she was forced to stand and watch the hypnotic display.
Now the hands began to work on her body. Her clothing was efficiently stripped. Boots, gloves, t-shirt and skirt all removed with deliberation. The hands left for a moment, then returned, stroking every inch of her skin.
She felt a coolness spreading from the fingertips of the Drones all around her. They were coating her with a slippery substance, oiling her up. The fingers spread, moving up into the gap between her breasts, rolling around the peaks of her nipples, ensuring every nook and cranny was massaged.
She couldn’t tell how many Drones worked her body. Too many sets of hands roved around for her shattered mind to count. They worked up her shoulder blades, around the back of her neck and over her forehead. Down the backs of her thighs and between her legs.
Her body reacted unconsciously to the assault, but otherwise she could do nothing. She had been Suspended. She could not think. The Drones worked her body as she stared at the spiral, all higher brain functions stilled. The spinning symbol burned into her brain, and she began to imagine that the eye in the center was expanding, filling her mind with its presence.
Peering into her soul, it enforced her utter obedience as the Drones continued their task.
***
Susan hummed to herself as she knitted, stretching her arms and yawning. Jack had arrived home earlier than usual and had been rather insistent.
She was happy to oblige his urges, but it did take quite a bit out of her. Even so, she had told him to go to bed, while she waited up for Zoe to arrive back from her clubbing. It was something she used to do during her daughter’s teenage years, and the old habit was hard to break. A mother still worried.
She heard a noise from upstairs, and frowned. She hadn't seen Zach since he had declared he was going to play with his friends, and usually he would have surfaced by now to get ready for bed. Perhaps she should check up on him.
She set aside her knitting and rose from her easy chair, stepping lightly in her slippers over to the staircase. Staring upwards into the darkness, she could see the thin line of light coming from under his door, indicating that he was still up.
Well, it was high time he put the game away and got some sleep. She climbed the stairs, purposefully leaning heavily into the steps in an effort to avoid surprising him. Catching him in a compromising position wasn't her goal, though it was always cute to see him scramble when he didn't realize she was there. She always pretended that she didn't know what he was up to, but it was a thin fiction at best.
There came more noises from behind the door. He hadn't invited a girl over, had he? Sudden suspicion forced her hand, and she cracked open the door. He hadn't bothered to lock it, so he must not have been concerned about being interrupted.
The light was on, but dim. Zach was on his back, thrusting his hips in the air to an invisible rhythm. Faint sounds emitted from his lips, hands near his crotch.
He was probably watching some porn. Embarrassed, she flicked off the light and shut the door with a knowing grin. It was always somewhat disconcerting to realize that your children had just as much of a sex drive as you.
She trotted back down the stairs, her concerns assuaged. From the looks of it he'd be done soon enough. He was on break, anyway. She'd give him a good ribbing for his behavior tomorrow, though.
The door at the foot of the stairs shut with a click, and she thought of her warm bed, just a few steps away. Fortunately, she didn't have to return to her knitting, as the tell tale creak of the front door rung out through the foyer.
Padding over, her eyes widened in surprise as she saw the bedraggled form of Zoe holding a box. She was staring into the distance, her breath releasing vapor in the cool night air. Black makeup couldn't disguise the odd, blue tinge of her face.
What had Simone gotten her into this time? She walked up next to her daughter, resting an arm on her shoulder and peering outside. She could barely make out the shape of an automated transit pod in the distance, which had doubtless dropped her off.
She guided her daughter inside, out of the cold, the door clicking shut behind them. Backing up to take in Zoe's messy form, she clicked her tongue.
"Look at the state of you!" she declared, taking a handkerchief from her back pocket and mopping up the smeared black makeup on Zoe's face.
Zoe whimpered, but didn't reply, her lips slightly parted. She clutched the box to her chest, as if it was her personal treasure. Her dual ponytails drooped, blond hair frazzled. She looked more like a defeated villainess than a gothic girl.
There was definitely something strange about her skin. No matter how much she wiped, she couldn't remove the blue coloration. It was almost as though her daughter was turning into a blueberry.
Was this the aftereffect of a strange drug? She would have to seek medical advice if it hadn't faded in the morning. And what was going on with that box? She looked down, gasping as her gaze was caught by a label stuck to the top.
She stared at the printed symbol for a long moment, her eyes blinking rapidly. There was something familiar about it, barely recalled. A hidden, locked box in her mind opened up, revealing her instructions. She knew what she needed to do.
She smiled and took the box from her daughter. "Go on ahead," she ordered. "Don't worry, I will take good care of this. You'll need it later."
Zoe marched in front of her, opening the door to the stairs like a robot. Susan followed behind her, hugging the box to her chest. She just knew her daughter was going to love what was inside.
End Chapter Two
Wednesday, November 27, 2019
Monday, November 25, 2019
Story: Drone Metastasis Chapter One
Drone Metastasis Chapter One
When the aliens first landed, we truly thought they were aliens. They looked like aliens. The government treated them like aliens. To all of us citizens, this was a standard first contact scenario, like many others we had seen on the vid screen throughout our lives.
Dignitaries would exchange pleasantries, treaties would be negotiated and signed, alliances formed. The Frysian empire was still at war, after all, though that hadn't changed for ages.
Lockator was the capitol world, which meant that we received the bulk of the raw resources needed for constructing new ships via our orbital shipyard. The Emperor's presence meant that we barely felt the strain of the galactic war, unlike the hundreds of worlds nearer the outer rim.
Looking back, it was a hopelessly idyllic life, and could not have lasted for much longer even if the status quo remained. Eventually, our industrial city of Stacksville would feel the sting of spending all our time supporting the Empire's endless war machine. Utilizing all our time and creativity in the service of destruction instead of creation.
Fortunately, the arrival of the aliens changed all that. We never could have anticipated how good it would feel to be under their control.
***
Jack cursed, shaking his tablet. "Why does technology never work the way it's supposed to?" he complained, running his fingers over the blank touch screen.
Arms wrapped around his shoulders, a warm breath against his ear. "It's because you refuse to upgrade, dear. All of the devices we use daily are, well, old."
"Not as old as I am," grumbled Jack. "I still remember a time when they designed things to last, not fall apart right when they hit the warranty date."
Susan kissed his cheek and rubbed his shoulders. "That wasn't true even when we were kids. Do you remember that old toaster? It wouldn't go down far enough to toast more than the bottom third. You inherited that thing from your grandparents, and I had to throw it out when our kids started complaining."
Jack grunted. "It used to work well enough." He tapped the tablet, and was surprised when the vid screen on the far wall began to display the world news network logo. "What's this? More news about our ship production? From the raw numbers, you'd think we'd be winning this war."
He thumbed his tablet to raise the volume, which to his surprise suddenly began to work. He was about to change the channel when the camera focused on a landing shuttle. A musical tag played and a woman began to speak in a monotonous tone.
"Today negotiations began between the Empire and the Hivarians," the news anchor droned.
The camera zoomed in, framing the door of the shuttle. It cracked open, revealing two shiny, black figures who marched down the ramp with military precision. They took up stations at the bottom, looking menacing in their faceless helmets, hands near their hips.
A train of the aliens followed, also dressed in shiny outfits. The leader of the group looked especially regal, clad in a skintight purple bodysuit. A small crown sat atop her head, tilted to the right. It was unknown how she could keep her headgear attached to her head, as she was completely bald.
Her face beamed blue, as if she was a luminescent moon. The other members of her party had more toned down attire, fewer ruffles and details than their queen. They didn't look any less strange, however, having thick strips of metal clasping their throats.
Even the apparent queen was wearing a collar. She acted as if this was normal, waving a fan with one hand to hide half her face, lending her a mysterious air.
"It is unknown from where the Hivarians hail. All inquiries to the government have been refused due to galactic security."
The camera pulled out, revealing a second entourage, this one even more ostentatious. Two foot men were working to roll out a red carpet, a floating, gilded stage coach pulling up to deliver its cargo. Two beautiful assistants helped the Emperor walk down the steps of the coach, his eyes sparkling as he descended.
Tubes extended from the back of the Emperor's skull, plugging him into a bulky object on his back. It had been reported that this gave him the ability to monitor his large empire. This was a recent addition in the last month, sending a ripple of distaste throughout the Empire.
Cybernetics were generally frowned upon by the populace, but the media supported the Emperor, stating that it was necessary for him to stay on top of all the recent war developments. Over time, the objections had gradually subsided.
"Look at him," muttered Jack. "He looks older than me, and I'm no spring chicken."
