The Drone

The unknowable men carried the young man in, it wasn’t a difficult task, and it wasn’t as if they would complain. The part of themselves that could was taken away a very long time ago.

They deposited the young man in a chair, and moved quickly to shave his head, shearing his long hair. As he began to come out of his stupor, the men lifted him out, and carried him over to a long simple table adorned with straps and buckles.

There was little resisting since he was still to groggy to muster more than simple twists and turns, easily managed by the men who carried him. Each layer of the strap slowed his circulation, increasing the light headedness that was fast consuming him. Wrapped several times around his wrists and ankles, the pressure only increased the need to lay back and rest.

And that’s when he saw it. Rows of monitors hung from the ceiling, each with a pulsating, red spiral, and everything in his mind stopped. Even if he could move his head, there was no will to do so, and that strap, wrapped tightly around his seared forehead was now being locked. There was no corner of the ceiling his eyes could escape to, only locked more furiously on the spirals above him.

There tantalizing swirls shimmering down toward him. Each loop hardening his eyes, and weakening his mind. Each turn of the spiral made it easier for something in his mind to be lost, his home, his name, his future, all wiped away with each turn. It was like the spirals were floating down toward him, from the monitors into his eyes. Digging down, scooping out the part of his mind that the collective did not need, it became harder to think or plan, or even muster the will to escape. The thought of pulling against his restraints was alien to him, and futile, as the clamps and straps around his wrists were now being locked.

As the drones around the table worked, the young man simply sat and stared at the screens above him, becoming more and more lost to his surrounding, and losing more and more thoughts in his head. He could no longer remember his name, where he worked. The leeching from his mind was taking more away from him, completely brainwashing him until all that would be left was a mindless drone. Complete and total brainwashing, still, weakened, and forgotten.

The straps around his ankles were locked, and there was nolonger any possibility of escape, but that was futile, he would never escape, he didn’t even want to. The thought of getting up, leaving the warm caress of the brainwashing spirals was impossible to comprehend.

The young man would lay there, and continue to be processed as his mind was changed to accept orders, and for his mind and body to always be completely obedient. Like this, frozen, transfixed on the visions above his head, he would remain. Hours and hours, until everything was wiped clean, and only a mindless drone remained.

Then it was time for the headphones, carefully placed over his head. The next step in his processing, and the words were all the same, the same loop over and over again. All you need to do is obey, follow, and listen to my voice. Obey, follow, listen to my voice, over and over again for as many hours as the first stage took.

Finally, the time came, and the straps and manacles were unlocked. Each beautiful red mark a sign of subservience and assimilation, proof of obedience.

The helped him up, and brought him his black uniform. So he would look like them, all lost, all obeying, all ready to serve. Black rubber from head to toe, each segment bring eternal arousal. The pants, the boots, the gloves, each layer only increased the new drones hardness, wetness.

Finally the simple, expressionless black mask, over the face, and the process was complete. As the neck straps were tightened and locked, the drone cum’d. Because to cum is obedience, our cum is a our way of knowing we have obeyed. Proof that the young man’s mind was taken, and he is a mindless drone.