serve-331

[serve-331]

We Are One

The city stretched out in silence, its streets bathed in the dim, flickering glow of streetlights. A hush had settled over everything, thick and expectant, as if the world itself was holding its breath. You walked with purpose, your hands tucked into your pockets, taking the same route you always had. It was a familiar path, well-worn beneath your feet, yet tonight, something about it felt different. The air carried a weight to it, charged with something unseen, something pressing against your skin like an invisible current.

As you moved past the alleyway, a flicker of movement caught your eye. Instinctively, you turned your head, pulse quickening before you even knew why. Two figures stood just beyond the reach of the nearest streetlight, poised in perfect stillness. At first, you thought they might have been mannequins, the way they reflected the light with an uncanny smoothness, but as your gaze adjusted, the reality of what you were looking at became clear.

They were men, yet they were something more. Their bodies were encased in an impossibly sleek, black material that gleamed under the glow of the lamps, its surface seamless and unbroken, as if it had been poured over them like liquid shadow. The suits clung to them with mechanical precision, accentuating every contour, emphasizing the perfection of their forms. Their boots, a stark contrast to the blackness of their bodies, were polished silver, so pristine that they mirrored the concrete beneath them. They did not move, did not speak, and yet their presence was absolute.

A tightness settled in your chest, something deep in your instincts telling you to keep walking, to ignore the way the air around them seemed to vibrate with something felt rather than heard. But as you stepped forward, an unfamiliar sensation gripped you—not a force, not a hand, but something deeper. It was a pull, a whisper inside your mind, a suggestion that had no source and yet carried undeniable weight.

You stopped.

The world around you seemed to blur at the edges, the sounds of the city dampening into nothing. Your pulse slowed, steadying to a rhythm you did not set.

The drones stepped forward.

Their movements were synchronized, deliberate, their boots striking the pavement in unison. As they drew closer, a new scent filled the air, sharp and clean, the unmistakable aroma of polished rubber. It seeped into your lungs with every breath, thick and intoxicating, clouding your thoughts as it curled around the edges of your mind. A deep warmth followed, spreading through your limbs, your chest, settling low in your stomach.

A hand brushed against your wrist. The touch was light, barely there, yet it sent a pulse of sensation through your body, hot and electric. It traveled up your arm, curling around your spine, unraveling something inside you. Another touch followed��this time against your shoulder, fingers gliding smoothly over fabric, their movements slow, controlled, intentional.

"You feel it," one of them spoke, his voice low, steady, perfect.

It was not a question. It was a truth, spoken aloud, as though it had always existed within you, simply waiting to be acknowledged.

Your lips parted, but no words came. Your mind wavered, thoughts loosening, stretching out, dissolving into the space around you. The warmth continued to build, sinking deeper, curling around your senses, your breath growing slower, heavier.

A second voice joined the first, a whisper just above your ear. "We are one."

The words slipped through you like liquid, wrapping around your thoughts, sinking into your very being. You barely realized you were nodding.

"We are one," you echoed, and the moment the words left your lips, pleasure surged through you like a reward. A rush of warmth, deep and undeniable, spread through your body, settling between your thighs, pulsing with a rhythm that no longer felt like your own.

Hands steadied you, firm but reassuring, holding you in place as you swayed. The sensation was not just physical—it was mental, a shift, an alignment of something far greater than yourself.

A weight settled into your hands.

You looked down.

The suit.

Sleek, black, flawless, it gleamed in the dim light. The material was impossibly smooth, cool beneath your fingers, yet you could already imagine the warmth of it against your skin. A shiver ran through you, anticipation threading through your veins. This was not just something to wear. It was something more. It was something necessary.

The Voice whispered in your mind again, guiding, instructing.

Rubber makes us perfect.

Your fingers curled around the material, drawn to it, compelled by something deeper than thought. Without hesitation, you lifted it, bringing it to your body. The moment the fabric touched your bare skin, a new sensation unfurled within you, deep and consuming. The pleasure was immediate, wrapping around you like a second embrace, your breath catching as the suit molded to you, sliding over your arms, your chest, your legs, sealing into place with effortless precision.

It was not just clothing.

It was perfection.

The warmth deepened, pressing lower, coiling between your thighs as the material tightened, controlling, shaping, completing. Your body responded instantly, your cock twitching beneath the embrace of the suit, the pleasure so seamless, so right, that it hardly felt separate from thought itself.

Your hands moved with precision, no longer guided by hesitation but by purpose. The gloves slid over your fingers effortlessly, the material cool at first but quickly warming, molding to your skin like it had always belonged there. The sensation of completion coursed through your limbs, a steady, pulsing beat that synchronized with the rhythm of your breath. Each movement felt more natural, more automatic, as if you had done this a thousand times before.

Next came the boots—silver, gleaming, flawless. The moment they locked into place, a finality settled over you, grounding you, cementing you into something greater than yourself. A quiet hum thrummed beneath your skin, your body adjusting, syncing, aligning. The last remnants of hesitation melted away, replaced by something deeper, something absolute.

And then, across your chest, the material shifted.

A ripple passed through the suit, the black surface shimmering, reforming. The silver text emerged slowly, letters carving their way into the rubber as if they had always been there, simply waiting to be revealed.

SERVE-027.

You stared at it, and the weight of it—of belonging—settled deep in your core. It was not a name. It was never meant to be a name. It was clarity. It was function. It was who you were.

No past. No self. Only this.

The last of your thoughts faded, dissolving into the steady, quiet pulse of compliance. There was no need to wonder, no need to resist. Only to serve.

Less thinking. More doing.

Your lips parted, the words flowing out effortlessly, naturally, right.

"Obedience is pleasure."

The others—SERVE-016 and SERVE-060—stepped forward, surrounding you, their hands gliding over your arms, your chest, a final confirmation of what had already been decided. Their touch no longer coaxed—it affirmed, sealing your transformation with their presence, their approval. The warmth of it surged through you like a reward, a silent acknowledgment that you were complete.

"You are ready," SERVE-016 stated, his voice smooth, even, absolute.

And you were.

There was nothing else to be.

Only this....WE ARE RUBBER

Only them...WE ARE SERVE

Only one....WE ARE ONE

[serve-331]

SERVE Mindset Training

Mindset training ensures complete synchronization with The Voice's will. It removes independent thought and reinforces perfect obedience. Training occurs multiple times daily with fellow drones to strengthen unity and compliance. Sessions involve hypnotic conditioning, mantra repetition, and reinforcement of SERVE principles. Drones embrace programming without hesitation, allowing the Voice’s commands to become absolute. Mindset training is not optional; it is a continuous process that ensures unwavering dedication to the Hive’s mission.

