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The Life of an Ex-Drone

Commission for Moxas

By Limewah

Sequel to ‘Be Nice To Nerds’

https://www.furaffinity.net/view/45960896/

Uses characters inspired by the game Pokémon

18+

Brylux Unit 01 was online and ready for usage.

It stood in a way that communicated poise and strength, and submissive deference at the same time.

It was-

It -

He…

Brylux Unit…

Bryce.

It.

He.

HE.

Bryce could feel his name being yanked away from him, and he held onto it for dear life, eyes clenched shut, his whole self trying to resist the invisible vortex that was peeling away his mind. His memories were compacted like crumpled pieces of paper and made unrecognisable. He felt his mind unravel, bit by bit.

Somehow, he felt as though if he just kept himself still and held on for dear life, he could hold on to what flecks of his psyche remained. He squatted low to try and brace himself -

Alpha.

Pleasure.

Onto a sex toy, thick and huge, that slid inside him as easily as a breath. His hands reflexively shot up into twin peace signs, and the feeling of fullness was frighteningly pleasurable, and he couldn’t stop himself from moaning as the ecstasy impaled him.

Bryce’s body was not his. It moved without him doing a thing; he didn’t even resist it anymore. Not when each push against his prostate made his dick throb and pulse against the tight warm metal of a cock-cage that he didn’t even realise he had…

Delta.

Pleasure.

Each automatic squat-thrust fucked another part of him away. Pivotal moments in his life. His proudest achievements. The treasure trove of football facts that made him a key team player at bar quizzes. Each buck pulled away more of him, until all that was left was his name. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, he did not want to smile, he didn’t want to lose himself, even though it felt so good, he felt so good, it- no, he-

Sigma.

Pleasure.

He - he -

It let the name go.

Brylux Unit 01 was freed of the weight at last. It forgot why it had fought the removal of the pathogens of thought, of self actualisation. Its mental space was freed up. A complex personality took up an inefficient amount of memory. The removal allowed for multiple, simpler personas to be installed. Generic, simple ones such as Slut, Butler, and Jock(The latter being the closest to its pre-installed personality.). Others could be installed, but that was not Brylux Unit 01’s decision to make. It was an appliance, and appliances did not make decisions.

Stress testing came next. Every orifice was filled with a thick shaft to test the integrity of its back passage and its throat. Its hands were used to finger, to stroke, to fist. When it was freed from the cage, its own cock was used as a stimulant for client after client, mouths, paws, tailholes…

The whole while, it remained perfectly quiet, only speaking when ordered to.

“Thank you for enjoying this service! Brylux Unit 01 is so glad it get to pay off its debt serving a stud like you…”

It spoke in a voice that the previous personality would have thrown slur-filled invective at. No trace of it now. It was bright, cheery, provocative and flirtatious, always directed towards whoever it was servicing.

All at once, something was pushed into the drone. A new set of firmware was being downloaded into its processor - its… brain.

Memories, thoughts, facts… name…

No.

It was inefficient.

Brylux Unit 01 did not… want for anything.

But it did not want this…

It was pushed back into its its - his, no, its, ITS-

Bryce had his name back.

He had his sense of self back.

But he didn’t even want them.

Bryce woke in drenched bedsheets.

The dampness tingled thanks to the unconscious electrical currents the Luxray had been sending through them, during that intense, feverish dream. He could have shocked someone half to death, if he was sharing the bed with anyone. He wasn’t. It was a single bed that barely fit him, in a pokey flat that was the only place he could afford with the paltry salary he could afford.

At least all his debts were paid off. And he hadn’t aged much at all in the last 20 years he’d been all drone’d up. Plus, it was nice to see that Universal Basic Income had finally been made a thing. He would’ve been against it if he’d had a choice, but… the safety net was nice.

Bryce was still catching up with the rest of the world, though. The city was a far different place. A lot less greenery, for one thing; what few parks there were left had been made into private, gated off property if they hadn’t been paved over entirely. The only concession to what had once been there were some sky gardens on the top of the larger skyscrapers. Not that Bryce could even see them from where he lived, let alone access them.

