Borg Romulan Assimilation Ch 02

By the ship entryway an eerie quiet had replaced the sound of battle. 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 implants cast shadows on their armor. The cybernetic beings grabbed terminals and crewmembers with equal force. Forearms and manipulators raised and bent at perfect ninety-degree angles towards their targets. Piercing claws delivered corruption to the once vibrant Romulan vessel. The display interfaces in the hallway were undergoing assimilation; Borg font overwriting their native language. A green glimmer spread through the ship, replacing the emergency lighting. Even the walls started to match their armor as tubing grew like vegetation.

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 hardened by the two puncture wounds. Veins rippled from tendrils digging deep within. Over his pectoral muscle an intense pressure expanded. 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. Its manipulator gauntlet landing 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 explored 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 it. The size was impressively small but mirrored the one on the ship he serviced. He pressed as the armor moved subtly.

His clothing itched, rejecting his evolving skin. Her suit on the other hand was taut. It complemented her implants. His grip over the drone's breast tightened. The warm rubbery armor was erogenous and complex with the rigid technology.

His hand released from the drone's chest, commanded by an invisible force. The arm twitched as a wave of nanoprobes and wires established control. Cracks in the skin formed as a Y shaped implant erupted from the back of his wrist. From the numb puncture five appendages sprouted and snaked out to his fingertips. The scene horrified him as they stuck onto his digits, covering his nails. A prickling sensation melded with his sensory nerves. Suddenly he could feel through the Borg surface.

The cybernetic tendons contracted, fingers tapping and compressing to calibrate. He felt their power augment his own, intoxicating and confident. The only drawback was 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. This limb was alien to him now. It was undeniably 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 from when he had fallen off a cliff. The fall had fractured the 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, altering him. They would fill him with new purpose and sensation. Patches bulged as the infection accelerated. Implants and currents flowed from the puncture wounds on his neck. The first implant had formed there, commanding the formation of others as nanoprobes subjugated his cells.

His scalp had hardened, hair matted against it. He could feel something deep within his left ear buzz. By his spine jolts of static rang 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.

Some were made to wait, others marching off the ship in tandem with their new master. 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 returned to analyzing the creatures. It was endlessly fascinating how the Borg muted the characteristics of the original lifeform. That marching gray sapping them of any defining pigmentation. Faces were partially obscured by bulky devices and tubing that plunged into dermis. What little remained only showed the Hive mind's programming.

Each drone presented a resolute sameness. Their flesh matched. Their hardware matched. Their purpose matched. Soon he would match. He could see their unity in their synchronous behavior. Each drone cooperating as they conquered the ship.

Their linked minds shared sensations and strategy. Every drone was assimilating him. Each one filling him with the same technology. He imagined how drones may move between levels of consciousness. The singular mind moving to that of the group.

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 contaminated front now matched that of the drones surrounding them. Her assimilator approved as her head slowly turned to gaze back. Its cybernetic claw maintaining 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 implant had surfaced. She was stone being sculpted. They would chisel her organic form, bringing 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. The device rotated vertically mapping her. The drone instructed her wordlessly. She turned around, staring ahead at the terminal. The Romulan words had been translated into Borg font. A ship-wide schematic showed a map of the vessel divided into deck and section. Territories of green were expanding, consuming flashing sections of red. They were on every level.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see a drone cut into a welded door. 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.

The large saw made short work of obstacle. Others symmetrically moved and pried it open. Cybernetic hands augmented like his own crushed the metal open. Terrified chatter erupted as phaser fire broke out again. The sound of personal shielding quenching their resistance. 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. His focus returned to his master. A familiarity had formed, this drone was his center in a storm of chaos.

He couldn't identify what species the drone in front of him had been. Its build was short and compact. It did have 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. He correctly ascertained this was a support drone based on the size and fine attachments for circuitry work on its forearm. He 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 days. Running maintenance checks in a meditative state. 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. Otherwise, they wouldn't be assimilating him now, would they He chuckled at the insight. 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. His chest grew anxious and tight. He tried to rationalize his assimilation. It didn't matter if he knew it was a coping strategy. Panic would not help him.

There would be fulfillment in the work. What professional prospects did he have anyway 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 lines 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 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, scanning him head to toe. His assimilation specifications were being transmitted back to the Sphere where implants would be tailored.

He wanted to know what they planned for him. He tried to suppress it. That fear of the unknown. He was met with silence from the creatures. An emptiness surrounded him. There were no voices to talk to. What if this was the Collective A prison of mind with some algorithm controlling the body?