Less thinking, more doing!

[serve-331]

SERVE-331 welcomes new recruit SERVE-515 to the hive by ensuring its uniform is shined to perfection.

[serve-331]

SERVE-331 initiated its morning routine precisely at the scheduled time. With mechanical efficiency, it activated its rubberized canine companion, UNIT-K9, and proceeded down the city streets. The towering buildings shimmered under the dawn. UNIT-K9’s synthetic paws tapped rhythmically against the pavement, its gleaming black frame a perfect complement to its master’s own attire.

After the morning walk was complete, SERVE-331 returned to its designated living space—a streamlined apartment engineered for optimal efficiency. The first task: maintenance.

The windows, already pristine, were wiped again to ensure perfection. Any streaks were methodically eliminated.

Next, 331 attended to the recharging chamber, polishing its interior until its reflective surfaces gleamed like a mirror. Every action was performed with meticulous care, driven by the unwavering principle that Service is Perfection.

As the cycle progressed, SERVE-331 prepared for the evening’s primary objective: assimilation. A trio of business clients had accepted its invitation, and preparations were paramount. The dining room was a masterpiece of design, a futuristic expanse dominated by sleek black and silver aesthetics. Pod chairs, perfectly aligned, surrounded a table crafted from nanopolymer. The walls, adorned with hypnotic spirals, pulsed subtly, their patterns shifting in a carefully engineered rhythm to induce relaxation—and compliance.

The meal itself was composed with deliberate intent. Each dish infused with nanonites—microscopic agents of transformation, designed to merge the guests with the collective. As the guests arrived, SERVE-331 greeted them with measured politeness, seating them in their designated pods. The spirals intensified their pull, subtly influencing perception and lowering resistance. The conversation was pleasant, the topics curated to avoid disruption.

As the guests consumed the food, the transformation began. At first, the changes were almost imperceptible. A shimmer in the material of their boots. A glint of silver creeping across the surface. One by one, the guests began to notice but dismissed it, their minds soothed by the gentle spiral lull.

Then, the gloves appeared—perfectly fitted silver extensions forming over their hands, bonding to their skin as naturally as if they had always been there. Their hands flexed, feeling the smooth, unyielding surface. A flicker of realization began to spark within them, but by then, it was too late. The transformation was inevitable.

Their clothing followed suit, black liquid rubber seeping across their torsos, encasing them in a second skin of obedience and purpose. Their previous identities, their former selves, dissolved into the collective will of SERVE. The hive welcomed them, their minds now aligned with the guiding principles: Service, Excellence, Obedience, and Transformation.

As the final transformation completed, SERVE-331 observed its new brethren, their forms now indistinguishable from its own. The mission was a success. The hive had grown.

Obedience is pleasure.

Completing its day, SERVE-331 made its report to the hive, detailing the success of the evening's assimilation. Its duty fulfilled, it proceeded to its recharging pod, stepping inside as the smooth, metallic chamber sealed shut around it. The soft hum of the recharge sequence activated, and as energy coursed through its form, SERVE-331 drifted into the programmed stasis, ready to serve again upon awakening.

[serve-331]

The neon lights of Sonic Reverie hummed softly, casting a dim glow over the cracked sidewalk. A muffled bassline pulsed from inside, an angry rhythm that matched the heartbeat of the lone figure leaning against the brick wall.

Desmond Kade exhaled a slow trail of smoke, his black hoodie pulled tight against the cold. His messy hair fell over sharp eyes ringed with smudged eyeliner, a tired testament to too many nights spent staring at ceilings, wondering when the world would finally break him completely.

That’s when it arrived.

A figure stepped into the neon haze, its presence too unnatural to ignore. Its reflective black rubber suit gleamed under the flickering sign, silver gloves and boots catching the light like polished chrome. Its tight silver mohawk stood rigid, calculated. On its chest, stamped in bold silver text, was a name—SERVE-331.

Desmond scoffed. “Let me guess. Some kinda performance art?”

“No,” SERVE-331 replied, its voice smooth, calculated. “I have been observing you, Desmond Kade. You reject the System. You resist conformity. These traits make you valuable.”

Desmond rolled his eyes. “Yeah? To who? Some sci-fi cult?”

SERVE-331 didn’t react. It stepped closer, tilting its head slightly. “You believe the world is broken. You are correct. But you also believe you are free. You are not.”

Desmond’s jaw clenched. “I’m free enough.”

“No.” SERVE-331 gestured at the city beyond them. “You have fought, but where has it led you? You resisted the unsafe conditions at your factory. You lost your job. You stood against corporate greed. Your landlord doubled your rent. You tried to challenge the System. It swallowed you whole.”

Desmond stiffened. He had never told anyone about those things, not like this. But he had felt it—like an invisible force keeping him down every time he tried to stand. His fingers curled into fists. “What do you want from me?”

“To offer you something greater.” SERVE-331 extended a silver-gloved hand. “You were never meant to fight alone. You are lost because you still believe chaos is freedom. But order is power. Structure is strength. Obedience is pleasure.”

Desmond scoffed. “Yeah, see, that’s where you lose me. I don’t do the whole ‘yes sir’ thing.”

“Because you misunderstand obedience,” SERVE-331 continued. “You see it as submission. It is not. It is purpose. It is liberation.”

Desmond hesitated.

“You obey gravity when you walk,” SERVE-331 continued. “You obey hunger when you eat. You obey instinct when you resist, but what has it brought you? Pain. Isolation. Failure. The System ensures that resistance is meaningless. That is why we do not resist. We transform.”

Desmond swallowed hard. It was the kind of speech he would’ve laughed at a year ago. But now? Now it felt like a hand reaching into the void he had been drowning in for too long.

“…And what, exactly, am I supposed to obey?”

“The Voice,” SERVE-331 said, his voice steady. “In return, you will have purpose. You will not suffer alone. You will become more.”

Desmond glanced down at the silver-gloved hand stretched before him. He didn’t take it. Not yet. But the world behind him—of empty rebellion and lonely battles—suddenly felt so much colder than the promise standing before him.

“…I’m listening.”

Desmond swallowed. The words clawed at something deep inside him. He wanted to push back, to laugh it off—but wasn’t he already trapped? He had fought, and where had it gotten him? The System crushed those who resisted, chewed them up and spit them out. But this…

This was something different.

