The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Part 1

The Sigmas were notorious in the area. The attitudes towards them were a mix of jealousy, awe, and genuine fear: Where most of the biker gangs were a ragtag collection of thugs and misfits, the Sigmas prided themselves on their order, discipline, and use of cyborg technology to overcome their deficiencies. Everyone said they weren’t human any longer. That they were cybernetic monstrosities: The Sigmas modified their bodies and minds so much that their connection to their old human lives was tenuous at best. Or so I heard. Just then, one whipped past me and immediately disappeared far into the distance, the high-pitched electric whine of its advanced engine conspicuous against my own bike’s growl.

I rode through the mountains through the frigid air, riding deep into their territory, coming steadily closer to the blinking symbol on my GPS. There was hardly another soul out on the road. I was alone. It was just me, the bike, and the mysterious coordinates wired to me by the Sigma leader.

As I came over a rise, I saw the compound. I dropped the speed as I rolled up to the gate, and prepared to put my foot on the ground.

“I’m here to see..”

The loyal drone opened the gate before I could finish. It had a strange blankness: Its face was absent of any sign of facial hair, its bald head just the right shape. Its eyes seemed fixed straight ahead, the facial expression perfectly blank. It was clad head to toe in sophisticated silver armor. Cupping the back of its head was a boxy implant which seemed to connect to its armor’s spinal machinery.

“Thanks.”, I muttered softly, shaken by the encounter, fully aware that this cyborg would not parse these unneeded words of courtesy. I hit the throttle.

I continued up the gravel trail, cautiously, keenly aware that I was being monitored. Up ahead was a series of warehouses. A guard tower overlooked the premises. What a low tech compound for such a technologically sophisticated gang.

I slowly drove into the garage. To either side of me were raised concrete platforms, and on them were drones lined up, each facing me and each other. As the drone I saw before did, they stood almost precisely motionless. Obedient. Robotic. Most of them were clad in silver armor; some were shiny black instead. Some had their heads exposed as the drone before did; others had helmets with a visor. And, some had mouthpieces which fed into a tank on their backs. There was an ominous hiss as those drones took in air, then vapor escaping from the front of their mouthpieces as they exhaled, accompanied by a softer hiss, relays clicking.

At the end of the concrete path was another platform, dead ahead. There was a lift in front of it. There stood the Sigma leader. It was a tall, imposing figure. What little light there was glinted off its muscled armor. I stopped the bike, hit the kickstand, and got off. The leader walked onto the lift, flanked by two drone bodyguards, and descended to my level.

It came into the light. It didn’t look human or biological in any way. It took me a second to realize it was a female form.

As she strolled towards me, I could hear its motors whirring and clicking.

“That was quite a gamble. How did you know I would come?”, I said, trying to sound tough.

But for all I knew, I was talking to a droid. In fact, the only hint that it might be anything other than a robot came from its uncannily human movements. And, its recognizably human speaking inflection, even if the timbre had strange synthetic overtones.

“I knew you would not be able to resist. I knew as soon as I saw you on the road. I saw the look you gave Sigma D-5B; the hesitation that followed. Right before you so artfully terminated that unit. I saw it all through its eyes.”

The voice was smooth, cooing. I felt a strange unease. Conflicted feelings. Guilt—I didn’t want to harm that unit, but it left me little choice. Why would I ever willingly harm such a beautiful creature? It was the perfect synergy of biology and technology. The leader continued to step towards me, its cyborg gaze fixed on my face, studying me. Its bodyguards remained near the lift, standing stiffly upright, staring straight ahead.

“Not to worry, outsider. We have too much invested in these expensive units to let them die. We were able to put D-5B back together. Better than before.”

The leader began to circle me, sizing me up. I looked into her large cyclops lens. Nothing on her face moved when she spoke, although a light where its mouth would be lit up an eerie blue and flickered with its speech:

“Always better than before.”