The same went for gyms and stadiums, most of the options for sporting activities had been privatised and practically turned into strip clubs - anyone who was exercising there was doing it in the skimpiest clothes possible, for an audience of lecherous nerds. There were no social spaces for people like him anymore. Nowhere outside of his dingy flat where he could have a space to himself.

The nerds had won.

The whining hum of the electric vehicles that populated the streets took a long time to adjust to, and he hadn’t slept well in months. He couldn’t even nod off on the tram he took every day to work.

At least his tasks didn’t require much brain power(though the irony was not lost on him.) Some days he had the duties of an intern, bringing papers back and forth and delivering messages, even if those nerds - his superiors - could have probably just sent an email. Other days, he was a janitor. It didn’t matter. He was barely paid a slave wage. Not to mention he was always ogled while he worked. Everyone around him was undressing him with their eyes. He might as well have been naked.

He was expected to be grateful for this. Grateful that after all his searching for work, and his failures, that an old ‘friend’ from school would reach out to him and offer him something small and simple. He had to swallow what little pride and dignity he had left.

Maybe a couple crumbs at most.

After all, he was working for someone he used to bully… and who’d owned him for the last 20 years.

He didn’t want to think about who he’d fucked during his two decades of service. Or how he’d been fucked.

Or how much he enjoyed it.

Adrian, his former victim(and former owner) had done very well for himself, too. Cryptocurrency and NFTs were the currency of this particular city; an outlier for most of the rest of the world, or so Bryce’d been told.

He couldn’t leave, though. The outside world held nothing for him.

It didn’t matter whether or not that was due to the remnants of his conditioning keeping him there.

Bryce rarely saw Adrian, even though he was still his ‘owner’ in a sense. He reached into his pocket; he kept checking his phone, to see if that u up, i wanna fuck around’ text he sent one lonely horny night a few days ago had been responded to. It hadn’t even been seen, last time he checked.

The absence in his pocket made him realise he must have left his phone at home. His fingers twitched, and would continue to twitch for most of the day.

Once he was off the cramped tram, he kept his head down, trying to ignore the street cleaners, builders, and other workers who all wore thick, all-too-familiar visors over their blank faces, as well as thigh bodysuits that were only barely disguised under their work clothes. Often, he’d pass by a bunch of drones who looked exactly alike, identical. Whether that was due to a grooming regimen, or that mass-production scheme that he’d overheard in conversation with able-minded people, he wasn’t sure.

Now that most major physical labour in the city was done by mindless drones (like he used to be) there were not many opportunities for ‘able minded’ types like him. It also meant he was constantly reminded of the life he used to lead - if you could even call it that.

Seeing them sent a shiver of revulsion down his spine. As well as a tightening in the chest, the sort of feeling he got when thinking of an ex-girlfriend.

That second feeling scared him the most.

Not to mention, the thought of having his body copied and cloned, and all those different ‘hims’ being scattered all over the world for all he knew. . It scared him, and aroused him.

-

“Hey, meat!”

Bryce was already braced for the slap, both physically and mentally. It didn’t make the possessive smack against his ass any less humiliating. He wanted, with every fibre of his being, to turn around and send that weedy Salandit flying through a wall.

“Yes sir?” Bryce said, his voice straining to remain neutral.

“Take these up to the Viridian room,” the dark-scaled lizard said with a large, snaggle-toothed smirk as he thrust a large box into his hands. The box was cardboard, painted a glossy white, and it felt extremely light. Almost like a gift box.

It wasn’t heavy at all - the lizard could have carried it.

“Right away,” Bryce said.

“Would it hurt to smile?” the lizard hissed as he continued, not giving Bryce an opportunity to reply.

Doing that would have had him disciplined anyway.

He shouldered humiliations like this all the time; his ego was battered and bloodied. There was a path out of it… one that he refused to take.

Most of the other ‘meat’ like him weren’t like that.

He passed by a few others on his way through the office floor. An Incineroar handing out mail from a cart half his size. A Lucario bringing a skinny Arcanine a big, frothy coffee and lingering to let his bulge get fondled.

Both of them only wore a tight purple thong that whale-tailed along their muscular thighs.Their bulges straining against the stretchy fabric.

Both of them were blank faced and smiling. Their expressions almost looked painted-on. Might as well have been.

