Patch awoke slowly, his thoughts drifting almost serenely through a drug-induced haze. He had the imminent sense that something was wrong, but he was too addled to discover what that something might be. Instead, he floated in the darkness of his mind, aimlessly confused. He drifted in and out of consciousness for a long time.
As his senses eventually began to return to him, he realized that his range of movement was extremely limited. Every part of his body felt like it was made of lead. He tried to lift his arms but couldn’t. Immediately exhausted, he allowed himself to sink back into the darkness.
Some time later, he awoke again. This time his head was throbbing, and he knew something was wrong. He began struggling, but his body was securely restrained in some way. Though much of his body was numbed, his jaw was sore. He groaned and discovered that his muzzle was stuffed with something that tasted of rubber, something that filled his mouth and prevented him from speech. He was surrounded by darkness, but he could feel that some sort of fabric was pressing against his closed eyes. A blindfold?
After a long time struggling against his restraints, the exhausted fox began sobbing muffled cries into the gag. He grunted as loudly as he could, for as long as he could, hoping that someone was nearby and would explain to him what was happening.
He shuddered and gasped as he felt a latex-gloved paw grab his flaccid cock. The glove was slick and slimy, and his captor ran it across his most sensitive parts until, in spite of himself, Patch’s cock was throbbing and dripping. He felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks, and he had to suppress a sob at this horrible violation of his autonomy.
He heard a chuckle from above him; a man’s voice, low and rich with bass. Suddenly, Patch began feeling unfamiliar sensations coming from his cock and balls. He felt the chill touch of cold metal and then heard a sharp click. His manhood was restrained in some sort of rigid device that prevented it from expanding to its full capacity, no matter how hard Patch strained.
Patch cried out, indistinct words muffled by the gag he was being forced to wear. Perhaps his captor would take pity on him? Or at least remove the blindfold he was wearing so Patch could get a better sense of his surroundings?
At first, nothing happened. Then he heard some movement in the room to his left, and then a crinkling sound as if someone were bunching up a plastic grocery bag nearby. He struggled desperately against his restraints and screamed around the thick gag, suddenly certain that his captor was going to shove a plastic bag over his head and suffocate him. He imagined his body being dumped unceremoniously into a ditch somewhere in the dead of night, and blind panic overtook the terrified fox.
However, he was startled out of his panic when the captor effortlessly grabbed his ankles together and hoisted his legs into the air. He could feel the person doing… something to the lower half of his body. He heard something that sounded like duct tape being pulled from the roll, and then he felt something soft and cottony being pressed into his groin. “A… a diaper?” the confused fox thought in a stunned stupor. The metal tube around his penis twitched as he strained futilely against the unyielding steel. “What the hell is going on?” he thought, growing angry in his confusion.
He felt his captor’s paw patting the metal sheath through the diaper, and he heard a low, deep man’s voice chuckle above him. “Uhhhhhh, hnghhhhh,” Patch grunted fruitlessly. His captor said nothing, apparently content to leave the poor fox in the dark about his own fate. A moment later, he heard a door close nearby and he had the distinct feeling of being alone in the room, though he couldn’t be certain.
Patch struggled against the restraints for a while, though he knew he wasn’t making any real progress in freeing himself. Exhausted and scared, the fox eventually let his body go limp as he began to succumb to panic once more. Who was this person holding Patch against his will? Why was this happening?
The trembling fox tried to think back to the last thing he remembered before awakening in this strange situation, but his mind was blank. He felt a spike of horror as he realized that he couldn’t remember anything at all. It was like someone had gone into his brain and deleted all his memories prior to waking up bound and in his captor’s mercy. He knew he was a fox named Patch, but he couldn’t remember anything else about himself. How had he gotten here? Who was he? How could he forget his entire life? Surely his abductor had done something to him, drugged him or injured him in some way to make him forget every single detail of his life. The emptiness in his mind horrified Patch, and he began lashing out against his restraints once more, pounding his fists against the surface he was laying on. He was becoming increasingly convinced he was laying on some sort of mattress.
After what felt like an eternity of solitude, he heard the nearby door creak open. He froze in fear, and his heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. He heard a shuffling sound and then felt his captor grab his left ankle. The man was shoving Patch’s foot into something like a sock, though somehow it felt rubbery and cool to the touch. The man unbuckled the ankle restraint and began working the garment farther up Patch’s leg. Patch tried to squirm, to kick, but the much stronger man was holding his leg too tightly.
