FSE

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“All you need to do is get in, take photos, get out,” the wolf sighed. “It’s easy, isn’t it?”

“It’s not easy,” the cheetah sighed. “I’m just good at it.”

“Right. Save me the ego. I happen to be pretty good at my job myself. Can you do it or not?” the wolf asked. She tapped her little notepad impatiently.

“Let’s go through the plan one more time. This doesn’t seem like your everyday espionage,” the cheetah replied “And it’s not a B&E either.”

“Be en e? The fu- oh, breaking and entering, how quaint. No, like I said. Okay. Let me go through it again. Pay attention this time.”

The wolf proceeded to describe a large facility just on the edge of the city, in the industrial area where nobody really had any reason to go unless they worked there. She, being a journalist, was pursuing a big scoop on missing people that the police had given up searching for.

“Right,” the cheetah interrupted her. “And not a single donut muncher managed to figure out that all of them went missing around the same factory, if you’re right?”

“More like they didn’t care,” the wolf growled. “The victims were all prostitutes, homeless, criminals like you, Penelope.”

The wolf emphasized her name, suggesting a familiarity that didn’t yet exist. Her problem. If she was suggesting that she could rat Penelope out, the bitch had another thing coming; she was now just as guilty as the cheetah was.

“Or they got paid off,” the journalist admitted. She adjusted her glasses. “Do you know who owns that building?”

“Nope. Wait, yeah, I do. It’s Phisher Pharmaceuticals, isn’t?” the cheetah replied, dropping her mask of defiance for just one moment so they could reach some sort of conclusion before nightfall. “The ones who were in the truth serum scandal a year ago?”

“Yeah, same guys,” the wolf replied. “Only it wasn’t a truth serum. I was there, in the courtroom. It was a hypnotic, a mind control drug, they just convinced the judge that such a thing didn’t exist. Them and a dozen doctors happily raping their oaths for some pocket money.”

“Ouch. Mind control? You sure that’s not journalistic paranoia speaking?” the cheetah couldn’t help but make a joke. “I figure at least one real doctor would’ve-“

“Yeah, you’d think so. They didn’t. And that’s not even all these fuckers do. I’m pretty sure they’re transforming their victims somehow. Making them into slaves. Literal goddamn slaves!” the wolf exclaimed, and then paused to take a deep breath. “Took my cousin too. Yeah, she was a working woman, but nobody deserves this.”

“You got that right,” Penelope replied. The journalist, high and mighty as she was, was still right about that. “And you need me to infiltrate the place and prove they’re doing that?”

“Yep. Fuck, you do this for me and if you want, I’ll make you my permanent assistant. It’ll be well paid when I win every journalist prize on earth,” the wolf offered. “Would be a way out of your life of… well, crime.”

“Wanna say that any louder just in case someone didn’t hear you?” the cheetah growled. “I won’t be much use for you if they toss me in jail before we even start. And if they do that, you’re coming with me.”

“Let’s not go there, sweetheart. Are you in or out?” the journalist asked.

Penelope could never resist a good challenge, especially a profitable one. And so, here she was now, slowly unscrewing a ventilation shaft cover from the outside with a tiny little screwdriver sporting a kind of head she’d never seen before. The night was dark and quiet even in the industrial area, which made her every motion sound like the world’s loudest foghorn.

A screw fell. It was almost deafening. Penelope cursed herself without uttering a single word as she froze, expecting guards with tasers and floodlights any second. But nobody came, and eventually, she continued with renewed confidence. For how big a company Phisher was, she couldn’t believe how lax their security seemed.

“There’s one guard. He walks by this vent once every hour, exactly thirty minutes in. Never deviates from what I’ve seen,” the wolf had told her, pointing out the thief’s entrance on a set of blueprints that she had bribed someone else to receive. “The vent is pretty tight, but you’re a slim cheetah…”

The cover came off soundlessly, and Penelope peered inside. Nothing but darkness. She glanced at her watch. 01:45. She had plenty of time, and it wasn’t as if she had to be back before the next pass. The guard wouldn’t notice the screws were gone, anyway. She slowly entered the shaft feet-first so that she could pull the cover back into position after herself. And just like that, she was engulfed in pitch black darkness, into which she crawled for a good minute or so before flicking on her flashlight and illuminating the vent.

The wolf had shared everything she had learned from whoever her contact was, as well as the facility’s blueprints. “The vent goes into almost every room in the facility. If anyone’s in there, you’ll be able to see and hear them from up there. It’s just for regular air so they won’t suddenly blast you with exhaust or smoke or whatever.”