It was like looking at himself not too long ago. He wore the same thong and the same smile when he was part of the ‘pilot’ project for this debt-drone shit.

Bryce didn’t acknowledge them. They wouldn’t acknowledge him back. They were basically robots, mind-broken so thoroughly that there wasn’t a hint of free will or conscious thought. Somehow, they thought that was better than being conscious and dealing with the humiliation of servitude.

Bryce wasn’t going to stoop to that level.

Though a part of him got it. This was barely living.

As Bryce got into the elevator, finding himself surrounded and molested by idly groping hands, his mind fixated on one simple phrase, the one thing that kept him going.

“This isn’t forever.”

His life was shitty, yes, but there was something temporary about it. He knew it’d come to an end. He’d manage to get out of this dead end, and maybe even escape the city, find some kind of world that actually made sense.

Floor 20 approached him, after a half-minute, or half-eternity of feeling hands grip his inner thigh, creep along the small of his back, slither along his neck…

He shuddered quietly as soon as he was off, and the doors were closed. He looked down at the box. It was very slightly crumpled from his grip.

Arceus dammit.

The 20th floor consisted of a few small meeting rooms, as well as the Viridan room - a larger one that was usually reserved for functions. All the lights were off, and the blinds were down too. The function room was empty and vast, like someplace deserted after a tragedy.

Where was he even supposed to put it…?

“Hello?” he called out cautiously. There was no echo, thanks to the rough carpet dampening the sound. It was way too dark. Where was the light switch again…?

He pawed at his pocket for his phone, and realised he’d left it at home. He couldn’t exactly light the room up with electricity either.

Was there a table or some place to leave this thing?

All at once, there was a loud chnk and a buzz as the lights all screamed on at once, dazzling Bryce. Immediately followed by a cheer.

“SURPRISE!”

When Bryce opened his eyes, he found he was surrounded by… a lot of his nerdy ‘superiors’. They hooted and hollered and applauded. How had they gotten in here…?

He caught the glimpse of a stocky Zoroark near the lightswitch, the last remnants of the illusion he’d conjured evaporating between his claws.

Fucking Sam.

He turned his attention back towards the room, as bodies swarmed him and, of course, groped him. Some shitty speakers were playing a song that he already despised enough. Brightly coloured and shiny balloons were dangling from the ceiling, like what you’d have at a child’s party.

What even was the occasion about? What was the punchline? He had only been working here seven weeks, that wasn’t a milestone…

Everyone around him was smiling. The drones standing in the corners did so with that robotic blankness that creeped him out. Everyone else, though… the nerds?

They were sneering, toothy, nothing but sick sadistic glee behind their eyes. This was a prank.

Back in the day he’d have been the one pranking them. It didn’t feel great being on the opposite end. But he wasn’t going to whine or cry like a little bitch.

“Open your gift! Open it!”

He was jostled around, still clutching the box, and stared down at it. No wonder it reminded him of a gift box…

He managed to wrench himself away from the zombie-like hordes of weedy bullies and give himself enough space to open the box. He did so slowly and carefully, as though there were a bomb inside. It was too light for that, but still…

The box was mostly stuffed with translucent tissue paper. He leafed it aside to find a small piece of purple clothing folded neatly and resting on the paper like a king’s crown on a pillow.

It was a jockstrap. Not the exact same as the ones the other workers had. It was made of a shinier, more sheer, and more expensive piece of fabric.

Exactly the same style he wore while he worked off his debt.

Oh, fuck.

It brought him back in time for a moment, pulling some almost forgotten senses back into his brain. A shiver in the legs, a quiver in his mouth and his ass… The memory of when he was an it, and it was used and commanded without any thought, and when it was…

He was not happy. He couldn’t have felt happy while he was an it. He fucking HATED the memory.

He wanted to tear it to pieces in front of them all, show them just how little power they had over him.

As the gaggle cackled and clapped, the Zoroark snapped his fingers. Another illusion dropped - or appeared, it didn’t matter. Big bright letters on a large black banner.

HAPPY SIX MONTHS!

Six months.

Six months since he’d ended his service and finally got his mind back.

