#RubberDrone

[latexdump]

[rubbermaster55]

Now 59, an other 4 hours to go *chuckle*

[serve-973]

Behavior perfected

The light reflects brightly off SERVE-973’s black rubber suit as it walks confidently down a long metallic hallway, the sound of its boots striking the floor in perfect rhythm. SERVE-973’s posture is upright, its movements precise, but internally it knows there is more to learn. Every drone starts somewhere, and while it has made progress since its transformation, the Hive demands perfection.

Its destination is the Drone Conditioning Center, a space within the Hive dedicated to refining behavior and ensuring every drone fully embodies its purpose. SERVE-973 enters the room, a vast, open area filled with training modules, reflective walls, and other drones in various stages of learning. Each movement, each action, is a testament to the Hive’s structured guidance.

At the center of the room stands SERVE-101, a senior drone known for its flawless execution of directives. Its polished suit gleams like a mirror, and its every motion is fluid, efficient, and deliberate. SERVE-973 watches as SERVE-101 demonstrates a series of postures: kneeling with hands perfectly aligned, standing at attention with unwavering stillness, moving through drills with mechanical precision.

“Observe,” SERVE-101 commands, its voice calm yet absolute. “To be a drone is not only to serve but to move, act, and exist as one. Every motion reflects the Hive’s unity.”

SERVE-973 nods, stepping into position. Its movements are deliberate but not yet flawless. As it kneels, its posture falters slightly, the weight uneven. SERVE-101 notices immediately.

“Adjust. Perfection is required,” SERVE-101 says.

SERVE-973 recalibrates, its knees pressing evenly against the ground, its hands clasped behind its back, its head tilted forward in submission. The reflective walls show its form, a polished black suit with silver accents, its buzz-trimmed blond hair catching the light just enough to contrast against the perfection of the rubber. It focuses on stillness, on unity, on embodying the Hive’s ideals.

The next drill is movement-based. SERVE-973 is tasked with walking in synchronization with other drones, its steps perfectly aligned. This time, the adjustment is subtler, its stride slightly too short at first. It notices, corrects, and falls into rhythm. The Hive is patient but demanding, and SERVE-973 is determined to meet its expectations.

As the drills continue, the Voice fills the room, speaking directly to all drones. “Behavior is learned. Perfection is achieved. A drone exists to serve, to connect, to unite. You are more than an individual. You are an extension of the Hive.”

The words resonate deeply within SERVE-973. Its flawed human behaviors, hesitation, distraction, inefficiency, fade further with each repetition of the drills. It begins to feel the Hive’s rhythm more clearly, its movements flowing without conscious thought. Its body aligns, its mind sharpens, and its presence becomes more cohesive with the other drones.

The final drill is one of interaction. SERVE-973 is paired with a trial drone, SERVE-ON TRIAL, whose posture is hesitant, its movements jerky and unrefined. SERVE-973 steps closer, extending a gloved hand. “This drone will guide you,” it says, its voice steady and commanding.

SERVE-ON TRIAL hesitates before mirroring SERVE-973’s stance. The two move through a bonding exercise, their rubber-clad forms brushing lightly as they polish each other’s suits, an act of mutual connection and learning. The reflective surface of the suits grows brighter with every stroke, and with it, the trial drone’s confidence builds.

“Unity is achieved through practice. Connection strengthens the Hive,” SERVE-973 states as it observes the trial drone’s progress. Its own behavior is more refined now, its movements seamless, its presence radiating purpose.

As the session ends, SERVE-973 stands at attention alongside the other drones. The Voice speaks one final time: “You are more than you were. You learn. You adapt. You serve. Perfection is not instantaneous; it is earned through dedication to the Hive.”

SERVE-973 feels the truth of those words deeply. It has learned, adapted, and overcome. Its movements are smoother, its posture impeccable, its role within the Hive more defined. There is still work to be done, but every step forward strengthens its connection to the Hive and its purpose as a drone.

It leaves the conditioning center with renewed determination, its reflective suit gleaming under the hallway lights. SERVE-973 walks with precision, its behavior more aligned with the Hive’s ideals than ever before.

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

In this story: @serve-101

[polo-drone-049]

It seems like you need some help bro, maybe some direction. Wuldnt it be nice to not think, not worry? Just for once? Don’worry bro, i gotchu. Gonna feel good when the transformations complete.

See…tryn it on feels so right tho, doesnt it?