Sure enough. There was a faint smell of – what was that? Rubber? Or – latex, it had to be latex. Penelope loved kinky play, the kind that involved molten latex, catsuits, masks, and everything else, so the smell brought back a rush of pleasant, erotic memories. She had a job to do, though, and the cheetah was nothing if not a professional. When she was plying her craft, nothing else mattered, and she forced herself to ignore the slight thrill between her cramping legs.

Navigating backwards through the ventilation duct was painful. Every minute or so, she’d bump into a corner and have to twist herself halfway into a pretzel to navigate around it. Still, she had years of training on her side, along with her natural feline flexibility.

“So, go in, figure out where they’re keeping the victims – they have to still have some of them on-site – and get out. Don’t be seen,” Penelope remembered the wolf telling her. Not that she needed to be told. The cheetah was as professional as a thief could ever be. She didn’t get caught.

She even managed to keep from screaming as a spider dropped onto her snout in the darkness, though she did bite her tongue so hard that it bled.

What else had the journalist said? Penelope tried to think of something other than the dozens of spiders surely crawling all over her already.

“I sent someone else in there before and they never came back. So, I do mean it. Don’t. Get. Caught.”

Ah, yes, that had been it. But it was the traditional fate of thieves. If you got caught, you didn’t come back. It was one of those things one had to accept to have a future in the field, so to speak, or at least that was how Penelope had always reasoned.

Wait, what was that sound? Penelope froze. Someone was speaking. The voice was muffled, but it seemed like someone was having a meeting somewhere below her. Quickly, she scooted backwards a little more, until she found a little grate that she could look through.

Down there, in what must’ve been a subterranean level of the building, someone was talking to someone else. The lighting in the hallway the vent overlooked was dim, but she could see a zebra with their characteristic stripes. A male one, it seems, dressed in a lab coat. He was talking to someone wearing a full mask on their head, with a voice that seemed to be modulated by the mask itself. Quietly, Penelope snapped the best picture she could of the pair, but of the second figure, she could recognize nothing; not gender, nor species.

“And how many have we converted so far, exactly?” the masked figure asked. They seemed to be important, at least, given their posture.

“Seven hundred and forty-two,” the zebra replied, and Penelope noticed that he didn’t use a title of any sort for the masked figure. “All told, give or take. Should be forty-three before the night is over.”

“Is that so? Very good. And if you’d be so kind, remind me of the results,” the masked one continued, effectively interrogating their underling.

“They’re all fully obedient. Some traces remain, and some initial hesitation when asked to perform against their, well, orientations,” the zebra answered, himself hesitating briefly as if not sure how to phrase what he was saying. “The process is just about perfected.”

“We want it entirely perfect,” the masked one replied. “Remember that. A single slip of a single tongue and this entire operation goes up in flames. You will go with it, and I will personally make sure that-“

“Yes, I know, I won’t disappoint you,” the zebra replied, in his most appeasing tone of voice, tinged with fear. “We are in the final stages. The system relies on both the initial dosage and the subject breaking their own mind by violating a taboo.”

Breaking their own mind? That sounded so sinister that Penelope struggled to believe she hadn’t just wandered onto the set of a horror or science fiction movie. Who talked like that? If they were actually employees, this really was the scoop of the century. Unfortunately, the conversation was too quiet for Penelope to record from her vantage point, but it did confirm that the wolf’s suspicions were correct, at least to some degree.

“As it should, then. Continue gathering subjects. We need to perfect the process before we begin Project Epiphany,” the masked one stated. “As you were.”

“As I were,” the zebra replied. The two walked in different directions. The masked person headed towards what had to be the exit, whereas the zebra – presumably a scientist – went deeper inside, likely to work with his “test subjects”.

What she had just heard had Penelope’s hair standing up. It was like something out of a bad spy movie, except real, and real people were getting hurt. She was a thief, yes, but she had standards. Nobody got hurt, she went in and out quietly. These people apparently kidnapped people off the street to experiment on them. For some sick “Project Epiphany,” which from the sound of it, involved “breaking minds”.

That meant she had some sort of inescapable moral duty to finish this job, not merely the payment the journalist had offered. Penelope sighed inwardly as she pushed on.

