Chapter Text
The first thing Captain James T Kirk noticed as he regained consciousness was the latex. It covered him from the top of his neck to the soles of his feet, clinging tightly to every curve and contour of his supine form.
The second thing he noticed was his dick, which was encased by a thick bulge of the same material.
Opening his eyes, the third thing he noticed was the spiral. He seemed to be wearing a motorcycle-esque helmet, the visor completely consumed by the hypnotic pattern. The room beyond was pitch black.
Reaching up to try and take it off, Kirk felt a locking mechanism, attached to a collar around his neck and accompanied by a keypad on the back of the helmet.
Kirk stood up. Feeling around, he discovered he was in a small room - about the size of a walk-in closet.
A word flashed on the visor - too quick to read, but absorbed subliminally.
“Obey”
The latex squirmed, contracting around Kirk’s dick and sending a wave of pleasure crashing through him.
Another word flashed across the visor.
“Submit”
Another squeeze.
Flash.
“Serve”
Squeeze.
Kirk instantly recognized what was happening - an attempt at pavlovian conditioning. He snapped his eyes shut.
In response, the suit squeezed painfully, like a full-body pinch. He fought, squeezing his eyelids closed. The suit got tighter, constricting his breathing and increasing the pain.
Survival instinct kicked in. Kirk opened his eyes.
Once his eyes were locked on the spiral, it was impossible to shut them again.
His first instinct was to find a mantra, something to cling onto until the Enterprise found him.
He was James T Kirk, captain of the Enterprise.
Flash.
“Obey”
Squeeze.
He was James T Kirk, captain of the Enterprise.
Flash.
“Submit”
Squeeze.
====================================
It was impossible to say how long the conditioning went on for. It was relentless, an uphill battle that Kirk was rapidly losing.
He was… he was…
The thought flickered and died. What was he?
A new word flashed across the helmet.
“Drone”
That didn’t sound right, but his exhausted mind grasped desperately at the answer anyway. The latex around his dick squeezed longer, milking him. Rewarding obedience.
“Drone”
Yes… he was Drone.
“Drone does not think.”
Drone… did not think?
“Drone does not think”
Drone.. Not think.
“Drone does not think”
…
====================================
It took the Enterprise eight hours to find Kirk. They tracked him down to a vessel making its way to the Romulan Neutral Zone.
The vessel was of middling size, just large enough to put up a decent fight while Scotty reconfigured the ship's phasers to bypass the vessel's shields and destroy its shield generator.
They beamed Kirk back onto the Enterprise ten hours after his capture.
In sickbay, Spock carefully removed the helmet. Beneath, Kirk’s face was blank, eyes tracking the spiral before it left his field of view.
No recognition showed.
McCoy approached. “Jim?”
Nothing.
McCoy guided Kirk to sit down on a biobed and retrieved a scanner.
“The good news is his baseline neural pathways are all intact. The problem is whatever those bastards did to him established new ones that his brain is favoring,” he said.
“Is it possible to excise the pathways surgically?” Spock asked.
“Not without a serious risk of lobotomizing him.” McCoy replied. “The starts of the new pathways are ingrained in his frontal lobe - they reroute attempts at higher thought to his pleasure centers.”
“Manual deprogramming may take time we do not have.” Said Spock, “there is one alternative.”
“You’re not proposing using your crazy vulcan mind voodoo, are you?” McCoy questioned.
“I am proposing the quickest, safest method of rescuing our captain.” Spock responded.
McCoy paused, looking over at Kirk. “...Go ahead.”
Spock spread his fingers and pressed them to Kirk’s meld points.
“My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts.”
Spock had melded with Kirk before, he knew what that mind was supposed to look like. It had shrunken drastically, from an open expanse to a single room. The walls were each covered in a spiral, words flashing in their centers.
“Obey”
“Submit”
“Serve”
In the center of the room, there was a cage. Within it, a humanoid form knelt - Kirk, the last spark of him buried under the programming.
Even here, his form was coated in latex.
Spock approached. “Captain?”
Nothing.
“Jim?”
The figure groaned, as though being awakened from sleep. “S… Spock?”
“I am here, Jim.”
“Spock, i-” Kirk was cut off as the suit constricted around him, punishing resistance.
Kirk went silent for a second, and then moaned as the suit rewarded him.
“Jim, you must resist.” Spock urged.
“I know - I can’t -”
Tentatively, Spock reached through the bars of the cage and cupped Kirk’s cheek. “You can. You must.”
Within the meld, the touch was not simply touch - it was a further joining of thought, a gateway through which Spock poured memories of Kirk as he should be. The clever, gentle, infuriatingly human man he was.
Beneath the memories, unable to be contained at this level of intimacy, was an undercurrent of love.
Kirk gasped.
He gripped Spock’s wrist, holding on to his one anchor. His own love rang through the connection.
The walls began to crumble around them, revealing the wide open mind behind them. The latex began to slough off Kirk’s body, leaving him naked as the cage around him turned to smoke.
Spock removed his hand from Kirk’s face. The two men sat together in the mindscape, both taking a moment to recover.
“Spock, I had no idea.” Kirk said.
“I believed you valued your work over romantic commitment.” Spock replied.
“I never stuck with anybody because all I wanted was you.” Kirk reassured him.
Spock stuck his fingers out in a traditional vulcan kiss. Kirk returned it.
“...We should return before Doctor McCoy begins to worry.” Said spock.
He broke the meld slowly, allowing both of them to adjust to the sickbay environment.
“Jim?” McCoy asked.
“I’m back, Bones.” Kirk responded. “Now get this thing off of me.”