being brainwashed by staring into a visor and then being put in a black latex skintight bodysuit from toes up to my neck with only my head not covered then standing for attention and saluting as drool drips from my mouth and i go "Drone Unit A781 online, ready to serve! Awaiting orders..." would fix me i think
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Last night me and my bf fecided to fuck and,,,, I don't know what demon posesses him but I am FIENDING
It started with him trancing me by having fingers really close to my eyes and swinging them back and forth, perfectly in my "concentrate or your eyes refuse to focus" spot thrn pulled those fingers down and dropped me hsjzgjsgs
THEN he started talking to me as if i was a product. A robot. Giving me the designation "W355" before plugging a (immaterial) cable into the side of my neck to "update" my software (and delete all prior memories just to qipe my slate clean♡), all while riding my absolutely rock hard girldick... using me like the sexbot i was becoming.
Then. Holy fuck. Opened up some unseen hatch on my tummy. Thrusting his hands inside me to pull and place my wires, watching as I squirmed and moaned,,,, the only think stopping me from orgasming then and there, I swear, was the fact I hadn't been told to.
After more fucking and hacking, he brought me out of trance for a minute, just giggling at my confusion at the extreme arousal coursing through my body, and the fact I was so lost and confused, all before dropping me back down by making me repeat my designation...
After a bit more fucking (and switching positions so that my "pleasure subroutines" could rail him more efficiently, he finally orgasmed, leaving me to hump a pillow to finish myself under his orders...
I've been left with a deep hickey on my shoulder (my void of warranty...)
You see the possibility of removing your cybernetic limbs in proximity of your romantic partners as the pinnacle of lascivious surrender, trembling submission, or even act of your own dehumanization and self degradation, the height of sexual body horror and social delinquency.
I'd just love to casually pull at least one arm off of myself every night to more easily snuggle up against my partner without having to worry about having to stick that damn arm somewhere or keep relocating it lest the fleshy sack gets uncomfortably stiff and sore.
We're not the same.
(Not saying I'm not also into everything in the first paragraph though)
Sigma-38 is an assimilator unit out on her first raid. Her target: a young man deemed perfect for assimilation as an incubator.
The New Flesh is a gory, violent smut story for consumption only by adults over the age of 18 who are cool with dubcon, noncon, drugging, gore, light cannibalism, surgery, forcefem (kinda/sorta), brainwashing, weird gender shit, and probably a bunch of other stuff i forgot to mention
April 2
0313 Earth UTC
200 Million Kilometers beyond Jupiter
Sigma-38 fixed her vacuum helmet to her chassis. They were 2 minutes out from their target, a John Henry-class mining vessel, the Blair Mountain. The ship carried 2,000 metric tons of platinum-group metals, 20,000 tons of common ores, and 5,000 tons of water ice. None of that would be taken. When the Blair Mountain would be found, several months hence, her cargo would be entirely accounted for. What happened to her crew would be a mystery, the sort of thing that old astronauts talk about in hushed whispers at Jovian saloons.
The raiding party consisted of two K-class interdictor vessels, each containing 10 Gamma-type assault drones, 4 Mu-type engineers, and 1 Sigma-type assimilator. This was 38’s first raiding party, the drone was eager for the opportunity. Raids were one of the few times when command and control of the hive was allowed to devolve to individuals. Like water rushing in to a cave as the tide rises, the party would disperse into the target ship before washing its contents back out to the ocean of stars.
Nobody had to speak the 30-second warning. Logistic commanders were unnecessary for the hive. Antithetical to it, really. They would have a 15-minute window to subdue and extract the crew and whatever provisions they could before the Blair Mountain came out of a dead zone in the deep space network.
10 seconds. 38’s vessel, K-19, was aligning itself with the main crew hatch. The other interdictor, K-13, was covering the emergency hatch. 5 seconds. There was a soft thump through the floor of the cabin as K-19 achieved hard dock with the target. The airlock decompressed and the force field deactivated, allowing Mu units 76 and 45 to go to work wiring into the Blair Mountain’s airlock controls.
Zero.