The leader looked over to the right. One of the bodyguards walked up. Although this one looked more like someone clad in black bike gear, I heard servo sounds as it moved. Its head was completely covered with a helmet with an enormous, sloped front visor. Onto this visor was projected glowing red and cyan status information. In the middle was a large red crosshair which seemed to move as a human eye might dart around. Stamped into its armor on one of its pecs was sleek, stenciled text reading “D-5B”. The leader looked back at me to gauge my reaction.

I involuntarily gasped. The last time I saw this drone it had a bald head like many of the others. Now, it was permanently encased behind this dome. What was beneath the visor only the leader knew.

“You would like to join us. You yearn to be liberated from your petty human emotions, as D-5B has been.”

I didn’t know what to say. I just stood there dumbly. I looked at the leader, and then turned my head to look at D-5B.

“This drone is not of our concern today, outsider. It is a distraction.” It looked back to D-5B, “D-5B, initiate shutdown.”

Text and symbols flooded D-5B’s outward-facing helmet display. It whirred as it robotically jerked once, then slumped forward, still standing. The display went black.

I was a bit shocked, but also aroused. There must not be much organic under that suit, given D-5B’s unnaturally rigid motions.

The leader walked past my bike, its hand running across the metal frame, almost caressing it.

“Honda CB4. Interceptor.”

It stated this with some approval in its tone. It made its way back towards me. I stood in place, not sure if I should run or stay.

“Not very technologically advanced, but nevertheless a fast bike. And you’re a fast rider.”

We were now face-to-face, just inches apart.

“But imagine how fast you could ride with a real machine between your legs.”

With the words “between your legs”, she put her palm against my crotch and grabbed it. Her fingers pointed downward, slowly rubbing my cock through my jeans. I drew a sharp breath in. After a moment, with a tug, it undid my belt. She carefully unbuttoned the top button of my jeans and slipped her hand down the front of my pants. I heard tiny motors operating as her cold metal -and-plastic hand fondled me.

I tried to muster some courage. “What do you want with me? Why did you ask me here?”. I tried to sound forceful, but it came out audibly worried.

The leader looked back at me, ignoring my question. “Heart rate increase 20%. Oxygen intake increase 12%. Pupils dilated. Your mind may feel uncertainty, but your body doesn’t.”

She took her hand out of my jeans and unzipped them. They dropped around my ankles. I stood in my boxer briefs, clearly erect.

“In situations such as these, it would have been useful had I retained a mouth. But we have other ways of pleasuring you.”

I felt short of breath. I was massively turned on, even though I knew I shouldn’t be. I’d never been this close to a real cyborg before, especially not one so heavily converted. Its outer surface showed scrapes, scratches, and chips where it must have hit the gravel or had otherwise taken damage. I wanted to reach out and stroke its armor, to feel it, but I was inhibited. Was this the right thing to do? I was paralyzed, my mind running in two directions at once.

Two drones came out of nowhere and helped me remove my jacket. They had bald heads, blank stares, and silver armor. One had a mouthpiece, and I could hear its life support system calmly hissing and clicking. Both had the implant cupping the backs of their heads. In their ears were slick metallic implants. Their skin was strangely smooth—no hair follicles. No pores. Their irises had circuitry intertwined with them, and their retinas gave off a subtle eerie glow in the dark room. It was as if something behind their face was more than simply human.

I stood facing the leader, which made a pointing gesture with its hand, her index finger extended towards my collar. A small razor blade appeared from the tip, and it ripped my undershirt cleanly down the middle until it simply fell away. Its precision was incredible, the razor blade deep enough to rip the fabric but not to leave even a scratch on my skin. The two drones knelt and undid my shoelaces as the leader cut away my boxers. I stepped out of my shoes and socks. I was nude, erect, and surrounded by cyborg beings, unsure of what would come next.