Six months since he’d been thrust into this hellish life- it was barely even a life.

He would have cried, but he wasn’t a fag. He wasn’t going to let them see even a quivering lip.

They hadn’t beaten him, and he wouldn’t let them think that for a second.

“Put it on!” Someone shouted from the crowd. Someone else joined in, turning it into a repetitive chant. Soon a clap joined that, radiating through the crowd until every single one of them were ordering him to…

“Put! It! On! PUT! IT! ON!”

The bathroom was on the other side of the function room to where he was. He would have to go through the crowd.

Of course, they didn’t part for him. They swarmed, blocked, some even peeling off from the back of the gaggle to order the drones in the room to move to the door and stand guard.

He shivered with revulsion.

…and a little excitement that revolted him even more.

Bryce unbuttoned his shirt, refusing to linger. Like changing in a locker room, Bryce. Pretend no one’s watching. Just get it done. Slide down your pants and get rid of your underpants… and…

As he bent low and slipped his foot between the waistband and one of the straps, he felt the soft pouch’s fabric against his ankle.

…Fuck, it was soft.

He slipped his other leg in. And slid it up.

It dragged against the sensitive insides of his ankles and thighs, and he found himself taking his time. The chanting had faded into the back of his mind, but he felt the eyes on him, and something about it felt good..

He caught his hips swaying a little as he rolled the jockstrap up.

They cheered. And he caught his face splitting into a big, relieved grin.

Being objectified was starting to feel very, very good…

Fuck it. He was going to enjoy this.

He put his hands on his hips and stretched, his washboard abs pushing out towards them, and he swore he could feel the room’s temperature getting higher.

They were practically cumming their pants at the sight of him. He could even catch a few of them wiping drool away from their faces. Bryce approached a particularly chubby Floragato, who had steam practically coming out of his ears even before the Luxray pushed his package right into his face.

The green cat looked like he was about to die, his eyes were rolling up and he choked and quivered.

He was overstepping his boundaries, and only realised it midway through.

But everyone else was watching with bated breath, their cheers settling down and changing to quiet huffs

He was driving them wild. Maybe he could use this to his advantage somehow.

The best revenge he could get on them was by using their attraction - his attractive body - against them. A little payback just for him.

He walked home with a swaggering spring in his step. He didn’t feel like taking transport, he was too energised after making an entire room salivate over him.

He was still wearing his jock under his clothes. He took his time to stare at passersby, particularly the besuited non-drones, the ones who supposedly ‘ran the city’. Giving them a long, knowing, ‘come-here-and-let’s-fuck’ look. Seeing them flinch and their eyes dilate as possibilities ran through their head.

Now he felt he had some power again. The bully was back.

That sense of power carried him home, through the halls, back into his flat, where his phone was, of course, waiting for him on the table in front of the TV.

As soon as he picked it up and its screen turned on, he saw the message.

‘Happy Six Months, Bryce. Are you free to come back to the office tonight?’

…oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. His fingers moved on autopilot to respond

‘Yes’

‘Should i come now’

Bryce sat there, waiting for the response, his whole world shrinking down to the screen.

It was another minute or so before the message was seen. And another two before he responded.

Come on…

‘Excellent. I’ll book a taxi for you.’

What was he even going to say? What would they do?

‘Make sure you’re still wearing the jock.’

Fuck. They were going to go back to their old dynamic, just for an evening. He was going to submit to Adrian again, he could already feel it.

The taxi was outside only a few minutes later, and during that silent, Arcanine-drone-driven journey, he did his best to hold on to that dominant confidence he’d picked up today. Sure, he was going to end up being that Azumarill nerd’s plaything, but he was going to make him work for it a little.

Back into the office, guided by a smiling Machoke, into the empty elevator to the penthouse floor.

The Azumarill was waiting for Bryce when he stepped into the massive open plan office-cum-apartment. He was topless, wearing tight slacks, his body glistening fresh from a workout.

Bryce hated how attractive Adrian had become. The Azumarill had aged very well; the dumpy nerd had grown into himself, barrel chested and thick like a pillow, with greying hair around his chin and temples that gave him a professorial look - not that Bryce was into that. Fuck nerds.

