At first, you frantically try to shake the latex off. However, with every swing, the latex seems to grow more and more aggressive as it spreads across your hand. Eventually, you can't move your hand anymore as latex shoots up and wraps around your shoulderblade. Then, all feeling in your arm stops, as it starts to move with a mind of its own. You try to grab it but only succeed in getting latex on your other arm, which quickly transforms. The other arm goes fully limp, while the first starts working at your cock with an expertise you've never seen before. The hand vibrates as it stimulates and pleasures you, leaving you with your tongue hanging out and unable to react. When your cock finally explodes, the half of your mind unburdened by unrestricted pleasure realizes that all you accomplished by jacking off was making room for the symbiote to root itself into your balls. Black latex comes out in waves as tentacles, wrapping around your legs and leaving you helpless. As your dick continues to pump out more, a few strands shove their way into your ass to continue wreaking havoc inside.
Waves travel up your body as the tentacle travels inside. You've regained enough consciousness to struggle but it's far too late. As soon as the latex reaches your chest, you can feel your body shifting, albeit in a pleasurable way. Your latex quads and calves grow larger, your ass grows more toned, a six pack that can cut glass begins to carve its way into your lower torso and your pecs begin to expand outward. Your back receives similar treatment, and you slowly begin to slip out of consciousness as every minute change causes your lengthening dick to pulse in pleasure. The transformations work from two fronts as well, with the latex not just coating your organs, but changing their very biology down to the cellular level. At this point, you have completely given in to the latex. You want to constantly feel pleasure, no matter the cost. On your chest, a particularly large mass of latex has begun to form into a gas mask, which slowly moves to cover your face. While in your pleasure induced trance, you start to hear it;
"Relax..."
Two latex strands snake inside your ears and the words grow louder. But you've already given in.
"Relax..."
The mask snaps on and strands begin to cover the remainder of your head. As you lose the last of your control over your body, and your mind is shunted to your background, you hear that one word.
"Relax."
When you awake again, hours, maybe days later, you've forgotten who you were. A drone doesn't need to know who or what he was. He just needs to serve. You get out of bed, your permanently hard cock hanging in the cold air of your room. If you could feel emotions, you'd be feeling horny. You needed release. You examine the room that belonged to your past self and instinctively decide to find your queen, if one even existed. Or, maybe, you could claim some more drones for your hive. Whatever the matter, if you could feel emotion, you'd love every second of your new life as a mindless sex drone.