Then a heavy rubber hooded gas mask was lowered over Chad's head by whomever was standing behind him. The scent of latex and camphor filled his nostrils, his eyes watered. The built in goggles were tinted purple. He would see the world from now on through lavender glasses. A strap was tightened around his neck securing the hood in place. Then he heard the sound of liquid running. Splash, it hit the back of his neck and head. The liquid was flowing in at a rate of gallons per second, and his hooded head was rapidly underwater- er, under liquid. He wasn't drowning yet, but he didn't know how long the gas mask would protect him. He started to feel woozy. He could taste the metallic chlorine of the liquid outside, it was coming through the mask as a vapor. The mask was filtering it out of the liquid, and Chad was inhaling it. He needed to inhale more, but he desperately wanted not to inhale. He just had to.
Chad's naked skin under the heavy rubber prison seemed to broil as he inhaled. His body seemed to be absorbing his rubber prison. He was becoming a rubber drone. His flesh was becoming rubber. He was becoming a drone.
He was going to be the best drone ever. Chad always had to be the best, and now he would be the best rubber drone slave he could be. The best drone in the world. His mind struggled, were these his thoughts or was someone else putting htem in his head. He gave in. They were his thoughts now, regardless of the origin, and Chad inhaled deeply. It was good to be a drone.
How much time elapsed, Chad didn't know, he didn't care anymore. He was a drone. Drones wait to serve. Where had he heard that? Were their headphones in the gas mask? It didn't matter. It wasn't a mask anymore, anyway, as it had fused with his flesh, as the hard rubber coating sealed it to his body. He was Drone Cue Bee. It was Drone QB. It's function was to do whatever his master ordered.
Chad remained in the solid block of synthetic rubber for a few weeks. The secret admirer wanted to wait for the police to call off their search for the jock boy before retrieving the rubberized block from the warehouse. It was a great way to store his slaves, just seal them in a block of rubber. The rubber would melt and activate the drone when an electric charge was administered to it, until then it would be inanimate, and its outprogramming would repeat on a loop. The longer in storage, the less likely for the Chadrone to disobey. QB was short for quarterback, but the joke was wasted on the drone, Chad probably was oblivious to the joke now. The Secret Admirer sighed, and looked at his watch. Better give it another week. He glanced at the newspaper again. Page Six: "Local Quarterback Still Missing." Well, at least it wasn't front page news any longer.