The next subject was wheeled into my chamber on a steel bed, their ankles and wrists shackled down with steel chains to prevent any unwanted reactions. I rose from my idle reading, waving the attendant away as I locked the bed into position and began to gather my equipment, placing the tools of my trade on a small platform beside the subject. I looked them up and down, evaluating their situation, while reaching for the tablet that would list out all of the specifics – I had made a little game of it, in my time working at the factory, trying to guess what had befallen the unfortunate souls that landed in my clutches.
Judging by the attire the attendants had left on them – a red latex skirt with a matching bra, along with red fishnets on the upper and lower body – this one had probably been picked up at a fetish club. It was a common enough hunting ground; they had probably been dancing their night away, or perhaps had even found someone to get intimate with, when a sharp sting at the back of their neck signalled the end of everything. I reached behind the subject’s neck to feel for the faint metallic bump of the obedience chip, confirming its location with a nod to myself. It might be useful, but I always preferred to avoid it; it was more satisfying to watch the effects of the process take hold with a little bit of a struggle. At last, I checked the tablet, and grinned. My guess had been spot on. The tablet also gave me the designation of the subject, 375, and a note that they had been particularly “spirited” during the transport phase. My grin split wider, a challenge!
With my tools splayed out, I was ready to begin. I prepared myself, always enjoying the moment of realisation from the subjects, and pressed a button on the tablet. Instantly, 375’s eyes shot open, darting around the room, widening as they tried to pull their wrists away from the bed and failed. I could imagine the thoughts running through their head, awakening in a dark, unknown place, the rattle of chains echoing down the halls, the occasional scream slipping through the soundproofing on my doors – I enjoyed the soundtrack while I worked. At last, their gaze snapped to me, sliding up and down my own rubber-coated body, reaching up to the grin plastered on my face. I leant down close to them and peeled one of their eyes fully open, both to confirm that they were fully conscious, and for my own enjoyment; the grimace that came across their lips as I casually manipulated their face was a delight. “And, fully back with us. Welcome to the factory, 375!” A few of the attendants had told me my tone was overly cheerful when dealing with the subjects, but it wasn’t my fault that I enjoyed my job.
“Where the fuck am I?! And my name is Morgan, you basta–”
A tap of a button sent a violent shock through their body, emanating from the obedience chip. “Ah-ah, play nice, 375.” The condescension dripped from my voice in a way that I enjoyed all too much, but the pain had stunned them back into silence, and the only response I got was a hateful glare. That was more than enough. “Good! Now, as I was saying, welcome to the factory!”
As I spoke, I began to assemble my tools together; a pair of contact pads, plugged into a faintly whining box with a series of dials mounted on one side, a blinking set of lights displaying its current setting. “You have been brought here to be turned into a drone, and it’s my job to carry out that process. While you were unconscious, you were injected with a series of nano-scale seed particles, which have now spread throughout your bloodstream. When they are stimulated by intense electrical impulses, they will activate, and turn your body into a rubberised material. That chip in your neck will simultaneously be slowly doing the same to your mind, making you nice and obedient. Understood?” I smiled down at the soon-to-be drone, seeing a look of horror creeping into their eyes. “Well, no matter, you’ll feel it soon enough. We go limb-by-limb to make sure it has the most effect, so…” I ripped open a hole in 375’s tights, exposing the pale skin of one leg beneath, and pressed the two contact pads down. “Ready? Okay!”
“No, wait, stop-stop-sto–!”
Their protests were cut off as I twisted the dial on the box, high-voltage current now flowing through their left leg. 375’s face twisted up in pain, but their eyes quickly burst open, no doubt feeling the seed particles start to activate. “Cold!” I heard them gasp, and I could see the first tinges of shiny black rubber starting to appear on their skin, slowly spreading underneath their fishnets. The conversion stopped at the upper thigh, and I casually lifted their skirt to check the progress, finding a clean line dividing their torso from the leg, as if the latter had been somehow grafted unnaturally onto the former. I gave the seam a reassuring pat, knowing that that problem would soon be fixed. While I looked however, I also spotted something extra; the pair of latex panties hidden underneath the skirt. “My-my, 375, aren’t you a devious one.” I looked up to meet their eyes, seeing the anger in them diluted by the first dose of the obedience chip’s conversion.
“It’s… Morgan!” They forced out through gritted teeth. I ignored them, moving the pads over to the next leg. 375 tossed their head back, grunting as the electricity began to pulse through their limb, and more of their body and mind turned to rubber. Quickly, an identical latex limb descended from their torso, leaving just a cleft of flesh between their thighs, hidden by the latex panties.
I took some time to inspect the quality of the conversion, casually ripping the fishnets away to get access to the newly rubberised flesh. Sliding my palm along the smooth latex of 375’s leg, I heard a choked moan breaking through their restraint, looking back at them with a grin. “Don’t worry, 375, it’s supposed to feel good! Helps with the conditioning. You might as well enjoy it while you can.” I continued stroking along the rubber, down to their perfectly converted feet, the rubber recreating their toes in slick, shiny, black form.
