By the ship entryway an eerie quiet had replaced the sound of battle. Now the clicking and foreign sounds of mechanical joints and devices working punctuated the air. Drones systematically searched the vessel to seize it last survivors. Welded doors and barricades would prove ineffective. With every injection the Romulans were being irrevocably transformed. The various sections of the crew would be assigned new functions within the Hive. Small impulses of light from Borg implants cast shadows on their armor. Red emergency lighting cut through the dark haze of the ship. The cybernetic beings were grabbing terminals and crewmembers with equal force. Forearms and manipulators raised and bent at perfect ninety-degree angles towards their targets. Claws pierced both flesh and computer, delivering a dark corruption to the once vibrant Romulan vessel. The display interfaces in the hallway were now fully assimilated with Borg font and symbols replacing the native language. The green glimmer continued to spread through the ship. Even the walls started to match their armor as tendrils of tubing grew like ivy on the wall from a replicator being controlled by a drone. The drone had an even more distant expression, its optical implants blinking as it rewrote code and guided the infestation.
The partially assimilated engineer was erect and awaiting instruction. He was flanked by two drones restraining him. Both were clasped around his shoulders, waiting. His neck had stopped burning and turned into a creeping sensation that radiated outward. Skin rippled from the alterations occurring deep within him. Over his pectoral muscle an intense pressure expanded from a growing structure underneath. He moaned as an implant burst from his skin, providing immense release. Underneath his uniform he could feel it unfold around his left nipple. Similar processes occurred down his body, internal reconfigurations paving the way for his metamorphosis. The sensations were overpowering. He felt nauseous and lightheaded. Vision going black, he collapsed forward. The Drone behind him caught him, wrapping its manipulator gauntlet and placing it flush with his chest. He was propped up by the embrace of them.
The wave passed, returning his vision and awareness. His hand had remained on the chest of the drone facing him. He continued exploring the coal-colored shell. Woven within wires and protection he identified a personal shield emitter. It was nestled in her sternum or perhaps had replaced her sternum. The size was impressively small but mirrored the one on the ship he serviced. He pressed gently as the armor moved subtly to his pressure. His clothing itched as it rejected his evolving skin. Her suit on the other hand appeared taut and complemented her implants. He could spend hours exploring and defining the systems within. His grip over the drone's breast tightened. The warm flesh like armor was erogenous and complex.
His arm tensed as the rippling of nanoprobes and wires pulsed through it. Cracks in the skin formed as a T shaped implant erupted from the dorsum of his wrist. From the numb puncture the implant sprouted five appendages that snaked out to his fingertips. He was horrified as he saw a metallic lattice sprawl over his fingers. It hurt less than it should and he felt his fingertips twitch as they turned fully gray. His hand moved without his command and released from the drone's chest. The appendages stuck onto his fingertips, covering his nails. He felt a prickling sensation as he could now feel through the finger pads as though they were his own skin. His muscles contracted, fingers tapping and varying pressure to calibrate. He instinctively knew from his background that this design would bolster his joints and enhance his strength. He hated that he couldn't control his arm. The structure was taking over what he used to interact with the world. He had been proud of his dexterity. It served him well in fixing and maintaining the ship. He cherished his hands as a surgeon would. His hand was alien to him. It was Borg. It looked the same as those that had seized the crew. Deep beneath his fascination he tried to remember himself. He was Romulan. He searched for a memory to anchor him. He focused on the scar on his hand from when he had fallen off a cliff as a child. He had broken his bone and needed casting. He watched as the metal structure coalesced over his knuckles and covered it. It was now indistinguishable from that of the drones.
He was in awe of the speed of his conversion. He could feel the Borg moving inside him, growing and altering him. Filling him with new purpose and sensation. Patches of skin bulged as the infection moved. Implants and currents flowing from the puncture wound on his neck. The first implant had formed there, commanding the formation of others as nanoprobes subjugated his cells. His scalp had harden and matted his hair. He could feel something deep within his left ear buzz. By his spine he could feel tiny jolts of static as connections formed his cerebellum. Soon the Borg would have full control of his motor cortex. He tried to look at his fellow crew to gain a memory, something to remind him of himself. He never thought he would give in this easily. All he saw were crew being restrained by drones like he was. Some were made to wait, others marching off the ship in tandem with their controlling drone. Their familiar faces were fading into the Collective. He didn't have many friends. He had mostly buried himself in his work. It was easier and more rewarding. Only his security colleague had sat with him in the mess hall and gotten to know him. She was kind and didn't judge his obsession with his work. Memories of social rejection flooded back to him. He repelled the negative emotions and had his gaze drift back to the drones.