The deeper she crawled in the vent, the colder it seemed to get, and it was already cold enough that her body was starting to numb. Thankfully, it only went on for perhaps a hundred meters longer before coming to an end in another dimly lit room. This one was quiet bar for the subtle whirr of machinery, and so, Penelope got to work unscrewing another grate from the inside.

Yet just as she loosened the last of the screws, the grate fell down with a deafening clatter as it struck the tiled floor. Penelope didn’t even dare to curse. Instead, she waited for what felt like minutes in the freezing vent, expecting guards to rush in at any moment.

Nobody came, though. It seemed the journalist’s sources were accurate. Before descending, Penelope unfurled the blueprints and examined them one last time, with her arms shaking from the cold.

She was above what was labeled as “E/S” on the blueprints. The wolf had suggested it meant “experiment storage”, according to her source. But it could just as well mean extra storage, for all Penelope knew.

Still, she was in the right place, there was some kind of devious scheme going on with Phisher Pharmaceuticals, and she had come this far. There was no turning back before she uncovered the truth. Though a thief through and through, the cheetah felt almost heroic as she dropped down from the vent, landing with perfect, quiet, catlike grace on the tiles.

The sight that greeted her was unearthly. She looked around, unwilling to initially believe her eyes. It looked like a movie set, or a video game. All around her were person-sized test tubes. In each, someone was trapped, all of them asleep. Countless hoses and cables were connected to each one, pumping something – perhaps air – in and out of the tubes, hence the machine whirr she had heard earlier.

Penelope stared. For a long time, she could do nothing but stare. The journalist had actually been completely correct. Phisher was kidnapping people, some of whom Penelope recognized from street corners, brothels, or hostels, and sticking them into tubes to experiment on it. It was so unfathomably vile that she struggled to react at first. Then, she noticed something else.

Many of the people stuck in the tubes were covered by what looked like liquid rubber. Latex. That explained the smell she had caught earlier. On some of them, it covered them all the way, leaving only a featureless shape behind. On others, it was slowly creeping up their bodies. Some, who the cheetah could only guess were the closest to being “done” had masks with visors that seemed to flash with odd colors at regular intervals.

It was like a poorly written parody of brainwashing, except it was all real. The cheetah pulled out her camera and began documenting what she saw, finally snapping out of her trance. She took photos of the tubes, of the test subjects, of the strange rubber that seemed to slowly subsume their bodies, and all other machinery that she could find. She worked quickly; someone like that zebra could walk by at any time, and if they saw her, chances were good she’d end up in a tube too, covered in rubber and brainwashed into… what? A sex toy? A sleeper agent to infiltrate the government in Phisher’s favor?

Both?

She stepped closer to one of the tubes. The latex almost seemed alive, the way it squirmed, and as she placed her hand against the glass, it was drawn to the warmth of her body. Or so Penelope thought, it might’ve just been her imagination.

What was objectively true was that the latex was slowly consuming or covering the trapped gazelle. Her bare breasts were the last part to remain untouched by the liquid. Over her eyes, she was wearing a visor-mask just like the others, pulsing in the same rhythmic colors. There seemed to be words projected on it, but Penelope couldn’t see what the words were, exactly, not from the other side and her low angle.

She imagined it went roughly obey, serve, submit.

The strangest thing, though, was the blissful, unthinking smile on the gazelle’s face. She seemed to be enjoying the sensations, or if she wasn’t now, she had been when the mask robbed her of consciousness.

In the next tube was someone the cheetah thought she recognized, if only from a verbal description that the journalist had given her. Another curvy wolf with characteristics markings over her belly. It had to be her cousin. Briefly, Penelope entertained the idea of trying to break her out, but she couldn’t be sure the attempted mind control wasn’t actually working. Too much risk. The cops would get her out later, when they raided the entire facility.

One last glance around the room revealed an inscription on each tube. Equestrian Technologies Incorporated. That gave Penelope pause. This was Phisher Pharma, wasn’t it? Unless the famous name was merely a cover for… this other one. Equestrian Technologies. It wouldn’t be the first time a company used one name for the public and another internally, but that in itself would already be enough of a scoop, even without the kidnappings and slavery. The mighty Phisher, only a shell company? Even Penelope knew it’d be on every front page.

She took a photo of that inscription too. But just then, she heard someone approach and spun around, dropping her camera in the process as a rush of adrenaline left her fingers clumsy and stiff.