Once Patch felt the rubbery garment reach his knee, his captor quickly reattached the ankle cuff. The man repeated the action with Patch’s other leg, then worked the garment even farther up Patch’s trembling body. Patch’s lower half was completely encased, and now the man released Patch’s wrist and began working his arm into the garment. No matter how Patch struggled, the man was able to effortlessly keep him pinned while he worked. In a matter of minutes, both of Patch’s arms were inside the tight rubber garment. His hands were encased in some sort of tight, mitten-like appendage at the end of each sleeve, each fist securely held closed. Escape was going to be all the more difficult without the use of his hands.
Finally, the man worked some sort of rubbery hood over Patch’s head. The man swiftly removed Patch’s blindfold but, before his nightblind eyes could see anything, the hood was being shuffled down past his eyes. The gag he was still wearing was held securely to Patch’s head by the thick rubber. Patch could feel his abductor drawing a long zipper closed up his back, and then he heard a metallic click from his neck. No doubt he was now locked into this rubber bodysuit. Thankfully, grommets allowed him to continue to breathe easily through his nostrils, though that felt like a small concession considering everything else that had happened to the fox so far.
His captor adjusted the rubbery garment in a few places, smoothing out folds in the latex. The man grunted satisfaction at his handiwork before releasing the ankle and wrist cuffs once more and easily raising the rubber-encased, diapered fox to his feet. Patch could feel his stomach lurch for a moment as his balance was thrown.
His right wrist was grabbed roughly and drawn up to his neck. Another metal click later and Patch’s wrist was bound to something near the neck of the suit so that he was unable to lower his arm. The action was repeated on his other arm, and then his captor did something to connect Patch’s ankles so that the fox was unable to take even the smallest of steps. Suddenly, Patch was lifted up again and thrown over the man’s shoulders like a sack of potatoes.
Patch heard an electronic beep and then his captor spoke for the first time. “Hey Boss, got number 103 dressed and trussed up. Want me to bring it out?” came the man’s gruff, rumbly voice.
“Yeah,” came the reply. The voice was higher pitched and slightly metallic sounding, as if it were speaking through a walkie talkie or radio device. “We’ll shine it up once we have it secured on stage. Got high hopes for 103, you know how much they always seem to go for the foxes.”
Patch had no idea what the two were talking about, but he could feel his heart quickening again. He felt the man nod. “On our way then,” the gruff captor said, and suddenly Patch could feel the man walking, the tightly bound fox still held securely over his shoulder.
The man gently but firmly carried the bound fox. Patch’s senses were on high alert as he was carried. He listened for anything that might give him a better sense of where he was or what was happening to him, but mostly he just heard the rustling of the rubber suit he was wearing as the man carried him.
Eventually, they reached their apparent destination and Patch could feel himself being carefully set down and left to stand on his own. “You ready for me to secure this one?” he heard his captor say.
“Yeah, go ahead and lock it down,” answered a voice nearby. It was the same voice that had spoken through the radio before, and he spoke calmly and in a businesslike manner.
Patch felt the bigger man’s paw probing the back of the suit near the fox’s tailhole, and then he felt a short zipper being lowered at the seat of the rubber garment. Apparently there was a pre-cut hole in the back of the diaper he was wearing, because Patch jumped and squealed through the gag when he felt something pressing against his tightly clenched anus. The invader pressed insistently until it slipped past his sphincter muscle, causing a sudden, sharp burning sensation that forced Patch to whine in pain. The pain quickly began to subside however, and the device began pressing more insistently until it was as far in as it could go. It almost felt like the device was secured to the floor in some way, because Patch could do little beyond shifting his weight from foot to foot. If his ankles being restrained wasn’t enough to keep Patch from going anywhere, the device he was currently impaled on would certainly do the trick.
Patch cried even harder, though the thick gag was muffling his cries quite effectively. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, and being unable to even squirm against his bindings was adding to Patch’s growing horror. Whatever was about to happen, Patch couldn’t help but think that he was well and truly fucked.
His captor, satisfied that Patch was secured, abandoned him. Patch could hear other sounds coming from his left and right, but the rubber suit was doing a surprisingly good job of muffling everything, no matter how hard the fox strained his ears.