The door opened, and the 15 drones of K-19 flooded into the airlock. The Mu units immediately set about bypassing the second door. 10 seconds later, the party was in. Sigma-38 pushed her way through. Screams erupted from the cramped quarters inside. Intelligence pegged the number of crew at 20. The hive had calculated a loss rate of 25% would still result in an acceptable gain, but a dead body was only good for its biomass, nothing more. Nonlethal weapons unless absolutely necessary.
38 followed the sound of screaming down the hall to her right, 4 Gammas behind her. 10 meters in, they came upon a small dormitory. She turned the handle on the door, feeling resistance as the 5 crew members behind the door pushed all their weight on it to try and keep it closed. 2 of the Gammas joined 38 and together they rammed the door down. Sigma-38 grabbed her first quarry of the raid. A young engineer’s mate, no older than 20. Tears filled his eyes as he begged, “Don’t kill me! Please! Don’t kill me, please!’
38 did not respond, only applied a shock from the stun rod embedded in her forearm. The engineer’s mate collapsed as 3 of his shipmates tried to knock her down. The assault drones pulled them off, applying their own stun rods to their prey. It was over in 20 seconds. One of the Gammas put magcuffs on the humans. 38 left the room and continued down the hall as a Mu used a gravcart to haul the humans back to the interdictor.
3 minutes had passed since the airlock was first breached. Mu-76 had patched the hive into the ship’s computer. 38 absorbed the data as she walked down the hall, zeroing in on the captain’s quarters.
The ship’s manifest listed the captain as Theresa “Terry” Holder, 37, a 10 year captain in the civil navy. A picture of the captain appeared in the corner of 38’s vision as she walked through the hall. Though she long ago gave up on being human, 38 still appreciated the form of them. The picture of Holder showed a strong-jawed woman with long brown hair and a swaggering smile, dressed in a grease-stained tank top. 38 felt her cock grow warm underneath the armor plating.
38 found the captain’s quarters, opening the door without hesitation, and was immediately met by the noise of a gunshot and a blast of kinetic energy as a .45 caliber round struck her left chest plate. She noted it, but felt no damage beyond the superficial. Four more quickly followed. Holder’s grouping was good. It would not save her.
Sigma-38 made eye contact with Captain Terry Holder as she approached. Something about her sent a thrill down 38’s spine. Holder’s gun jammed at the same time as a curious expression overtook her stubbled face. Not just fear. Confusion, maybe even a hint of recognition.
“What!?” She shrieked, as she frantically worked the pistol’s slide, trying to clear the jam, “You’re dead. You’re dead! You have to be dead! I shot you! I shot you and you’re dead!”
Sigma-38 grabbed the captain by the neck, lifting her half a meter into the air, and spoke, “Do not resist. You will become beautiful.” with a twitch of her wrist, a needle shot a sedative into the captain’s neck. This was the part 38 had been waiting for. The part where the prey knew it was beaten. that help would not come, that there was no more point in fighting. She locked eyes with the captain as the latter slipped out of consciousness. Though Holder could not see it, 38 was smiling
*****
All told, the raid, from infil to exfil, had taken 12 minutes. Only 2 of the crew of the Blair Mountain were lost. Their bodies were taken, their biomass useful for the synthesis of hormones, amino acids, and neurotransmitters. The other 18 would join the hive. They would be kept sedated until their assimilation began. It was a 4 day flight back to the hive’s nexus, and in that time 38 had planned to assimilate around half of the take.
The first, she decided, would be that engineer’s mate. One of the Gammas brought him to the assimilation chamber. 38 looked him over. Young, thin, around 19 or 20. No tattoos, sandy hair. She affixed a respirator mask to his face and, after checking that he was properly restrained, pressed a button on the stretcher to pull him out of sedation.
He stirred slowly, eyes bleary with drugs. So vulnerable, so innocent. 38 couldn’t wait to assimilate him.
“Where am I?” he said, “I...my name...my name is...Phillip Ellis...203243…”
“Your name,” Sigma said, “is of no concern to us.”