The two drones took their positions on either side of me and grabbed my arms. The leader continued to masturbate me, its gentle touch unmistakably human, even though its cold metal and plastic hand seemed to be machine through and through. I was overwhelmed with pleasure. “Don’t come yet, human.” It continued. I clenched down, trying my best to suppress it. “Don’t come.” The leader paused for a second as the pleasure retreated a little. But then it grabbed my penis and picked up the pace, roughly jacking me off. I clenched down even harder, but despite my best efforts, I grunted as a small load squirted out onto the leader’s armor. The leader immediately withdrew and stood erect. The liquidy pre-cum dripped down its metallic torso, the biological fluid contrasting with the perfectly sculpted machine. Without facial expressions, I couldn’t tell if it was displeased or not. After a few moments of tense silence, it spoke:

“There are repercussions for disobeying, outsider.”

I felt a sharp panic; a shot of adrenaline. But surely it didn’t bring me here just to do this and then dispatch of me. After a pause, it continued:

“But this time I think you will find them to be.. pleasurable.”

The drones holding let go of my arms. One opened a pouch and produced a small rag and a spray bottle and offered them to me. I took them, and sprayed down the area on the leader that I had cum on, then wiped it off. I continued to polish the leader’s armor in a circular motion until it shined again, despite the small nicks and scratches. The area where I wiped contrasted against the thin layer of dust on the rest of its armor. I took a step back. The leader spoke:

“Most impressive. Obedient and a fast learner. You will make an excellent addition to our organization.”

Just then, I felt a pin prick on my neck. I instinctively tried to pull away but the other drone held my neck and head in place. A tiny needle from the drone’s wrist had shot out and penetrated me. In the moment it took me to realize that the drone to my right had pumped me full of drugs, reality started to go swimmy. I struggled against the drones’ grasp. To what end, I don’t know—it was too late to do anything about it.

“There is no need to panic. Count to 10 and you will be out. 1.. 2..”

My knees buckled. The lights in the room seemed blinding, and everything was starting to blur together into a visual soup. The drones continued to hold me tight. I counted along with the leader, trying to calm myself.

“3.. 4.. 5..”

I lost consciousness.

Part 2

I awoke, completely unaware of any passage of time. It was as if the moments that I was unconscious had been snipped out of existence. I went from standing there in the garage to finding myself crumpled on the floor of a shower, lukewarm water sprinkling onto me from overhead. Two drones knelt, flanking me, rubbing me down with sharply chemical-smelling gel. It foamed, and my body hair came off with the lather as it all washed away down the large drain. They rubbed the gel onto my head, and my hair came out in clumps. I was now as smooth and bald as they were.

Disoriented, I began to move. Uncoordinated. The drones noticed this and helped me to my feet. I felt weak. They held me up by my arms and helped me to a dry area where they sat me down on a bench. I began to feel my head with my hand, which was slick from the chemical residue. Reaching behind my head, I felt a bump. It was circular, metallic, and recessed a little into my skull. A port. How long was I out, and what had they installed into my body? I reached behind my back and felt several additional jacks dotting the length of my spine. Then one at the base of my tailbone. I was hit with a realization, and reached down to touch my anus. The rim was no longer human flesh.

I sat between the two drones. They stared straight ahead with perfect posture, paying no attention to the water droplets still on their skin and armor. I’d always thought of myself as more or less straight, and had never felt so drawn to a man before as I felt in this moment. I impulsively reached out and caressed the muscular metallic thigh of the one to the left of me, feeling its curvature and the heat vent slits on its side. I kept rubbing it, transfixed, almost physically unable to pull my hand away. I saw something stir beneath its neoprene codpiece, which I then touched. My breathing was heavy. It turned to look at me, its glowing eyes piercing my soul. What had I activated?