The voice over continued. "In an unusual gesture, Emperor Julian, may his gentle hand guide the empire forever, has decided to greet the new arrivals."
The Emperor clasped the hand of the alien queen, who tilted her head in a show of recognition, not deference. The Emperor returned the same.
"Their gestures here indicate they see each other as equals. Will this be the new ally we need to end the war? Negotiations are now proceeding in secrecy, but we will be sure to update you as soon as we find out more."
The video faded as the alien delegation sent their queen to follow the emperor into his carriage. The footage went back to the newsroom, where a perky brunette beamed at the camera. "Reports are scarce, but the Emperor is going all out to greet these new arrivals. The rumor on the ground is that these aliens might be what's needed to finally beat the cruel Ultharian invaders."
She turned to her co-anchor, who was dressed smartly in an emerald dress. "Monica, do you think an alliance with these aliens will be sufficient to tip the balance of power?"
Monica flipped her long, blonde hair, which hid the right half of her face from view. "I've spoken to several experts, Peach, and they're giving me mixed signals. The consensus appears to be that almost nothing is known about these aliens. How exciting! The emperor is having a private meeting with them now, after which we expect to know more."
"Thank you, Monica," replied Peach, turning back to face the camera. "The war grinds on, but with a new ally in the mix, we're sure to win soon. Stay tuned, this is Peach, from the Galactic News Network." The logo began to spin again.
"They said that the last four times," said Jack, skeptical. "I'm starting to think they hire a new bimbo to say that phrase for every news story."
Susan punched him gently on the shoulder. "Jack, behave. They're not bimbos, they're professional women."
"Well, if they don't want to look like fools, they shouldn't waste my time," Jack complained. "If they don't know something, they should say it outright instead of hiding it under endless platitudes. I feel like an idiot for getting my news from someone named after a fruit."
Susan squeezed his shoulders, hard, then stepped back. "They aren't going to change, honey, so why are you getting so worked up over it?"
Jack tapped on his tablet to turn off the vid screen, groaning as he got up out of his overstuffed recliner. "It's already bad enough that the news tells you what to think. Now they also want to tell you how to think. Today they're telling us how good the aliens are. Tomorrow they might be bad. The day after they're our saviors again. It's a never ending cycle of brainwashing."
Susan rolled her eyes, but didn't bother responding. She had heard this complaint many times before.
Jack ignored her insouciance and looked around, making a noise of displeasure. "Where are the kids? It's time for dinner."
Susan took him by the arm, leading him towards the kitchen. "You know how much they hate being called kids," she gently chided. "They're attending college. They're not kids anymore."
"While they're under my roof, they're my kids," Jack said, firmly. He squeezed her shoulder, and pulled out of her grip. Wandering over to the stairs, he looked up, seeing the telltale sign of flickering lights from his son's room. "Zach? Zoe? Come on down, it's time for dinner. Your mother has spent a long time preparing this for you!"
Susan marched into the kitchen, fetching her oven mitts. The automated oven shelf popped open, the smell of chicken pot pie flooding the kitchen. Susan grabbed the glass dish, lifting it up to slide it onto the glass surface of the stove top. Infrared heat would keep it warm until the family was ready to eat.
When no response came from upstairs, Jack squinted and stepped up one of the stairs, threatening to come up after his erstwhile children. "Dinner time! If you don't come down you don't get any."
He turned and entered the kitchen, his duty discharged. Sitting down at the head of the table, he relaxed, tucking a napkin into his collar. Loud steps came from the staircase, bickering audible from his position. He grunted, serving himself salad from the bowl Susan had positioned in front of him.
He glared at a tomato as it rolled dangerously close to the edge of his plate, then sighed and looked up. Zoe, dressed in that horrid black makeup, was fiddling with Zach's hair, which was a long mess as usual.
"What's happened to you?" Zoe asked, playing with his long locks. "You used to attract all sorts of attention, but now you spend all your time in VR."
Zach dodged, yelping when her hand inadvertently got caught in his hair. His gangly frame spun, eyes flashing. Zoe sat down, folding her hands contritely. "Sorry," she murmured.
Zach looked like he was about to throw a fit, but all of his anger flooded into the wall of Zoe's apology, finding no purchase.
If Jack was feeling cynical, and he usually was, he might think the apology was all an elaborate act on Zoe's part. It probably was. That didn't change the optics of the situation, however. If Zach lashed out, he’d have to punish him for bad manners.
Fortunately, Zach took the apology with a heavy grimace, forcing himself to back down. A long, deep swallow bounced his Adam's apple. Jack grunted and folded his hands. At least they had worked the problem out themselves so he didn’t have to get involved.
Oblivious to the tension, Susan brought in her dish, a smile beaming across her face. "Tonight is a family classic! Pot pie, served with fresh salad and roasted corn! I also have a fresh blueberry pie baking in the oven!
At the mention of pie, Zach's eyes sparkled. He picked up a fork, more eager for dessert than the main course. Susan sat the dish down, adjusting it minutely. She tucked a serving spoon under the flaky crust. "Enjoy!" she said in dulcet tones.
Zach jumped in, slapping an ambitious chunk of the pot pie onto his plate. "Remember to eat some greens, son," remarked his mother. "They have lots of folic acid, perfect for growing bodies!"
Jack grunted, shoveling greens onto his plate instead of pot pie. The diabetes diagnosis had left him with few options, and while not currently overweight, his health scare had restricted him to a plant based diet. Momentarily.
Zoe ignored Zach's eagerness, fiddling with her personal com device. Her fingers moved as if they were on roller skates, messaging her friends at top speed. She took a glimpse up at Jack's steely eyed gaze and sighed, setting her device on the edge of the table.
"What are you all planning on doing this evening?" queried Jack, reaching for another tomato.
Zoe turned her head, her black, dyed hair done up in twin pigtails. Her lips were painted black, too, small black stars stamped on her cheeks to look as though they were dripping from her eyes. "Oh, you know, friend stuff," she said, noncommittally. She waved a black gloved hand in the air. "I'm meeting up with Simone and we're going to go hit up a club."
Jack shot her his best disapproving stare. "If somebody tries to put the make on you, let me know, and I will ensure they regret it."
Susan frowned. "Dear, you can't offer to beat up every boyfriend she has, they'll stop coming! I want grandchildren one of these days!" Her mouth turned down in a pout.
"Oh?" he grunted. "What about that leather jacket wearing reprobate? You know, the one with a dozen pieces of flair and a single earring? How's he going to provide for her?"
He turned and pointed his index finger at Zoe. "I still firmly believe that this is a phase and you'll come around eventually."
She nodded her face to look at her plate, blushing. The long studs on her collar winked at him.
She looked like a mess to his eyes, but at least she still went out with her friends. In a few years she might drop the goth phase and start pursuing boys in earnest. When that happened, she'd land a guy, no problem. When he’d first met Susan, she had looked similar to Zoe, and he had fallen head over heels in love with her.
His eyes followed his wife's hips with a satisfied smile. He was feeling rather amorous. He had plans for tonight. When she scooted past him to take her own seat, he pressed a possessive hand against her lower back. She was all his.
Susan trailed a finger along his shoulder blade and shot him a knowing look, which sent a thrill of excitement down his back. The spark was still there. They still had it.
He grunted and turned his attention to Zach, whose stringy hair haloed around his freckled face. It was true the kid hadn’t had an easy life. Gingers were generally tortured mercilessly in school, and nobody had made an exception for his son. Still, that was no excuse for him to retreat into the make believe world of VR.
If the young adult hadn't been making excellent grades, he would feel the need to step in. As it was, he could only watch and worry. He crunched another salad leaf, dissatisfied with its very existence.
"Son, how about you and I get out the old gloves tonight and play some catch, for old time's sake? I bet that I can still throw farther than you."
"Sorry, dad, but my friends and I have made plans to try out this new VR game they just released today! It's supposed to be so realistic you can feel the vacuum of space – a true intergalactic simulator!"
His excited voice died down, and he looked at his plate, his drooping hair hiding his eyes. "I'm sorry, uh, maybe next time."
Jack grunted. He'd tried to show an interest in his son's games, but they were just too far advanced for him. He couldn't get past the ultraviolence and erotic elements that seemed to be part and parcel of his son’s favorite games.
Maybe he was just out of touch. He definitely wasn't hip. Running a city's maintenance department wasn't exactly a glamorous profession. Nobody at the table wanted to hear the latest statistics about the tons of trash they'd had to recently pull out of the city's sewer system.
