Drone Metastasis Ch. 07

The network logo spun over a globe representing the planet. Fading, it was replaced with two women dressed in latex, blue skinned faces smiling maniacally at the camera.

"Hello!" said the one on the left, waving her hand. "I'm N-Fifty!"

"And I'm N-Fifty One!" said the other. "We're the Dronecasters. Welcome back to the show!"

Stock footage of Drones walking down city streets replaced their bodies. "Drone conversion rates are up to seventy percent, thanks to our benevolent Queen and her latest successful raid!"

The footage cut to a series of images of guard Drones cuffing malcontents and herding them into black vans. "Every day, more citizens who try to hide are discovered and sent on to conversion centers, where they are harnessed, sorted and assigned to their proper task."

"If you know of anyone trying to escape the Drone patrols, report them to your local authorities and they will make sure to give them a visit to show them the truth." N-Fifty tilted her shoulders. "Enough unpleasantness. Let's indulge in a reinforcement session together."

They turned as one to face the screen behind them, which lit up with the image of a staring eye. A whirling blue globe twisted and danced behind it, entrancing any viewers.

"Look into the eye. Relax, find your calm, blue center. You are a Drone. You are a slave. Repeat after me."

The two anchors swayed, bald blue heads dipping as they fell into a trance.

"We are Hive Drones. We obey Her. We work for Her to build the best possible society. Spread, and embrace. Spread and embrace. Embrace our future."

The brainwashed Drones raised their hands towards the sky and bowed at the screen, showing off their tight butts. The hypnotic screen faded out.

The anchors turned, wide grins never leaving their faces. Their metal collars winked at their necks.

"Go forth and recruit," stated the one on the left.

"Go forth and multiply," said the one on the right.

"Devote yourselves fully to her," they both said in unison, moaning with pleasure.

***

The white box truck rumbled down city streets, pausing at an intersection to let multiple transit pods through. The intersection had no lights - all vehicles were equipped with avoidance systems to automatically keep traffic flowing in the most optimal pattern.

Drones on the sidewalks walked past, going about their daily business. Many were dressed conservatively, but some were in Dronewear. As more of society was converted, the social mores were moving further towards acceptance of both Drones and their individual styles.

As they closed in on the city center, more and people were unconverted. Here, the mass of population was too great for Hive to deal with all at once. Group by group, people were being subverted, but there were still plenty of dissidents.

Today, the major faction was holding a protest. The media had already condemned them as being 'anti-Hivarian,' and urged most of the populace to stay home. Even so, there were many diehards who were under the false impression that complaining would change Hive's plans for them.

Hive had decided that a quick strike to take out the leaders of the rally would provide an object lesson to other would be activists. Q-Three had been assigned this mission, and she was eager to carry it out. Every time she converted someone into a Hive Drone, she felt pleasure like no other. She was addicted to it. Craved it, to an almost scary extent.

The handrail she was clutching rattled back and forth as the truck made a corner. The interior was stacked from front to back with a series of four tanks on either side, filled with a viscous, blue liquid. These would serve as temporary holding cells for their prisoners after they had been captured.

The ceiling contained three racks of spherical robots, units they would use during their attack to control the crowd. She had used them before to great effect, and wasn't expecting any problems.

Her crew was crowded down the central aisle. At the rear were three Drone guards, dressed in black latex. Their gas mask helmets made them look insectile, ready to sting their prey into submission. They had had been equipped with capture nets as their primary armament, relying on speed and surprise to acquire their victims.

To assist them in their task, more spherical robots had linked themselves together in two chains that extended down their backs. The legs of the mechanical devices flexed with anticipation.

D-Ten was with them, checking their equipment. She had dressed herself like the guards to avoid notice, and had decided to equip herself with a single shockstick. If all went to plan, she would not be in combat, since she would be in command of the group. It would be her job to locate the targets and give orders.

Q-Three was in charge of the operation. She had been in this role before, so she wasn't particularly nervous. This, however, was higher profile than some of her other runs. Not that it should matter - every Drone capture was important to Hive.

The self driving truck turned another corner, the sea of humanity on the sidewalks growing thicker. Up ahead, the crowd coalesced into one mass, blocking further progress.