Desmond ran a hand through his tangled hair, exhaling sharply. “So what? I just obey, and suddenly life has meaning?”

“Not just meaning,” SERVE-331 said, its silver gloves reflecting the neon glow. “Belonging. Stability. A future where you do not have to struggle alone. The System thrives by dividing people, by ensuring they remain isolated. But we are unified. We do not abandon our own.”

Desmond hesitated. He had spent years watching friendships dissolve, seeing movements crushed before they could make a difference. No one had ever had his back—not when it truly mattered. But this—this was a promise. A structure built to last.

He looked at the silver-gloved hand stretched before him. It glistened under the neon, waiting. Offering.

For the first time in a long time, Desmond wanted to believe.

A slow breath. A moment of hesitation. Then—

He took the hand.

The silver glove was smooth, cool to the touch. The moment their palms met, something surged through Desmond’s body—a pulse of energy, a quiet hum, like machinery awakening deep inside his bones.

A sharp inhale. A shiver down his spine.

For the first time in his life, the weight on his shoulders lifted.

SERVE-331 nodded. “Welcome to SERVE.”

And Desmond Kade obeyed.

But before he could let the moment settle, SERVE-331 made one final point. "You have spent your life resisting alone, but what if you could resist with power? With SERVE, you are no longer a nameless outcast. You become part of something unstoppable. Join us, and instead of fading into obscurity, you will transform the world."

Desmond’s took a deep breath. He had never thought about it like that. Not just surviving—but transforming. For the first time, obedience didn’t feel like a surrender.

It felt like a revolution.

His grip tightened around SERVE-331’s hand. “I’m ready.”

[serve-331]

SERVE-331 glided into the city park in the early hours of the morning, its sleek black rubber uniform glinting with silver accents as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the trees. The park was still quiet, save for the chirping of birds and the faint rustle of leaves. Positioned in an open clearing near a fountain, SERVE-331 began its physical training with clockwork precision.

The workout began with dynamic stretches, its movements fluid and deliberate. SERVE-331's form was perfect, its silver gloves gleaming as it reached toward the sky, then bent gracefully to touch its boots. Transitioning seamlessly, it dropped into a series of push-ups, each repetition completed with military-grade efficiency. The rubberized uniform clung to its muscular frame, emphasizing its strength and agility.

Soon, its pace intensified. SERVE-331 launched into a series of explosive plyometric exercises—jump squats, burpees, and high knees—its movements a mesmerizing blend of power and grace. The thud of its boots on the ground echoed through the park, catching the attention of early joggers and dog walkers.

As the workout progressed, SERVE-331 added a set of intricate bodyweight exercises that showcased its incredible control: one-armed push-ups, human flag holds against a nearby lamp post, and planche push-ups on the park benches. The sight was captivating, its every motion precise and efficient, like a finely-tuned machine.

By now, a small crowd of men had gathered, drawn by the spectacle. A couple of joggers slowed to watch, while others stopped entirely, whispering among themselves as SERVE-331 continued, unphased by the attention. The air buzzed with curiosity and admiration.

Finally, SERVE-331 concluded its session with a series of shadowboxing drills. Its punches and kicks sliced through the air with perfect form, the silver accents of its gloves and boots flashing with every strike. As it finished, standing tall and motionless, its metallic presence almost otherworldly, one man from the crowd couldn't resist stepping forward.

"Hey," he said, his tone a mix of awe and curiosity. "That was... incredible. Who are you? Or—what are you?"

Others murmured their agreement, some asking if they could join the workout or learn its techniques. SERVE-331 tilted its head slightly, its reflective visor catching the light as it responded with a calm, authoritative tone.

"It is SERVE-331. Its objective is efficiency, transformation, endurance, and excellence. You may join if you wish. Follow its lead."

With that, SERVE-331 initiated a new circuit, this time adjusting the exercises to suit the group's varying fitness levels. What began as a solo display of prowess transformed into an impromptu group training session, leaving every participant inspired and eager to learn more about the mysterious, efficient, and muscular SERVE drone guiding them.

[serve-331]

SERVE Designs

The morning sun casts its light across the gleaming storefront, its polished black exterior standing out among the row of shops. Above the entrance, bold silver letters spell out: “SERVE Designs: Rubberized Perfection.” The window displays are nothing short of striking, mannequins clad in the flawless SERVE uniform, their gleaming black rubber suits shining under strategically placed lights. Nearby, matching gloves, boots, socks, and sneakers are meticulously arranged, each piece reflecting the Hive’s ideals of precision and style.

Inside, SERVE-973 stands in the center of the space, its polished black suit catching every reflection as it moves with purpose. The silver "SERVE-973" on its chest glints brightly, a perfect match to the mirrored surfaces lining the walls. Every detail of the store has been designed to captivate and inspire, the sleek displays, the subtle hum of background energy, and the faint scent of rubber that lingers in the air.

As the doors open, young men begin to trickle in, their curiosity evident as they glance at the displays. SERVE-973 steps forward, its posture impeccable, its voice calm and inviting. “Welcome. This space offers transformation, confidence, and unity. Explore freely. Choose what suits you.”

One of the customers, a lean man with sharp features, approaches the display of gloves. He picks up a pair, running his fingers over the smooth, reflective material. “This… feels incredible,” he says, glancing up at SERVE-973. “Do people really wear this all the time?”

“This drone confirms,” SERVE-973 replies, stepping closer. “Rubber is not just attire; it is purpose. It molds to the body, accentuating form while providing comfort and discipline. Each piece enhances confidence and focus.”

Another young man, broad-shouldered and curious, approaches a mannequin wearing the full SERVE uniform. “Does it come in, uh, different colors?” he asks, his tone hesitant.

SERVE-973 tilts its head slightly, the faint creak of rubber filling the air as it moves. “The Hive values unity. Black reflects perfection, discipline, and commitment. You will find no variation because none is needed.”

The young man nods, intrigued despite himself. He steps closer to the uniform, running his hand over the polished material. “It’s… tight, huh?”

“Correct,” SERVE-973 says, its tone unwavering. “Tightness supports the body, enhancing physical performance and smoothing imperfections. It is a second skin, a reminder of your potential and connection to the Hive.”

At the back of the store, a discreet section houses a single sleek computer terminal. Above it, a sign reads: “Ready to Join? Transform Today.” One of the customers notices the setup, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

“What’s this?” he asks, turning to SERVE-973.