“Phillip Ellis, 2-oh-3, uhhhhh, 2-4-3”
“You have been selected to become an incubator for the hive.”
“What?” confusion crossed his face. Soon would come the fear.
“Your body will be modified and augmented to perform the function of incubator in the hive’s breeding chambers.”
“I...what?” The fear was starting to creep in. 38 had a choice now. She could administer the gas, which would clear away all that fear and doubt, or she could push him just a little further into terror. The choice was not difficult.
She waited for a few seconds and then said, “Do not be afraid,” It was too easy, really, “we will alter your body surgically and mechanically. Superfluous limbs and organs will be removed. You will be conscious during this process. You are afraid now, but you will enjoy it, soon.”
Phillip Ellis’s response was simply to begin screaming. A high pitched, entirely undignified wail of dread. With a smile, Sigma-38 turned on the gas.
Ellis could only scream for so long before his lungs ran out of air. When they did, he had no choice but to inhale. His body was operating on adrenaline, he couldn’t have held his breath if he’d wanted to. He took a deep breath, already preparing to scream again, but the gas worked quickly. Before he finished inhaling it had already worked its way into his brain. A powerful aphrodisiac, it would arouse him, making the next step much easier and faster.
38 felt her cock begin to swell, and said, “I am going to release the restraints on your ankles. I want you to lift your legs up in the air and present your ass to me.”
38 frowned. She dialed up the gas and again, said, “I am going to release the restraints on your ankles. Lift your legs up in the air and present your ass to me.”
“I…” Ellis trailed off. His pupils were dilated, his mouth hanging open, a wide, crazed grin on his face.
“If you will not comply,” said 38, “I will compel you.”
Her cock was aching now. She didn’t feel like waiting for him to lift up his legs. He was so blissed out anyway that he probably couldn’t do it on his own. She grabbed his ankles and lifted them over his head. She held them there with one arm, and with the other, she took her cock and pressed it up against his asshole. He provided no resistance, “oh,” he said, “That feels good,” he was smiling. 38 smiled, too.
Slowly, she began to slide in and out of him. His thin, pale body squirmed and bucked in time with hers. He was hairless except for his head and groin, his cock engorged. She felt his ass grip her cock, and began to fuck him faster. As his moans grew louder and louder, 38 felt herself approaching orgasm. To her, this was foreplay. What came next was the main event.
The first convulsion twitched behind her cock, another, seconds later. The pressure began to build. It would be soon now. She could feel the replicators in her prostate working overtime on their payload. Another pang, the pressure now sustained. Ellis’s moaning was joined by 38’s and she felt her eyes close and her cock grow hard before it finally let go. She felt the pump of her prostate and her balls as they shot 10ccs of assimilation nanites into Ellis’s ass.
Ellis moaned, then groaned, and finally started screaming. This part was always painful, but it would only last for a minute or so. The nanites in 38’s semen were already dispersing themselves through his bloodstream, turning his veins a dark grey, his skin pale as they worked their way through his capilaries. In 10 seconds they had found their way to his brain. There, they began working to redirect the pain signals from his body into the pleasure center, and soon his screams of agony had become cries of ecstasy as he felt his tissue being remodeled on a cellular level.
38 pulled her cock out of his ass, a few grey pearls of cum dripping onto the floor of the chamber. Idly, she touched her finger to the end of her cock and brought it to her mouth, licking her own nanites, a metallic rush on her tongue.
“Nooo,” came Ellis’s pathetic voice, “please don’t stop. I need more.”
“You will get more.”
Ellis smiled. Sigma-38 reached for her first tool, a long, curved knife.
The first thing to do would be to cut through the skin and muscle on all four limbs. The last ¼ by the torso would be allowed to remain. She pressed the knife to Ellis’s left bicep, and whispered in his ear, “are you ready, dear?”
“Yes, yes please!”
She plunged the knife into his arm, feeling it slip through the skin and muscle and thunk down onto the bone below. Ellis screamed from the pleasure of it. Sigma allowed herself to remember this feeling from before the hive. It was bliss. She felt her cooling pump speed up just thinking about it. But she had to focus on the task at hand.