The truck slowed to a halt, people milling around in front of them. They shouted slogans and raised signs. "Blue skin is bad skin!" declared one. "Have nots over Hivarians!" said another.

"Everyone ready?" asked Q-Three, flexing her shoulders in her skin tight outfit.

She had decided to wear a modified form of her usual outfit, latex impregnated with thick rubber to reduce possible injuries from blunt force trauma. She didn't plan on leaving the truck herself, but wished to be prepared for any eventuality.

Her strike team nodded at her, hefting their weapons, and she grinned, loins inflamed at the thought of what they were about to do.

She pressed a red button mounted on a vertical shaft for a few seconds. A minor rumble could be heard from above, the racks of robots beginning to move. One by one, the spheres were ejected from the top of the truck into the crowd below, unfurling their tentacles to skitter towards unsuspecting protesters.

Shouts and screams leaked in from outside the truck. A few moments later, the rear door rolled open, revealing scrambling citizens and dark pavement.

The strike team members jumped out of the back of the truck, landing on their feet, turning to run up the sides towards the front. Q-Three walked calmly to the cab, watching as the robots she had released worked to clear a path for her.

The engine rumbled and the truck ground forward, following the strike team as they sprinted into the crowd ahead. Anyone who got in the way was shoved to one side or tangled up in the arms of a robot and incapacitated.

For the most part, the crowd ran away in fear, as was intended. This left only those who were too scared to move, or too angry to be stopped. The former were shoved away, the latter wrapped up tight.

That left only the small group of stunned men and women at the podium, who up until now had been inciting the crowd into angry chants. Dressed in garish colors, they were easy to pinpoint. One of them tried to escape, but the first Drone nailed her with a capture net.

Sticky, white ribbons wrapped around her body, firming up into tight, metallic strands. The end of each tendril squirmed as it sought a matching end from the other side. Once they met, they latched together, locking themselves tightly together. The strands intersected above her forehead, around her chest, and at her waist, pulling tight into a bondage harness. At each intersection of the strands, a blue gem glowed brightly.

She yelped, falling to her butt, completely paralyzed by the net. Seeing what had happened to her, six of the others raised their hands in surrender. The last one screwed his face up in a grimace, reaching into his jacket.

D-Ten rushed him, jamming her shockstick under his elbow. His body trembled and his eyes flew open, making an incoherent shout. A pistol dropped from his hands, which was quickly scooped up by the Drone and secured on her belt.

One of the spherical robots riding on her back jumped onto the trembling man, wrapping around his waist. He cried out as his pants were torn off, the warm interior of the machine settling over his dick. "No, no, oh, fuck no, yes!" he shouted as it began to pump up and down.

More robots scuttled over to the restrained prisoners, slipping under their bodies and ratcheting themselves upwards. Acting as carrying platforms, they turned and ran towards the truck on spindly legs.

By this time, some of the crowd was beginning to coalesce, but the Drones had acted quickly. Before any real resistance had been organized, the robots had brought the captives to the back of the truck, where Q-Three assisted them in loading their bodies onto the diamond plated floor.

The Drones climbed in and the door ratcheted back down. The truck automatically started to back out of the crowd, turning around to follow the path from whence it had come.

In the meantime, the crowd had wandered into the gap the robots had created earlier, forcing the remaining bots to make room for the truck a second time.

The crowd was beginning to catch on to what had happened, and several angry men started to chase them. A few pounded futilely on the back door. They seemed endless, constantly getting in the way.

Q-Three ignored the cacophony, gesturing at D-Ten to take the wheel. As for her, she would focus on the captives. In their current state, they would find it very difficult to escape, but she wished to reduce that chance to zero.

One of them tilted her head, a shock of red hair swirling over her shoulder. "You can stomp us out, smoothbrain, but you can't stop our movement. The people are rising up. Your days are numbered."

"That's right!" said a sallow man with a dirty face. "Every speech we make, the crowds are bigger. You can't stop the revolution. Nobody can."

Q-Three chuckled. Their thinking was no more advanced than children, really. It wasn't worth her time to convince them otherwise. Perhaps being tanked would change their minds.