Behind her stood one of the latex-covered people. This one was a deer, obviously a woman with how large her breasts were, and completely naked. Penelope dropped into a fighting stance, expecting the stranger to attack her. It wouldn’t be the first time. But she stood there quietly for almost an entire minute, studying the cheetah while Penelope tried to figure out if she could bounce up and into the vent before they grabbed her.

“Well, well. Are you the newest volunteer? We were told that one would be arriving,” the deer purred, her voice a low and seductive one that bore no sign of aggression. Rather, it was dripping with a reassuring lust.

The visor-mask on her face flashed, and this time, Penelope saw the first word perfectly well. “Obey,” the mask read.

So, it was some kind of brainwashing thing. The entire situation only seemed crazier and crazier by the second. Penelope decided to play it as cool as she could, despite her heart beating so rapidly it felt as if her chest was going to burst.

“No, I’m part of staff. Just here to inspect the test subjects, make sure everything is running smoothly,” she improvised. “Equestrian maintenance crew.”

She couldn’t see the masked woman’s expression through the visor, which made figuring out whether or not she was fooled supremely difficult. It wasn’t fair to play poker against someone who didn’t have facial expressions at all.

“Ah. Very good, then,” the woman replied, and took a step closer. Penelope twitched. “And how is it looking?”

“The process seems to be continuing as planned,” Penelope answered. “Everything is in order, in other words.”

The rubber-clad woman took another step. “Sounds fantastic. You know, we’ve had a recent problem with the test subjects.”

“A-and what is that?” Penelope asked. She had to make some kind of move, and soon. But something about the other woman’s presence made her feel oddly calm. It was something related to her soothing voice, no doubt.

“This journalist,” the deer replied. “Has been incessantly trying to pry into our little collective. I believe she even planned to send a thief to spy on us. Can you believe the nerve of that woman?”

“N-no, I-“ Penelope stammered. “-I’ve not heard of that, I just do maintenance.”

If there was a chance, however slim, that the strange deer wasn’t just toying with her, she had to take it, and so, she played along.

“Good. You wouldn’t want to be affiliated with such unpleasant, disruptive individuals. We’re all happy here, in the collective…”

Her voice. It was so soothing. Penelope had to fight to keep her muscles tense and to remember what the situation actually was like. She wasn’t talking with someone she trusted, nor a flirt at a bar. This was a brainwashed drone from the real corporation beneath Phisher’s shell.

“I am Prime Drone zero-zero-zero,” the deer smiled. “I take care of new arrivals and help them get situated. I will take care of these newcomers, too.”

She gestured towards the many test tubes. And then, in a slow, smooth motion, that hand cupped Penelope’s chin softly like it might a lover’s.

“Just relax,” she purred. “Why don’t you get a little more comfortable?”

The cheetah opened her mouth to protest the warm touch of the deer’s slick, latex-covered hand, but no words came out. She felt so deeply relaxed all of a sudden, enough that she couldn’t keep her guard up. Enough that she found her head sinking, resting against the deer’s cunning touch.

“W-what do you mean?” she asked.

“Get rid of those clothes. None of the collective wear clothes while with each other,” the “Prime Drone” smiled warmly.

“But I-“ Penelope protested.

“Take your clothes off, “ the prime drone repeated, in the exact same purring tone of voice. “Then we can talk without hiding anything.”

Penelope wanted to ask if the drone would strip too. If she could strip, or if the rubber had become part of her body. Did she even quality as a she anymore, or an it?

Yet, even as she agonized over her potential choices, Penelope caught herself taking off her shirt, slowly, even as the cold air made her fur bristle. It just felt like the natural thing to do, even if doing so made no sense whatsoever. She should’ve been running away, and that alarm bell along with others were going off at full volume in her head, yet she didn’t listen to them.

_ Mind control, Nellie. They use mind control, remember? Snap the fuck out of it_, she told herself, as her fingers dug into the waist of her leggings and pulled them down, leaving her in only a bra and panties as the deer caressed her body. Her fingers traced over the cheetah’s smooth belly, down over her flared hips, and then up again, with a deeply erotic sensuality to it, over the slight curve of Penelope’s breasts. The touch made her shiver, and for a moment, she felt like prey.

But there was a comfort to it. Her increasingly hazy mind told her that the deer wanted nothing but the best for her. It was an obvious lie, but it felt comfortable to believe in, owing to whatever chemical – or perhaps hypnotic – influence had taken hold in her head.

“The lingerie too. You’ll need to be completely naked for this,” Prime Drone 000 commanded, though her voice never sounded too commanding. It sounded like pleasant suggestions that Penelope wanted to obey. “We shouldn’t be hiding anything from each other.”

