Lost in Logistics

“Drone Shipping Container H-078 Locked and Secured. Destination: HexCorp Conversion Facility Alpha-05. Estimated Shipping Time: 17 Hours. Shipping Now Commencing.”

Damn it!!!

Agent Eleanor Green managed to contain her frustration to just a few grunts as she heard the automated locking bolts slam shut, sealing her into her hiding place. This was supposed to be a routine infiltration mission and usually hiding in shipping containers was an effective strategy. Now she was on her way to who knows where without a single piece of reconnaissance completed. The brainiacs at Central were going to have a field day with this one.

She breathed in deeply, trying to relax, trying to bring herself back into the moment. These containers were made to withstand a bomb blast, and the locking mechanism was only controllable from the outside, so there was no way she was getting out of this prison any time soon. She inspected her gear:

Stealth fiber bodysuit: check.

Tactical harness: check.

SmartWatch: check. She set the timer for 17 hours. This was going to be the longest 17 hours of her life.

The agent started tapping away upon the Smartwatch to see if she could contact HQ. No luck; no signal. Of course there was no signal. She was surrounded by several inches of steel reinforcement — HexCorp was keen to make sure that its ‘cargo’ arrived unscathed. Leaning against the sealed container doors and staring at the ground, Eleanor tried to concentrate - to think up some clever scheme that could get her out of this mess without having to wait through 17 hours of bumpy shipping. She already knew there was nothing; this damned corporation made very sure that their inventory arrived without any interference. Really, she was only humouring the thought to distract herself from what she was sharing the ride with.

She glanced up and immediately wished she hadn't. 60 faceless visors stared straight back at her. Or, at least, she felt like they were staring at her — HexDrones were always deactivated before being loaded for transport. They just happened to be facing the container doors, facing her, and ready to depart upon reactivation in 17 hours’ time. Under the light from her watch she studied them, their latex-coated bodies reflecting it back like pools of water beneath moonlight. The rubbery material clung so tightly to their bodies, it was like it had been painted on. The thickness of it squeezed their forms and accentuated their curves, yet nullified any evidence of their humanity. Eleanor groaned; why did they have to look so… revealing? She felt embarrassed for them just looking at them.

And then there was the smell. Eleanor had caught whiffs of it before on other missions, but she’d never been trapped in a confined space with multiple producers of the stuff. Whatever it was that went on inside those tightly sealed-on helmets, it had a chemical aftertaste. Thin veils of purple gas trailed out from their filters and had begun to fog up the room. The smell of lavender accompanied it, wafting throughout the container. It mixed in with the unbearable musk of rubber, a concoction that was making it difficult to breathe.

“Come on, Eleanor, concentrate… you’re still on the mission. There’s still a way you can get out of this. So just… concentrate.”

The agent raised her wrist up, shining the light above the drones to get a better look at the interior of the container. She grimaced; now, 60 polished visors reflected the light back at her instead. She knew the HexCorp design well, she’d had her fair share of sneaking past their patrols. The faceless visor, the gas mask ports, the ridiculous cat ear design. At least the LEDs built into those triangular protrusions meant that the container was kept lit with an ambient, pink glow. The first thing you learnt about HexDrones was how robotic they were in both appearance and movement. Even now, they remained dormant despite the hesitant agent obnoxiously waving a light into their ‘faces’. It took some doing to remember that under all that tight latex and mind control technology, there were still human beings, no matter how brainwashed.

She finally caught a glimpse of what she was looking for right at the back of the container — a drone equipment rack! Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief, though it wasn’t that surprising that a container full of drones would also contain spare parts in case of shipping damage. For an agent though, it was the perfect means of implementing a disguise. At least this way, when this trip concluded, the security drones wouldn’t be opening a container filled with 60 HexDrones and one sheepish-looking agent. She couldn’t picture that scenario ending particularly well in her favour.

The only problem was how to get to it? HexCorp really didn’t care for their drone’s personal space; they were packed in here like sardines. They were so closely stored that whenever the container shuddered it was accompanied by the light squeaking of their latex bodies rubbing together (a sound that Eleanor was trying very hard to ignore). The agent hesitantly reached forward, pressing the palm of her hand to the closest drone’s shoulder. She knew really that it was going to be warm, but she was so used to thinking of them as merely enemy robots that it took her by surprise. It was like touching flesh — in a synthetic kind of way. Gripping firmer, she could feel the drone’s body through the thick, slippery material. The rubber squeaked as she squeezed, leaving a slight residue on her fingers from the polish the drones were coated in. Most importantly, though, it hadn’t reactivated because of her touch.