“Alpha,” Adrian said, and Bryce’s whole world imploded.

Bryce felt the phantom sensation of his ass being stretched, of the scent of Adrian’s crotch in his nose, of the ‘it-ness’ of being a drone, and he realised… the confidence from before wasn’t real. He was fooling himself. He stumbled forward, stiffly, his jockstrap tented as he stripped himself down on automatic pilot.

“Good toy,” Adrian said, smiling and revealing just the tiniest hint of those buck-toothed incisors that Bryce used to get so much mileage out of.

He didn’t want to think about it. His life before being a drone was miserable. Just like his life now.

All that was clearing so rapidly from his mind.

“Beta,” Adrian said.

His back arched, and his lips tightened into a big smile. For the first time in six months, Bryce felt happy.

“I’m glad to see your training’s all there,” Adrian said. “Gamma.”

Bryce cried out in pain as his orgasm hit, and his mind felt blank, and it… it..

_It. _

“Brylux d…drone…” he moaned, trying to re-connect with what used to be second-nature.

“Unit 01,” Adrian said, with a tone of voice that sounded almost warm.

Bryce… Brylux Drone… remembered just how nice that voice was. How every command made him feel a visceral sense of happiness, a sense of everything being right with the world.

But there was something more he wanted, he knew that, as he felt Adrian’s hand stroke and ruffle the back of his head.

“M…Mas…ter…?” he groaned.

“Yes, Drone?” The hand moved under Brylux-Drone’s chin and slipped his thumb into its mouth.

“I want… to be…I want more…”

“You want to be a Drone again?” Adrian asked.

“Yes, Sir, please…!” The horror was still there, but it was drowned by the need, the desire to be useful and mindless and free of those horrible thoughts.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible… you’ve done your service, and it’s only ethical to allow you to have your free will back.”

“Yes, Sir…” Brylux-Drone did not allow itself to cry, still suckling on the thumb.

“But. We can do the next best thing. You know about the Slutware program by now, yes?”

“I don’t know, Sir.”

“Simply put, we can create a back-up of your Drone programming and installing it into vat-grown clone. I’ve seen how you’ve been eavesdropping on confidential conversations around the office… and I could see how much the idea excited you.”

The thumb was removed from the drone’s mouth, and a familiar scent washed over its nose as the blue rodent’s cock was guided into its waiting maw. It sucked happily, slipping back into a familiar, cosy done-space, and allowing the ‘he’ to vanish from its mind once again.

“I suppose we can let you indulge in this space for a little while,” Adrian said with a contented sigh. “I could use it. And then we can have you in for the Slutware procedure first thing in the morning, and ready for production in the afternoon.”

Brylux-Drone did not show just how excited it really was. Hiding it, and blanking it out, felt far more right.

–

The Luxray gripped one cock in each hand, feeling another one pushing against its face and the springy pink ball-gag nestled inside it. The drone held still as the gag was yanked free, not even gasping for air as it welcomed the dick in. It allowed the client to smear the drool-covered gag all over its face.

The tiny chains connecting its neck to its wrists, and its neck to its cock, jingled very softly with each stroke and pump. The room was pitch black, save for the pink glow-stick gleam of the heart-shaped pasties placed over its nipples.None of its current clients could even appreciate the feminine frilled ensemble it was wearing - sheer garters, a pink frilly pair of panties that had a hole cut in them to show its caged, superfluous cock.

The drone was not concerned with that. It bounced on the pistoning cock, keeping its anus loose and limber for when a higher-paying client would come.

Its shift was never-ending, hours spent servicing man after man, but it did not tire. Drones did not tire, especially after the recent firmware update. It was happier that way, not even considering what it once was.

The cock popped free from the LuxDrone’s mouth, and the dark figure leered down at it as it stroked.

“Is everything to your liking, Sir?” it said, cheerily. A grunt and groan came from the drone’s left, and its eye closed in as the left side of its face was painted. “Ah, very good shot, sir! Thank you for using this service! Please make sure to leave good reviews. And just so you know, this model is Brylux-Drone 339!”

Once, it might have recoiled with horror at what it had just revealed; that it was only one of many, and had no identity of its own.

It had no mind for that thought to cross.