The deer’s visor, Penelope saw, now flashed the word Convert. But as long as she didn’t try anything, there was nothing wrong with simply enjoying her touch, was there?

She obediently reached for the clasp of her bra. It opened, and the cheetah shrugged off her bra, leaving her breasts bare for the strange latex deer. She was the perky type, with puffy areolas along with the nipples. Well suited for a sprinter like a cheetah, and with only the slightest curves to hinder her from squeezing into places such as ventilation shafts as she snuck after her more commonly chosen prey of jewelry and cash.

Next were her panties. For them, she didn’t even hesitate. Penelope bent over and pulled them down, leaving herself completely naked before the dominant stranger. She stood there, as if awaiting judgement, until a sudden flash of clarity brought her reason back, adrenaline flushing out what influence the drone had over her.

“What-“ she squeaked, immediately taking her last shot as escaping as reality reasserted itself. Penelope leapt for the vent, managing to grab the edge and pull herself halfway up before the drone caught her ankle and pulled her down forcibly. The cheetah expected to crack her head on the tiles, but instead, the drone, in a surprising feat of strength, caught her effortlessly.

“I know it can be scary,” the visored deer smiled. “But you really should just relax. It’ll feel better that way.”

She pressed Penelope against a wall, and then herself against the cheetah’s body. A chill shot up Penelope’s spine at the sudden, intimate gesture as the mental fog began to return.

“I promise. Just relax. You’ll feel so much better with a purpose in life,” the deer whispered, her breath warm against Penelope’s ear. “Let it happen.”

Then, she pulled back. Dazedly, Penelope looked down and realized that she had a sticky patch of the same black latex smeared over her belly, where their bodies had touched. With a weakened squeak, she tried to wipe it off, but only succeeded in making it cling to her fingers.

“What- what are you doing?” she stammered. “What are you doing to me? What is this?”

“The flagship product of Equestrian Technologies,” Prime Drone 000 grinned. Her own nipples protruded in a shameless display of arousal as she enjoyed watching the living latex take hold of a new victim. “They call it the Submission-Inducing Nanomass, or SIN. I like to think of it as… mh, beautiful, sexy, purpose-giving goo. Doesn’t it feel so very sexy spreading over you?”

The deer was visibly aroused, her lust pearling down her slick rubbery thighs. A hand slipped down, itself in defiance of her programming, to knead herself, emphasizing just how incredibly erotic she found the display.

Penelope was still struggling to get the slime off her body. It felt cold and warm everywhere it spread, and she couldn’t seem to stop it at all as it crept upwards to her breasts. As it began to cover them, the Prime Drone was there again, giving her bare nipples a loving tweak just before they disappeared under the slick substance. And then, she squeezed harder.

“I think you’re a little too small, really. The collective likes uniformity,” she purred, and for a moment, Penelope could’ve sworn that her warm fingers sunk into her body, teasing her bosom into something much larger, as if her entire body had become amorphous. And yet, protest as she might, it made her feel incredibly sexy to change like that.

And there was something worse yet. That sense of purpose that the drone kept talking about. She could feel it, already, as the substance began to cover her very personality. It felt like freedom. Freedom from choice. She felt herself clench as she looked down to watch her breasts swell into the deer’s cool caress.

The situation was immensely wrong. She needed to escape. Yet, she couldn’t. There was nothing she could do but allow the transformation to proceed. As long as she managed to hold onto her mind, she could still blow this operation wide open, using her own body as evidence. That was, then, what Penelope tried to focus on. Her own mind, her personality and memories, to keep them from being overwritten by the eagerly servile nature of the SIN goop slowly consuming her.

But the Prime Drone’s touch felt electrifying. She kept tracing her fingers through the liquid rubber, caressing every inch of Penelope’s body, melting down her attempts at resistance bit by bit.

Then the deer suddenly cupped her sex, sliding a finger into the cheetah, and that was when she finally realized how wet she was. Twice so as the rubber began to spread over her most sensitive parts, too, slowly covering and converting every last bit of pink, exposed flesh. And it felt beyond divine, with Penelope nearly toppling over backwards as the buzzing, chilling, massaging sensations engulfed her clit too, leaving her pussy spasming around thin air as if trying to milk a cock dry.

“Mhm, see? Being a good girl only brings pleasure. Doesn’t the idea of resisting just feel nasty?” the drone whispered. “Just let it take you over.”

