Transforming For The Collective

An alien TF story!

Poll results are in: Isabelle is a pred! :3 I'll be writing that live tonight.

The game poll closes TOMORROW! Make your voice heard!  In the event of a tie, I will choose the winner. https://www.patreon.com/posts/48184028

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/Tonight, come meet us at the old factory off of Wake Street.  Come alone, and tell no one.  Everything will be explained there.  We will be waiting./
Sam stared at the message on the computer, repeating it in his head over and over again.  He still wasn’t wholly sure what to think about all this.  But he knew one thing: he had to go meet them there.  For the sake of his friends.
That’s why he was doing this, for his friends.  He, Bobby, and Madison had all met on the Transforming Fans website, specifically the robots/drones subforum.  They RPed often in private messages, drew TF art to share with each other, and talked about things both related to TF and to their personal lives.  
Sam was a casual TF fan compared to the two of them, sure(doing TF helped calm his anxiety and depression a lot), but they still all got along well.  Over the years, the three of them had grown close, until Sam considered Bobby and Madison to be his closest friends.
But one day, Bobby stopped responding to any messages.  Sam and Madison grew worried, of course.  For goodness sake, this was their friend they were talking about here!  Madison told Sam she would investigate the situation—and now /she/ wasn’t responding to any messages, either!  So Sam vowed to get to the bottom of this, for Madison and Bobby.  And after a few days of investigating all of Madison’s social media pages, and messaging her in every way he could, he finally got a response back from her on the TF website:
/I promise my disappearance and Bobby’s has an explanation—and explanation I think you will find appealing to you, too.  It involves a complete body transformation—a real one.
Tonight, come meet us at the old factory off of Wake Street.  Come alone, and tell no one.  Everything will be explained there.  We will be waiting./
Sam wasn’t totally sure what to say to that, but he was intrigued by the message, that was for sure.  The idea that he could really transform into something else was . . . extremely appealing, the message was correct in that area.  The danger of the situation went to the back of his mind—tonight, he was going to the factory off Wake Street to see what this whole thing was all about.
That night, Sam left his craphole apartment and walked down to Wake Street, putting his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.  He ignored everyone he walked past on the street, trying not to let his anxiety go into overdrive.  Nobody knew why he was out here—and nobody had to know.  He was safe.
Finally, he reached the factory.  It was quite a distance from the rest of the buildings on the street.  Not to mention the factory was old, decrepit, and abandoned—no one had worked her in a very long time.  Sam looked at the entrance of the building, took a deep breath, and walked inside.  Finally, he’d find out what happened to his friends.
He stepped into the darkness, going slowly into the factory.  The door closed quietly behind him, and just as Sam was wishing he brought his flashlight, he saw a light off in the distance.  Squinting, the man walked forward toward it, trying to make out the shapes he could see in the shadows.  “Hello!” he called into the dark.
“Hello, Sam,” a calm, robotic voice replied, making him jump in surprise.  “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me, huh?” he echoed.  “So . . . is that you, Madison?”
“Not quite,” the voice replied.
Then, a beam of light erupted in front of Sam, and he covered his eyes, trying to shield himself from the brightness.  Then, he straightened up again, and looked forward.
He couldn’t believe his eyes.
In front of him were two strange, humanoid . . . /robots/.  Mechanical beings that stood before him, held together by metal.  They were genderless, and nearly featureless, aside from the construction that built up their bodies.
“Who are you?” Sam asked, feeling stunned.
“We are a collective, Sam,” explained the first genderless machine, its voice calm and flat.
“We created the transformation website to collect those of your kind who wish to change,” continued the second robot.  “We run that and a few other ‘fetish’ footholds across the web, in order to find those who strive to be something different than they truly are.  And once we find those people, we transform them.”
“Transform them into what?” Sam asked.
“We change them into goo drones,” replied the first humanoid.  “Genderless, featureless humanoids who become perfect creations for our army.  We plan to conquer this planet with their help.  And you can become one of them, if you wish.”
For a moment, Sam was frozen, unsure what to think.  Had he really uncovered a plot from aliens to take over the planet?!  Should he report this to somebody, somewhere?  If so, who?  And how would they even believe him?
But then he thought about transforming into a goo drone . . . about not needing to worry about rent or anxiety anymore, about being part of a collective that was greater than himself. . . And damn, did that idea appeal to him in more ways than one.  He could already feel a boner forming in his pants from the thought. . .
“We can see that the idea appeals to you,” said the first machine, which made Sam blush red from embarrassment.  “Do not worry—we do not judge your reactions, nor do we mind them.  But if you wish to join the collective, say so, and you will become part of it.”
Sam turned to the robots, and took a deep, cleansing breath.  “I . . . I’ll do it,” he finally said.  “I want to be part of it.”
“Splendid,” said the second machine, not sounding all that enthused.  “Then approach us, and let us complete the procedure.”
Sam obeyed, walking up to the two humanoids.  The first one reached out a hand, and put a finger on Sam’s neck.  He felt a pricking sensation there, and then the robot removed its hand.  “The procedure is complete,” said the alien.  “Soon, the transformation will begin.”
Sam stood there, waiting awkwardly for his body to change.  A few moments later, it began.
The skin on his arms began shivering, and he looked down to see that it was getting softer.  Until it finally seemed to crack open, and reveal green goo underneath it.  “F. . . Fuck. . .” Sam muttered, grabbing his dick—then he remembered he was in front of others, and blushed, moving his hand away.
“We do not mind if you explore your body,” said the first machine.
“By all means, explore yourself,” added the second.  “Before you lose the opportunity to.”
Sam nodded, and put his hand back in his pants, stroking himself.  As he did so, the goo traveled further up his arm, dripping its way to his shoulder, until both of his arms were gooey and cold.  But somehow, to Sam, it felt . . . comforting.
The goo continued to travel, reaching his chest and going down, bubbling on his skin as it went to his stomach.  When it reached his midsection, the human orgasmed, squirting cum in his pants with a loud cry, unable to contain himself.  This was the hottest thing he had ever experienced, and he couldn’t believe it was really happening!  Fuck!
The goo went to his hips, and he could feel his dick shrinking between his legs.  It got smaller and smaller until, finally, it no longer existed at all.  Then his balls shrunk down until they, too, were nonexistent.  When it was all over, all that was between his legs was flesh, genderless and featureless, like the rest of him.
The goo traveled down to his legs, changing them into liquidy sludge with just enough bone for him to stand.  His pants slipped off of his body, and his shirt was absorbed into the goo.  The goo devoured Sam’s head and replaced it with a faceless doom—the final touch.
And just like that, it was done.  The transformation was complete.
Sam—no.  He was no longer “Sam”, whoever that was.  He was no longer a “he” either.  The new goo drone looked up at its masters and bowed.  “I am one with the collective,” it said.  “I am at your service.”
The machines nodded.  “Good.
“Welcome to the collective, Number 148.  You are going to be very glad you joined us.”
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In the coming weeks, the human formerly known as Sam cleared out “his” home and “his” bank account, giving all to “his’ alien masters.  The goo drone let itself be assimilated into the hive, loving it more and more, and submitted to its masters.
Others would trace Sam’s disappearance, wondering where he had gone off to.  And so more people were lured into the transformation. . .