That was okay. He was nothing if not a practical person. "Fair enough," he said, shooting his son a steely eyed gaze, "but your mother and I have decided. You need to clean out your closet while you're here on break from college. We can't store everything you left behind from your childhood. You need to decide what we should keep, and what needs to go in the trash."
Zoe, who had picked up her comm again, set it back down when his gaze moved to her. "That goes for you as well."
"But dad!" she complained. "Simone and I were going for bubble tea tomorrow!"
"That sounds fun," replied Jack, not backing down. "Even so, by the end of the week, you need to sort out what’s in your closet, or everything gets tossed.
She said a bad word, cringing in her seat as Jack gave her the evil eye. "Language!" said Susan. "Do you want me to wash your mouth out with soap?"
Zoe looked at the table and muttered an apology. Jack grunted, and went back to his greens, crunching them between his lips with distaste. The doctor said he needed to lose some weight, so he continued to chew begrudgingly.
Zoe dropped a fork on her plate and stood up, looking at everyone brightly. "I have to hurry off, or I'll be late!" she declared.
Jack raised an eyebrow. "You've barely eaten anything, and you'll miss dessert."
Zoe bared her teeth in what could have been mistaken for a grin. "That's okay, I'm not feeling hungry."
She pushed back her chair and stalked out of the room, her chunky heels clopping on the tiled floor. They could hear her footsteps running up the stairs.
Jack looked after her and grunted, finishing his meal. He smacked his lips and looked at Susan. "If she's not having pie, can I have her piece?"
His only answer was a glare that pinned him to his seat.
***
Zoe bit her lip and worked to hold back tears. Why was she feeling so petulant about being told to clean out her closet? She was in college, dammit! She should be mature enough to take it like an adult!
Even so, the arbitrary demand laid down by her father stung. She'd have to reshuffle some of her plans because of it, and she really didn't want to.
She trotted over to the bathroom to make sure her burgeoning tears hadn't ruined her makeup. No, the eyeshadow was still in place. She ran a hand over her corset top, taking in her ruffled skirt and black nylons. She was going to look stunning.
The sting of being told off faded, replaced with excitement. Her friend had told her about a new club in town, and she was eager to see what kind of DJ they had on tap. Dancing the night away to electronic music was just the thing to get her out of this slump.
The doorbell rang and she hurried down the stairs. "Coming!" she yelled, running her gloved hands over the banister as she skipped a few steps.
Susan was there at the door, opening it to reveal Simone. Her friend was decked out with brightly colored dread falls, a mix of greens and blues. She wore a blue spandex top which cupped her small breasts. Standing on impossibly high platform boots, she towered over her mother.
"It's good to see you, Simone," said Susan. She turned and hugged Zoe as she approached. "Take care, you two, and be safe!"
"Yes, mother!"
Zoe ran through the door and clasped Simone's hand. They both giggled as they ran off the porch and down the driveway.
The doors of the automated transit pod opened for them and they jumped inside. "Please buckle your seat belts," advised the AI.
After they had buckled themselves in, a map appeared on the front console. Simone punched in the name of the night club and they were away, the electric motor whirring.
Stacksville wasn't known for its nightlife, but there was a small, but vibrant community growing in the downtown city core. Commercial buildings were slowly pushing industry towards the outskirts of town.
Simone giggled and pulled a small case out of her purse. Snapping open the turquoise cover, she dropped a handful of purple pills into her hand.
She popped several into her mouth and held the others out to Zoe. "Want some?" she asked. "They totally make you feel dreamy."
"I don't know," replied Zoe. "I don't want to be a complete idiot tomorrow."
"Don't be silly," chuckled Simone. "They'll only last for a few hours. This is the same stuff we tried last time."
"Yeah, but last time I wasn't staying with my parents and I could sleep in the next day."
She hesitated for another moment, but eventually caved, taking a few pills and popping them under her tongue, letting them sit there. As they dissolved, the artificial taste of grape filled her mouth. She swallowed, feeling the sweet liquid course down her throat.
She knew from past experience that they would take a while to activate. She looked forward to the enhanced sensations the drugs would provide. Anything to get away from her overbearing parents.
Simone snapped her container closed and put it away. "Now," she said, "what's our plan for landing some boys tonight?" She licked her purple lips with her stained tongue.
The transit pod jerked to the right, taking them away from the suburbs. To their left were blocks of factories, gray, drab edifices.
"We could do some flirty dancing," Zoe suggested.
"Hmm, I like the way you think, but we might be in a nice trance by the time we lose ourselves to the beat. Let's start with some drinks and see if we can attract some attention."
Simone grinned. "I bet if we flash some flesh, that will bring them running over."
Zoe slapped her wrist. "Come on, Mony, you know I'm not brave enough to do that."
"Just wait till you get a few drinks in you, I bet you'll be grinding yourself all over their crotches!"
"Mony! I'm not that kind of girl!" She looked down and twirled her thumb ring, inspecting her glossy black nail polish.
"That's not what you said last time!" chuckled Simone.
Zoe punched her shoulder, but her heart wasn't in it. When Simone had pulled her out of her shell at the last party, she had let loose more than she had liked. This time she vowed she would work at controlling herself better.
If she was being truthful, though, she wouldn't mind picking up a hunky boy by the end of the night. Who knew how far things might go?
Her principles warred with her lust for adventure, resulting in a stalemate. Just barely.
"What's this new club called?" she asked.
Last time they had been forced to travel to a larger city, which was why she had been super excited when Simone had told her a new club was opening in Stacksville.
"Drone Ecstasy," said Simone, looking around.
The transit pod had brought them downtown, cruising past banks of late night shops lit with neon signs. There was a surprising amount of foot traffic.
"Ah, there it is," she said, pointing at a dazzling sign.
It took up the top two stories of the boxy building, clearly a conversion from a former warehouse. Each letter lit individually until the word was spelled out. D-r-o-n-e, then a pause, E-c-s-t-a-s-y. The entire phrase blinked a few times, the sign resetting with a different color.
As they watched, it morphed from green to blue to purple, never giving them time to focus. Surrounding the words were several female figures leaning over, all of them having rounded, bald heads. It could just be the coarse resolution of the lighting, but it looked like nobody had bothered to add any hair.
The pod rolled up to the entrance, automatically opening the curb side door. They shuffled out onto the sidewalk, taking in the cool night air.
A long line of club goers bent around the corner. Many of them wore skimpy outfits, but some of them seemed like they had made an effort to dress up. Overall, they just looked tacky.
"Come on," said Simone. "I bet we can jump the line if we're assertive."
She sashayed past the crowd, leading the way with her swaying hips. Zoe wasn't so certain, but she knew better than to try and stop Simone when she had gotten it in her mind to do something.
That tendency had often led them into questionable situations, but Zoe's quick thinking had usually gotten them back out of them.
A few weeks ago, they had almost been arrested on trespassing charges when Simone had dragged her into an urban exploration. When they had been caught, she had managed to convince the security officer that they were lost and needed his protection to get away from the 'dangerous' area.
That was something she definitely hadn't told her dad. He would bust a gasket if he thought his daughter was anything other than a perfect angel. His perception wasn’t anywhere close to reality, however. During the last couple of years at college, she had experimented with a more than a few different relationships, but none of them had been anything more than shallow pickups. She found herself getting bored of the stupid choices they tended to make.
Not that she hadn't made plenty of bad choices herself. She was starting to think that this was going to be another one of them.
At the front of the line a real bruiser stood by the entrance, a gigantic hulk of a man. Simone was already trying to sweet talk her way past him.
"Hi, handsome. I heard that this is the most glamorous joint in town, and I want to get down tonight." She leaned over, displaying her generous decolletage.
The bulky man grunted in appreciation. "Sorry love, great tits won't grant you entry here, but nice try."
He crossed his arms and peered down at her with beady eyes squinting over thick lips.
Zoe's eyes widened. She well knew the sort of tantrums Simone would throw when she didn't get her way. She had better step in before her friend made a scene.
If the brazen approach wasn't working, perhaps she could apply a bit of fakery. She rushed forward, inserting herself in front of Simone. "I apologize for her behavior," she said, feeling flustered, her cheeks red. "It's only that we've arrived late, and we're trying to join a friend already inside."
That was a blatant lie, but it might just work. She gazed at him with her most innocent expression.
The large man looked to his left at a second figure that stood next to the door. She caught a glimpse of a silvery dome, thick red lips, and a blue face. The woman’s body was hidden under a thick overcoat, but she caught a glimpse of white teeth.