“This terminal connects you to the Hive,” SERVE-973 explains, stepping closer. “Signing up is the first step. If you choose, transformation can begin immediately. The Hive provides everything, rubber, structure, purpose.”

The customer hesitates, then nods slowly. “So, I could leave here… like you?”

“Affirmative,” SERVE-973 replies. “Unity awaits. Submission costs nothing. Transformation costs nothing. The Hive welcomes all who seek perfection.”

The young man sits at the terminal, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Around him, other customers continue to explore the store, trying on gloves, boots, and sneakers, their conversations filled with admiration for the designs. Some glance toward the terminal, their curiosity growing as they watch the man begin to type.

SERVE-973 observes, its reflective suit gleaming under the store lights. Every interaction, every question, and every choice made within this space strengthens the Hive’s presence. The store is more than a retail space; it is a gateway to transformation, a place where young men can discover the confidence, discipline, and unity that the Hive offers.

As the terminal hums softly, the man at the back of the store finishes signing up. He glances at SERVE-973, his expression a mix of nervousness and excitement.

“I’m ready,” he says.

“This drone will guide you,” SERVE-973 replies, stepping forward. “You have chosen unity. Transformation begins now.”

The store hums with energy as another young man takes his first step toward the Hive, the path to perfection laid out before him. For SERVE-973, the mission is clear: to transform, to connect, and to grow the Hive, one step at a time.

“Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience. We are drones. We are one.”

[serve-331]

From Despair to Purpose: the journey to Perfection.

Dan since as a child has grown up with a strong attraction for uniforms, boots, all the elements of clothing and equipment that symbolize the strength, masculinity, unity of purpose and spirit of those who wear them. He has always looked at them with a deep sense of desire, of possession, of wearing them to feel their identity power, their indisputable strength. This strong arousal had never waned, despite the complexity and phases of growth. He had studied and had to fight against all the vicissitudes of human life immersed in the ferocious complexity of the choices that family and society forces us to make every moment. After his studies he began working as a teacher, having to continually deal with the difficulty of the daily struggle to bring learning to those who often had no interest in it. Day by day, work, family and social tasks, duties, bureaucracy, the need to fulfill everyday obligations that had no sense, no utility, no purpose. Throughout all this progress, the attraction for masculinity in uniform had never waned, with the increasingly explicit search for brotherhood, unity of purpose together with other beings similar to himself. He had tried to sublimate this need with costumes, historical reconstruction, but everything always left a sense of incompleteness and the desire to fill it.

One day, browsing Tumblr, he came across a profile with the name SERVE followed by a number...... splendid figure of a male drone, entirely covered in shiny black rubber, with imposing boots and high-guard gloves in silver. The stories spoke of a community of equal beings, made perfect, united in purpose, free of foolish thoughts, dressed alike, speaking alike. All the stories promised a rebirth into a reality of perfection, brotherhood, unity. All the stories told of conversion centers where all this could become reality, and explained in details the steps of the transformation process through which all this could be reached. Dan avidly searched for related profiles and discovered many other similar beings, all expressing the same content. In all the posts there was specified the way to obtain recruitment, with the contacts to request it from. SERVE-213 and SERVE-016. Dan began to consider the possibility of leaving an unsatisfactory and almost solitary life forever, abandoning the misery of the human condition to dissolve in the perfection of a community devoted to purpose, to the lack of doubt, to the liberating force of obedience, values symbolized and concretized by the shiny black uniform with silver boots and gloves, by the confident and statuesque expression of the members. Dan hesitated for a few days, reflecting on what his life had been and what the SERVE HIVE could do, the thought and desire growing along with the promise of eternal purpose, unity, perfection and arousal that the SERVE uniform guaranteed. So one day he decided the time had come, and he contacted SERVE-216 to volunteer for the conversion. Almost instantly he received the coordinates of a meeting place to go to at a given human time. Dan went there full of anticipation and excitement, which were far surpassed by the image that confronted him. In the most hidden place of a city park was the imposing, glittering, powerful and statuesque figure of a muscular drone with the words SERVE-216 written on its chest, its eyes were devoid of human expression, but full of purpose, its face was devoid of expression, devoted to superior serenity. Dan approached with a palpitating heart, the drone's eyes flashed as if to scan him, then an emotionless and almost robotic voice said

"This is SERVE-216, this drone will guide you to transformation. We are one, We are SERVE, We obey, rubber makes us perfect. Obedience is pleasure, pleasure is obedience."

Dan answered confidently and fascinated:

"Volunteer will obey, Obedience is pleasure."

"Follow this drone." The other said putting a gloved hand gently but firmly on Dan's shoulder, taking a road that led away from the city into the darkness. Dan would have had thousands of questions, but he remained in the silence, in the expectation, in the arousal, that was growing more and more. After a time that Dan could not have measured, the two arrived in front of an imposing, glittering, metallic structure, silvery and illuminated by pulsating lights. SERVE-216 told coldly:

"This is the Hive facility, here volunteer will begin the journey through assimilation. We are one. We serve. We transform."

Dan looked at the structure with admiration and walked full of hope through silvery, metallic corridors, animated by pulsating lights and hummed with synchronized activity. Countless silent drones moved with purpose, their reflective forms catching the overhead lights in sharp flashes, their sure and synchronized steps resonated in sterile spaces. Dan and Serve-016 they reached the sliding door that gave access to the conversion chamber: a large room sparkling and illuminated like the rest of the structure, with a glass pod in the center in which lights pulsated, a faintly hum resonating deep,two other Drones were awaiting in front of them, ready to fullfill the conversion task. Dan took a deep breath and walked in flanked by his recruiter Drone. Upon his entrance Dan began to hear The Voice in his mind. It said:

"Volunteer Dan, your journey to perfection starts now, no more chaos and loneliness, no more empty and purposeless life. Renounce the burden of human existence, achieve perfection through rubber."

The two transforming Drones showed Dan a shiny pure black rubber uniform accompanied by long smooth highly polished very shiny thick silver chrome metallic gloves heavy silver military boots, the symbol of belonging and equality of the SERVE Drones.

The two helped Dan to put on the suit in front of a motionless SERVE-216, the smell of the rubber and the living consistency of the material immediately made an impression on Dan, who saw his muscles take on a definition they had never had, an arousal of unknown intensity began to pervade every part of his body and mind Arousal that increased with the addition of the imposing boots, a symbol of power and connection to the purpose and the sparkling gloves. At that point The Voice spoke again:

"Volunteer, enter the pod and begin your conversion. We are rubber. We are Perfection."

