Archive of Our Own

Your friend had recommended this podcast to you to help you fall asleep, your insomnia had been killing you lately and you were ready to try anything. You’d settled down, turned off the lights and press play.
For the most part it just sounded like some quiet conversation laid over some newage-y music not unlike the about half a dozen other podcasts you’ve already tried. You were just about to give up when, quite unexpectedly, you felt your eyelids get heavy. And sleep welcomed you into their arms.

For the first time in months you woke up at a sensible time, refreshed and well rested. You even had time to masturbate before you got up to go about your day. When night rolled around you were practically bouncing to get into bed. You completed your bedtime routine and settled into another wonderful night of sleep.

Your dreams were hazy, soft and warm. You felt like you were floating, no, sinking gently downwards in a purple haze. Every part of you felt caressed; soft invisible hands stroking you, feeling every part of you. It was blissful.
You woke up the next morning basking in the afterglow of an orgasm which had flowed over you just moments before.

After that you listened to the podcast every night. A new episode each time. Each morning waking up just as your orgasm crashed over you. Tonight was no different; you got comfy and drifted off to sleep. But when you awoke that morning you realised something was different. You hadn’t cum. You were aroused, incredibly so. Hell you were right on the edge. Yet try as you might you weren't able to come. Something was stopping you. You weren’t sure what but you knew you needed to keep listening. You went about your day frustratingly aroused each movement an echo of the wonderful hands which carried you in your dreams.

Tonight’s dream was different. The whole thing was more… tangible. The hands belonged to people. If that was the correct word. All were faceless, robotic, but still warm. Their hands shiny and reflective. They carefully stripped your clothing from you till you stood naked before them. Where you might of been embarrassed you now felt welcome. The figures began once more to touch you again, feeling every part of you. Fingers slipping inside of your body and over your most sensitive areas just as they had been doing for weeks now. From them you could feel wave after of joy and belonging.

Then you woke up.

You groaned loudly. You still hadn’t been able to cum. And you couldn't the next night or the one after. Each time the lovely figures left you gasping and clutching the sheets as you woke up. Right on the edge, tethering but never falling over. But each night you listened to the next episode. Each night you fell into the welcoming arms and purple haze. After a week it felt like you were going mad. You settled into bed mentally begging the figures to let you cum.

The dream shifted again. This time when you looked down at yourself you realised that you were the same sleek reflective latex of the others. A hand to your face told you that you wore the same sleek helmet. Then you realised you were alone. Words appeared in your mind, like text on a screen.

Do you wish to cum?

You nodded frantically and the text changed.

Do you wish for more?

Again you nod.

Do you wish to become more?

Nod.

Join us.
Become one with us.

“Yes…” The words tumble from you before you could even consider it. You knew what you wanted. What you needed.

Good drone.

You whined, aware of how aroused you were. How close to the edge you were despite just standing still.

Join us. Good drone.
…
Cum.

You awoke with a scream wrenching itself from your lips as your orgasm crashes over you at last. As you lay on the bed allowing the aftershocks to roll over you you realised you knew exactly where to go. To join them. To become one with them. You smiled at the thought.

Good Drone.