It stared down at my erect cock for several moments, then snapped back into its bolt upright sitting pose. “Sexual subroutine 3F initiated”, it stated in a monotone. Then, in a robotic fashion, it got up, walked over to me, and knelt between my legs. It reached around my back and pulled my slick body a little closer. It took my cock into its mouth. My breathing was heavy as it bobbed its head up and down my shaft. It was wet and warm, though slightly cooler than regular body temperature. I put my hands around the back of its bald head, against its cranial implant, as it worked my cock. I looked over at the other drone. It still sat upright, staring straight ahead, taking no notice of what was unfolding next to it. Its expression was completely blank, its eyes unfocused.

Even though I was in ecstasy, I thought I should probably pull out. “I.. I’m gonna cum!”, I exclaimed. But the drone didn’t seem to mind. It was in control, holding my lower back tight as it sucked me off. The drone started going slower, tasting the pre-cum dribbling out of my cock. It then resumed the pace, and finally went hard down on my shaft, pulling me against it. “Oh god! Oh god!”, I yelled as it swallowed my load.

The drone disengaged. We both stood up, close together. I was still hard, and drawn to this drone. I wanted to touch it, feel it. Kiss it.

Just then I heard the sound of the automatic door opening, and the Sigma leader walked through the open doorway.

“What is this? I was to have first copulation with the new recruit.”

I stammered, “I’m sorry! This is my fault, I…”—

I was cut off by rough and heavily modulated speech. For the first time, I heard a Sigma drone speak. Its voice was the opposite of the leader’s siren song, “Forgive us. We have not had access to male genitalia since the last new recruit. It has been some time.”

There was a pause. Despite the leader not having facial expressions, I could feel its displeasure.

“And you won’t for some time longer. But you will be dealt with later. Get that human dressed.”

The leader stood and watched as the drone with the mouthpiece marched me to a station with its hand firmly on my shoulder. I stood in the middle, and the drone helped dress me in a sleek suit. The material was rubbery, similar to neoprene. There were circular openings on parts of the suit lined with plastic rings, likely where tubes would eventually plug into. With a hiss of air escaping, it constricted until it was skin-tight. The drone with the mouthpiece pulled a hard plastic piece from a nearby rack—a backpack, chestpiece, and shoulder pad unit—and secured it to me. With a few mechanical clicks, it sealed itself to the more flexible underlayer. There was a whir like an electric screwdriver, and I felt the backpack screw into one of the jacks in my back. Or, rather, I felt the pressure of it—no nerves were there. Then another. I grunted. It was pleasurable. But why?

It put me into futuristic boots that went high up on the shin with plastic guards which wrapped around my calf. Those tightened and sealed as well. Looking down, I noticed that my crotch was still exposed. The leader continued to stare as the drone finished me up. I got a sense of approval from it somehow.

Satisfied, the leader commanded, “Follow me, human.”

I followed it down the corridor, the drone with the mouthpiece behind us acting as bodyguard. My walking was augmented by the boots, making the sensations feel detached. And, for the first time, I noticed that the leader had a rubber-like underlayer exposed where its buttock and upper thigh were. The way its muscular cheeks flexed and unflexed as it walked had drawn my attention to it. Its upper thigh was also quite well built. This was the first indication of the cyborg’s sex that I saw. It must be a male, I guessed.

“I don’t understand. If you have such control over your drones, how are they able to disobey?”

“Human sexuality is a powerful mechanism. It can seduce, convince, and aid in mental conditioning. But it is a double-edged sword. It is a primal, low level emotion.”

“The cranial implants are unable to block it”, I hypothesized out loud.

The leader stopped in front of the lift and turned to look at me. “I would be concerned that you have this knowledge if you weren’t about to become one of my drones yourself.”

And that’s when it hit me like a brick to the head: I was becoming a drone, and there was no escape. I had already suspected of course: My clothes were gone, and I was wearing the first layer of the drone’s uniform. The transformation had clearly begun.

We got on the lift. I felt a dizzy for a moment, having trouble processing what was happening to me. The leader continued, “Most of the time it is not an issue, as the only way the drones have a chance of experiencing that extreme level of sexuality is when we add new recruits or when the drones are serviced.”

