Fluttershy flickered into consciousness as she felt something smacking against her backside.

Plap plap plap

Something was slapping in and out of her body over and over again, its movements perfectly timed and rhythmic. Nothing fast, nothing slow, just the endless jackhammering of a machine that knew its role. The rubbery phallus that now filled her body continued to pulse at the same rate, its perfect workings more than adequate to pleasure a living pony such as her. Its perfect placement, flawless execution, and seemingly limitless stamina were still wearing away at what little bits of her mind were permitted to exist.

"Mmph..." Fluttershy groaned as she suckled on the cock that used to belong to Rainbow Dash, her eyes glazed over in submissive joy.

But she felt that slowly vanishing.

The pleasure, that is. It was going into the abyss of rubber obedience while the same glossy material clung to her cheeks and slowly spiderwebbed along her face. The little fingers and wires slowly corrupted her buttery fur while reaching for her ears, creating the early levels of the mask Rainbow Dash... R-002 was wearing. Every moment created more of that uniformity, the lack of distinction between the pegasus units. Their bodies would be used for the exact same purposes as one another, the same beginnings and the same ends.

Why did that sound so good?

"Unit F-710 will comply." R-100, formerly Rarity, commanded. Her voice absent of pleasure, of haste, or any emotion. As a drone should be.

F-710 felt her name vanish as her cutie mark did, now covered in the uniform. As were her hooves, her arms. Her chest. Everything was plunged away by the robotic copulation, the feeling of a machine that knew its place. There was no arguing, no fighting. Just a thing that would take the role, follow the commands, and nothing more. Drones such as these were following a ritual not because they wanted to, but because they were told to. Machines, drones, objects.

These things do not want.

"F-710 is complete." R-002 came without pleasure across its fellow unit's face, the synthetic seed forming the new mask.

F-710 would report to the air superiority unit immediately after R-100 came inside of it. There was a world to corrupt and the collective needed its fliers.