He was fixated on how the Borg muted the characteristics of the original lifeform. Skin pigmentation was dominated by nanoprobes and hardware underneath. Faces were partially obscured by bulky hardware and tubing that appeared sleek and inviting. What little remained only showed the face of the Collective. Each drone presenting a resolute sameness. Their flesh matched. Their hardware matched. Their purpose matched. Soon he would match them as a fellow drone. He could see it in their synchronous behavior. Each drone seeking new voices to add to their own. Each drone participating as they conquer the ship. Their linked minds sharing in the sensations and process in real time. Every drone was assimilating him at the same time. All drones filling each other with the same technology and blessings. He imagined how drones may move from levels of consciousness from their own body to that of a group, or that of a cube.
His head turned to his friend the security guard. She was now awake and staring ahead. He watched her breathe deep and slowly release. Her corrupted face now matched that of the drones surrounding them. Her assimilator approved as her head slowly turned to gaze back. Its cybernetic claw maintained its grip while she oriented to her new life. He looked at her lush and disheveled hair that would soon be removed. Her cheek was cracked where a large Borg implant had surfaced. She looked like a piece of stone being sculpted. They would chisel her organic form and bring her closer to perfection. The drone stayed fixated on her. Observing the changes. Did the drone control how the assimilation progressed? Its optical laser split into a scanning formation. Its head bended smoothly as it probed her vertically. Following this the drone grabbed her and turned her around. She looked blankly ahead at the terminal, the green font lighting her dusky face. Her controller continued working and scanned her backside, subtracting her clothing. The drone next to them paid no attention, interfacing with the computer. It had a towering metallic structure over its spinal column. Connections to implants radiated from it all the way down its backside. It was strangely pleasing that the Borg's shell contoured to the physical form. The armor maintained the contours of its gluteal region. He was entranced as his pulse quickened.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see drones cut into a welded door. One of the drones had a large saw attached to its manipulator and made short work of obstacle. The others symmetrically moved and pried it open. Terrified chatter erupted as phaser fire broke out again. The sound of personal shielding quenching the resistance as four drones left the hallway to neutralize the stragglers. His illogical hopes for rescue grew ever smaller. The sound of panic and fighting was short lived. Part of him was glad that the yelling and brawling had stopped. They were now being held still and receiving the Borg's gift. He could return to the rhythmic sound of servos and manipulators working in harmony. He returned his focus onto that of his assimilator. A familiarity had formed, the drone was his center in the middle of all this.
He couldn't identify what species the drone in front of him had been. Its build was short and compact though had a pear-shaped hip region he found inviting. It was shorter than him by a third of a meter. The armor was less bulky than that of the Hirogen drone that was outfitted for battle. Neither of these facts made the it any less formidable. It had numerous attachments both inside and out he could only begin to fathom. He correctly ascertained this was a support drone based on the size and fine attachments for circuitry work on its forearm. He even recognized some of the tools from his own duties on the ship. He imagined that his work life would be very similar once he was Borg. He actually enjoyed the structure of his work. Running maintenance checks on systems and rerouting old circuit panels, optimizing systems based on upgraded schematics from the central command. Perhaps assimilating and upgrading people would be similar. Of course, Borg vessels would have some automatous systems. Regardless he knew they would have work for him somewhere or they wouldn't be assimilating him. He chuckled at his joke. At least, he tried to chuckle. The uneasy feeling returned as he realized his face hadn't smiled in response. His expression was immobile, determined and blank like the drones surrounding him. So what he thought? He tried to remove the negative emotion. He returned to rationalizing his assimilation. What professional prospects did he have? Romulan politics never suited him and he preferred to have structure in his day-to-day routine anyway. He had no career aspirations anyway and few personal relationships. He was an engineer and good at what he did. He'd make a good support drone if he had any say in the matter. He would not. Borg efficiency would dictate his function.
Fifteen minutes had passed in what felt like a lifetime. He wondered why the Borg were waiting. Others reanimated and were guided by their drone towards the exit of the ship. Why not drag them away unceremoniously to an assimilation chamber? Why had some been taken away while others stayed? Could they hear his thoughts already? Subdermal structures continued to form in anticipation of exogenous hardware. He felt a web of linear implants track down his limbs and up his torso to his neck. This would serve to graft his exoplating. A control implant had started to assess his potential. He didn't realize he was being assessed internally. He stared as the drone's optical implant surfaces blinked in random sequences to assess his responses. He blinked subconsciously in some form of code. The drone wordlessly took notes. Following this the ocular implant laser refracted in a cone and scanned him from head to toe. He could see rays of red light diffract from behind him by her compatriot. His assimilation specifications were being transmitted back to the Sphere where implants would be tailored.