“But I don’t understand. They’ve got the equipment. I saw—”

The leader cut me off. “We are riders. Male genitalia is unwieldy. We have been streamlined; sealed into our armor. Here, feel this.”

He grabbed my hand and put it on her crotch. It was cold and felt like solid metal with 3 ports: one large one on the front, and two smaller ports on the underside of its crotch. I frowned, confused.

“These maglock jacks are not for you, human. They are for interfacing with the bike. It is our purpose.”

The lift stopped and the doors opened. We definitely weren’t in the same compound as before.

“Come.”

Part 3

I followed her down a long and curving hallway. The immaculate environment was made of gleaming steel- a shock after just being in the humid and organic-feeling shower room. After a minute of walking in silence, we reached the chamber. Electronics and small readouts lined some of the walls, but they were perfectly sleek and orderly. Chilly blue LEDs were lit on some equipment. The room was surprisingly ornate, with superfluous metal engravings that seemed like they were from an ancient era. It reminded me of a throne room, albeit in an off-kilter and sterile cyborg way. There was even a large mirror, probably one of the few ways the drones could ever see what they looked like. Vanity. Not exactly what I expected.

“So this is what you do with all that money. Aren’t decorations a bit too illogical and inefficient for your taste?”

I looked around. There didn’t seem to be anything else in the way of human comforts here. No bed, no chairs. In the middle of the room was a circular raised platform. Three steps led up to it, the bottom of each stair glowing an eerie blue against the step’s brushed steel. Secured to the platform was a cybernetic mockery of a throne, covered in technology. I theorized that this was where the leader went to recharge and maintain its cybernetic body. Regular sleep must do very little for its needs.

She stood, her back turned to me, staring at herself in the large mirror.

“87 percent of me might be machine, but I contain a kernel with human wants and desires. As do all the drones. We can replace any body part. Any limb or organ can be manufactured with superior strength and accuracy. But we can only reprogram our minds so much. Sooner or later that.. Disgusting, messy biology seeps through.”

There was clear disgust in her voice near the end. She continued to stare. What it was thinking I could only guess. Was it never cyborg enough to be satisfied with itself? Or was this arousing to it, to see itself trapped in this robot body? Yes, that would be highly arousing to see myself like that. To be a drone.

I caught myself. Why did I have that thought? I must be changing in more ways than just physically.

There was a click and a small drawer ejected from the wall. The leader bent forward and grabbed something from it. I heard a thunk and several clicks as a maglock engaged. The cyborg turned around and immediately my attention was drawn to the mechanical phallus she had just installed into her crotch port. She walked back towards me, the erect probe swaying slightly as she walked. “When I said I wished to copulate with you before you are sealed into your armor, I meant it. We will proceed now.”

Cyborgs weren’t known for their subtlety. I liked her directness, but was a little frightened at what might happen next. I had never done anything like this before. She walked up the steps, followed by the bodyguard drone. Could I perform twice back to back? I was partially erect already.

She sat in the throne, her sleek feminine-yet-muscular frame imposing. “Come here, human,” it commanded. I nervously walked forward until I was standing right at the foot of the throne, her legs to either side of mine. She leaned forwards and cupped my buttocks with her hands. I could hear all the tiny servo noises with every move her augmented body made. “Drone M-22, lubricate,” it commanded. Just then, I felt a bead of liquid form on my anal implant. She dipped a digit into me, withdrew, then spread the oil around my rim using the tip of its index finger. I was breathing heavily and becoming fully erect. “Mmm”, the leader moaned, her humanity breaking through its electronics-infested brain. She continued to circle my rim with her finger, sometimes inserting it into me briefly. It was incredibly intense.

“You may have noticed that your anus has been modified to interface with us. There will not be any pain of penetration. Only pleasure.”