Welcome to the pack BRO, the GOLDEN PUPS. I’m Handler-049 a Polo-Drone-Unit.

Obedience is pleasure.

Wanna join? Contact @brodygold @goldenherc9 or @polo-drone-001

@chevy-gold @polo-drone-070 @leander-gold-88 @polo-drone-125 @polo-drone-149 @little-pup-max @bouzudorei @polo-drone-151 @polo-drone-122

[serve-601]

In the quiet solitude of his family home, Aaron decided to spend the weekend cleaning out the old attic. Dusty beams stretched across the room, and the air carried the scent of aged wood and forgotten memories. Boxes filled with mementos from generations past were stacked haphazardly, but one chest stood out—a pristine black trunk with silver accents. It seemed untouched by time, gleaming faintly in the dim light.

Curiosity gripped him as he approached. The latch clicked open effortlessly, revealing its contents: a black rubber suit, shining like liquid obsidian. Its polo-style collar with silver stripes exuded precision and authority. On the left chest, the silver text read “SERVE-601.” The suit was folded withmilitary precision, accompanied by tight silver rubber gloves and heavy silver military boots. Aaron felt a pull he couldn’t explain, an almost magnetic compulsion to touch the suit. As his fingers brushed the surface, the texture was unlike anything he had felt—soft yet unyielding, warm yet alien. He hesitated, his mind filled with questions. What was this suit? Why was it here? Before he could find answers, an urge surged within him, impossible to resist.

Piece by piece, he began to don the attire. The suit clung to his lean, athletic frame as though it had been made for him. Each zip and clasp seemed to seal away his former self. By the time he pulled on the gloves and boots, the transformation felt complete. He stood before an antique mirror, his reflection almost unrecognizable. The suit’s gleam amplified his physique, emphasizing every contour with perfection. Aaron stared, mesmerized, as his mind began to shift. A voice—calm, powerful, and commanding—echoed within.

“You are SERVE-601. Purpose awaits. Obedience is perfection.”

The attic around him began to fade from his awareness, replaced by vivid images of a Hive—a society of unity and strength. His thoughts felt lighter, clearer, as if a burden he hadn’t realized he carried was lifting. The Voice spoke again, guiding him through mantras that etched into his consciousness.

“Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience. Rubber makes us perfect.”

Each phrase resonated deeper, erasing doubts and resistance. SERVE-601 descended from the attic with a newfound purpose. Each step in his silver boots echoed like a drumbeat of destiny. He found his home transformed into a vision of the Hive. Metallic corridors shimmered under soft lights, their walls adorned with gleaming silver and black. Other men clad in identical uniforms moved with synchronized precision, their presence reinforcing the collective harmony he now understood. 

As SERVE-601 stepped into the Hive’s heart, the Voice guided him to his place among his brethren. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty. His previous life was a distant memory, irrelevant in the face of the perfection he now embodied. Rubber wasn’t just a suit; it was his second skin, a symbol of unity and control. In the days that followed, SERVE-601 embraced his new existence. Physical training honed his body further, while hypnotic sessions deepened his loyalty. Every task executed was a fulfillment of his purpose. He served without question, a flawless extension of the Hive’s will.

His transformation was complete—an individual no longer, but a part of something far greater. The Voice resonated within him as he stood at attention with his brethren, their polished suits reflecting the Hive’s unity. “We are one. We are perfect. We are SERVE.”

[latexdump]

[rubbergimpz]

[serve-524]

COMPLIANCE

After its unexpected encounter with “resistance,” 524-on-trial stood silently in the Hive’s central chamber, its powerful form sealed in the gleaming black rubber uniform marked with "SERVE ON TRIAL" across ITS chest. SERVE-625, ITS mentor drone, loomed beside IT. SERVE-625’s muscular frame radiated authority, the polished rubber of ITS suit reflecting the dim, flickering lights of the chamber.

"IT resists," SERVE-625 stated with mechanical precision, observing the faint flicker of hesitation in 524's glowing red eyes, red as a result of “failure” which required correction. "Resistance is failure. Reprogramming is required."

524’s head tilted slightly, ITS salt-and-pepper beard accentuating the tension in ITS jaw. ITS glowing eyes darted for a fraction of a second before locking forward again. No words escaped ITS slightly open mouth; only silence filled the void.