He wanted to know what they planned for him. Though he tried to suppress it through his engineering perspective and dissociation he felt fear. Fear of the unknown. He was met with silence from the creatures. The buzzing by his ear was static. He felt anxious at the emptiness and loneliness. There were no voices to talk to. What if this was the Collective? A prison of mind with some algorithm controlling the body? He felt isolated even though he was surrounded by the two cybernetic lifeforms. The other drone behind him felt warm, its torso hovering near his back. Their hands were clenched tightly over his shoulders. With what little control he had he tried to break from their hold. The feeble attempt was neutralized by superior strength and he felt trapped. The buzzing by his ear was now a jumble of voices. They were distant but he could make out one word, "COMPLY." The drones simultaneously stepped towards him and forcibly pressed their torsos. Their armored crotches firmly rubbing against him in opposition. Sexual organs were tucked away, the groin of some drones fuller than others. He could feel his own fullness trapped inside his uniform. Embarrassment hit him from being aroused in a public space. He saw his friend from security gawk at him. The drone's eye opened in alertness. His programmed societal norms were irrelevant. He wondered what it would feel like to be encased in that suit. He wouldn't have to wonder much longer.
The drones continued to squeeze him. He could feel their suits of armor against skin and uniform. Their heat and proximity relieved his sense of dread. He was face to face with the drone that had started his ascension. They wanted him completely. Both in body and mind. He felt a burning sensation as the manipulator from the drone behind him cut through his clothes. His badge and rank clattered to the floor as it pulled away his shirt. The drone in front of him decisively pulled down his pants. He viewed his exposed body. His pallid skin was whitish gray and contrasted with the black protuberances. His sweat excreted fluid to optimize the inorganic components and left a reflective oily appearance. The small blinking diodes from the drones reflected cleanly off his surface. His abdominal muscles were accentuated by the reticular network of implants. He admired his swollen penis now perpendicular from his body. Like the manipulators around him it was pointed at a perfect ninety-degree angle. The circumcised organ was dark with a large squiggly vein engorging it. He stared as it pulsed visibly. A shadow appeared as the drone's hand pressed against his abdomen. Anticipation flooded into him as the hand moved and enveloped his phallus. The pressure applied was sublime. The webbed hand carefully stroked him. Dopamine and oxytocin secreted from his cortical centers as he joined with them. He heard the distant voices grow sharper though still only a whisper, "YOU MUST COMPLY." I will comply he thought to himself. He still couldn't reach the voices. He couldn't tell if it was him changing his mind about the process or new programming received. He would obey. Resistance is futile.
The drones started to grind slowly against him. He felt the firm and full armored crotch behind him undulate. The friction of his controllers felt intoxicating to him as its body moved in rhythm. They wanted him to submit and become a willing drone. His perverse thoughts were known to them. Secrets had no place in a Hive mind. They would bend his physiology to service them and their purpose. He would adapt to service them. The hands of the drones loosened from his shoulders and moved to his chest and back enveloping him. His drone had the same alert expression from when it had assimilated him initially. He wondered if Borg took pleasure in bringing others towards perfection. How aware were the drones now? How many minds were involved in fucking him? In the span of twenty minutes, he had gone from full-fledged terror to an erotic fascination with the drones now dominating him.
Across from him he noted his security friend ogling them. He admitted that he had harbored a crush for his colleague but was too timid to act on it. Even with dark lips and tainted skin she was stunning to look at. He was jealous of the drone that was assimilating her. Cradling her, removing her fear. Carefully inspecting her perfect body with its scanner. She had regained motor strength and was stroking herself, hand shoved down her leggings. His scene was turning her on. She rubbed herself in small circles and leaned against the Borgified terminal. She lowered her pants, thin underwear dragging down her legs that were speckled with blooming nodules. The slit between them glistened with excitement as she continued to masturbate slowly. With her other hand she cupped the cyborg's pelvis. The drone used its manipulator and cut her top off. A small laser moved along her occupied arm, crossing the armpits and releasing her collar. She moaned as the drone clutched her. With a forceful tug the figure ripped off the remaining uniform. Her body was gorgeous, lights reflected on the spectral skin that was streaked with dark rivers. Her breasts were full with arousal, blood and nanoprobes rushing to her sex. She could not remember a time when she was so wet that she ran down her leg. Her gaze focused on the drone lowering its manipulator to her pelvis. She yearned to be filled again by the creature. A small cylindrical object extended from it and advanced. Her fingers spread to accommodate the dark device. Its other extremity covered and gripped her chest with the touch of a considerate lover. She gasped in delight as the cylinder entered her. The piston gently moved inside her. The drone monitored her vitals and thermal signatures to assess her response and calibrated its output. She looked rapturous as her jaw opened and her chest heaved. He was overjoyed that he wasn't alone in his desires. She gazed back at his own debauchery.