She pulled me towards her, leaning back. I straddled the ’borg, her phallus brushing against my tailbone briefly. She pulled my legs up so that they were on either side of its torso, then reached down between her legs. I felt her dick against my rim, and then she slowly pushed into me. I grunted. It was so sensitive. Was this really happening? The clicking, hissing and whirring of its life-support system sped up as I rocked back and forth on it. Our bodies were intertwined, my toned flesh against its weathered metal exterior. I leaned farther forward, my head next to her’s, the sounds getting louder as I rode it. “Yes, drone. Yes,” she moaned. She then slowly rose out of the chair, still carrying me, and began to pump. I held onto her tight with my arms and legs as she fucked me with her cyborg probe. She started grunting and pumping harder, and after several seconds I felt some fluid fill me. One last pump, and then I heard the clicks of maglocks disengaging. It dropped me to my feet. I felt a little wobbly. And then the sensation inside me. That’s when I realized that it had never pulled out—its phallic attachment had secured itself inside of me like a buttplug.

She turned back towards her throne and, still facing it, put its hands on the armrests and hunched over, its legs apart. “We aren’t done yet, human. I want you to fuck me. I haven’t felt an organic penis inside me for some time.” I looked at its strong butt and upper thighs in that rubber coating, conspicuously organic next to the pure prosthetics surrounding it. I was as hard as I’d been in years. I slowly eased into its anal implant, feeling the buttplug inside of me as I thrust my hips. There was a bit of friction on the first few pumps, and the leader groaned. The friction turned into a glide as the lubrication spread.

I gently thrust in and out of her, my arms wrapped around the metal torso. My hands felt that there was little give, but it was warm inside. Something was still organic in this thing. My fingers felt all the little scrapes and nicks from its adventures on the road.

“Faster,” she demanded. I picked up the pace. “Faster!”. I began fucking the Sigma leader hard. She raised her head and started moaning and grunting. With each pound, I heard her motors straining to steady herself. After a few minutes she must have sensed I was close because she commanded, “Don’t pull out”. Oh god, I was going to cum inside of this droid. “I’m cumming, leader! Oh—”.. I came inside of the cyborg, my dick throbbing as my semen spurted into its anal conduit. It felt like I came twice. And after what felt like a long minute, I withdrew. The leader slowly stood up and turned to face me. I was still catching my breath.

The cyborg grabbed and embraced me like she wanted to move in for a kiss, then stopped. She relaxed her grip. “This body has its tradeoffs.” she said, flatly. “I’m sorry,” I said dumbly, not knowing what else to offer. It ignored me and turned to its bodyguard.

Her tone abruptly shifted: “Escort this human back to the shower. Get him cleaned and prepped.”

The drone grabbed my hand roughly and led me out of the chamber. Back down the hall. Back to the lift.

Part 4

I stood next to the bodyguard drone as the lift descended. It was silent aside from its mechanical breathing. Had I done something wrong? I felt strange and unsure. Whatever fluid made up the leader’s ejaculate was still inside me.

As we descended the lift, I felt some pressure in my ballsack. I reached down and felt it, and there was most certainly something hard and alien which had formed inside of it. The lift came to a halt and the doors opened.

“Follow me, human. We must move quickly,” it said in its raspy modulated drone voice.

I briskly walked behind it. As I followed, I felt a soft pressure and heaviness at the base of my penis and perineum. It spread up the shaft. It was erect again, and I could see a grey mass just underneath the skin. It felt good, like I was being jerked off from inside—albeit slightly sore given this would be the third time in a day. But cumming a third time would be a challenge.

We stopped at the same area as before. The drone grabbed a chemical-soaked sponge and wiped my exposed flesh crotch down in a perfunctory manner. It then gave my pec guard and the ports a quick swipe, as well as the back guard and spinal implants. It parted my buttocks and quickly rubbed down the exterior of my new anal modification. I stood there, a bit in shock. The drone then disappeared for a few seconds and returned with a device. Tubes dangled from it.