She purposefully kept her gaze on the bouncer, hoping for a sign of approval. The man took in the two of them, pausing for a beat. Hope plummeted, but a wide smile grew on his face. "You're approved, get in there." He jerked his head.
They breezed inside, trotting past the mysterious figure. Relief tingling her senses, she quickly forgot about the strange figure, thoughts of dancing crowding out the strangeness.
"Can you believe the gall of that man?" declared Simone, her face alight with fiery justice. "He ogled my tits!"
Zoe rolled her eyes. Simone was probably offended that the man didn't find her attractive enough to let them in solely on the merits of her physical beauty.
It wasn't a problem. She'd let her vent for a few moments so that she’d get it out of her system.
Her mind was already jumping ahead to their main goal for the night – finding some cute guys to buy them drinks and take them dancing. She wasn't opposed to a one night stand, but while she was living with her parents she had no place to entertain a paramour.
Her thighs clenched as she fantasized about taking a man in a back alley, but it was only that. She wasn't dumb enough to actually do it.
The drugs she had taken before coming to the club were starting to take hold, and she was already starting to feel some of the effects. She breathed deeply, taking in the fresh smell of the room. It was deeply fragrant, almost sweet. She felt hot and flushed, craving a drink.
Her eyes roved back and forth, taking in the interior. Recessed lighting set the tone. Low ceilings making the place seem cozy.
Off to the left was a full service bar, a circular wooden table surrounding a wall filled with bottles. Many bar stools were already occupied by patrons, downing their personal drinks.
Tables were jammed into every available space, populated with groups of friends who were making quite a racket. She scanned them briefly, but didn't see any potential prospects among them. She didn't fancy fishing in those waters to try and find a willing dance partner.
To her right was a large octagonal dance floor, stairs leading down to a polished wooden floor from seven sides. The eighth side contained a stage kitted out with electronic instruments, a blue curtain hiding the back rooms.
Nobody was on stage at the moment. They must be between sets. That explained why the dance floor was clear.
This presented her with a dilemma: where should they hang out? Usually the best place to hook up was on the dance floor proper. She didn't fancy trying to talk to one of the single boys scattered among the periphery of the room.
No, their best chance right now was probably to sit at the bar and hope that they would be noticed. She steered Simone towards the bar, glancing around to see if there was a better approach.
Simone was still talking. "This place is stellar!" she declared, running a finger over one of the tables. "They didn't spare any expense!"
Zoe tended to agree. This was far too nice for Stacksville. How would they ever make their money back on this venture? The capital losses must have been atrocious!
As they approached the bar, her eyes lit up. "Is that a robotender? How could they possibly afford one?"
Simone chuckled. "Always the consummate professional. Let's not talk about their business model tonight, please? That turns off the guys."
"Fine," she said, sitting down and pressing her chest against the wooden table top. "Would you like something to drink, or should we pretend we're broke?'
Simone hopped up onto a stool, sliding her leather skirt over the blue seat. "We can afford to start with something," she declared. "With any luck we'll reel in a catch before we need refills."
She signaled to the bartender. "Cosmic Swirl, please!"
The bartending robot turned its spherical body and beeped at Zoe. "What would you like, mistress?" it said via its gravelly vocoder.
Zoe considered for a brief moment. "I'll have a Surface Slider."
The interior of the robot buzzed, the globe on top of its squat body swirling blue. Zoe giggled, finding the way it pulsed entrancing, a warm glow suffusing her body. That was probably just the drugs talking.
The robot chimed and a door on its rotund chest opened, a little shelf extending with her drink. She picked up the glass and admired the colors, layers of green and blue shifting in a dizzying array. She giggled.
"And for you, madam," murmured the machine, a second drink sliding out into Simone's waiting hands.
"About time!" she declared, seizing the hourglass shaped goblet. The fluorescent pink drink had spherical green globes suspended within the mix.
The robot ignored her snippiness, turning to continue its duties. Zoe rolled her eyes, but was careful not to let Simone see her annoyance.
She was a great friend, but sometimes her fiery temper flared, which could ruin an otherwise mellow night out. That wouldn't do – it was threatening to ruin her vibe. She smiled, placing her hand on her friend's arm.
"Let it slide, Mony, we're here to have a good time."
Simone tensed for a moment, but relaxed. "Yeah, you're right. No need to get uptight over a bucket of bolts."
She took a sip of her drink and sighed, looking over the wallflowers with a contemptuous glare. "Talking about robots. Look at them! Too afraid to approach. They sit there like lumps of metal!"
She snorted. "Where have all the interesting guys gone?"
Zoe briefly thought of her brother, but held her tongue. His temperament was wholly unsuitable for her friend. He was stable, diligent, and… boring.
Besides, all he did with his spare time was play hologames. He would never be elevated above the level of 'icky nerd' in her friend's mind.
It was too bad. She knew he could be loyal, diligent, and damn persistent, but none of those personality traits would win him a woman. Especially if he spent all of his time chasing virtual prizes. Exasperated, she sighed to herself.
Fortunately, Simone took this as a gesture of agreement. "They're all dicks. Dicks attached to wallets."
She chortled loudly and took a swig from her drink, the multicolored morass sloughing into her mouth. She chewed on one of the green spheres, then burped.
"I bet none of those fools has the gumption to even talk to us. Look at them, they're all stunned by our beauty."
Zoe took a half hearted look, but her eyes skimmed over the other clubbers. She was feeling a bit anxious at the behavior of her friend. She was acting far more drunk than she should have been.
Speaking of which, she was feeling rather woozy herself. That was probably just the drugs she had taken earlier. Everything in the bar seemed to be more vibrant, and she was smiling uncontrollably.
Before Simone could complain further, the lighting dimmed, casting their faces in shadow. Dusky blue light back-lit the bar. She turned and gaped.
The stage in front of the dance floor had been populated with blue skinned female figures wearing shiny chrome helmets. Their outfits were made of a rubbery material, clinging tightly to their svelte bodies. A few areas were opaque to preserve some form of modesty, but a cut out panel in the center of their chests revealed the sides of their breasts and shining gems embedded in their breastbones.
One of them stepped up to the microphone stand, leaning into it as if it was her lover, a sparkling aquamarine drawing the eyes of the audience. "Good evening, Stacksville!"
As she drew out the words, the lights above her rotated in a circle, blue spotlights dancing across the floor. "I am your host, Drone Dancer. Call me Double D for short! Are you all being good little robots tonight? Want to get down with your cybernetic selves? Step onto my floor and let's get the party started!"
Zoe had only a moment to register how odd they all looked before the rest of the clubbers rushed the stage, hoping to be the first to join in before the first song started.
Simone giggled. "Come on, Zoe, let's dance!"
Zoe was feeling out of sorts, but didn't resist as her friend dragged her onto the wooden floor, crowding in with the others. A smoky blue mist hissed from generators built into the steps of the octagon, lending everything a mystical air.
The bassist struck a chord, launching into a heavy backbeat. Holographic projectors spewed a colorful array of pyrotechnics in front of the band. The crowd raised their arms and howled with delight.
Drone Dancer pressed the mic against her lips and belted out the opening notes of a popular song, spinning around as she strutted on stage.
"Dance to the beat! Dance to the heat! Keep those footsies movin' as the beat gets ya groovin'!"
Zoe found herself sliding into a dance move instinctually, surprising herself. Simone was dancing, too, almost as though her body was being moved like a puppet.
Slanted lighting roved over their bodies, making it difficult for her to focus. She watched the singer through the throng of clubbers, feeling oddly compelled to follow her blue skinned body as it moved effortlessly. Her shiny domed head slid back and forth as her rouged lips belted out the song. She found herself mouthing the words, repeating them back as her hips flexed.
"Dance to the beat! Repeat! Dance to the beat! Repeat!"
Unknown hands slipped into hers and she was dancing, dancing.
End Chapter One
When the aliens first landed, we truly thought they were aliens. They looked like aliens. The government treated them like aliens. To all of us citizens, this was a standard first contact scenario, like many others we had seen on the vid screen throughout our lives.
Dignitaries would exchange pleasantries, treaties would be negotiated and signed, alliances formed. The Frysian empire was still at war, after all, though that hadn't changed for ages.
Lockator was the capitol world, which meant that we received the bulk of the raw resources needed for constructing new ships via our orbital shipyard. The Emperor's presence meant that we barely felt the strain of the galactic war, unlike the hundreds of worlds nearer the outer rim.
