This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.
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Part two of three.
Where was he? What was happening to him? Had he been captured? Had he been freed?
Ralph twisted, feeling free, though he shuddered between reality and a vision in his mind, flickering back and forth until they blurred together into a singular nightmare, something that conflicted the edges of what he knew to be real.
Moans. He heard moans. Male moans, lustful moans, as if he was with a partner on the edge of orgasm. That was hot, something that he almost wanted to chase down in the heat of the moment, though the wolf knew too that it could not be real. He licked around his mouth, finding something thick there, grasping and clawing for what it was for a moment before realising that it was the dildo. Yes, that had been there before, though it did not make sense, as if he had blacked out for a time, severing the connections between events in his mind.
Everything was broken, disjointed.
"Relax now. You are one of us. You are a drone. There's no longer any need to think for yourself. Do not remember who you are. You are a drone. Do not remember who you are. You are a drone."
He damn well wasn't! He wouldn't submit, no, never!
That could have been a false hope, but it was not as if there was anything much he could do. What was he supposed to do, escape? Thrashing and fighting to try to free himself wasn't exactly going to get him anywhere, the bonds too tight, sunk into his spine, locked into his brain. But he could try, yes, had to do something.
"Submit to being a drone. Let go. Submit to being a drone. Let go. Submit to being a drone. Let go."
Oh, was that all they had? The voice was in his head as if it was his thoughts, but it was not him, could never be him. Repetition might make him want it all to end, but he would hold on, yes. It was words, only words.
But the moans... Oh, they made him want to slip away, grunts and thrusts, a slamming push against his hips. How could they make him feel like he was fucking someone? That was fucked up! Insane!
He tried not to swallow, lost in the moment, not knowing or caring what was happening. How long had he been in there? His chest was tight, too tight, squirming in the tight restraints, wanting, even then, to free himself. He probably was not as powerful as he might have wanted to think himself, not as strong, not the kind of wolf that could bear through such torture, the stimulation too much. It even pressed in on his arse, almost groping and massaging his glutes, the latex suit stimulating his most erogenous zones, even across his chest, the nipples tucked down within his fur.
Ralph grunted, trying to cry out. What was wrong with him? His thoughts were slow and sluggish, pulling through his head as if through thick lube.
"Whooommppfff..."
What a sound to come from his lips. That wasn't him, that really wasn't him. Yet he couldn't think straight, hardly even managing to string two sensible words together.
"Give in to the drone mind. This is your mind. You are a drone. Moan for the drones, moan with all the drones, you are all drones, you are all one and the same. You are a drone."
He tried to shake himself, clinging to his memories...yet where were they? That was strange, very strange, feeling as if he was thrusting, his muscles free, everything strong, empowered by the latex. Phew, that was a relief, even as he looked down on a drone, a black-clad latex figure, faceless in lust, thrusting and grinding, though he could not see just where or how his cock was disappearing into their back end.
Wait... Did that even make sense if his cock was soft? Ralph tried to make sense of the image playing out before his eyes. No... No, he couldn't see through the latex, no. That was not right. There was something wrong, his stomach churning, nerves writhing, his skin tingling underneath his fur. His fur was pressed flat or...no, it didn't feel like his fur. All that remained was latex, horrifyingly cloying, coating every inch of his body.
No, he was not a wolf. Not anymore. But he wanted to be a wolf. The images grabbed hold of him, wrenching him back into the vision.
In his mind, he was standing tall, amongst other drones, tall and black and clad in latex, faceless and a part of the hive, the hive that was controlled by the king. That was his place, yes, where he was supposed to be.
His cock ached and throbbed, pleasure shooting through him, reinforcing the thought. Yes, that was right, a drone, yes...