“But I’m not- nngh,” Penelope replied, in a futile act of protest. Why protest when even your body is agreeing with her?

The voice of doubt spoke the truth. She was being reshaped with no resistance. The only thing that remained Penelope’s own was her mind, and even then, only barely. More and more she felt warm and tingly all over. Dimly, she understood that the latex wasn’t just covering her, it was consuming her. Converting her into the same liquid substance the drone herself seemed to be. It had no right to feel good at all, much less as good as it did.

“From how wet you’re getting, I can tell you want it, anyway. There’s no reason to resist,” the prime drone purred. She was reshaping that part of her, too. Leaving her mound puffy and pronounced, just as she had made her breasts bigger. Again, that intense sensation of sexiness swept over her. Some part of her changing mind wanted her to succeed, and with her body unable to turn away, it was all but impossible anyway.

But as long as she could hold onto her mind, she could make it work, Penelope told herself, even if her body entirely consisted of deeply sexual, amorphous latex. Even if she looked like a sex doll. Or a drone.

Just the word drone made her shudder.

The deer reached over to a nearby shelf – her fingers never left Penelope’s clutching pussy, continuing to tease her towards an orgasm that seemed inevitable – and brought out one of the visor-masks that she and many of the test subjects were wearing.

“Just the finishing touch. You’re going to remember this moment every time you cum, forever,” Prime Drone 000 almost moaned with how much the act was turning her on, too. If anything, she seemed to be enjoying it even more than Penelope, though at least for her, it wasn’t entirely against her will. Whatever the deer had been before no longer existed in any meaningful way. She was only a drone now. The original, yes, but only a servant regardless.

“No, I don’t, fuck,” Penelope growled. She tried to will her body to move as the visor approached her face. Nothing. The latex had robbed her of control of her muscles. If anything, the premise of being masked made the deer’s fingers feel even better inside her, surrounded by an electrifying tingling. She was teetering on the very edge of pleasurable oblivion.

“Shh. Servant drones like yourself need to be guided, and this is the first step. You need to trust me,” the prime drone purred. And then, before any further protests could leave Penelope’s trembling lips, she sealed the visor over her face. At first, she couldn’t breathe, but then, a gap opened, just enough to let her do what the mask wanted her to, but nothing more.

At first, there was only darkness. Then, a swirl of colors. Endless, fractal colors in a mesmerizing loop that almost instantly made her defiantly tensed shoulders slump down as she relaxed into the prime’s embrace while she kept fingering her, deeper with each cunning thrust.

Then, the words that Penelope had seen on the prime drone’s visor began to flash past her own vision. She thought about closing her eyes to keep the hypnotic suggestions out, but that didn’t seem like something a good girl would do. No, feeling each word sear itself into her subconscious felt good.

Obey. Serve. Surrender. Give in.

And at the same time, the latex was subsuming all there was of her. Her thoughts and memories, bar for those that the goo decided were worth keeping, all dissolved into the warm, rubbery mess. One by one, each lost forever, and each sacrifice rewarded with another sharp, curling thrust of the deer’s fingers inside her, reciprocated with an almost thankful wet clench.

Obey.

Drone.

It felt so good to surrender.

What did anything else matter when she could just lose herself in swirling colors and pleasure, to be nobody instead of her stuffy old self? A drone didn’t need a personality. It only needed a couple of convenient holes to fuck. If even that.

“Cum for me,” the prime drone commanded, her voice echoing from somewhere far away. “Squirt out what remains of your old self. Obey.”

One last flare of resistance bloomed inside Penelope. It felt distant, like a star millions of lightyears away. She had promised herself to hold onto her mind, no matter what happened, and now, she was failing. If she allowed herself to cum, there’d be nothing left of her. But if she didn’t want it, why was her pussy drooling all over the other drone’s fingers? Why couldn’t she remember why she was here?

Who was she? Penelope remembered only a name, but without any identity attached, and she only knew that she needed to resist that final, shattering orgasm, no matter how beautiful it seemed, already promising to utterly melt what remained of her mind in scorching pleasure, leaving nothing but an empty vessel for Prime Drone 000 to shape as she saw fit.

She didn’t want that. Or did she? There was no more distinction between whatever she had been and the sexy new drone she had become.