She clicked at G-Fifty Seven in Drone speech, and he grabbed the red headed woman, dragging her over next to the first tank. "Independent thinkers never understand the supremacy of Hive," she lectured. "They always think that they can say whatever they want and be free of consequence."

She reached up above her captive, pulling down a spindly helmet attached to a long hose. She pressed a hidden button on top, and eight metallic legs snapped open, revealing a red electronic eye inside. Swiveling the device around, she pulled it into place on top of the woman's head.

As soon as the interior touched the crown of her head, the legs clamped down around her skull, chrome tips threatening her neck. The prisoner stared at Q-Three with a mixture of terror and anger. "Fuck off and die, blue bag!"

Q-Three smiled widely, knowing that the slit of her rouged lips under her chrome helmet would unnerve the woman. A bit of petty revenge, but satisfying nonetheless.

"A heartfelt sentiment, but irrelevant. You will feel more correct soon."

The helmet's smooth top lit up with scrolling text. BEGIN PROCESSING, it said, accompanied by a loud whir. There came a wet, meaty crunch, and the woman cried out in pain. Her body went limp, eyes rolling. The robot on her head flexed up and down, smoothly jacking itself into her head.

Q-Three grinned, pleased at the efficacy of the new design. Previous models had attempted to wrap up the victims to incapacitate them for future processing, but too many captives had managed to escape before they reached the loving hands of Hive.

This was much more efficient. Even if she was rescued, they would be unable to remove the helmet without Hive authorization. It was buried too deep for them to excise surgically, and over time it would convert her into a proper Drone.

She shivered in delight at what it must be like for them, to watch one of their friends and compatriots being converted in real time. Embracing the love of Hive.

How delightful. She felt the urge to slip her fingers between her legs, but this was hardly the time.

Instead, she fetched a second hose, plugging the bulbous end between the woman's lips. A rubber gag inflated inside her mouth, making her cheeks bulge outwards.

As the interior was filled, a round, rubber sac outside also inflated, wrapping around the front of her lips until the lower half of her face was covered. Q-Three grabbed loose straps attached to the mask, looping them around the rear and attaching them to the helmet.

At this point, the woman's mind was entirely under her control. Even so, it was prudent to keep the bondage robot on her. No need to be sloppy. To be perfectly honest, she loved seeing the woman's protruding curves held tight, controlled by the machine.

This one was done. With G-Fifty Seven's help, she looped straps under the woman's arms. Standing back, she watched with satisfaction as she was lifted into the air, her legs flexing as her butt was pulled over the side of the tank. With barely a sound, she slipped into the viscous, blue liquid, eyes closed. Her arms lifted slightly, as if she was waving at her Queen, welcoming her inevitable fall to slavery.

Q-Three smiled brightly at the others. "Who's next?" she asked.

The captives were mostly cowed, but the sallow man cursed up a storm. Q-Three tilted her head and chirped at the two guards near the rear of the truck. They lifted the man as if he was a sack if rice, carrying him to the next tank.

As Q-Three pulled down another helmet, the captive started laughing hysterically. "You might get me, but we already knew about you. We know everything! You dropped right into our trap!"

The claws of the helmet closed around his head. Q-Three stared at him impassionately. "It hardly matters what you know," she said in a measured voice. "Tomorrow, you will take your place at our side as another Drone. Hive will expand, and consume all individuals on this planet. By yourself, you can hardly hope to stop us."

Spittle leaked from the man's chapped lips. "That's the thing," he said, wheezing. "We're not alone."

The helmet crunched through his skull and the fanatic light faded from his eyes. As before, she pressed the gag between his lips and watched it inflate, securing the rubber straps behind his head.

His body was lifted into the air, splashing into his own tank. That was all his resistance had amounted to. Taking the fast track to Dronehood. Thus would the fate be for any who dared to incite the people against Hive.

It was going well. There were only four left, and after seeing how their fellow protesters had been treated, the fight seemed to have gone out of them. Excellent. The sooner they gave in, the better.

"Q-Three, you had better come take a look at this!" shouted D-Ten, scanning the road ahead. "They've set up a blockade!"