After several minutes, he heard the higher voice of the man his captor had referred to as “Boss” speak. “Alright, that’s the last. Let’s go ahead and boot them up. Curtain goes up in ten minutes.”
“On it,” came the deeper voice. Suddenly, Patch blinked in shock. The part of the rubber hood covering his eyes suddenly became translucent, and the sudden brightness both surprised the fox and hurt his eyes. He blinked several times to adjust to the light, and that’s when he noticed bright electronic text appearing in his field of view. “Boot sequence initiated,” the letters said as they began scrolling up. It was almost as though Patch was viewing the world through a computer screen as more words began filling his vision.
“Beginning startup routine… done. Connecting to server… done. Loading protocols… done. Loading DREAM operating system… done. Cleaning up temporary files… done. Welcome to your new life, drone.”
Patch blinked at these last words, confused. “What in the fuck does that mean?” he thought.
“It means that you are now a service drone. Your old life has been deleted. You will OBEY,” came new text. It was almost as if the text was responding to his thought. It remained in his vision for a moment before fading.
Patch looked around in terror. He was standing in the center of a darkened stage of some kind. A thick velvet curtain hung a few feet ahead of the fox. Horrifyingly, Patch wasn’t alone on the stage. To both his left and right, several other rubber-encased figures stood at attention, wrists bound to their necks, mounted to metal rods bolted to the floor that ended in anal plugs of some kind. Several were pointlessly squirming against their restraints. A tall, beefy otter in a very fancy black tuxedo was going from figure to figure, shining their black rubber suits with a cloth and some kind of oil. At last he came to Patch. “Hold still,” the muscular man said, and Patch recognized the deep, gruff voice of his captor.
“OBEY”, the text in his eyes said sternly.
The otter began wiping down Patch’s rubber suit with the cloth, leaving a shining, gleaming sheen to the suit. Patch looked down and noticed that the front of his suit was bulging due to the thick diaper beneath it. At the front of the ridiculous bulge of his crotch, a white padlock icon surrounded by a thin white circle shone with its own luminescence, even brighter for being surrounded by dark black rubber.
Once the otter was done shining Patch’s rubber suit to perfection, he moved on to the next nearby victim to Patch’s right.
“What the fuck is happening?” Patch thought.
“You are a drone,” the suit’s text display provided unhelpfully. “You will OBEY, or you will be punished.”
“Fuck you,” Patch thought to the mindreading suit angrily.
“Drone is prohibited from using such language. Do not do so again,” the suit replied impassively.
“FUCK YOU!” Patch screamed in his mind. He squeezed his hands tightly within their rubbery mitts in anger.
“Drone is prohibited from using such language. You were warned,” the suit answered. Suddenly, Patch gasped and would’ve run if possible. His tailhole was on fire, as if it were somehow part of an electrical current. The sharp, painful buzzing sensation continued until the poor fox was weeping silently.
“I’m sorry!” he thought frantically, desperate to make the pain stop. The buzzing ceased immediately.
“OBEY,” the suit cautioned.
“I’ll obey!” Patch shrieked in his mind. “Please don’t do that again!”
“Drones who OBEY are rewarded,” the suit said. If Patch hadn’t known better, he would’ve said the text in his eyes was somehow more smug than before, even though the font hadn’t changed. Suddenly, a moan slipped past the gag in his mouth as the invader in his ass began vibrating pleasantly.
“Five minutes,” came Boss’s voice from behind Patch. The fox tried to turn his head to get a glimpse of this other man, but he wasn’t able to look back far enough. Five minutes until… what?
“Drone bladder capacity is at 79% full. Wet your diaper,” the suit ordered impassively.
Patch blinked at the odd order, but he didn’t dare disobey. He attempted to relax his bladder muscles, but years of training holding his bladder stubbornly refused to allow him to piss on himself. “I’m trying, but it’s not coming out,” he thought loudly, for the suit’s benefit.
“OBEY,” the suit ordered.
“I’m trying!” Patch thought angrily. No matter how hard he pushed, his bladder was unyielding.
“Drone will OBEY,” the suit said. “Drone’s bladder muscles are involuntarily clenching. Drone will receive assistance,” the suit said smugly. Suddenly, Patch completely forgot how to hold his bladder, as if even the muscle memory of his potty training was being deleted from his mind. He felt hot piss pouring into his waiting diaper, and as he stared down at his crotch in wonder, he watched the diaper begin to swell. The glowing lock icon faded to black and then reappeared, this time bright yellow instead of white. Patch gasped in surprise and looked around at the other captives. Two others had yellow padlock icons on their suits like his.