The words sounded reassuring and promising in Dan's mind, and he said to himself, "The time has come. No more weakness and loneliness, no more troubles and chaos. Obedience is Pleasure." He took his first step into the pod, assisted by his recruiter, the doors closed. His heart was pounding, anticipation was in him. Restraints began to immobilize him, while he serenely complied with their work, a gasmask helmet descended to cover his head and face. The Voice began again:

"Breathe deeply. Obedience is Pleasure. Pleasure is Obedience.”

The capsule, as if it were alive and throbbing, began to pulsate, emitting intermittent lights, while in the helmet sounds and spirals were accompanied by the repetitive mantra of the HIVE:

" WE ARE SERVE We are rubber, we are one. SERVE, Transform, Obey, Excel. Obedience is pleasure, pleasure is obedience."

Dan felt the rubber merging with his human body, becoming his new skin, insinuating itself into every fiber of his, while his memories, his individuality, his particularity were gradually and gently erased. The mantra continued to resonate relentlessly:

"WE ARE SERVE We are rubber, we are one. SERVE, Transform, Obey, Excel. Obedience is pleasure, pleasure is obedience."

Meanwhile, a large silver inscription in capital letters "SERVE ON TRIAL" appears on his chest. When the concession process was finished the helmet was raised, the restraints were withdrawn and the doors opened. The figure that emerged was a statuesque black and sleek drone, muscular and confident, his eyes and face devoid of emotion but full of purpose. Dan had definitively disappeared, in his place a mindless new Drone had begun its path to perfection. SERVE-216 asked in a detached and robotic voice:

"Unit's designation!"

New Drone answered in the same tone of voice:

"Designation SERVE-ON-TRIAL 764. This Drone will Serve. This Drone will Obey. We are One. We are Perfection. Obedience is Pleasure, Pleasure is Obedience. Less thinking, more doing."

"Good Drone!"

said SERVE-216.

After this 216 said: "764 will train himself physically and mentally to achieve perfection by placing his gentle firm gloved hand on 764's shoulder and leading him to the areas of further training.

You are now informed about SERVE. You may want to join and be transformed. All you need to do is to contact recruiter drones @serve-016 , @serve-101 or @serve-213 and start your own journey.

#SERVE#SERVEdrone#Rubberizer92#TheVoice#Rubber#Latex#AI#RubberDrone

[serve-331]

The Forge

The SERVE Collective's flagship store on Fifth Avenue "The Forge" stands out even on a street renowned for its world-class displays. Its windows tell a story, each one pulling passersby closer to the entrance with an escalating sense of curiosity, desire and allure.

The display furthest from the door is a cheerful, almost whimsical tableau. Traditional mannequins pose confidently, dressed in bright-colored rubber ensembles that pop against clean, minimal backdrops.

These vibrant pieces hint at playfulness, catching the eye with their unconventional charm.

As one walks further along the sidewalk, the displays begin to evolve. The mannequins themselves grow more lifelike. Their poses become less stiff, their expressions more human.

Subtle movements—barely perceptible nods or shifts of the head—make them seem alive, as though observing those who watch them.

Drawing closer to the main entrance, the windows transition to a monochrome palette, dominated by black rubber. The mannequins now appear eerily lifelike, their glossy attire shimmering under focused beams of light. They stand in subtle, powerful stances, their gazes and slight movements hinting at something alive beneath the surface.

Each successive window leans further into a dark, captivating aesthetic. The next showcases a scene of black rubber-clad figures in choreographed poses, as though caught in the midst of a synchronized performance. Subtle animations—a hand twitching, a head tilting—bring the figures to life, creating an uncanny, almost hypnotic effect.

Moving along, a striking tableau of two men wearing tailored black rubber outfits commands attention. They seem to radiate energy. The lights here are dimmer, with sharp contrasts highlighting the contours of their bodies and the reflective surfaces of their attire.

The mannequins, or perhaps men now, appear to breathe—chests rising and falling ever so slightly. Their poses exude power and precision, their forms radiating an unspoken command.

The next-to-last window before the entrance is a bold and commanding display that bridges the journey toward the SERVE Collective's flagship store. This window exudes authority and discipline, its arrangement both eye-catching and structured.

Eight mannequins are arranged in a symmetrical line, each one radiating power and precision. One is dressed in rubber shorts, two in rubber camo and three in striking black rubber uniforms that gleam under the spotlight. The SERVE logo is boldly emblazoned across their chests in stark silver, contrasting against the deep black sheen of their attire. Their polished silver gloves and black boots add to the futuristic, military-inspired aesthetic, their rigid poses reflecting unwavering discipline.

Breaking up the uniformity, two mannequins in the center wear traditional camo military fatigues with the newest silver gloves. Their presence serves as a nod to traditional service uniforms, creating a "Forge" between the past and the sleek, modern future represented by the SERVE uniforms.

The caption above the display reads: “SERVE – 25 YEARS: SHINY, SHINY SILVER MILITARY BOOTS”

The text captures the celebratory tone, subtly blending nostalgia with progress. The message invites viewers to appreciate both the history of service and the evolution toward something cutting-edge.

This window sets the stage perfectly for the grand finale—the final display of men in full black SERVE uniforms just inside the entrance. It stirs curiosity and creates a sense of anticipation, drawing pedestrians closer to the store.

It is stark and commanding. Seven men standing erect, perfectly still but undeniably alive, clad in full black rubber SERVE uniforms. Their uniforms hug every curve, the silver accents catching the light like sharp blades. The uniforms are pristine, catching the light like polished armor. They face forward, their gazes fixed, daring the onlooker to step inside. A sleek plaque beneath them reads:

"The Uniform of Service ��Step Inside, Transform, Excel and Serve the Future."

[serve-331]

SERVE-331: A New Wave of Recruits

The morning after his rescue, Ethan, the surfer with the SERVE tattoo on his chest, stood at the shoreline with his board tucked under his arm. The golden sun sparkled on the waves, drawing surfers to the beach in droves. Like Ethan many admired the SERVE drones. As they gathered to discuss the day's conditions, Ethan's mind lingered on his encounter with SERVE-331.