He returned focus to the two drones having him. Her movement made him check his own ability to move. Whatever paralytic or control the collective used was lifted. He leaned into the drones grinding onto his body and gripped the gluteal armor of his assimilator. It was supple and welcomed his sensual hold. The drone continued to stroke him with the regular cadence giving way to a twirling thumb by his sensitive glans. Its eye darted unnaturally to monitor his progress. The drone on his back had its organic hand across his navel. He felt the drone bend to its knees and place its manipulator between his legs. He felt a steamy recess in the manipulator cradle his scrotum. Extending distally from that point he saw two semicircles arc and close around the base of his shaft. The material was identical to that of the cylinder he had observed. It was rubbery and lubricated like the patches of armor surrounding him. It snugly compressed the base of him and moved in rhythm with the delicate strokes of the hand. The vibrations of their servos resonated in their touch. Vibrating in a low frequency that further raised his ecstasy. He had never felt such pleasure before. The recess suctioned gently, pulling his testicles down. The manipulator milked him as he noted it was synchronized with the cylinder across the hall.
His colleague was being ravished, her drone lifting her and pinning her to the way in just the way she liked. Its arm supported her hips as its device continued to plunge into her. She raised herself with her arms resting on its shoulders. The verdant dawn he had witnessed before now radiated from the terminal illuminating her backside. Her butt rippled from drone thrusting inside her. He noted that the force and speed of the devices accelerated. He cried out unintelligibly as he was tugged harder. Their resistance was fading. He heard the voices grow louder, "STATE YOUR DESIGNATION." His lips moved to taste his drone's exposed neck. The skin was oily and smooth. The tang was salty and magnified his building lust. The drone leaned into him, grinding its exterior and rubbing his tip against it. The hand and stroking device whirred in a slippery rhythm. He watched his crush contort her expression nearing climax. He felt as his head moved slowly back to a neutral position without his consent. The sensual motion continued below as if he was detached. He was level with the drone that seemed to peer into his soul. The static was gone, he heard the voices from the Collective, "STATE YOUR DESIGNATION." Their chorus had found him. He could hear the thoughts of those penetrating him. They were the thoughts of the Hive mind, "YOU MUST COMPLY." The piston furiously beat up and down his shaft. He could hold no longer. He spoke in tandem with the voices. "WE ARE BORG." Approval swelling within him, the group had accepted them as one of their own. "STATE YOUR DESIGNATION." The answer came to him subconsciously at the moment of climax, "TWO OF TWELVE, TERTIARY ADJUNCT OF UNIMATRIX 04." A rush of semen splashed onto the drone's armor as his muscles contracted. He was connected to the others and could feel their pleasure, fluids moving underneath their armor and tubing throbbing in reaction. His colleague's neck was extended and quivering from the waves of orgasm taking her. They panted irregularly as the drones stopped their assault. His scrotum shrank as further sprays of fluid gushed out of him. It stained her lower abdomen and ran down the inguinal crease of her pelvic armor.
The drones gently released them. The stroking apparatus clicked and lowered back into the body of the manipulator. His groin was released as the drone behind him stood up. The drones returned to their perfectly erect posture and his body assumed a matching position. Three of Twelve was behind him and Seven of Twelve was his assimilator. His colleague now identified as Six of Twelve and had been assimilated by One of Twelve. He looked at his friend, no, not friend, that wasn't right designation. Its name was Six of Twelve Primary Adjunct of Unimatrix 04. Six of Twelve was now standing with perfect Borg posture. She would make an excellent drone. The voices echoed in his mind. "STATE YOUR PRIMARY FUNCTION." As a group their mantra was unwavering. Without lips moving they chanted, "TO SERVE THE COLLECTIVE." New orders pierced his mind. "ASSIMILATION CHAMBERS AT CAPACITY. 49 INDIVIDUALS STILL REQUIRE PRIMARY ASSIMILATION. TWO OF TWELVE AND SIX OF TWELVE, ASSIST IN PRIMARY ASSIMILATION EFFORTS." The hallway had been emptied of the other Romulans. They were on the sphere undergoing their transformation. The walls were now slick and dark with spreading creep and resembled that of the sphere. The Borg had prioritized their remote assimilation so the work would proceed more efficiently. The group pivoted ninety-degrees and began marching. The other drones flanked him as they moved in formation. He could sense Six and One following closely. Their ocular lasers scanned for new targets. He would follow their light. The pumping of thigh servos whirred as they searched for survivors. A pair of assimilation tubules had formed deep within his knuckles. A trio of survivors crawled out of a vent. They were bruised and distressed. The lasers locked on to the figures that stood up to flee. His eyes opened wide and his directives were clear, "ASSIMILATE."