Looking back, it was a hopelessly idyllic life, and could not have lasted for much longer even if the status quo remained. Eventually, our industrial city of Stacksville would feel the sting of spending all our time supporting the Empire's endless war machine. Utilizing all our time and creativity in the service of destruction instead of creation.
Fortunately, the arrival of the aliens changed all that. We never could have anticipated how good it would feel to be under their control.
***
Jack cursed, shaking his tablet. "Why does technology never work the way it's supposed to?" he complained, running his fingers over the blank touch screen.
Arms wrapped around his shoulders, a warm breath against his ear. "It's because you refuse to upgrade, dear. All of the devices we use daily are, well, old."
"Not as old as I am," grumbled Jack. "I still remember a time when they designed things to last, not fall apart right when they hit the warranty date."
Susan kissed his cheek and rubbed his shoulders. "That wasn't true even when we were kids. Do you remember that old toaster? It wouldn't go down far enough to toast more than the bottom third. You inherited that thing from your grandparents, and I had to throw it out when our kids started complaining."
Jack grunted. "It used to work well enough." He tapped the tablet, and was surprised when the vid screen on the far wall began to display the world news network logo. "What's this? More news about our ship production? From the raw numbers, you'd think we'd be winning this war."
He thumbed his tablet to raise the volume, which to his surprise suddenly began to work. He was about to change the channel when the camera focused on a landing shuttle. A musical tag played and a woman began to speak in a monotonous tone.
"Today negotiations began between the Empire and the Hivarians," the news anchor droned.
The camera zoomed in, framing the door of the shuttle. It cracked open, revealing two shiny, black figures who marched down the ramp with military precision. They took up stations at the bottom, looking menacing in their faceless helmets, hands near their hips.
A train of the aliens followed, also dressed in shiny outfits. The leader of the group looked especially regal, clad in a skintight purple bodysuit. A small crown sat atop her head, tilted to the right. It was unknown how she could keep her headgear attached to her head, as she was completely bald.
Her face beamed blue, as if she was a luminescent moon. The other members of her party had more toned down attire, fewer ruffles and details than their queen. They didn't look any less strange, however, having thick strips of metal clasping their throats.
Even the apparent queen was wearing a collar. She acted as if this was normal, waving a fan with one hand to hide half her face, lending her a mysterious air.
"It is unknown from where the Hivarians hail. All inquiries to the government have been refused due to galactic security."
The camera pulled out, revealing a second entourage, this one even more ostentatious. Two foot men were working to roll out a red carpet, a floating, gilded stage coach pulling up to deliver its cargo. Two beautiful assistants helped the Emperor walk down the steps of the coach, his eyes sparkling as he descended.
Tubes extended from the back of the Emperor's skull, plugging him into a bulky object on his back. It had been reported that this gave him the ability to monitor his large empire. This was a recent addition in the last month, sending a ripple of distaste throughout the Empire.
Cybernetics were generally frowned upon by the populace, but the media supported the Emperor, stating that it was necessary for him to stay on top of all the recent war developments. Over time, the objections had gradually subsided.
"Look at him," muttered Jack. "He looks older than me, and I'm no spring chicken."
The voice over continued. "In an unusual gesture, Emperor Julian, may his gentle hand guide the empire forever, has decided to greet the new arrivals."
The Emperor clasped the hand of the alien queen, who tilted her head in a show of recognition, not deference. The Emperor returned the same.
"Their gestures here indicate they see each other as equals. Will this be the new ally we need to end the war? Negotiations are now proceeding in secrecy, but we will be sure to update you as soon as we find out more."
The video faded as the alien delegation sent their queen to follow the emperor into his carriage. The footage went back to the newsroom, where a perky brunette beamed at the camera. "Reports are scarce, but the Emperor is going all out to greet these new arrivals. The rumor on the ground is that these aliens might be what's needed to finally beat the cruel Ultharian invaders."
She turned to her co-anchor, who was dressed smartly in an emerald dress. "Monica, do you think an alliance with these aliens will be sufficient to tip the balance of power?"
Monica flipped her long, blonde hair, which hid the right half of her face from view. "I've spoken to several experts, Peach, and they're giving me mixed signals. The consensus appears to be that almost nothing is known about these aliens. How exciting! The emperor is having a private meeting with them now, after which we expect to know more."
"Thank you, Monica," replied Peach, turning back to face the camera. "The war grinds on, but with a new ally in the mix, we're sure to win soon. Stay tuned, this is Peach, from the Galactic News Network." The logo began to spin again.
"They said that the last four times," said Jack, skeptical. "I'm starting to think they hire a new bimbo to say that phrase for every news story."
Susan punched him gently on the shoulder. "Jack, behave. They're not bimbos, they're professional women."
"Well, if they don't want to look like fools, they shouldn't waste my time," Jack complained. "If they don't know something, they should say it outright instead of hiding it under endless platitudes. I feel like an idiot for getting my news from someone named after a fruit."
Susan squeezed his shoulders, hard, then stepped back. "They aren't going to change, honey, so why are you getting so worked up over it?"
Jack tapped on his tablet to turn off the vid screen, groaning as he got up out of his overstuffed recliner. "It's already bad enough that the news tells you what to think. Now they also want to tell you how to think. Today they're telling us how good the aliens are. Tomorrow they might be bad. The day after they're our saviors again. It's a never ending cycle of brainwashing."
Susan rolled her eyes, but didn't bother responding. She had heard this complaint many times before.
Jack ignored her insouciance and looked around, making a noise of displeasure. "Where are the kids? It's time for dinner."
Susan took him by the arm, leading him towards the kitchen. "You know how much they hate being called kids," she gently chided. "They're attending college. They're not kids anymore."
"While they're under my roof, they're my kids," Jack said, firmly. He squeezed her shoulder, and pulled out of her grip. Wandering over to the stairs, he looked up, seeing the telltale sign of flickering lights from his son's room. "Zach? Zoe? Come on down, it's time for dinner. Your mother has spent a long time preparing this for you!"
Susan marched into the kitchen, fetching her oven mitts. The automated oven shelf popped open, the smell of chicken pot pie flooding the kitchen. Susan grabbed the glass dish, lifting it up to slide it onto the glass surface of the stove top. Infrared heat would keep it warm until the family was ready to eat.
When no response came from upstairs, Jack squinted and stepped up one of the stairs, threatening to come up after his erstwhile children. "Dinner time! If you don't come down you don't get any."
He turned and entered the kitchen, his duty discharged. Sitting down at the head of the table, he relaxed, tucking a napkin into his collar. Loud steps came from the staircase, bickering audible from his position. He grunted, serving himself salad from the bowl Susan had positioned in front of him.
He glared at a tomato as it rolled dangerously close to the edge of his plate, then sighed and looked up. Zoe, dressed in that horrid black makeup, was fiddling with Zach's hair, which was a long mess as usual.
"What's happened to you?" Zoe asked, playing with his long locks. "You used to attract all sorts of attention, but now you spend all your time in VR."
Zach dodged, yelping when her hand inadvertently got caught in his hair. His gangly frame spun, eyes flashing. Zoe sat down, folding her hands contritely. "Sorry," she murmured.
Zach looked like he was about to throw a fit, but all of his anger flooded into the wall of Zoe's apology, finding no purchase.
If Jack was feeling cynical, and he usually was, he might think the apology was all an elaborate act on Zoe's part. It probably was. That didn't change the optics of the situation, however. If Zach lashed out, he’d have to punish him for bad manners.
Fortunately, Zach took the apology with a heavy grimace, forcing himself to back down. A long, deep swallow bounced his Adam's apple. Jack grunted and folded his hands. At least they had worked the problem out themselves so he didn’t have to get involved.
Oblivious to the tension, Susan brought in her dish, a smile beaming across her face. "Tonight is a family classic! Pot pie, served with fresh salad and roasted corn! I also have a fresh blueberry pie baking in the oven!
At the mention of pie, Zach's eyes sparkled. He picked up a fork, more eager for dessert than the main course. Susan sat the dish down, adjusting it minutely. She tucked a serving spoon under the flaky crust. "Enjoy!" she said in dulcet tones.
Zach jumped in, slapping an ambitious chunk of the pot pie onto his plate. "Remember to eat some greens, son," remarked his mother. "They have lots of folic acid, perfect for growing bodies!"
Jack grunted, shoveling greens onto his plate instead of pot pie. The diabetes diagnosis had left him with few options, and while not currently overweight, his health scare had restricted him to a plant based diet. Momentarily.