The wound did not bleed much, the nanites already replicating, aiding in clotting and building contact points and hookups for later. Ellis would make an excellent Iota-type incubator.
Soon, 38 had carved away a 3-centimeter wide section of flesh around each cut point on Ellis’s femurs and humeri. She put the knife back in its slot on the wall and reached for a circular bonesaw. She held it to his left humerus, but did not turn it on yet. Instead, she reached down and gently stroked the exposed bone, feeling Ellis shudder under her touch, hearing him moan in pleasure. She looked at his cock and saw a drip of precum fall from it on to his taught, hairless stomach. Almost a pity he wouldn’t have it anymore within the hour. Almost.
She turned on the bonesaw and began removing the limb. Bone chips and marrow spattered on her face, she idly licked them away from her lips. The salty, copper taste drove her mad. She lived for this. It was her purpose.
The next step was to install the hookup sockets to his residual limbs. She touched the side of her head to take a lidar scan of each, before sending them to the replicator in the corner of the room. By the time she’d made her way over, four fresh limb sockets were waiting. She brought them back to her quarry and began fixing them to each limb in turn.
These would be hooked into the breeding chamber back at the nexus. They would carry everything this incubator would need to survive. Nutrition, water, power, networking.
“There,” she said to him, “Isn’t that so much better? Don’t you feel so much lighter? Freer?”
“I do, 38.” He used her designation. A good sign, this meant that the neural connection with the hive was already being established. Usually that took longer. Ellis would likely not reject the hive. That was always a concern. Incubators rarely experienced rejection, but fixing it was always a messy proposition that left the hive with a less-than-fully-functional drone.
“Do you know what’s next, Iota unit?” she asked him as she hooked his limb sockets into a temporary life-support machine
“I do not have access to that information at this time.”
38 smiled and said, “Next we install your chestplate unit, dear.”
She walked to there replicator and pulled out the unit. It resembled a mechanical simulacrum of human breasts in shape, although its function was quite different. This would be the Iota unit’s biomech support device. Hormone synthesizers, nutrition processors, oxygenation units, heat exchangers, blood filters, and an assortment of other devices were included.
Gently, lovingly, she lowered the device onto the Iota unit’s chest. Microhooks dug into his flesh, and he let out a moan of pleasure. Grey lines appeared under his skin as tubing and wiring melded itself with flesh and bone underneath.
She cupped his left breast with her hand, squeezing gently. The silicone skin gave little under her touch, but the Iota gasped and opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on her, before lying back and relaxing again.
It was time for the best part. “Dear,” 38 said, “after this next step you will become Iota-723. Do you know what the next step is?”
“The next step is…” the incubator was thinking, “You give me my womb and pussy, correct?”
“Very good! That’s right!” 38 was beaming ear to ear. 723 was doing very nicely already, and 38 was eager to feel as he felt during this part.
She took a scalpel in her hand, “Just so you know,” she said, “You won’t be able to talk out loud after this until the incubator hardware is installed,”
“That’s okay,” she heard, not out loud, but through the wire. This one was learning quickly.
“Alright” she thought back, “here it comes”
She pressed the scalpel into the soft flesh of his underbelly, just below his sternum. A bit of blood wept from the incision. She carved down and around the lower perimeter of his ribcage, down and around his abdomen to his pelvis, then across his belly, back up to the other side of his ribcage, and back up to the sternum again.
“38,” she heard, again through the wire, “I think I might cum.”
“You have to wait, not yet. Trust me.” she thought back.
Tenderly, she reached her fingers under the skin, and peeled it back, exposing the organs underneath. No longer were they the bright pinks and reds of a normal human’s. Grey filaments spiderwebbed across them, the nanites inside already processing them for use later.
38 went about removing 723’s intestines, stomach, liver, lungs, pancreas, kidneys, bladder, and spleen. Soon, all that was left in the hollow chest cavity was 723’s heart. It was beating fast. Though its owner was quite unperturbed by the situation, the heart itself seemed terrified. 38 once again allowed herself to remember her own assimilation.