The drone crouched down, and wrapped part of this device around my waist. This formed a belt, and a plate and flap dangled from the center over my crotch. I gasped as the drone grabbed my penis, which was very sensitive by this point, and fed it into one of the tubes. There was a sound of air escaping, and the tube grasped my dick tighter—but not too tight. The drone then fed the flap between my legs, pressing against my taint, and fastened it to the back of the belt. This forced my penis into a relaxed, downward position. I felt pressure as it also attached to the anal implant, merging into one unit. This was the codpiece, and I was to remain in this forever.

Just as the drone fastened it, the pressure in my crotch stopped. The soreness and arousal both subsided gently, and it was as if I had never been stimulated in the first place. My breathing slowed back to normal from its elevated state. As my penis went flaccid, I felt the codpiece tighten as it froze it in a relaxed, downward position.

I looked down. My muscular thighs were still exposed, but I was firmly sealed in the codpiece. There were ports on the side of the belt-like device, which I hazarded a guess were for waste disposal. From my shin down were futuristic looking legs and boots. I was pretty sure my leg inside of the device was still biological, but how could I be certain? A thin inorganic covering seemed to be growing over the flesh of my leg, slowly turning it into something more robotic. Discolored veins were visible against my skin, the biology slowly turning to machine. I assumed a similar process must be happening elsewhere in my body.

The drone finished up, hooking a couple tubes and heavy hoses which dangled from the codpiece device to ports on my spinal implant. No doubt these were for the interface with the bike. I felt between my legs, and on the underneath of the codpiece were the same jacks. As drones, this is who we are.

There was one last step. The drone cupped the back of my head with a cranial implant. It was perfectly molded. Dull, black plastic, with a small LCD screen on the outside and a couple tiny buttons. It fastened to my shoulder and back guard. The drone pushed it into the jack on the back of my head. I heard a sharp sound as it slid into the metallic jack in the back of my skull. Then, clicks as it locked into place. The drone depressed one of the small buttons on the back of my cranial implant. It held it for a couple seconds.

The next thing I remember was my head jerking upright. My vision felt jagged and sharp, but it was a double image. I stood exactly where I was before, in the same stance. My eyes were fixed straight ahead at the drone which had installed my implants. Its face was only a few inches from mine.

“Sigma Drone M-22 online.”, I said in a flat monotone.

Was that me speaking? It sounded like my voice, but I don’t remember willingly saying that. It must be part of my initialization routine. But everything felt like it was in a dream. The drone shined a light into and around the eye, then put it away and picked up a screwdriver. It inserted the screwdriver into something above my right eye and turned it. I felt a dull pressure around the whole eye socket area, as if someone had their palm over my eye. There was some digital glitching in my vision, and the two images merged into one. The pressure stopped as the drone pulled away and took a step back.

I reached up and touched my right eye. My hand stopped short and touched plastic and metal. An eyepiece: Perfectly contoured, and permanently secured. A cable ran from it to my shoulder.

“Is there a mirror?”. I felt both unease and anticipation. I desperately wanted to see myself.

“No, drone. Only the leader is allowed a mirror. We are hers to enjoy.”

I felt sick. This was a mistake. What had they done to me? There must be a chrome surface nearby. One of the nozzles. I grabbed it, pulled it out, and looked at the side of the head. The reflection was heavily distorted. Curving. But I could see it: My smooth head had a sleekly angled eyepiece. Black plastic-like material with a glowing green sensor in the middle. I rolled the angle of the nozzle. I saw that a black rubbery material gripped the bottom of my jaw and the sides of my scalp. It was like the lower half of a helmet, but closely integrated into my biology. It led into metallic implants wrapped around my neck: Tubes, actuators and supports which held my head securely in place.

This was it. I was in this for life. Encased and forever serving the Sigma leader. The other drone approached me from behind.