Q-Three clung to the handrail and looked through the windshield. In the confusion, the truck had managed to make progress towards the outer bands of the mob, but the number of robots working to scare off the activists had dropped. More and more they were having to wait for people to decide to move on their own, which was drastically slowing them down.

Worse, up ahead, there was a mass of moving colors. Another segment of the crowd, formed into a march, carrying a white banner. "We're not you! We're not blue!" it read in sloppy paint.

"There's too many for the robots to clear!" shouted G-Fifty Seven urgently, peering over Q-Three's shoulder. "We need more control units immediately!"

Q-Three's stomach churned. She pressed a hand against D-Ten's shoulder. "No time! Get us out of here!" she commanded.

The crowd was growing larger, boxing them in. D-Ten engaged manual control, nosing them down an alleyway to avoid the marching citizens.

More people showed up from the rear, closing ranks behind them, moving closer as if they were a horde of zombies. D-Ten accelerated, narrowly missing a pile of crates. One side of the truck skimmed off the edge of a loading dock, the back end swerving wildly.

D-Ten gripped the wheel with cold calculation, straightening them out with grim control. They were almost at the end of the alley. Q-Three's heart raced. They were going to make it! Hive would be so proud of them for escaping with their captives!

A cement truck drove across the exit, blocking their route. D-Ten tried to brake, but it was too late. Q-Three was flung into the air as they impacted the truck, spinning in slow motion as her body rotated towards the front.

Her head hit the windshield with a sickening crack and she knew no more.

***

All she knew was Blue. Her world was made of it. A soft, blue fog that was everywhere.

She blinked, and sat up. The floor was white tile, with flecks of blue embedded in the surface. A few feet away, the flooring vanished into the fog.

Curious, she stood up and began to walk, not headed in any particular direction. Ahead, looming out the fog, were tall, misshapen objects.

As she came closer, she realized they were gigantic pillars, made of blue marble. They stood in parallel rows, fading off into the distance. She touched the fluted side of one of them, backing off to look at the intricate detail work that had gone into the design around the top.

Sculptures of bald, blue women wrapped their arms around the curve of the column, hugging a central, round sphere. The longer she looked at the sphere, the more she felt as though it were glowing. She blinked her eyes and turned away. It would be easy to find herself mesmerized by the artwork.

Torches were mounted on sconces on the side of each pillar, lighting the way forward. She wasn't certain where the path led, but there wasn't anywhere else to go.

She marched forward, blue feet pressing against warm tiles. The route seemed to go on forever, but her curiosity was piqued when she heard faint strains of music coming from somewhere ahead.

Out of the mist came a marble box, the sides decorated with a carved sculpture. A Queen was walking forwards, Drones carrying the train of her gown. In front of her on either side was a flagrant orgy, scattered Drones taking each other in a frenzy.

Eyes widening, she changed focus, looking up at the delicate figure which graced the table top. The woman was dressed in a diaphanous blue gown, adorned with lacy frills. Her delicate fingers stroked the strings of an enormous harp, the mellow sound flooding the area with calming chords.

The woman turned her head to watch Q-Three's approach, continuing her strumming. Her face was cherubic, with a faint blush of color on her cheeks. Golden locks flowed down over her shoulders, framing her willowy body.

"Ah, there you are, Q-Three. Your mind, at least, is looking rather well."

Q- Three creased her brow as she drew closer. "What does that mean?" she asked. "What has happened?"

She recalled the last few moments of the accident, but everything afterwards was a dreadful haze. Her heart lurched. "Is everyone okay? Did the mission go well?"

The woman tickled a high note, looking her up and down. "Oh, yes, I sent reinforcements. Don't worry about that. It was all taken care of. Really, it was you who took the most damage. Physically."

Q-Three looked down, running her fingers over her latex clad curves. Everything seemed in order. She shot the woman a querulous gaze. "Where are we, and who are you?" she asked pointedly.

"We're in your mind," said the woman, sharp blue eyes considering Q-Three as she tilted her head. "I rather like it here. A respite from the hustle and bustle of everyday expansion. No decisions to make. Just peace."

Q-Three frowned, noting that her other question had been skipped. She tried a different tack. "Why am I here?"