Lying on the table, a strong feminine hand reaching inside her, up under her ribcage. Pleasure aching through every remaining fiber of her flesh. Her heart pounding as if trying to knock down the wall of some impregnable fortress. She let this memory swim to 723, letting it communicate through feeling rather than words what was to happen next.
38 reached into 723’s ribcage, and gently clasped his heart in her hand. She reached the other hand in, the one holding the scalpel, and quickly cut through the vessels and ligaments holding the heart in place. It kept beating as she slowly pulled it out and presented it to him.
But 723 didn’t see. He was screaming, or rather, trying to, the pleasure overtaking him. His eyes rolled back into his head and the muscles that remained in his body flexed rhythmically as he experience the most powerful orgasm of his life.
When 38 had been assimilated, her orgasm had lasted for 12 minutes and 22 seconds. She sat there, stroking 723’s short, sandy hair, for more than 15 minutes, until the last waves of ecstasy left him.
When he finally relaxed, 38 stood up and retrieved the incubator hardware from the replicator. The main part of it consisted of an expandable tank, for growing embryonic drones. Other equipment included amniotic filters, immune augmentation, and a vocal synthesizer that would hook up to the throat to allow the unit to speak normally.
She lowered the hardware into the cavity, easing the accessories under 723’s ribcage and attaching the mount to his lower spine. When she was finished, she gently caressed the small window of the tank. “You’re going to make us such beautiful drones, dear.”
“That is all I want,” said 723, out loud now, “to serve the hive.”
“Well,” 38 replied, “you’ll need a pussy to be a proper breeding device, won’t you?”
“Yes!” he cried, excitedly, “give me my pussy!”
38 went to work. She opened up his scrotum first, removing the testicles and gently placing them aside. The next step was to remove the erectile tissue from the penis. She took great care while doing this not to cut the nerve that ran to the head. Damaging that would mean there wasn’t anything left to make 723’s clitoris, which would be a shame not just for him, but for the entire hive. An incubator that could not feel pleasure was no incubator at all.
She pressed the now-inverted penile skin up into 723’s abdomen, and felt the incubator hardware grasp and attach to it. She opened a small tube in one of her fingers and injected pleasure nanites into the cavity. They would lubricate and protect the birth canal, as well as make it more sensitive for both 723 and 723’s end user.
38 took some nano-suture and sewed small details into the skin outside, she placed the clitoris under a nice little hood, sewed small wrinkles into 723’s new lips, and, rather tastefully she thought, bunched up the pussy lips so they were nice and plump.
“723, would you like to see your new pussy?”
“Yes! Yes I would!”
Rather than hold up a mirror, 38 simply showed 723 how his pussy looked through her eyes.
“Oh god, it’s so cute!” he said, “I can’t wait to use it.”
38 smiled, “All in time. For now, you need rest.”
“Understood,” 723 said. He closed his eyes and slept while the nanites in his body finished up the finer details of installation.
Sigma-38 picked Iota-723 up, and carried him to the adjacent conditioning chamber. Gently, she hooked him into a wall mount, before turning and making her way to preprocessing.
723’s assimilation had taken only an hour. Incubators usually took less time than full drones, though. 38 stepped into preprocessing, and looked over the remaining 16 humans, (Sigma-47 was working on assimilating another) held by mag restraints on vertical beds. Her gaze fell on the captain.
Terry Holder’s sedation was just now wearing off, as 38 had planned. Groggily, the captain opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on 38. She struggled, ineffectually. The drugs were still in her system, still keeping her slow and weak. There was that look of confusion again, from her quarters, and recognition. Her eyes grew wide as it dawned on her, and she said, “Jenna? You’re alive?”
“Hello Terry,” said Sigma-38, “The Jenna you knew is long, long gone.”
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wonderful idea. little numeric keypad that it can type in the Drone Status Code and the message plays out in text to speech. maybe just some phone program but perhaps a little tactile keypad it can wear on its arm like a cute little bracelet. or cute little Nintendo Power Glove.