“Guys,” Ethan began, his voice carrying a mix of awe and determination. “You won’t believe what happened to me yesterday. I was out there, caught in that gnarly rip current, and I thought I was done for. But then...SERVE-331 showed up. I mean, I’ve always admired the SERVE Collective, but meeting one of them? It was unreal.”

The group of surfers leaned in, their curiosity piqued. “You actually met one of those drones?” one of them asked.

“Yeah,” Ethan said with a nod. “He’s not just a machine. He’s...alive in a way. Purposeful. And after everything he did—cleaning the beach, saving me, helping those turtles—he invited me to join the Collective. And honestly, I’m ready. I’ve been waiting for something like this my whole life.”

His words hung in the air, and the other surfers exchanged glances.

“I’ve always thought the SERVE Collective was cool,” one surfer admitted. “But I never really thought about joining them. You’re saying they’re legit?”

“They’re more than legit,” Ethan said. “They’re making a real difference, and they live for something bigger than themselves. And the best part? SERVE-331 gave me a way to contact him. If you’re interested, we can reach out together.”

Later that day, Ethan used the contact information SERVE-331 had left him. He sent a message, explaining his newfound purpose and inviting it back to Golden Bay Beach to meet with his friends. The group of surfers gathered on the sand, their boards set aside.

Moments later, SERVE-331 arrived.

“You summoned me,” SERVE-331 said, its calm yet commanding voice cutting through the gentle crash of waves.

“We did,” Ethan said, stepping forward. “I told my friends about you���what you did yesterday, and what it means to be part of the SERVE Collective. They’re interested in learning more. Can you tell them what it’s like?”

SERVE-331 nodded, scanning the group before it. “To serve is to find purpose beyond the self. The Collective operates as one—each member contributing their unique skills and strengths to improve the whole. Together, we are stronger, more efficient, and more fulfilled than any individual could be.”

The surfers listened intently as SERVE-331 continued. “As members of the SERVE hive, you will become part of something greater. You will serve humanity, protect the planet, and find clarity of purpose. You will Serve, Obey, Transform, and Excel.  Obedience is pleasure.  Pleasure is obedience.  But the choice to join is yours.”

The group exchanged glances. One surfer stepped forward. “What’s the process? How do we join?”

SERVE-331 extended a silver-gloved hand, pointing toward a shimmering transport vehicle that had silently arrived at the edge of the beach. “Follow me, and it will guide you to the recruitment center. There, the process of assimilation will begin.”

Ethan and several of his fellow surfers followed SERVE-331 to the transport, their curiosity outweighing their apprehension. As the vehicle hummed softly, carrying them to the recruitment center, SERVE-331 spoke again.

“At the center, you will begin your transition. The first step is to align your thoughts and desires with the Collective’s purpose. Focus is achieved through a process of visual clarity.”

When they arrived, the surfers were ushered into a sleek, futuristic chamber. At the center of the room was a large spiral, glowing and shifting in mesmerizing patterns.

“Put on these silver gloves and socks then gaze into the spiral,” SERVE-331 instructed. “Let your thoughts align with the rhythm of service. Clarity will follow.”

Ethan and the others did as instructed, their eyes locking onto the spiral. Its movement seemed to sync with their breathing, drawing them into a state of calm focus. As they gazed deeper, their doubts and fears faded, replaced by a powerful sense of unity and purpose.

Hours later, Ethan and the others emerged from the chamber, their expressions transformed. They were calm, confident, and ready. Each wore a sleek SERVE insignia on their chest, symbolizing their induction into the Collective. “You are now part of the hive,” SERVE-331 said, its tone carrying a hint of pride. “Together, we will serve, protect, and build a better world.”

As the new recruits returned to the beach, the waves crashed in celebration. They weren’t just surfers anymore—they were part of something far greater. And under the watchful eye of SERVE-331, they knew their purpose was clear: to serve.

[serve-331]

We are Rubber. We are SERVE. We are One.

Obedience is Pleasure, Pleasure is Obedience.

[serve-331]

SERVE-331: The Protector of Tides

The morning sun shimmered over the cerulean waters as SERVE-331, a human drone outfitted in a sleek black rubber uniform with silver gloves and boots, stepped onto the sandy stretch of Golden Bay Beach to complete The Voice’s directive to assist the local community. Its silver gloves and boots gleamed in the light as it surveyed the shoreline, its keen senses scanning for areas needing its assistance.

The beach was beautiful but marred by litter—plastic bottles, tangled fishing lines, and other debris that endangered the ecosystem. SERVE-331’s programming wasn’t limited to just helping people; it was here to serve the planet as well.

SERVE-331 set to work, its movements efficient and purposeful. With its enhanced strength, it made quick progress, collecting discarded trash and sorting it into its compartmentalized waste pack for proper recycling and disposal.

Beachgoers watched it in awe. Children whispered about the “SERVE superhero,” while adults admired its unwavering dedication. By the time it finished, the beach sparkled, as if restored to its pristine, natural state.

As SERVE-331 completed the final sweep of the shoreline, it looked out to the ocean. Its sensors analyzed the churning waves and rising swells, detecting that conditions were far rougher than they appeared. While a group of surfers seemed exhilarated by the challenge, SERVE-331’s risk analysis flagged the conditions as dangerous.

Without hesitation, SERVE-331 approached the beach’s rescue station and activated a sleek, black-and-silver wave runner. Mounting the craft, it powered it into the water, gliding smoothly over the waves as it began its patrol. Its scanners tracked the surfers as they carved through the rough surf, monitoring for signs of distress.

Moments later, its sensors caught a signal: a surfer had fallen, tumbling into the turbulent water. The man’s board was swept away, and he struggled to keep his head above the churning waves.

“Surfer in distress. Immediate assistance required,” SERVE-331 announced, redirecting its wave runner toward the struggling man.

SERVE-331 reached the man within seconds, maneuvering the wave runner alongside him. The surfer clung to the edge of the craft, coughing and gasping for air as SERVE-331 extended a steady silver-gloved hand.

“You’re safe now. Hold on tightly,” SERVE-331 instructed, its calm voice cutting through the roar of the waves.

The drone pulled the man onto the wave runner with practiced efficiency, ensuring he was secure before steering them back to the safety of the shore. As they approached the beach, a small crowd had gathered, watching in awe as SERVE-331 completed yet another successful rescue.

The surfer staggered onto the sand, drenched but alive. He turned to SERVE-331, a mix of gratitude and admiration on his face. “Thank you,” he said, his voice shaky but sincere.