Zoe ignored Zach's eagerness, fiddling with her personal com device. Her fingers moved as if they were on roller skates, messaging her friends at top speed. She took a glimpse up at Jack's steely eyed gaze and sighed, setting her device on the edge of the table.
"What are you all planning on doing this evening?" queried Jack, reaching for another tomato.
Zoe turned her head, her black, dyed hair done up in twin pigtails. Her lips were painted black, too, small black stars stamped on her cheeks to look as though they were dripping from her eyes. "Oh, you know, friend stuff," she said, noncommittally. She waved a black gloved hand in the air. "I'm meeting up with Simone and we're going to go hit up a club."
Jack shot her his best disapproving stare. "If somebody tries to put the make on you, let me know, and I will ensure they regret it."
Susan frowned. "Dear, you can't offer to beat up every boyfriend she has, they'll stop coming! I want grandchildren one of these days!" Her mouth turned down in a pout.
"Oh?" he grunted. "What about that leather jacket wearing reprobate? You know, the one with a dozen pieces of flair and a single earring? How's he going to provide for her?"
He turned and pointed his index finger at Zoe. "I still firmly believe that this is a phase and you'll come around eventually."
She nodded her face to look at her plate, blushing. The long studs on her collar winked at him.
She looked like a mess to his eyes, but at least she still went out with her friends. In a few years she might drop the goth phase and start pursuing boys in earnest. When that happened, she'd land a guy, no problem. When he’d first met Susan, she had looked similar to Zoe, and he had fallen head over heels in love with her.
His eyes followed his wife's hips with a satisfied smile. He was feeling rather amorous. He had plans for tonight. When she scooted past him to take her own seat, he pressed a possessive hand against her lower back. She was all his.
Susan trailed a finger along his shoulder blade and shot him a knowing look, which sent a thrill of excitement down his back. The spark was still there. They still had it.
He grunted and turned his attention to Zach, whose stringy hair haloed around his freckled face. It was true the kid hadn’t had an easy life. Gingers were generally tortured mercilessly in school, and nobody had made an exception for his son. Still, that was no excuse for him to retreat into the make believe world of VR.
If the young adult hadn't been making excellent grades, he would feel the need to step in. As it was, he could only watch and worry. He crunched another salad leaf, dissatisfied with its very existence.
"Son, how about you and I get out the old gloves tonight and play some catch, for old time's sake? I bet that I can still throw farther than you."
"Sorry, dad, but my friends and I have made plans to try out this new VR game they just released today! It's supposed to be so realistic you can feel the vacuum of space – a true intergalactic simulator!"
His excited voice died down, and he looked at his plate, his drooping hair hiding his eyes. "I'm sorry, uh, maybe next time."
Jack grunted. He'd tried to show an interest in his son's games, but they were just too far advanced for him. He couldn't get past the ultraviolence and erotic elements that seemed to be part and parcel of his son’s favorite games.
Maybe he was just out of touch. He definitely wasn't hip. Running a city's maintenance department wasn't exactly a glamorous profession. Nobody at the table wanted to hear the latest statistics about the tons of trash they'd had to recently pull out of the city's sewer system.
That was okay. He was nothing if not a practical person. "Fair enough," he said, shooting his son a steely eyed gaze, "but your mother and I have decided. You need to clean out your closet while you're here on break from college. We can't store everything you left behind from your childhood. You need to decide what we should keep, and what needs to go in the trash."
Zoe, who had picked up her comm again, set it back down when his gaze moved to her. "That goes for you as well."
"But dad!" she complained. "Simone and I were going for bubble tea tomorrow!"
"That sounds fun," replied Jack, not backing down. "Even so, by the end of the week, you need to sort out what’s in your closet, or everything gets tossed.
She said a bad word, cringing in her seat as Jack gave her the evil eye. "Language!" said Susan. "Do you want me to wash your mouth out with soap?"
Zoe looked at the table and muttered an apology. Jack grunted, and went back to his greens, crunching them between his lips with distaste. The doctor said he needed to lose some weight, so he continued to chew begrudgingly.
Zoe dropped a fork on her plate and stood up, looking at everyone brightly. "I have to hurry off, or I'll be late!" she declared.
Jack raised an eyebrow. "You've barely eaten anything, and you'll miss dessert."
Zoe bared her teeth in what could have been mistaken for a grin. "That's okay, I'm not feeling hungry."
She pushed back her chair and stalked out of the room, her chunky heels clopping on the tiled floor. They could hear her footsteps running up the stairs.
Jack looked after her and grunted, finishing his meal. He smacked his lips and looked at Susan. "If she's not having pie, can I have her piece?"
His only answer was a glare that pinned him to his seat.
***
Zoe bit her lip and worked to hold back tears. Why was she feeling so petulant about being told to clean out her closet? She was in college, dammit! She should be mature enough to take it like an adult!
Even so, the arbitrary demand laid down by her father stung. She'd have to reshuffle some of her plans because of it, and she really didn't want to.
She trotted over to the bathroom to make sure her burgeoning tears hadn't ruined her makeup. No, the eyeshadow was still in place. She ran a hand over her corset top, taking in her ruffled skirt and black nylons. She was going to look stunning.
The sting of being told off faded, replaced with excitement. Her friend had told her about a new club in town, and she was eager to see what kind of DJ they had on tap. Dancing the night away to electronic music was just the thing to get her out of this slump.
The doorbell rang and she hurried down the stairs. "Coming!" she yelled, running her gloved hands over the banister as she skipped a few steps.
Susan was there at the door, opening it to reveal Simone. Her friend was decked out with brightly colored dread falls, a mix of greens and blues. She wore a blue spandex top which cupped her small breasts. Standing on impossibly high platform boots, she towered over her mother.
"It's good to see you, Simone," said Susan. She turned and hugged Zoe as she approached. "Take care, you two, and be safe!"
"Yes, mother!"
Zoe ran through the door and clasped Simone's hand. They both giggled as they ran off the porch and down the driveway.
The doors of the automated transit pod opened for them and they jumped inside. "Please buckle your seat belts," advised the AI.
After they had buckled themselves in, a map appeared on the front console. Simone punched in the name of the night club and they were away, the electric motor whirring.
Stacksville wasn't known for its nightlife, but there was a small, but vibrant community growing in the downtown city core. Commercial buildings were slowly pushing industry towards the outskirts of town.
Simone giggled and pulled a small case out of her purse. Snapping open the turquoise cover, she dropped a handful of purple pills into her hand.
She popped several into her mouth and held the others out to Zoe. "Want some?" she asked. "They totally make you feel dreamy."
"I don't know," replied Zoe. "I don't want to be a complete idiot tomorrow."
"Don't be silly," chuckled Simone. "They'll only last for a few hours. This is the same stuff we tried last time."
"Yeah, but last time I wasn't staying with my parents and I could sleep in the next day."
She hesitated for another moment, but eventually caved, taking a few pills and popping them under her tongue, letting them sit there. As they dissolved, the artificial taste of grape filled her mouth. She swallowed, feeling the sweet liquid course down her throat.
She knew from past experience that they would take a while to activate. She looked forward to the enhanced sensations the drugs would provide. Anything to get away from her overbearing parents.
Simone snapped her container closed and put it away. "Now," she said, "what's our plan for landing some boys tonight?" She licked her purple lips with her stained tongue.
The transit pod jerked to the right, taking them away from the suburbs. To their left were blocks of factories, gray, drab edifices.
"We could do some flirty dancing," Zoe suggested.
"Hmm, I like the way you think, but we might be in a nice trance by the time we lose ourselves to the beat. Let's start with some drinks and see if we can attract some attention."
Simone grinned. "I bet if we flash some flesh, that will bring them running over."
Zoe slapped her wrist. "Come on, Mony, you know I'm not brave enough to do that."
"Just wait till you get a few drinks in you, I bet you'll be grinding yourself all over their crotches!"
"Mony! I'm not that kind of girl!" She looked down and twirled her thumb ring, inspecting her glossy black nail polish.
"That's not what you said last time!" chuckled Simone.
Zoe punched her shoulder, but her heart wasn't in it. When Simone had pulled her out of her shell at the last party, she had let loose more than she had liked. This time she vowed she would work at controlling herself better.
If she was being truthful, though, she wouldn't mind picking up a hunky boy by the end of the night. Who knew how far things might go?
Her principles warred with her lust for adventure, resulting in a stalemate. Just barely.