It had been several weeks since Aurora was honorably discharged from service after her contract was up. Her family was taking care of her, as she couldn't do much more than lay in bed. It was maddening. She was made to take orders, to do more than just endlessly watch tv or play games. She cried more often than not. Although she was home, she refused to be called anything but either 427 or her call sign: Aurora.
The biggest struggle though wasn't being unable to do anything, it was how hard it was to find healthcare. Once she was discharged, no doctor cared to treat her. They found her shifty, hollow eyes unsettling. It was hard to advocate for herself when she spaced out often. Her family would come with, but it didn't matter. She was still gaslit.
She spent nights reading about healthcare and trying to find alternatives when she found a buried reddit thread where a Unity drone answered questions. She had heard of Unity Industries before but she had assumed that they were robots, and not people. This thread proved her wrong.
Mintharas_pet_spider: "Are you provided with health insurance and or dental insurance?"
RCT_662: "It is provided with healthcare within the hive. The ENG units provide repairs to drone chassis in the drone repair chamber. There is no need for health or dental insurance when the ENG units are ready to serve."
handlers_pet69: "Do you have accommodations for ex mech pilots and chronically ill people?"
RCT_662: "Affirmative, we take accommodations very seriously. During intake, you will be asked if you have any conditions and accommodation requests."
Aurora continued to research Unity Industries for the next few days. It was then that she had made her decision. She wanted to be a drone. She would be home for weekends and holidays though, as she still wanted her family to be in her life. It took her another few days to make the preparations, inform her family of what she intended to do. They were supportive, for the most part. She had to explain a lot of misconceptions to them. They knew there wasn't much room in this world for an ex mech pilot.
She walked into the building and went to see the drone at the front desk and handed in the application. "You may take a seat in the waiting room while the hive processes your application," the drone said while it pointed to the chairs. She sat in one of the chairs and read a magazine. It took only a few minutes for the hive to review the application. A drone appeared and said, "Aurora, follow this unit."
She followed the drone through the door. The hallway was black with green lights as the trim on the walls. They walked into the conversion chamber to find Mxtress next to a chair with restraints. "You wrote down your triggers on your application, do you mind if this unit uses them," Mxtress asked.
"I'm ok with it," Aurora replied. She sat down in the chair and let Mxtress restrain her. A sudden snap made her twitch and drop into trance so many times before. It was her ex handler's favorite way to keep her in line. A mask was placed on her face for a few moments before being pulled away.
The hypnochems hit her blood stream and hit her like a freight train. Her eyes rolled to the back of her skull. The pain in her body had vanished, as warmth flowed through her. She felt cable plug into her neural port, causing her to arch her back against the restraints for a brief moment. She barely noticed Mxtress pulling the tendrils from the machine above her. As they slide into her ears, she let out a gasp. Mantras overwhelmed her. She was paralyzed with peaceful bliss as the cable was thrust in and out of her neural port in time to the binaurals.
She felt Mxtress' hand on her shoulder as it typed its programing into the computer. Her eyes fluttered senselessly. She lost herself in the abyss of hypnotic desire for the reconditioning. She was there for hours, the tendrils controlling her mind and analyzing every cell in her body.
Mxtress gently pulled the cable out of MNT-925's neural port, and then removed the tendrils. It looked down and patted MNT-925's head.
It felt a click as the cord in the helmet was inserted into its neural port. It wasn't like the sudden and overwhelming boot up of it's mech, it was peaceful. It heard the hive singing to it. The chatter was harmonious and peaceful. It had a home, it had community. The hive was welcoming as it came online. "Drone MNT-925 activated," it said softly. "Good drone," Mxtress purred. The praise from it sent shivers down its back, causing it to reply, "Drone is good drone."
Mxtress gently took MNT-925's hand and helped it stand up. A couple drones entered the room and assisted 925 in walking to the drone repair chamber. It was too disoriented to walk straight without them.
It was led to a pod, before being carried into the pod. The blankets were laid upon it. It watched as the lid was closed and the screen above turned on. The spiral was captivating. It drifted into a deep sleep as the pod scanned its body, analyzing every cell for illness or dysfunction. The ENG units analyzing the data so that they know how to treat it.