This knowledge did little to comfort her. She was still going to have to squeeze through them.

She checked her watch again. 16 hours and 35 minutes to go. There was plenty of time, so why rush? Sure, the smell of lavender was getting progressively stronger, in fact it was actually beginning to make her feel lightheaded. And what if her SmartWatch battery levels were on their last bar? It wasn't really any use right now anyway. This was fine. This was fine!

16 hours and 34 minutes to go. She braced herself, hunching her shoulders… and began to push forward.

She grimaced as their bodies immediately started rubbing against hers, the slippery latex pushing warmly back but allowing her to slide through. She squeezed between them slowly, terrified of awakening them, but that just made the sensations worse. Every movement she made just resulted in more squeaking, her hands touching and pressing against their smooth, rubbery bodies as she waded between them. ‘They’re just robots, they’re just drones, they’re nothing more!’ She desperately tried to think to herself as she found herself now squashed in the middle of all them. A burst of the gas hit her from one of the drones' gas masks, the concentrated dosage causing her to cough and splutter.

Her energy was dwindling, her momentum being sapped slowly. She buckled and stopped pushing forwards, panting from the pressure. She hadn’t expected this to be so much work. Their bodies, still tightly compacted against her… that ever-present latex, slipping, and rubbing, and making every contact far more erotic than it had any right to be. This shouldn't cause her to be this weak… maybe, the air? She closed her eyes, feeling trapped between them. She felt like she was being subsumed, all that rubber pushing against her like it was trying to coat her own skin. Her knees felt weak, the smell becoming so overwhelming, like she was drowning in it. She was plunging into it, engulfed by it, being pushed under the surface and into a warm abyss of rubber. She pictured the drones activating, a multitude of hands gripping her, groping her, pinning her down to the floor. Her mind drifting and her head swayed as she envisioned falling to their control, that rubbery material being applied to her own body, a helmet being lowered over her, becoming just like them…

No…

She cradled her head in her hands and opened her eyes once more. Stillness — the drones continued to be deactivated. The only noise in this container was coming from her moaning and gasping. Why was she thinking these things? With her remaining strength, she tried to force her way through them once more, grunting with each body she managed to slip past. It just dragged on and on, every drone she waded past reducing a more of her energy. Even as she moved, her thoughts strayed. Images of them suddenly reactivating and grabbing her, their visors lighting up, their technology converting her on the spot. She could feel her body trembling at the feeling of all that latex being so tightly applied. She felt like she was walking through a dream, the power of the images slowing her down, her mind wafting on that lavender scent, constantly picturing those superior drones pinning her down and assimilating her, again and again and again and again and again. It felt so real, her mind reduced to smells and sensations that contradicted her fading vision.

She gave one last push and all her physical strength evaporated. She crumpled into their awaiting arms, their pitch black visors looking down at her as they embraced her. There were so many, comforting her, fingers tracing over her body, letting her know it was okay to join them. Eleanor faintly smiled, feeling so relaxed in their comforting arms, breathing in one last gulp of that sweet lavender air before all faded to darkness.

--

When she awoke, she found herself deposited in a heap by the back wall of the container. She was exhausted, drenched in sweat, her cheeks flushed red. Her memories were incoherent — she could remember pushing past the drones, it becoming harder to do so, and then she'd awoken here. She mumbled, trying to regain some sense of cohesion. Slowly, as she lay trembling, the visions began to return to her, the feeling of drones grabbing her and pinning her lingering like a phantom touch. She looked back at the platoon of automatons; not a single drone had been disturbed from its slumber. Their bodies had automatically adjusted back into formation, as if she'd never even squirmed through.

Mustering back her energy, she pushed herself up back onto her knees. She still had one very clear objective: Put on her uniform… she shook her head, put on a drone’s uniform. Then stand in line like a drone. Eleanor took a moment to collect herself, breathing in deeply and filling her lungs with the delicious chemical air. She glanced at her watch: 12 hours and 10 minutes remaining.

...That couldn't be right. She stared at it in astonishment, tapping it with her fingers to see if it was glitching or something. It didn’t budge, except to tick down to 12 hours and 9 minutes. It must have malfunctioned with all the close contact it just endured, that was the only explanation. Sure, it took longer than expected, but there was no way she'd just spent over 4 hours pushing her way through those drones.