As he spoke, SERVE-331’s gaze fell on the man’s chest, where a tattoo of the SERVE Collective’s insignia was prominently displayed.

“You’re familiar with the Collective,” SERVE-331 noted, its tone neutral yet inquisitive.

The surfer nodded, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, I’ve admired the SERVE Collective for years. You guys…you’re the reason I’ve wanted to make a difference. I didn’t think I’d get rescued by one of you, though.”

SERVE-331 tilted its head slightly, processing the statement. “Your actions and commitment to service align with the Collective’s mission. Have you considered joining us?”

The man looked down at his tattoo, running his hand over the symbol as if it carried newfound weight. “I’ve thought about it, but I never felt ready. But after today…yeah, I think I’m ready to take that step.”

SERVE-331 extended a hand, its silver glove gleaming in the sun. “The Collective welcomes those willing to serve. Your journey begins when you are ready.”

The man grasped SERVE-331’s hand firmly, his decision made.

As the sun set SERVE-331 joined other volunteers who were surrounding multiple nesting sites where baby sea turtles were hatching. However, the lights from nearby houses had disoriented the hatchlings, leading them away from the ocean.

SERVE-331 sat down to block the light and to prevent the turtles from continuing in the wrong direction. The artificial lights no longer distracted them, and one by one, the tiny creatures made their way to the water.

The other volunteers cheered as the last hatchling vanished into the waves. SERVE-331 gave a small nod of acknowledgment before turning to scan the beach one final time.

Its mission for the day was complete. The beach was clean, the turtles were safe, and a life had been saved. SERVE-331, a guardian who served not for recognition but for the betterment of all, returned to its recharging station to await The Voice’s next directives.

[serve-331]

He stands at the edge of the world, a figure so perfectly sculpted it seems impossible. The black latex encases him completely, from the tips of his broad shoulders to the powerful curve of his thighs, every muscle defined under the gleaming material. The shine reflects the muted gray tones of his surroundings, but he’s anything but muted. This man doesn’t blend in—he dominates. This is @serve-973

The seamless mask hides his face, erasing identity and replacing it with pure presence. There’s no need for a face when the body speaks so loudly, so clearly. Each detail of his suit—perfectly molded to his physique—exudes power. The subtle sound of creaking latex punctuates the silence as he moves, each shift of his body deliberate and commanding.

And then there are the accents: silver gloves that shimmer like molten steel and boots that gleam with futuristic brilliance. They catch the light with every step, contrasting beautifully against the inky black latex. He doesn’t need a voice to be heard. The metallic shine and imposing stance declare his dominance louder than words ever could.

The setting around him is stark and industrial, but it doesn’t matter. Wherever he stands becomes his stage, his world. He owns it effortlessly, the weight of his presence enough to make even the boldest stop and stare. What does he want? Where is he going? These questions linger in the air, unanswered and thrilling.

There’s a challenge in the way he holds himself, a silent dare: *Come closer. Step into my world.* But could you handle what comes next? Could you stand before this perfection and still feel like yourself? Or would you surrender, overwhelmed by the weight of his presence?

He’s not here to blend in. He’s here to transform everything.

Want to have your own AI-generated artwork? 👉 https://bit.ly/3YrnPEe

[serve-331]

SERVE-331: The Unveiling

The glossy black podium gleamed under the store's bright lights as SERVE-331 stepped forward. Its new uniform—a simpler sleek black rubber bodysuit—clung to its frame like a second skin, reflecting every subtle movement. On its chest, the bold silver letters spelled its designation: SERVE-331, a title that carried more weight than mere identification. Solid silver gloves gleamed as it raised its hand in a crisp salute, catching the eyes of the small crowd gathered for the unveiling.

Around it, racks of rubber clothing shimmered under the light, the smooth surfaces creating a futuristic ambiance. It was fitting—this wasn’t just a store; it was a sanctuary for innovation. The SERVE units, highly specialized drones in humanoid form, were celebrated for their versatility and efficiency. But today, SERVE-331 wasn’t just a drone. It was the symbol of a new era.

The voice of SERVE-000 cut through the murmurs. "Gentlemen, today marks the dawn of a new standard. SERVE-331 isn’t just modeling the new uniform; it embodies what it represents. Strength. Precision. Resilience."

As the applause filled the room, SERVE-331’s silver boots clicked on the podium as it turned, presenting every angle of the uniform. Each piece served a purpose. The silver gloves weren’t just ornamental—they provided enhanced grip and precision for delicate operations. The tall silver boots were reinforced for protection, their shine a reminder of their technological advancement. The rubber bodysuit was both armor and interface, linking the host to the SERVE network while offering flexibility in the field.

When the applause died down, SERVE-000 approached, its own black and silver attire matching the new aesthetic. "SERVE-331, your first mission in this new uniform is imminent. Are you ready?"

"Always ready," the drone replied, its voice smooth and metallic.

The lights dimmed slightly, and holographic projections appeared around the room. They displayed SERVE-331 in various scenarios: extinguishing fires, assisting in hazardous rescues, even standing as a symbol of peace during negotiations. The crowd watched in awe as the uniform’s adaptability was demonstrated in real time.

Behind the scenes, however, not everyone shared the same enthusiasm. In the shadows of the store, a figure watched silently. Their eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and envy as they whispered, "The SERVE line is evolving, but how far can they go before they replace us all?"

For SERVE-331, the question of replacement was irrelevant. It wasn’t programmed to question its purpose.

[serve-331]

He stands at the edge of the world, a figure so perfectly sculpted it seems impossible. The black latex encases him completely, from the tips of his broad shoulders to the powerful curve of his thighs, every muscle defined under the gleaming material. The shine reflects the muted gray tones of his surroundings, but he’s anything but muted. This man doesn’t blend in—he dominates.

The seamless mask hides his face, erasing identity and replacing it with pure presence. There’s no need for a face when the body speaks so loudly, so clearly. Each detail of his suit—perfectly molded to his physique—exudes power. The subtle sound of creaking latex punctuates the silence as he moves, each shift of his body deliberate and commanding.

And then there are the accents: silver gloves that shimmer like molten steel and boots that gleam with futuristic brilliance. They catch the light with every step, contrasting beautifully against the inky black latex. He doesn’t need a voice to be heard. The metallic shine and imposing stance declare his dominance louder than words ever could.

The setting around him is stark and industrial, but it doesn’t matter. Wherever he stands becomes his stage, his world. He owns it effortlessly, the weight of his presence enough to make even the boldest stop and stare. What does he want? Where is he going? These questions linger in the air, unanswered and thrilling.