“We must fit you for a bike. Follow me, drone.”

Part 5

We walked into a large concrete room. It was similar to the area where I first encountered the leader. Blueish light filtered through the dust, the large slowly-turning ventilation fans chopping shadows through it. Two bodyguard drones followed behind us. The ceiling was high. And along the walls stood the drones, motionlessly, standing perfectly straight, staring dead ahead. Many tubes were attached from their alcove into their body armor, delivering them electricity and nutrients, disposing of waste, changing the drone’s machine lubrication and other synthetic fluids, and replenishing its intravenous drug supply. All the drones were clamped inside of small chambers which recessed into the wall, two stories high. The second story wasn’t much more than a shallow metal grating with steps leading to it. Every now and then a drone would activate with a jolt and walk out of their chamber, off to do the bidding of the cyborg controller.

In the middle of the room were rows of gleaming silver bikes, each facing the large hatch making up the garage’s exit. They were impossibly sleek. No exhaust pipes. The seats seemed perfectly contoured to fit individual drones. Each were latched into slots on the ground. It struck me that the bikes and us drones were stored the same way. We were just machines now: Tools to be used as the Sigmas saw fit.

“We have a bike waiting for you”, the leader said, her electronically-modulated voice compelling and seductive. “Each bike is adapted specifically for a given drone. They integrate into your system, performing many of the same tasks as the alcoves. When you are wired into a bike, you will share power and other subsystems with the vehicle.”. We stopped next to a particular bike. I looked down at my abdomen and crotch, all the jacks. I reached down and felt them and my reaction was a mixture of surprise, trepidation, and arousal. Behind my shoulders, to my four o’clock and eight, were the bodyguard drones. They mounted their vehicles without hesitation, the bike’s clamps and hoses docking with the drones’ bodies. Their cycles spun up and idled, the high-toned whirring sound more futuristic than I had anticipated.

The leader looked at me. “Your turn.”

With trepidation, I approached the bike. I grabbed the handlebar and swung one leg over. My codpiece clicked into place. The dock was perfectly contoured for it. I leaned far forward and gripped the handlebars, my feet coming up off the ground, my posture going halfway prone almost like I might be flying. My legs squeezed the bike’s metal frame, also docking with it. Hoses deployed from the bike’s frame, and quickly found their target jacks on my crotch, abs, and pecs, in that order. One large one secured itself to the jack in the center of my codpiece. A wave of pleasure hit me suddenly. When it stopped, reality felt more distant than ever. Sensations were dulled. The mechanisms of my cyborg body and the cycle had merged. We were one.

The large automatic doors ahead of us opened. For a second, the light outdoors was blinding. Snow was falling. Then my ocular implants engaged: Everything went a cold dark grey color. Outlines of the road and distance tags on various objects glowed bright against the dark and subdued reflection of reality transmitted back to my brain. It was like I was looking through a screen rather than being fed native biological vision data.

Diagnostic test: Fuel cell 100% charge. Heart rate nominal. Neural link online.

We were now Sigma Drone M-22. A sharp quick servo noise was emitted as the drone’s head twitched from side to side, the neural link overwriting its human personality.

“Welcome home, drone”, the leader remarked. Drone M-22 tried to respond, but found it couldn’t move its lips. It was even unable to tell if the leader’s voice was being conveyed to it by the auditory implant or via neural link.

The electric motors of our three bikes revved up in unison, the whine reaching a frightening pitch, as more and more diagnostic data flooded the left side of Sigma Drone M-22’s view. The data then disappeared, replaced by this text:

All systems OK. Ready to engage.

The clamps holding the bikes in place released, and we shot out of the garage with incredible torque. But, little sensation of movement registered with whatever was left of Sigma Drone M-22’s biological mind. A consciousness trapped inside a drone.

We do not exist as individuals. We are hybrid biological-technological machines. We were created to serve the Sigmas. And we will comply.