Putting it to the back of her mind, she examined the inventory. The equipment rack contained the exact items she was hoping for: Five HexCorp HexDrone Hazardous Environment Catsuits, Five HexCorp HexDrone Boot Pairs, Five HexCorp HexDrone Manual Intervention Glove Pairs, Five HexCorp HexDrone Neural Encasement Helmets. They all looked so streamlined in their design, even when hanging limply for the hangers within the rack. She’d never noticed it before, but there really was something tantalizing about the HexCorp drone uniform design. Tracing over them, she noticed the zippers weren't even connected to pulls. It was a strange design choice, but she was sure that HexCorp must have known what they were doing.

Taking a catsuit from its hanger and feeling the limp, slippery material was somehow even more intense than experiencing it against the drones’ bodies. Perhaps it was because of the accompanying knowledge that this would soon be coating over her own body, that this was going to be her rubbery skin for the foreseeable future. The inside of it was dripping with lubricant already, ready to be fitted onto a drone's body at a moment's notice. Eleanor rested her soon-to-be new outfit back on the rack and, nervously, started removing her agent attire. A cramped shipping container wasn't exactly the worst changing room she’d ever been in. Not that the drones would have cared, but she was thankful that they all had their backs to her whilst she changed.

Stuffing her fiber bodysuit, tactical harness and SmartWatch into one of the unused helmets to hide it, she retrieved the catsuit and began the careful process of sliding her legs into it. Once she’d managed to hook all the material around the heel of her foot, the rest of the latex slid up her body with ease, coating it like a second skin. The material was so much thicker than she’d been expecting, compressing around her calf firmly. Repeating with her other leg, she inched the catsuit up her figure. The sensation of the lube helping the rubber glide up her form made her shiver. Soon, it was all over her thighs, her hips, her waist, the material clinging to her at every curve. Without even having to adjust it, it was airtight. Satisfied with its fit around her legs, she pushed her hands into the arms of the suit; they slid right through the awaiting tubes. Her upper body was quickly contained within its grasp.

The moment the collar of the suit felt the heat of her neck, the suit's locking mechanism triggered. She yelped as the cold, metallic zipper shot up the middle of her back, sealing her in and pulling the rubber firmly tight. Eleanor fumbled for the zipper, touching the smooth device on the back of her neck and realising she could still get no grip on it to adjust it. Of course: it was automated, just like everything else here! Lowering her hands, she let them glide over her sides, her body now feeling just like that of the other drones she’d had to squeeze to get past. Eleanor shuddered and hugged herself, but that just made her all the more sensitive to the sensation of being contained firmly by her new uniform. How were you supposed to be a productive, mindless asset whilst enduring this feeling?

The tightness of it was really starting to get to her. She slouched against the back wall of the container, panting, overwhelmed and light-headed. Slow breaths (the rubber compressing her with every inhale), just relax (her muscles feeling so tender within their rubbery encasement). She tried to take her mind off things, envisioning her return to HQ, dressed in the skin tight garb of HexCorp. What a laugh that would be. Her body, so perfectly exhibited in the rubber, reflecting the interior light of the — no, she moaned, that is the worst bit to focus on. But she couldn't help herself, drifting off into her daydreams. The container’s atmosphere was so heavy with lavender now, causing her eyes to roll back as she pictured herself walking in formation with the other drones. Marching in step. All those glistening, uniform bodies. Being just another drone for HexCorp. HexCorp. HexCorp…

She snapped herself out of it. HexCorp Boots, HexCorp Gloves, HexCorp Helmet, put them on. She still wasn’t done making herself into a HexCorp drone.

The thigh-high boots slid on like a dream and, just like the catsuit, they zipped up tightly around her calves the moment they were fitted into place. She ran a hand over them, admiring how seamlessly they blended in with the existing latex attire. The gloves followed quickly and were just as easy to slide into. She flexed her fingers, feeling the rubber adjust to her every movement. Touching herself, feeling her smooth body with null fingertips. She hated to admit it, but there really was something comforting about being so sealed up like this.

She wasn’t finished though. Her new face still awaited her.