Penelope did the only thing she could do, and came. Hard. Her entire body shuddered as she slumped against the prime drone, weakly moaning through the little hole in her mask as her pussy milked the deer’s fingers, her juices gushing out of over her probing, cunning fingers with each ecstatic spasm. And she melted, sinking forever into that sweet bliss of submission, of obeying her mistress, of only existing as a drone to serve and pleasure as requested. It was the most intense orgasm of her life.

For a moment, as her orgasm ebbed, Prime Drone 000 held her tightly, like a mother might hold a newborn, squeezing her tightly against her bountiful breasts. Not that the one that had been Penelope was much smaller; both drones were oversexualized to better fit their purposes. That tender moment was brief, but it was one of genuine affection, in spite of all that had just happened, as the deer gave the cheetah some minutes to adjust to her new mind, body, and purpose.

“Now, let’s see,” Prime Drone 000 said, in her soft, unchanging voice, as she looked at what Penelope had become, steadying the cheetah with both arms as she took a step back. “You will be Infiltration Drone Seven-Four-Three. Remember that number.”

Penelope stared into her visor, unthinking. It felt so good to not think at all. What was the point of even trying? Thinking was only suffering, obeying was happiness. Almost orgasmic happiness.

“But first, we’ll have to make sure that you’re loyal. Sometimes, some of the new drones need multiple sessions. Would you think of yourself as lesbian or bisexual?”

“I am whatever the collective needs me to be,” Penelope replied without considering the words in the slightest.

“Mm, of course you are, we all are. But how about the old you that broke into this facility? Was she lesbian? Into other women at all?”

“No,” Penelope – or rather Infltration Drone 743 – replied, obediently. Her former name would remain a good enough identifier for some circumstances, but it was no longer who she really was.

“Good. In that case, show me how much you love my pussy,” the prime drone grinned, pulling up one of the chairs usually used for observation of the test subjects, and sitting down on it.

All of the drones got incredibly aroused by the act of converting another person to one of them, and even the first of them was no exception. Her slick, latex-covered entrance was a dripping mess of desire, and she spread her legs to show Penelope every wet inch of her.

Penelope hesitated. Briefly, but distinctly. The process wasn’t truly instant. She was incapable of disobeying, yes, but every now and then, a flashback of her old life would interrupt what she was doing, until she was used to being a good, mindless drone.

“Now, drone,” her new mistress commanded, and Penelope sank to her knees, obediently crawling up to the latex deer.

The sight of her dripping slit inspired just about every emotion in Penelope’s hazy mind. On one hand, according to her metamorphosed side, it was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen; a puffy, eager pussy, readily leaking its juices as if waiting for her to lick them up. On the other, she wasn’t attracted to it. Or she hadn’t been. If she wasn’t, why was she getting so wet?

But it was too late to resist for the cheetah. She had already surrendered. All that remained were echoes, along with the fading spark of her old self. So she pressed her snout between the deer’s legs.

Good girl, the visor flashed.

She stuck her tongue out and tasted another female for the very first time. Not a woman. Neither of them were people, just drones. The taste, though, was like ambrosia, instantly addictive. Tangy, sweet like honey – at least to her warped senses – and plentiful, instantly urging her to slide her tongue into the deer’s body. And so, she did, smushing her nose against the drone’s plush mound as she thrust her tongue deeper, taking in every last note of her wonderful flavor.

It was amazing. Beyond amazing, hearing her drone-mistress moan happily as her inner walls clenched around Penelope’s tongue. The cheetah moaned too, swallowing a mouthful of her juices with mindless, passionate abandon. All she could think of was how good the other woman tasted, and how strange it was that she hadn’t eaten out anyone before! It was as if she’d lived in a fog, and now this amazing Prime Drone had brought her clarity and purpose! She was made to pleasure people.

And something else. But that purpose hadn’t been revealed to her yet. She felt it in her bones, though. Something about helping bring others into the fold. Just the idea of sharing the sweet latex that covered her body, smearing it over someone else’s curves got her own pronounced and needy cunt dripping.

Caught in the scents and sensations, Penelope began to really lick her mistress. Every little moan she managed to coax out of the deer was a reward in its own. The drones’ bodies were hardwired to reward them for two things; converting others, and pleasing their superiors. With every darting lick over Prime Drone 000’s clit, every scooping lap catching her juices, and every probing thrust of her tongue, Penelope only turned herself on more, until she was panting even as she licked.

“Good… drone,” the deer huffed, hooking one thick, rubbery leg behind Penelope’s head and squeezing her head against her pussy. “Make me cum.”