“Morgan… Morgan… Morgan…” They kept muttering the word to themselves, as if trying to keep hold of it, and I pulled away from my inspection to move the pads up to their upper left arm.
“Getting tough to keep a hold of things? It’ll go easier if you just let it all go. Your skin is incredible for conversion, by the way, extremely smooth results, you’re going to make for an excellent drone!” I gave 375 a faint stroke on the head, watching the conflicted feelings running through them – praising the subjects at this stage worked wonders for dismantling their mental barriers and letting the rubberisation progress further. By this point, their mind would already be clouded with slick, shiny blankness, their very neurons steadily converting into mechanical structures formed from the nanoparticles.
Giving them no time to try and break through their slowly solidifying conditioning, I turned the dial once more. Their entire upper body tensed up, and grunts of pain broke through their resistance, both of their fists clenching as the latex began to seep out from their bones, a chill spreading from the inside of their left arm out, and in the blink of an eye they now had three limbs rendered in smooth rubber.
I leaned down close, propping my elbow up beside their head. “Hey, 375, how’re you feeling?”
Their head flopped to the side, eyes lidded, few thoughts remaining behind them that hadn’t been scrambled or rubberised. Dimly, they murmured out “M… Morgan…”
“Shh, 375, it’s alright. Anyway, I just wanted to show you something; you’ve been eager to get out until now, right? Well.” I reached down and casually flipped open the shackle around their left wrist, leaving it completely unrestrained. I watched their eyes widen as the realisation slowly reached their mind, but other than a faint twitch from their shoulder, the limb didn’t move. Their eyes got wider still, and flicked to me. “Watch this,” I said, grinning, before; “375, raise left arm.”
Instantly, their limb lifted off the bed, pointing straight into the air, without any conscious input from the unfortunate drone-to-be lying on the bed. 375 stared up at their uncontrollable arm, gaping, until I commanded the limb to descend again. “You don’t get to control your body anymore, 375, but don’t worry about it.” I gave them a gentle pat on the cheek, and moved the electrodes over to their right arm, quickly turning the voltage up.
Their response was muted, used to the sensations and with barely enough neurons to string together a thought, and soon the limb had been completely transformed, leaving the torso and head as the last points of raw flesh still on 375’s body. Easily fixed. I leaned in to look into the subject’s eyes, seeing their pupils heavily dilated, staring off into blank space. “What’s your name?” I asked them, grinning, knowing what their response was about to be.
“…” The silence drifting out of their lips was breathtaking, almost every last shred of themselves erased. And, soon, even those would be gone. That sound of nothingness was why I did this job. Casually, I stripped the rest of their clothes away, cutting through the latex and fishnets to leave them bare on the table, the ruined remnants of their clothing splayed out beneath them. I ran a palm over their torso, inspecting it all, before placing the contact pads on their stomach.
“Not long now, 375!”
I twisted the dial, and the sharp seams dividing their limbs from their body began to melt and shift, the black rubber making incursions all across their frame. Their breasts began to shift into slick, dark latex, their stomach tightened and reshaped itself as the rubber converted their insides into a more efficient layout, and they let out a squeaking gasp as their lungs transformed. A moment later and only their head and their cunt remained unchanged, islands of flesh in an ocean of smooth, perfect rubber. I pulled the contact pads away, disconnecting them from the power box and discarding them, retrieving two more items. First, a long, cylindrical electrode, which I attached two cables to and easily slipped into 375’s hole. Second, the faceplate to a gas mask, two round, circular lenses matching up with 375’s empty eyes, and a long, phallic probe beneath the front voice-box that quickly found its place in their mouth. I didn’t need to strap the mask down – as soon as the electrodes inside it activated, the rubber would meld it to the drone’s face, creating a perfect seal and ensuring that it would never be removed. All it would take was one more charge from the power box, and the last dregs of whatever 375 used to be would be gone.
This was my favourite part.
I twisted the dial, the box whining as power surged through its coils. Their cunt changed first, black rubber spreading out from inside it as the slit turned into a round, open rubber hole, more like the entrance to a sex toy than any biological orifice – exactly how it was supposed to be. I knew without looking that their asshole had changed in the same way, leaving the drone with a pair of permanently slick and pliable holes. Meanwhile, the seam between their head and their gas mask was slowly shrinking, until there was no distinction at all. I heard their breathing hitch for a moment, then a rattling hiss emerged from the gas mask, as the pipe inside connected to their airway. I waited a few moments for the process to finalise then turned the power box off, removing the probe from the hole that used to be their cunt. Putting away my tools gave the drone’s brain time to adjust to the information flooding it from the factory’s network, providing instructions and commands.
At last, I turned back to 375, unshackling them completely and asking the standard evaluation questions – even though I knew the process never failed. “What is your name?”
“It has no name.”
“What is your designation?”
“Drone 375.”
“What is your purpose?”
“To obey.”
I grinned, mentally erasing the idea of 375 as “them” and replacing the word with “it.” That was the only correct term to use for obedient objects, after all.
“Good drone.”