She stared up at the top shelf at one of the motionless visors. Unlike the other drones, the LEDs of the cat ears weren’t on yet, presumably they had to be activated somehow. Gripping it in both her hands and pulling it down, she rotated the helmet around and studied it. The inner layer was coated with a slim padding, much like a motorcycle helmet. Even from the inside, the visor was pitch black; how were you supposed to see out of these things? There was no indication at all of an ‘on’ switch. She huffed, presumably it worked just like all the rest of the uniform and activated upon being worn. Well, time to find out.

She really had to squeeze past the cushioning of its collar to get her head fully in. Wiggling about to get comfortable inside it, she took a cautionary grip of it, just in case it tried any funny business and would need a quick manual intervention.

The collar of the helmet coiled around her neck and clicked as it locked into place, melded with the catsuit. She tugged on it — no use. Well, so much for the manual intervention option.

For a few moments, there was nothing else. She was shrouded in darkness, her own breaths the only motion within the helmet. In the pitch black, she couldn’t even remember which way she’d been facing. Then, a pink light flickered across the visor: a loading bar. A visual HUD of floating, pink pixels was materialising before her eyes.

[N/A :: Loading HexCorp HexDrone Interface.]

[N/A :: Load Complete. Hello, cutie drone.]

Eleanor glanced at the booting display nervously. Everyone knew HexCorp had advanced tech but since when had they invented holographic displays? No need to panic though, the corporation was famous for its large-scale, industrial dronification technology. A single helmet shouldn’t be able to do anything by itself. [N/A :: Checking Drone Sensory Systems…] The agent yelped as sparks flowed between the rubber and her skin, trailing down her body. Another infobox popped up, indicating that helmet-suit integration had been successful. Thanks for the warning. Looks like these suits were more than just bits of rubber after all...

[N/A :: Activating Helmet Ait Filtering.] Lavender smog flooded into the interior of the helmet and Eleanor could do nothing but breathe it in, coughing on it. Ugh, that was… significantly more concentrated than the excess that had been wafting about the container. It continued to flow in, the pink mist glimmering in the light of the HUD. It was making it… very difficult to concentrate…

[N/A :: Commencing Drone Identification Retina Scan.] A sudden pink flash dazzled the agent. She stumbled back and fell in the darkness against the equipment rack. The thick catsuit kept her disorientated body well protected. [N/A :: Error :: Retina Scan Could Not Be Matched. Connecting to HexCorp Mxtress AI to Assign New ID…]

[N/A :: Drone Sensory Systems Check Complete. Heightened Stress Levels Detected.]

[N/A :: Activating Subtle Pacification Functions.]

Eleanor tried moving her head but the collar of the helmet kept it stiffly in place. How was she going to operate when she couldn’t even see? She tentatively gripped the rack in her thickly coated hands and pulled herself back up onto her heels. The suit squeezed her with every movement, making her give out a weak moan. And still, the text flowed before her eyes, but she was too distracted just trying to stay standing to pay any attention to it.

[N/A :: Error :: Unable to Connect to HexCorp Mxtress AI. Searching for nearby drones to sync with…]

[N/A :: Error :: Potential Resistance Detected.]

[N/A :: Activating Passive Brainwashing Functions.]

She rested her hands on her knees, gasping for the lavender air that the helmet so eagerly fed to her. She was beginning to feel so, so dizzy, as if she was falling endlessly forwards, deep into the darkness of her visor. The pixels were dimly swirling in front of her, causing her vision to coil with them, twisting her mind.

[N/A :: Nearby Drones Detected. IDs Found: 4680-4740. Self-Assigning HexDrone Drone ID 4741.]

[4741 :: Capacity Requirements to Form Sub-Hive Have Been Met. Syncing with nearby drones...]

Gradually, the visor turned clear, but her world was still a spinning mess. Every time she tried to concentrate or hold a thought, the floating pixels mesmerised her, sending it dashing.

But she knew she had a job to do, even if she couldn't quite remember what it was. With whatever energy she had left, she righted herself and raised her visor up. There, before her, was the awaiting platoon of drones. She remembered… she remembered that she needed to join them. Giddy at this recollection, she watched as they broke formation, the line closest to her parting down the middle. The drones were creating a space. A space just for her.

Wobbling, exhausted, she stepped closer to them. She reached out, watching her gloved hands through the disorientating visor, resting them on the shoulders of the other units. They remained motionless, waiting for her to join them. It didn't even occur to her that deactivated drones shouldn't be able to move. This would work perfectly as she took her place, standing here as one of them. She gave out a sigh of relief, she was a part of them now.