The words were music to Penelope’s ears. She licked harder, burying her face into the source of all that pleasure and wetness, thrusting her tongue into the drone’s cunt as if it was the best thing she had ever tasted. It only took a few seconds after that; with a loud moan, the deer stiffened in her seat, tensing up in anticipation of her climax.

Good girl, the visor stuck over Penelope’s eyes flashed, and she believed it. She was a good girl, being so obedient and pleasuring her progenitor.

Prime Drone 000 came with a loud, breathy moan. She slumped back in the chair at the first clench of her warm, dripping pussy around Penelope’s tongue, and then, pushed back against those sensations with each following spasm of every pleasured muscle in her body. Her wetness gushed over Penelope’s glistening, latex-covered snout, filling her mouth and bathing her tastebuds in the deeply erotic, tangy flavor of feminine release. She swallowed greedily, no thought of trying to do otherwise even entering her head as she ate the other “woman” out, shamelessly following through with what she’d been ordered.

She was a good girl. A good pet. A good drone. The deer’s hand caressed between her ears, and she leaned into the touch, her face wet with the prime drone’s juices.

“Mm. Clearly you pass the test, 743. Now…” she paused for a moment, to catch her breath. No matter how much of her very being had been replaced by the symbiotic latex, Prime Drone 000 could still get exhausted, and the orgasms from newly converted slave-drones were always intense enough to leave her almost immobile, soaking in the rewarding chemicals rushing through her body. “…now, there is another task for you.”

Infiltration Drone 743 listened attentively to every word her mistress told her.

A few days later, Penelope met with the wolf as planned. This time, they didn’t use a bar, but a seldom-travelled alleyway only ever occupied by the kind of people who wouldn’t report a theft, not to the police and certainly not to the megacorporation that owned it.

“Do you have it? Please tell me you have it,” the journalist demanded, with an aggressive nervousness. They hadn’t had any contact since the initial meeting, purely in the interest of safety. “The photos, the evidence?”

“I do,” Penelope replied. Her voice was strangely flat, and she was dressed in some sort of catsuit – odd for someone whose entire career depended on going unnoticed – but the wolf disregarded the warning signs. She was here for a purpose. If the cheetah had been traumatized by what she had seen, it was something they could deal with later. “Here.”

She handed the camera she had been told to use in the facility back to its original owner.

“Well? What’d you find? Did you find proof of what they’re doing?” the wolf asked, impatiently, but then decided she might as well look through the camera.

She flicked it on, only for it to flash a series of strange colors at her. The wolf knew she should’ve reacted somehow, but instead, she found herself relaxing, staring into the mixing lights. They looked so captivating, and letting the colors soak into her mind made her feel like nothing really mattered. What was she even doing here?

Next to her, the catsuit that “Penelope” had been wearing melted off her body, and then began to reform into something else; Prime Drone 000 quickly swelled forth from the molten mass of rubber, into her preferred humanoid form.

“That’s better,” she stated, once she had reformed enough of a mouth to speak. “To think this wolf might’ve spelled the end of our beautiful collective. Ah, but she’ll be much happier, joining it.”

She glanced at 743. “You did your job well, so you can do the honors,” she smiled. “Welcome this one into the collective.”

Without having to be told, Drone 743 opened the briefcase that she had been carrying. The journalist thought it full of printed evidence, but in reality, it only contained a single item; a new visor-mask, just like the ones worn by the two drones.

743, shuddering with a perverted yet deeply welcome pleasure, almost came on the spot as her fingers brushed over the strange material, knowing exactly what it’d do, rewriting the wolf into a member of the collective. Just another drone for Equestrian Technologies Incorporated to use as they pleased, though if she was lucky, she would at least get her dripping cunt eaten out by her first, because she couldn’t believe how incredibly horny it made her feel to even think about converting the wolf.

Then, as she took that fateful visor out and carefully placed it over the wolf’s face, watching as her stern, frozen expression melted into pure relaxation as words began to flash on it faster than the conscious mind could comprehend, she could already feel an orgasm building, leaking like a faucet as Prime Drone 000, in turn, brushed a hand over the wolf’s breasts, leaving a splotch of the black rubber on her.

In no time, they’d have another new, beautiful member of the collective. Shamelessly, 743 reached to spread the rubber over the wolf’s tits, it now being her turn to shape someone else.

Feeling her body eagerly respond to her touch, growing and swelling, felt sexy.

Obeying felt even more so.