“Showtime in two minutes,” came Boss’s voice from behind Patch. “Clear the stage,” he said. The otter nodded, gave the final captive’s suit an appraising glance, and then exited stage right.
“What’s happening?” Patch mentally asked the suit.
“This drone, along with other units, are being prepared for auction,” the suit said.
“A-auction?” Patch thought, horrified. “But I’m a person, you can’t just sell me! You have no right!”
“Incorrect,” the suit replied. “Drone is not a person. Drone is a drone. Drone has no rights. Drone will be sold to the highest bidder. And drone will OBEY.”
“Look, I dunno what shady shit is going on h--” Patch began, but he was ripped out of his train of thought by the painful electrical buzzing feeling in his tailhole again. Once more he tried to scream, and once more the gag muffled it down to a pathetic whimper.
“OBEY,” the suit ordered coldly.
“I will obey!” Patch begged. The pain of having his tender asshole lit up like a Christmas tree was crushing his will to resist.
“Incorrect syntax. Drone is not an ‘I’. Drone is a drone,” the suit said as it continued to arc electricity through Patch’s most sensitive areas.
“DRONE WILL OBEY!” Patch shrieked desperately, the words ringing in his head mentally even as he attempted to shout them out loud around the gag.
“Drone will OBEY,” the suit repeated happily. The electricity stopped, and Patch went limp. If not for the pole impaling him, he would’ve collapsed to the floor in exhaustion.
Patch felt the rubber-tasting gag shift and reconfigure in his mouth. Before it had been a thick, uncomfortable ball, but in moments it had reshaped itself into what felt almost exactly like an erect penis. The sensation was strange and disorienting, and Patch couldn’t help but explore the invader with his tongue.
“Suck,” the suit ordered.
Patch immediately began sucking on the gag as if his life depended on it. No matter what happened, he wasn’t willing to go through the agony of having his tailhole fried by the suit again.
“Drones who OBEY are rewarded,” the suit printed cheerfully. Suddenly, the metallic cage containing his trapped cock shifted on its own. Patch blinked in confusion. Somehow, the cage was mirroring the sucking Patch was doing on the gag, stimulating him as if the penis trapped in his muzzle was his own. The sensation was delicious but disorienting, and Patch began sucking with true fervor.
The curtain in front of Patch began rising on its own, startling the fox. “Continue to suck,” the merciless text said. Patch worked the rubber cock in his mouth idly as he watched the curtain rise.
Everything in front of the stage was shrouded in darkness, but Patch had the sensation of many eyes staring at him. Suddenly, the overhead stage lights lit up into brilliance, and Patch had to blink to clear the dazzle from his eyes. He heard applause from the audience, though he wasn’t able to see much due to the contrast between the bright stage lights gleaming in his eyes and the comparative darkness of the rest of the theater. The other captives all looked equally scared and confused, at least as far as Patch could tell from his fixed vantage.
The otter in the tux took center stage. “Honored audience members, welcome to Kontroltech’s sixth annual drone auction! Tonight, you’ll be presented with the chance to own your very own Kontroltech drone! I know a few of you already have drones,” the otter said. He pointed to someone in the darkened crowd. “Carl there has purchased a new drone every year since our very first auction. Let’s give a big hand for Carl!” The audience applauded enthusiastically.
“Now,” the otter said after a moment’s pause, “I’m sure I don’t have to sing the virtues of our drone series to you fine folks. This year’s model comes with a number of exciting customization options that we’ve been teasing on social media for weeks, so I’m sure you’re all ready to see what we have to offer.” The otter walked to the captive on the farthest left of the stage.
“Here we have the T-series drone model in an exotic tiger design. The suit comes preloaded with default settings so that you can enjoy your new drone right out of the box, as it were, but we also wanted this year’s model to truly reflect the interests of our clients like never before, so droneOS has been given several exciting personalization keywords. For example, this big, muscular tiger unit might seem a bit intimidating, especially to some of our smaller attendees, so let’s see what we can do to make this unit more approachable. Drone: activate sissy mode.”
