It had been a strange afternoon for Bon Bon and her marefriend Lyra. The pair were returning from the Ponyville marketplace, which had been curiously abandoned when they arrived – carts overturned, stands empty, and eerily silent, as if everpony had left in a hurry. Little did they know, they were trapped in the middle of the pony drone apocalypse, and as they wandered into the town square, swiftly nearing a strange, black and yellow rubber lamppost, their time as normal little ponies was about to come to a sudden end.

Unbeknownst to them, that lamppost, with its faint blue glow, was secretly Princess Celestia – one of the first ponies to succumb to the drone infection – reduced from the all-powerful princess of Equestria to a simple, mindless and very horny rubber stallion drone, and ultimately hidden in plain sight from the ponies of Ponyville by none other than Twilight Sparkle, desperately trying to prevent a panic. What Twilight didn't know, of course, was that disguising the Princess as a simple ornate lamppost would only make it easier for unsuspecting ponies to wander right into their rubbery fate in its radioactive lamplight.

Awash in the blue light, the changes were already at work within the two lovers' minds.
“Lyra?”
“Yeah, Bon Bon?”
“I feel- kinda strange...” The cream-colored mare put her forehoof to her head – her mind suddenly racing with strange, lewd thoughts as her sex drive kicked into full gear.
“Me toooo- ooooh, aaaah, kiss me, Bon Bon!” Lyra shouted, unaware those were the last words she'd ever speak.

Bon Bon eagerly clamped her eyes shut and leaned forward to smooch her marefriend's lips.
To her shock, though, instead of the warm, moist lips she was expecting, Bon Bon was met with a cold, smooth rubber surface! Bon Bon's eyes shot open in surprise and to her immediate horror she was met not with the sight of her lover but of some freakish mockery of her, clad in a yellow and black gasmask.

“Mmmmph!?” Came her muffled cry, as she discovered that not only could she not stop kissing this thing, but that her lips were rapidly fusing together, glued to its face. For a brief moment she was terrified as she watched her snout turn into a shiny, yellow bulk of rubber before her very eyes, but as a wave of pleasure rolled over her body, those thoughts quickly dissolved away, her muffled cries giving way to a moan of pleasure. Between her hind legs she could feel a gentle throbbing – a warm, pulsating need she just couldn't ignore. The rest of the world became meaningless – it was just her, Lyra and that thing growing from her crotch. She reached a forehoof back to probe the area and was rewarded with another wave of pleasure as she pressed her hooftip against the squishy bulge.

I- feels ooooh sooo goood.
Can't... think straight...
Too... horny...
Stallion drone?
I'm... we're... looooove.

Unable to think clearly, Bon Bon's mind quickly washed away, replaced with simple horny stallion thoughts and an overwhelming love for her- his stallionfriend... best boy-fuck-friend forever...
He leaned in to continue kissing his one true love, merely grinding rubber snouts together in a squeaky mockery of an actual kiss as the transformation into a horny stallion drone took place throughout his body.
Smooth yellow rubber spread across his coat, leaving him nearly indistinguishable from any other stallion drone, thick seams up and down face, across his neck and down each of his hooves to hint at the pony underneath the suit with a telltale rubber bulge between his legs covering his stallionhood. Thick, heavy rubber soles grew on the soles of his hooves – black rubber running up his legs to form clumsy hoofboots, yet another obstacle between him and his bulge. His eyes, still wide from the initial shock, forced open, unable to close behind a pair of massive plastic lenses, obscuring all but a faint teal glow as he stared into the golden glow of Lyra's own gasmasked face. His mouth sealed shut, unable to speak and forced to breathe through a pair of air filters protruding from the corners of his face – a steady, dry wheeze accompanying each huff of air. His curly mane, turned black and shiny instead of its usual vibrant pastels, melted together into a generic stallion's mohawk, matching Lyra's save for his partner's faint bulge where his horn fused into the black mass. Finally, at last, their cutie marks faded away, only to be replaced with matching hazmat logos, indicating the end of their dronification.

Where once stood two mares now were two stallions, mindlessly squeezing their snouts together, pawing at each others' bulges and filling the air with squeaks and squirks of rubber-on-rubber. Then something stranger still began to happen. Fueled by their love, the drone magic began to change – mutating into something never before seen! As they pressed their snouts together, the rubber began to fuse. Blissfully unaware of the changes taking place, the two continued to squeeze together affectionately, snouts merging together until their foreheads touched. As their heads compressed together, the rubber began to melt and fuse, creating a confusing mess of yellows and blacks. Lyra reflexively reached his forehooves up and around Bon Bon's neck, perhaps in an attempt to separate themselves, but Bon Bon's hooves mirrored them exactly, as the commands between them accidentally leaped across bodies. Where their forehooves met the fusing mass of rubber in the center, they too quickly melted into the conglomerate. There was a muffled moan of surprise from both of them, cut short as the air filters melted into the yellow morass. Slowly, steadily, their bodies came closer and closer together – eyes, mane, forehooves, all swallowed by the yellow ooze until, at last, the mess settled and hardened, leaving behind nothing more than a pair of behinds! Two yellow rubber butts, joined together by a fused midsection – opposing hoofboots and black rubber tails – but most importantly, two throbbing bulges in need of attention.

Unable to see, hear, or even moan, the thing that was Bon Bon and Lyra flailed and writhed about until it finally managed to roll onto its back – each set of legs kicking and squirming in an attempt to reach the others' bulge and rub it for the pleasure it provided, producing a cacophony of squeaks. No sights, no sounds, just an endless struggle to pleasure itself – together forever.