"What's this new club called?" she asked.
Last time they had been forced to travel to a larger city, which was why she had been super excited when Simone had told her a new club was opening in Stacksville.
"Drone Ecstasy," said Simone, looking around.
The transit pod had brought them downtown, cruising past banks of late night shops lit with neon signs. There was a surprising amount of foot traffic.
"Ah, there it is," she said, pointing at a dazzling sign.
It took up the top two stories of the boxy building, clearly a conversion from a former warehouse. Each letter lit individually until the word was spelled out. D-r-o-n-e, then a pause, E-c-s-t-a-s-y. The entire phrase blinked a few times, the sign resetting with a different color.
As they watched, it morphed from green to blue to purple, never giving them time to focus. Surrounding the words were several female figures leaning over, all of them having rounded, bald heads. It could just be the coarse resolution of the lighting, but it looked like nobody had bothered to add any hair.
The pod rolled up to the entrance, automatically opening the curb side door. They shuffled out onto the sidewalk, taking in the cool night air.
A long line of club goers bent around the corner. Many of them wore skimpy outfits, but some of them seemed like they had made an effort to dress up. Overall, they just looked tacky.
"Come on," said Simone. "I bet we can jump the line if we're assertive."
She sashayed past the crowd, leading the way with her swaying hips. Zoe wasn't so certain, but she knew better than to try and stop Simone when she had gotten it in her mind to do something.
That tendency had often led them into questionable situations, but Zoe's quick thinking had usually gotten them back out of them.
A few weeks ago, they had almost been arrested on trespassing charges when Simone had dragged her into an urban exploration. When they had been caught, she had managed to convince the security officer that they were lost and needed his protection to get away from the 'dangerous' area.
That was something she definitely hadn't told her dad. He would bust a gasket if he thought his daughter was anything other than a perfect angel. His perception wasn’t anywhere close to reality, however. During the last couple of years at college, she had experimented with a more than a few different relationships, but none of them had been anything more than shallow pickups. She found herself getting bored of the stupid choices they tended to make.
Not that she hadn't made plenty of bad choices herself. She was starting to think that this was going to be another one of them.
At the front of the line a real bruiser stood by the entrance, a gigantic hulk of a man. Simone was already trying to sweet talk her way past him.
"Hi, handsome. I heard that this is the most glamorous joint in town, and I want to get down tonight." She leaned over, displaying her generous decolletage.
The bulky man grunted in appreciation. "Sorry love, great tits won't grant you entry here, but nice try."
He crossed his arms and peered down at her with beady eyes squinting over thick lips.
Zoe's eyes widened. She well knew the sort of tantrums Simone would throw when she didn't get her way. She had better step in before her friend made a scene.
If the brazen approach wasn't working, perhaps she could apply a bit of fakery. She rushed forward, inserting herself in front of Simone. "I apologize for her behavior," she said, feeling flustered, her cheeks red. "It's only that we've arrived late, and we're trying to join a friend already inside."
That was a blatant lie, but it might just work. She gazed at him with her most innocent expression.
The large man looked to his left at a second figure that stood next to the door. She caught a glimpse of a silvery dome, thick red lips, and a blue face. The woman’s body was hidden under a thick overcoat, but she caught a glimpse of white teeth.
She purposefully kept her gaze on the bouncer, hoping for a sign of approval. The man took in the two of them, pausing for a beat. Hope plummeted, but a wide smile grew on his face. "You're approved, get in there." He jerked his head.
They breezed inside, trotting past the mysterious figure. Relief tingling her senses, she quickly forgot about the strange figure, thoughts of dancing crowding out the strangeness.
"Can you believe the gall of that man?" declared Simone, her face alight with fiery justice. "He ogled my tits!"
Zoe rolled her eyes. Simone was probably offended that the man didn't find her attractive enough to let them in solely on the merits of her physical beauty.
It wasn't a problem. She'd let her vent for a few moments so that she’d get it out of her system.
Her mind was already jumping ahead to their main goal for the night – finding some cute guys to buy them drinks and take them dancing. She wasn't opposed to a one night stand, but while she was living with her parents she had no place to entertain a paramour.
Her thighs clenched as she fantasized about taking a man in a back alley, but it was only that. She wasn't dumb enough to actually do it.
The drugs she had taken before coming to the club were starting to take hold, and she was already starting to feel some of the effects. She breathed deeply, taking in the fresh smell of the room. It was deeply fragrant, almost sweet. She felt hot and flushed, craving a drink.
Her eyes roved back and forth, taking in the interior. Recessed lighting set the tone. Low ceilings making the place seem cozy.
Off to the left was a full service bar, a circular wooden table surrounding a wall filled with bottles. Many bar stools were already occupied by patrons, downing their personal drinks.
Tables were jammed into every available space, populated with groups of friends who were making quite a racket. She scanned them briefly, but didn't see any potential prospects among them. She didn't fancy fishing in those waters to try and find a willing dance partner.
To her right was a large octagonal dance floor, stairs leading down to a polished wooden floor from seven sides. The eighth side contained a stage kitted out with electronic instruments, a blue curtain hiding the back rooms.
Nobody was on stage at the moment. They must be between sets. That explained why the dance floor was clear.
This presented her with a dilemma: where should they hang out? Usually the best place to hook up was on the dance floor proper. She didn't fancy trying to talk to one of the single boys scattered among the periphery of the room.
No, their best chance right now was probably to sit at the bar and hope that they would be noticed. She steered Simone towards the bar, glancing around to see if there was a better approach.
Simone was still talking. "This place is stellar!" she declared, running a finger over one of the tables. "They didn't spare any expense!"
Zoe tended to agree. This was far too nice for Stacksville. How would they ever make their money back on this venture? The capital losses must have been atrocious!
As they approached the bar, her eyes lit up. "Is that a robotender? How could they possibly afford one?"
Simone chuckled. "Always the consummate professional. Let's not talk about their business model tonight, please? That turns off the guys."
"Fine," she said, sitting down and pressing her chest against the wooden table top. "Would you like something to drink, or should we pretend we're broke?'
Simone hopped up onto a stool, sliding her leather skirt over the blue seat. "We can afford to start with something," she declared. "With any luck we'll reel in a catch before we need refills."
She signaled to the bartender. "Cosmic Swirl, please!"
The bartending robot turned its spherical body and beeped at Zoe. "What would you like, mistress?" it said via its gravelly vocoder.
Zoe considered for a brief moment. "I'll have a Surface Slider."
The interior of the robot buzzed, the globe on top of its squat body swirling blue. Zoe giggled, finding the way it pulsed entrancing, a warm glow suffusing her body. That was probably just the drugs talking.
The robot chimed and a door on its rotund chest opened, a little shelf extending with her drink. She picked up the glass and admired the colors, layers of green and blue shifting in a dizzying array. She giggled.
"And for you, madam," murmured the machine, a second drink sliding out into Simone's waiting hands.
"About time!" she declared, seizing the hourglass shaped goblet. The fluorescent pink drink had spherical green globes suspended within the mix.
The robot ignored her snippiness, turning to continue its duties. Zoe rolled her eyes, but was careful not to let Simone see her annoyance.
She was a great friend, but sometimes her fiery temper flared, which could ruin an otherwise mellow night out. That wouldn't do – it was threatening to ruin her vibe. She smiled, placing her hand on her friend's arm.
"Let it slide, Mony, we're here to have a good time."
Simone tensed for a moment, but relaxed. "Yeah, you're right. No need to get uptight over a bucket of bolts."
She took a sip of her drink and sighed, looking over the wallflowers with a contemptuous glare. "Talking about robots. Look at them! Too afraid to approach. They sit there like lumps of metal!"
She snorted. "Where have all the interesting guys gone?"
Zoe briefly thought of her brother, but held her tongue. His temperament was wholly unsuitable for her friend. He was stable, diligent, and… boring.
Besides, all he did with his spare time was play hologames. He would never be elevated above the level of 'icky nerd' in her friend's mind.
It was too bad. She knew he could be loyal, diligent, and damn persistent, but none of those personality traits would win him a woman. Especially if he spent all of his time chasing virtual prizes. Exasperated, she sighed to herself.
Fortunately, Simone took this as a gesture of agreement. "They're all dicks. Dicks attached to wallets."
She chortled loudly and took a swig from her drink, the multicolored morass sloughing into her mouth. She chewed on one of the green spheres, then burped.
"I bet none of those fools has the gumption to even talk to us. Look at them, they're all stunned by our beauty."