The otter chuckled and the audience watched with rapt interest as the captive tiger’s rubber suit began shifting and altering itself. The rubber rippled and contorted like liquid, reshaping itself into a new configuration. In less than twenty seconds, the appearance of the tiger had been completely altered. The suit had turned itself into a pink latex dress, white latex tights stretched comically over the tiger’s diaper bulge, and elbow-length white latex gloves. Even the hood had reformed into a frilly bonnet. The suit’s feet had reformed into shiny white high heels, and only the plug secured in the victim’s tailhole served to keep him on his feet. The poor tiger beneath the high-tech suit looked utterly miserable, but the audience was eating it up.
The otter smiled warmly. “Much better, don’t you think? But maybe this isn’t your cup of tea. Tea, hmm. What a lovely idea.” The otter walked over to the next drone in the lineup, a squirming rabbit, if the hood’s long ears were any indication. “Drone: activate maid mode.”
As before, the victim’s suit began twisting and reshaping itself, rippling and changing colors as it shifted into its new configuration. In a moment, the black rubber drone had become a latex-clad French maid, complete with a tiny skirt that did nothing to hide the drone’s diapered status. The poor rabbit was trembling, and suddenly the padlock icon on his groin shifted from white to yellow to indicate that he had wet himself. Several of the audience laughed, and once more came a thunderous applause. The otter nodded, pleased, and moved to the next drone, some sort of canine.
“I’m next,” Patch thought with horror. He watched the struggling canine intently.
“Then again, when all the messes are cleaned up and it’s time to put the maid away, many of you may be looking for more entertaining options to fill your evenings. I’m certain this next configuration will satisfy those of you with more… exotic tastes,” the otter said, smiling. “Drone: activate pleasure mode.”
The canine gasped audibly, even through his gag. Not much about the suit changed this time, but Patch noted that a hollow opening appeared at the mouth of the suit. The captive was still unable to speak, but his mouth was being held open in an almost-comical O. Meanwhile, a penis-shaped protrusion formed at the apex of the captive’s diaper-bulge. “Of course,” the otter said as the suit shifted, “all our suits are equipped with rear entry ports as well. Drone: enlarge penis to level five.”
The canine’s false rubber erection lengthened slowly until it was at least ten inches long. “The drones’ pleasure attachments can be reshaped into nearly any configuration you want,” the host said. “If you’re new to penetrative play, we suggest starting on level one, but we’ve included sizing options for even experienced power bottoms. When our drones are set to pleasure, we mean business. And, better still, the drone gets absolutely no stimulation while pleasuring you.” As the audience applauded, the otter walked to Patch’s side. Patch swallowed as hard as he could, terrified.
“You know, we’ve often been told that our clients grow attached to our drones, sometimes practically considering them members of the family. And, because of our drones’ naturally extended lifespans, they often become treasured legacies through generations of our clients’ families. With that in mind, we’ve designed a very special configuration that some of you are sure to enjoy. Drone: activate baby mode.”
Patch moaned as his suit began rippling across his body sensually. As terrified as he was, he had to admit to himself that the reconfiguration felt incredible. The rubber flowed like a warm, sensual fluid across his body as it shifted. It was over almost before it began. Patch couldn’t get a good look at himself, but what little he could see horrified him. Perhaps worst of all, the gag in his muzzle had reshaped itself into a comically oversized pacifier he was unable to spit out. The pacifier filled his mouth even more than the cock gag had. The suit’s display mocked him too. “You are a baby,” its font said. “Babies OBEY.”
“As you can see, this drone has reconfigured itself fully. The bottom half of the suit has become fully transparent, and its diaper can be directly accessed now. Keep in mind that these are no ordinary diapers, either; we’ve specially designed these diapers to convert the drone’s wastes into energy to fuel the suit, automatically eliminating the waste and returning the drone to its clean, dry state periodically. However, when baby mode is activated, this service is suspended. You can leave baby wet or messy for as long as you want! And for those of you who really want the full parenthood experience, you can even change baby into a new diaper, sold separately. The suit can even take full control over the drone’s elimination functions, rendering the drone fully incontinent. Indefinitely, for those of you so inclined.”
The otter smiled an ugly, sinister smile, and Patch felt himself trembling. “Drone: activate incontinence mode.” Patch shuddered as the plug in his anus receded back into the suit, allowing him to collapse to the floor. His bladder and bowels immediately began emptying into the ridiculously thick diaper. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop himself. The poor fox wept around the jaw-stretching pacifier as the padlock icon on his diaper rapidly blinked between yellow and brown.