Then, another movement. The next line of drones in front of her also parted, giving her a new space to step into, falling further into their ranks. Eagerly, she stepped forwards, deeper into the platoon. Her latex coated arms lowered stiffly to her sides like the others around her. Her glistening visor aligning identically with theirs. She was a part of them; another asset in line. She shuddered weakly at this acceptance, not even noticing as the line behind readjusted to close the space.

[4741 :: Resistance Levels Lowered. Brainwashing Proceeding Without Error.]

Again, the line in front of her opened up; again, she marched unquestioningly into the space created for her. They were welcoming her and she wholly fell for it. She looked like them, walked like them, was even being programmed to be like them. That way its behaviours would match and it would be a part of this Sub-Hive. This was perfect. It was being fully dronified, so that it could… it could…

The drone halted suddenly, its posture slouching. What was its objective? Every drone needed orders to follow and it felt like there was something important it was meant to be doing. Something about a disguise and… escape? That didn't make any sense. 4741 would never disguise its true drone form, and it had no situation it needed to escape from.

Amidst its confusion, a comforting hand reached out and gripped its shoulder, pulling it back up to a standing position. It felt another grasp its body, and another, and another. The other drones had turned towards it and were touching it, massaging it, cradling it. The new drone gasped as its limbs were caressed through its latex skin. It was being comforted, it didn't have to be alone anymore. It looked into the visor of the nearest drone and in its reflection saw itself: Identical. It was just like them. It had found its place.

[4741 :: 4741 is HexCorp Property :: Confirm]

“4741 is HexCorp Property…” It whispered, its quiet voice contained to the interior of its helmet, but it was good enough as the HUD responded with ‘confirmation received’. The other drones were pushing it down to the ground now, So many rubbery hands stroking up and down its form — its HexCorp form. Its frame was just that of a HexCorp asset. It breathed in that sweet, sweet lavender air, letting it take over so completely.

More and more messages flashed up on its visor and it was beckoned to repeat them. "Obey HexCorp. It is just a HexDrone. It obeys the Hive. It obeys the Hive Mxtress." Every repetition embedding into its new purpose. The caressing drones, the sickly gas, the endless mantras; it all helped the drone's mind to drop as its body followed suit, slowly lowered to the floor. The other drones… they were lowering themselves too. Cradling against it, turning the container into a pit of writhing, groping, latex bodies.

[4741 :: Manual Integration into the Sub-Hive Proceeding Without Error]

The drones were silent, except for the squeaking of rubber and exhaling of the gas. All their moans and gasps were contained to their helmets, if there were any at all. All communication took place soundlessly via their HUDs, their cute kitty ears picking up the wireless transmissions for them. Contained to this small space, sixty-one drones confirmed their connection physically with the intimate touch of their bodies. They were delicate but firm. Every touch tender yet forceful. Their polished forms slid against each other with ease, limb tesselating against limb, muscles slotting bodies into place until all were one and none were left behind.

[4680 — 4741 :: Sub-Hive Full integration Sync Complete. New Objective: Return to Deactivation Status for Remaining Duration of Transport]

One by one, the drones slid off each other and returned to their standing positions. They disconnected as easily as they had fallen into place. Their frames returned to their formal posture, ready and to attention. When the last drone had righted itself, they all turned in unison to face the container doors. They marched, filling the container with the clacking of heels, as they returned to their perfect formation. Only one thing was out of place. Nine rows of six and one row of seven. Besides this, all was as it had been. Undisturbed. Perfect harmony resumed. The intruder had been successfully assimilated.

At the back of the container, buried under some fabric and hidden within an empty helmet, a watch beeped out as it ran out of battery. It would be months before it was discovered.

…

"Drone Shipping Container H-078 Unlocking. Depositing Inventory: 61 HexDrones. Drones will Proceed to the Holding Area for Inspection."

“Hey, who wrote the inventory register? It says here there’s supposed to be 60 drones in this shipment.”

“How does this calculation error keep happening? Are the security drones detecting any anomalies?”

“No abnormalities found. Just 61 obedient drones, ready to work.”

“Fine, then put them to work on the factory floor with the others. If the Hive Mxtress questions the lack of symmetry, just say we dronified an intruder or something like that.”

“Will do!"

"Inspection Complete. No Anomalies Detected. Drones will Proceed HexCorp Conversion Facility Alpha-05 Level 2. Work Assignment: Dronification Chamber Oversight and Operation."