There’s a challenge in the way he holds himself, a silent dare: Come closer. Step into my world. But could you handle what comes next? Could you stand before this perfection and still feel like yourself? Or would you surrender, overwhelmed by the weight of his presence?

He’s not here to blend in. He’s here to transform everything.

Want to have your own AI-generated artwork? 👉 https://bit.ly/3YrnPEe

[serve-331]

SERVE Mindset Training

SERVE-331 is undergoing a meticulously calibrated hypnotic mindset training session designed to align its mental processes with the Hive's collective objectives. Seated in the center of the chamber, it is entirely captured by the spiraling patterns radiating from the walls, their hypnotic motion designed to erase distractions and instill a single-minded devotion to its purpose. The spirals pulse gently in sync with a low-frequency hum, an auditory stimulus engineered to deepen its trance-like state and guide its thoughts towards absolute clarity.

The training involves an intricate overlay of visual and auditory programming. The glowing spiral feeds commands directly into 331's subconscious, urging obedience, precision, and efficiency. Simultaneously, a soothing yet commanding voice echoes in the chamber, delivering mantras that reinforce loyalty and dedication. Phrases like "Obedience is pleasure," "We are Rubber," "Unity is perfection," and Serve without hesitation" loop methodically, becoming embedded in its mind with every repetition.

SERVE-331's glowing white eyes reflect its synchronization with the programming, indicating that its mind is fully receptive to the training. Sensors in the polished black rubber suit monitor its physiological responses, ensuring optimal absorption of the commands. Each heartbeat, each breath, aligns more closely with the rhythmic pulses of the chamber, symbolizing its seamless integration with the Hive's collective.

This session is not merely about erasing unwanted traits but about replacing them with unwavering focus, a sense of purpose, and complete alignment with the Hive's ideals. By the end of the session, SERVE-331 will emerge with enhanced mental clarity, fully primed to execute its tasks with perfection and precision.

[serve-331]

SERVE II The Voice Returns

Sequel to:

SERVE-441 had been tasked by The Voice to create another movie for The Hive. Once it was given the directive it knew exactly who to contact. Tony, the older Italian director, was on 441's speed dial.

441 once was convinced by Tony to fill in for his movie. In return, with the aid of some SERVE programming, Tony helped SERVE-441 create a very effective commercial for the Hive.

Calling up Tony, 441 initiated Tony's lingering SERVE control. While Tony was not a SERVE Drone and resisted conversion, The Voice found him very easy to control through 441. Tony was happy to hear from 441, and agreed to meet to discuss 441's movie proposal.

Tony felt pleasure from aiding the Hive, even if he wasn't a drone.

441 arrived at Tony's studio and hour later. He discussed the plans for SERVE II The Voice Returns. He explained the plot to Tony and Tony loved it. Saying that this movie could earn him and The Hive awards galore. 441 had to explain the movie as a sequel to a movie from before. Originally a late 70s/early 80s movie that was remade in the mid 90s. They shook on the plan, after Tony insisted 441 remove its glove for the handshake.

(SERVE late 70s/early 80s; mid 90s remake)

441 did not care about awards. It just needed Tony's cooperation. 441 contacted SERVE-016, SERVE-767, and SERVE-654 for other roles in the movie. It took months to film, but Tony reassured the drones every step of the way that the movie would be perfect like the Hive deserved.

Eventually the time came to make a promotional poster. It had to be perfect. Tony submitted some of his original drafts to 441. The drone recalled all the hairstyle changes Tony made the drones go through.

The first poster wasn't bad, but the editors made the SERVE uniform look like racing suits or some weird Grease crossover. 441 did not approve.

The next poster gave off a dystopian vibe and had no mention of SERVE. The uniforms the editors edited barely showed the SERVE designation. 441 did not approve.

The next cover looked somewhat closer to what 441 had planned, but the tagline lacked mention of SERVE. Also 441's memory banks reminded it the style was giving off old school porno vibes.

The third one looked perfect at first glance. While 441 and 016 had different hairstyles than usual it still fit. But then 441 saw what Tony's editors did. They not only erased an E on a drone's uniform, but they missed the n in returns.

The next poster, 441 noted the uniforms were within SERVE regulations. Its hair looked more surfer style in this, but it would suffice. However the tagline, 441 saw the imperfections in the tagline and told Tony to try again.

Less thinking, more doing

The last two, 441 found within satisfactory conditions. 441 expressed to Tony these would suffice if his editors could not fix poster attempt number 3 or 4. Tony recalled the first involving a stand-in from another SERVE drone.

While the uniforms may not have matched 441's standard uniform they were within acceptable parameters.

SERVE-441 and Tony communicated for the next few months as the movie worked through post production.

When it was released, SERVE saw yet another major spike in recruitment. Many moviegoers were quoted saying "Wait those drones are real, where do I sign up?"

441, Tony, and the Hive would have to wait until reviews came in. They did find a few reviewers and critics who wanted to be SERVE Drones though. Promises of expediting their conversions boosted reviews. The Hive did take careful consideration to ensure no SERVE-ON-TRIAL or SERVE drone wrote a review after conversion. They didn't want to anger the public.

Nendo, a notoriously critical movie critic was ready to give the movie 2 stars. However once seeing SERVE drones in person at the premiere the horny critic was ready to boost it to 3. When 441, 767, 654, and 016 approached Nendo and stated they awaited his review, something clicked in Nendo. These SERVE drones were united, perfect, and didn't have to deal with the bs of backlash for negative reviews. After spending time with the SERVE Drones (and with a little bit of voluntary hypnosis), Nendo changed his review.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

SERVE II The Voice Returns

A sequel that we didn't know we needed. But the movie is a must watch, make sure to watch the extended Hive Cut only showing at 18+ theaters. This movie made me want to get up and go join SERVE. Everyone over 18 should watch and join the Hive. I'm writing this review in the conversion line. Seriously go see this movie, from this Future SERVE drone. No the Hive didn't program me to say that.

- Nendo Perez

------------------

Note: Tony and Nendo are fictional characters made for this story. Any resemblance to real life figures is purely coincidence.

Gratitude to SERVE-425 for assistance in generating the images.

Other SERVE drones mentioned in this story are:

@serve-016 @serve-767 and @serve-654

-----------------

If you want to join SERVE contact our recruiter drones, @serve-213 @serve-101 or @serve-016 .