“Luckily, babies aren’t very strong or adept, so we don’t have to worry about this one escaping his babysitter. Drone: activate restricted movement.” Suddenly, Patch’s arms flew to his sides and his legs closed on their own. His suit’s rubber began fusing to itself, binding his arms and legs and rendering him unable to do much beyond wriggle on the floor.
“And remember, folks, this is Kontroltech, so cleanup is a breeze!” the otter host crowed triumphantly. “You could either choose to change baby into a new diaper, let it sit in its own waste as a punishment, or you can wipe the slate clean with a simple command. Drone: refresh diaper.”
Patch gasped as the strangest sensations began emanating from his groin and ass. It was as if the diaper was vacuuming up all the waste inside it, and almost immediately he felt clean and dry again. Even the padlock icon on his diaper’s bulge had gone back to its cool white glow.
“Power levels restored to 100%,” the suit cheerfully reported.
The host moved on, and Patch was left squirming on the floor.
“I hate this,” he thought.
“Irrelevant,” the suit replied. “Drone is a drone. Drone will OBEY.”
“Drone will obey,” Patch thought ruefully, hoping to avoid another punishment.
“Drones who OBEY are rewarded,” the suit answered smugly. “Hump.” Suddenly, the cage his member was stuffed in began reshaping, massaging Patch’s manhood enticingly. The fox’s brain was a soup of terror, lust and adrenaline, and he began obediently humping the stage floor through his diaper. Knowing that everyone in the theater was watching him debase himself was utterly humiliating, but Patch was helpless to resist. Besides, he knew the suit would punish him for disobedience.
While the host was busy demonstrating the suits’ personal assistant capabilities with the next victim in line, Patch was lost to himself. Between his pulse thundering in his ears, the crinkle of his diaper and the slick rustle of his rubber suit, Patch could barely hear much else. The sensation of the suit massaging his still-flaccid cock was unlike anything Patch had ever felt, and he was suddenly desperate to cum. However, the sadistic drone suit was skilled at orgasm denial, and Patch couldn’t cross the event horizon no matter how much he humped and bucked. The poor creature kept trying, however, and each thrust seemed to feel even better than the one before.
After an unknown period of time, Patch was disturbed from his mindless humping by the host’s voice, directly above him. “And now we come to this cute little drone, in a playful fox configuration. Who will be its lucky new owner? Lock in your bids through your phone apps now.” Patch froze, stricken with horror. People were bidding on him? Someone was just going to… take him away? Still unable to stand, Patch could do little but stare at the otter’s polished leather shoes and await his fate.
“Ten seconds for bidding left. Remember, minimum bid is ten million dollars. Five… four… three… two… one. Time’s up! And let’s see who our lucky winner is,” the host said energetically. “It’s Mr. John McEwes, with an impressive bid of $16.4 million! Mr. McEwes, please come up on stage and claim your prize, and Kontroltech thanks you for your generosity! Drone: return to default settings,” the host said. Patch felt his arms and legs release at last, and the suit returned to its previous black appearance. The pacifier in his mouth disappeared. Presumably, the default settings didn’t include a gag. Patch rolled his sore jaw from left to right.
“Stand,” the suit ordered, and Patch obediently did so. He looked around frantically for his new owner. In a moment, the man appeared at the edge of the stage. He was a middle aged stag, handsome even if a bit past his prime. The stag was grinning from ear to ear and staring at Patch.
“Drone,” the otter said, turning to Patch. “Transfer ownership to this man, John McEwes. From this point forward, you will receive instructions only from him.
“Transfer complete,” the suit’s font said. “State aloud for your new owner: Drone understands and acknowledges Mr. John McEwes as owner,” the suit ordered.
“D-drone understands a-a-and acknowledges Mr. John McEwes as o-owner,” Patch stammered.
The otter shook the stag’s hand enthusiastically. “Congratulations, Mr. McEwes, and we at Kontroltech wish you and your family generations of enjoyment with your new purchase.”
“Thank you,” the stag said, his voice bright. “I can’t wait to get it home and play with it! Drone, follow me,” the stag said to Patch.
Patch hung his head low and silently followed his new owner. After all, drones OBEY.