The other drone behind him felt warm, its hips hovering behind. Hands were clenched tightly over his shoulders. With what little control he had he tried to break free. The feeble attempt was neutralized by superior strength. He felt trapped, claustrophobic. 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. Armored crotches firmly rubbed 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 frontal drone's eye was alert and wide. 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 squeezed until there was no space between them. Three bodies were merged into one. The friction drove him wild. He could feel their suits grind against skin and uniform. Heat and proximity relieved his sense of dread. He was face to face with the drone that had started his ascension. Its expression was menacing and focused. They wanted him completely, body and mind.

He felt a burning sensation as the manipulator from the drone behind him cut through his clothes. Badge and rank clattered to the floor as it pulled away his shirt. The frontal drone decisively pulled down his pants. He viewed his exposed body. It was a pallid exterior, whitish gray contrasting with the black protuberances. Sweat excreted fluid to optimize the inorganic components and left a reflective oily appearance.

Small blinking diodes reflected off his surface. His abdominal muscles were accentuated by the reticular network of implants. The drones removed his underwear, having his swollen penis bounce in delight. It pointed perpendicularly towards his master. The circumcised organ had a dark squiggly vein engorging it. He stared as it pulsed visibly.

A shadow appeared as the drone's hand pressed against his abdomen. Anticipation turned to tactile ecstasy as it enveloped his phallus. The constriction was sublime. Its webbed hand carefully stroked him. Dopamine and oxytocin secreted from his cortical centers as he joined with them. He heard the distant voices whisper louder, "YOU MUST COMPLY."

"I will comply," he repeated. He still couldn't reach the voices. Had he changed his mind Perhaps they were reprogramming him. It didn't matter. He would obey. He would adapt to service them.

He felt the firm crotch behind him undulate. The lustful massaging of his controllers was intoxicating. 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.

The hands of the drones loosened from his shoulders and moved to his chest and back, exploring him. His drone had the same aroused expression as 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. Their assault continued, bringing him closer to an unnatural climax.

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.

She had regained motor strength and was stroking herself, hand shoved down her leggings. His scene was turning her on. She caressed herself in small circles and leaned against the Borgified terminal. The drone lowered her pants. Thin underwear dragged down her legs that were speckled with blooming nodules. The slit between them glistened with excitement as she continued to masturbate.

With her other hand she cupped the cyborg's pelvis. The drone used its manipulator and cut her top off. She moaned as the drone clutched her. With a forceful tug the figure ripped off the remaining uniform. Lights reflected on spectral skin. Her breasts were full with arousal, blood and nanoprobes rushing to her sex. She focused on the drone lowering its manipulator. She yearned to be filled again by the creature.

A small cylindrical object extended from it and advanced. Her fingers spread, accepting the device. Its other extremity covered and gripped her chest with the touch of a passionate lover. She gasped in delight as the cylinder entered her. The piston gently moving inside her. The drone monitored vitals, assessing her response. It 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 looked back at his own debauchery.

His body continued to be dominated. Whatever paralytic or control the collective used was lifted. He leaned into the drones grinding and gripped gluteal armor. It was supple and welcomed his sensual hold. The drone continued, stroking him with regular cadence. A twirling thumb assaulted his sensitive glans. Its eye darted unnaturally as he took his hand and tried to reciprocate.

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. A steamy nook in the manipulator cradled 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 his base and moved in rhythm with the delicate strokes of the hand.

The vibrations of their servos resonated with their organic embrace. It was a low frequency that further raised his ecstasy. He had never felt such pleasure before. The recess suctioned gently, pulling his testicles down. The contraption milked him as fluid started to accumulate.

Across him he saw his coworker. She was being ravished, her drone lifting and pinning her against the wall. Its arm supported her hips as its device continued to plunge. She raised herself with her arms resting on its shoulders. The verdant dawn now radiated from the terminal, illuminating her backside. Her butt rippled from drone thrusting inside her.

He noted that the force and speed accelerated. He cried out unintelligibly as he was tugged harder. Their resistance was fading. The voices boomed, "STATE YOUR DESIGNATION." His lips moved to taste his drone's exposed neck. It was oily and slick. The salty tang magnified his building lust.

The duo continued thrusting, servos whirring in a slippery rhythm. He watched the object of his desire contort her expression. 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 peered 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. Tubing throbbed 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 dripped happily. It stained her lower abdomen and ran down the inguinal crease of her pelvic armor.

The drones released them. The stroking apparatus clicked and retracted. His groin was released as the drone behind him stood up. The pair returned to their perfectly erect posture and his body assumed a matching position. Three of Twelve was behind him. Seven of Twelve was his assimilator. His colleague now identified as Six of Twelve and had been assimilated by One of Twelve.