Zoe took a half hearted look, but her eyes skimmed over the other clubbers. She was feeling a bit anxious at the behavior of her friend. She was acting far more drunk than she should have been.
Speaking of which, she was feeling rather woozy herself. That was probably just the drugs she had taken earlier. Everything in the bar seemed to be more vibrant, and she was smiling uncontrollably.
Before Simone could complain further, the lighting dimmed, casting their faces in shadow. Dusky blue light back-lit the bar. She turned and gaped.
The stage in front of the dance floor had been populated with blue skinned female figures wearing shiny chrome helmets. Their outfits were made of a rubbery material, clinging tightly to their svelte bodies. A few areas were opaque to preserve some form of modesty, but a cut out panel in the center of their chests revealed the sides of their breasts and shining gems embedded in their breastbones.
One of them stepped up to the microphone stand, leaning into it as if it was her lover, a sparkling aquamarine drawing the eyes of the audience. "Good evening, Stacksville!"
As she drew out the words, the lights above her rotated in a circle, blue spotlights dancing across the floor. "I am your host, Drone Dancer. Call me Double D for short! Are you all being good little robots tonight? Want to get down with your cybernetic selves? Step onto my floor and let's get the party started!"
Zoe had only a moment to register how odd they all looked before the rest of the clubbers rushed the stage, hoping to be the first to join in before the first song started.
Simone giggled. "Come on, Zoe, let's dance!"
Zoe was feeling out of sorts, but didn't resist as her friend dragged her onto the wooden floor, crowding in with the others. A smoky blue mist hissed from generators built into the steps of the octagon, lending everything a mystical air.
The bassist struck a chord, launching into a heavy backbeat. Holographic projectors spewed a colorful array of pyrotechnics in front of the band. The crowd raised their arms and howled with delight.
Drone Dancer pressed the mic against her lips and belted out the opening notes of a popular song, spinning around as she strutted on stage.
"Dance to the beat! Dance to the heat! Keep those footsies movin' as the beat gets ya groovin'!"
Zoe found herself sliding into a dance move instinctually, surprising herself. Simone was dancing, too, almost as though her body was being moved like a puppet.
Slanted lighting roved over their bodies, making it difficult for her to focus. She watched the singer through the throng of clubbers, feeling oddly compelled to follow her blue skinned body as it moved effortlessly. Her shiny domed head slid back and forth as her rouged lips belted out the song. She found herself mouthing the words, repeating them back as her hips flexed.
"Dance to the beat! Repeat! Dance to the beat! Repeat!"
Unknown hands slipped into hers and she was dancing, dancing.
End Chapter One
Drone Metastasis: Author's Notes
It has occurred to me that since I'm not posting regularly any more, there's no real reason to hold back content for a particular day. That being the case, I'm simply going to release this story as it is ready, posting on other sites whenever I get around to it.
As such, if you stay tuned, the second chapter of this story should be coming out on this blog later this week as I get it edited.
* Ahem *
This particular story has been in the backlog for a very long time. The seed of it was thrown together months and months ago while writing the Robotic Restitution trilogy, consisting of this particular thought:
What would it be like for members of a regular family to experience the Hive invasion?
I've already covered the major events from the view point of royalty, but what if we change that to follow a run of the mill suburban household?
From that simple idea, came this story.
The timeline takes place between the events of Drone Shuffle and Drone Circus. There was a bit of a time skip there, and this should serve to fill in some of the gaps, as seen by different characters.
I won't spoil the ending, but there shouldn't be any huge surprises or twists to worry about here. It's simple smut. A bit of advertisement for the trilogy, as it were, and more good fun with Hive and her Drones.
I do hope you enjoy! Stay tuned for chapter one, being posted shortly!
If you wish to support my work, the complete Robotic Restitution trilogy is now available on Amazon and Smashwords: Drone Envy, Drone Shuffle, and Drone Circus!
As such, if you stay tuned, the second chapter of this story should be coming out on this blog later this week as I get it edited.
* Ahem *
This particular story has been in the backlog for a very long time. The seed of it was thrown together months and months ago while writing the Robotic Restitution trilogy, consisting of this particular thought:
What would it be like for members of a regular family to experience the Hive invasion?
I've already covered the major events from the view point of royalty, but what if we change that to follow a run of the mill suburban household?
From that simple idea, came this story.
The timeline takes place between the events of Drone Shuffle and Drone Circus. There was a bit of a time skip there, and this should serve to fill in some of the gaps, as seen by different characters.
I won't spoil the ending, but there shouldn't be any huge surprises or twists to worry about here. It's simple smut. A bit of advertisement for the trilogy, as it were, and more good fun with Hive and her Drones.
I do hope you enjoy! Stay tuned for chapter one, being posted shortly!
If you wish to support my work, the complete Robotic Restitution trilogy is now available on Amazon and Smashwords: Drone Envy, Drone Shuffle, and Drone Circus!
Friday, November 22, 2019
Week End: Okay I'm Mostly Dead Edition
It's been awhile since I've last posted, for reasons stated earlier. However, I finally do have something to report!
Drone Metastasis
I've been very slowly, but steadily working on this story, and the first chapter is 'mostly' done. It should be completed this weekend, since there's only half a scene left to write. I make no claims on how juicy it is, but it seems pretty fun to me, and should be either a nice extra for those who have read the Robotic Restitution trilogy, or a teaser for those who have not.
I expect I'll be able to get this edited and posted for next week's update at the archive, and perhaps will have it up midweek on the blog.
I'd get it out sooner, but the chapter is longer than 10,000 words (as is usual for me), so it's going to be a slog to read through it all again. Blegh.
Anyway, this time it's a nuclear family who gets to encounter the slow insidious takeover of Hive. Look forward to it!
Sunday, November 3, 2019
Week End: I'm not completely dead edition
I suppose I may as well be, given my current condition, but that's neither here nor there. Let's talk about something else!
You can fall multiple times to different bosses and get turned into a latex monster yourself. This isn't fleshed out too well in many scenarios, as in most cases this just changes your costume. If you're lucky you might get a line or two of dialog, or unlock one or two things in town you can do with your new tentacle costume.
Drone Metastasis
Sad to say I've made no progress on this at all. So far I've been unable to get around the demotivational aspect of the pain and numbness that assails me, but I do still hope to complete this in the fullness of time. Certainly there's nothing else on my calendar currently.
CORE Precipice
If you've been hiding under a rock, perhaps you haven't heard that the next CORE, a joint work between Tabico and Uzobono, is out. Go read it here!
Latex Dungeon (Advance)
I've recently discovered an RPG maker game that's a cut above any of the others I've seen before, called Latex Dungeon. I would love to see more RPG Maker games like this, but this is the first I've ever seen which executes this concept so well, even if in mostly broken English.
The essence of the game is to try and rescue a town by exploring and defeating enemies that are being attacked by latex monsters that are covering them in latex-like slime and turning them into sex monsters.
There are many opportunities to fall yourself and get corrupted by the latex, which is encouraged for you as the player to do as you can always get it removed by the town priestess before going back to do battle again.
Here's an example of a transformation sequence that I find quite delightful:
 |
| Just imagine how she's being tortured under that suit! Yum! |
You can fall multiple times to different bosses and get turned into a latex monster yourself. This isn't fleshed out too well in many scenarios, as in most cases this just changes your costume. If you're lucky you might get a line or two of dialog, or unlock one or two things in town you can do with your new tentacle costume.
If you keep checking back in town, the items you collect during your adventures can be used to corrupt denizens like shopkeeps, which is quite delicious.
As a tip, when you first start the game and have transformed a bunch of maidens in town, the next thing to do is to exit to the entrance of the town and talk to one of the rubber balls there to start the game proper... that confused me for a long time.
Sold yet? Unfortunately, as with most of these things, it's incredibly finicky to setup, so here's a primer on how to get it working:
- Download v01.09 here: https://tfgames.site/index.php?module=viewgame&id=2023
- Run the self extracting exe,
- Download the latest patch from the same page: https://tfgames.site/index.php?module=viewgame&id=2023
- Unzip the patch over your installation folder and overwrite files as required.
- Download and install the RPG Maker RTP for RPG Maker VX Ace here: https://www.rpgmakerweb.com/download/additional/run-time-packages
Now you should be able to run the game!
If you wish to support the original author, you can find his page on Patreon here:
I've heard tell that the game is getting a rework on a newer engine, but it's not yet completed. As I don't have access to Patreon, I can't confirm that. You mileage may vary!
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