Story: Drone Metastasis Chapter Two

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