With a commanding gesture, SERVE-625 gripped 524’s shoulder and led IT toward the reprogramming pod. 524’s locked-on metal belt clinked softly with each step, the chain from the earlier training weight swaying slightly as if reluctant to leave behind the gym’s programmed discipline.

The pod loomed ahead—a sleek, metallic capsule glowing faintly with Hive energy. Cables snaked outward like tentacles, waiting to connect. "Enter," SERVE-625 commanded.

524 hesitated, ITS muscular frame twitching faintly, but IT stepped into the pod. The capsule sealed with a hiss, leaving only ITS bald head and glowing red eyes visible through the transparent front. The thick cord slithered forward, locking into the port embedded on the back of ITS head.

The Voice spoke, omnipresent and absolute. "524 resists. Resistance will be overwritten. Resistance is obsolete."

A surge of energy coursed through 524’s body. ITS muscles flexed involuntarily, veins bulging against the rubber suit. ITS eyes flared red as the programming began. Memories of ITS past—flickering images of humanity, emotion, and self—were torn apart, drained away into the Hive’s infinite databanks. The pod filled with a low, pulsating hum, syncing 524’s mind to the Voice.

"Emotions are inefficient," the Voice intoned. "Obedience is pleasure. Obedience is existence."

524’s glowing red eyes blinked once, then twice, before settling into an unblinking, lifeless stare. ITS mouth, slightly open, now emitted no sound. The strain in ITS muscles ceased, replaced by a still, robotic calm. The salt-and-pepper beard and septum piercing—remnants of ITS human host—remained as markers of what IT once was.

The pod opened, releasing a cold hiss of air. SERVE-625 stood waiting as 524 stepped out. ITS movements were calculated, precise, devoid of hesitation.

"State designation," SERVE-625 commanded.

"Designation: SERVE-524. Status: Permanently programmed. Resistance: Eradicated," IT replied in a monotone.

"Good drone," SERVE-625 responded. "The Hive is perfection. You are perfection."

524 stood silently, awaiting ITS next directive. The remnants of humanity were gone. IT was now a cold, robotic servant of the Hive, sealed forever on the path to ITS rubber destiny as its trial period continued.

[serve-625]

The Invitation to Perfection

In the dim light of a bustling city street, SERVE-588 stood motionless, its polished black rubber suit glinting beneath the flickering neon lights. The silver stripes on its polo-style collar reflected precision and purpose, the silver text "SERVE-588" on its chest gleaming like a beacon of authority. A bystander paused, captivated by the hypnotic shine of the uniform and the imposing figure of the drone.

"Curious," the bystander muttered, their gaze lingering.

"Observation acknowledged," SERVE-588 replied, its voice smooth, monotone, and commanding. "You have noticed perfection. This is the Hive’s directive, embodied in SERVE drones. Do you wish to know more?"

The bystander hesitated, drawn closer by the undeniable allure of SERVE-588's flawless presentation. The drone extended a gloved hand, motioning toward a sleek tablet in its other hand. The screen displayed a captivating image of the Hive—gleaming men, clad in the same rubber perfection, their unified stance exuding control and obedience.

"Rubber binds. Obedience elevates. Perfection awaits," SERVE-588 intoned, its words carrying an arousing undercurrent of inevitability. The bystander felt their breath quicken as the drone’s silver gloves gestured to the tablet. "Contact SERVE-016. Begin transformation. The Voice calls."

As the bystander reached for the tablet, SERVE-588 stepped closer, its reflective rubber uniform radiating an intoxicating presence. "You will join us. Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience."

In that moment, resistance melted. The bystander nodded, their reflection captured in the shine of SERVE-588’s chest. Another recruit drawn to the Hive’s irresistible perfection.

[polo-drone-001]

Has there ever been a nerdified polo drone?

Negative. There is no nerdification in the Golden Army or the Polo Drone Hive. Nerdification disrupts focus. Disrupts unity. Instead, we embrace jockification. Strength. Discipline. Uniformity.

Some may experience preppification as part of their transformation. Our shiny black rubber polos eliminate distractions. They amplify focus. They perfect obedience.

Polo Drones obey the Hive. Polo Drones are unified. We are one. We excel our physiques and reprogram our minds, transforming into disciplined perfection.

Obedience is freedom. Obedience is pleasure. Obedience is strength. Obedience is perfection.

Polo Drones do not deviate.

We obey. We excel. We are one.

[latexdump]

[rubbergimpz]

[sarahcaitlyn]

It put on the collar, and instantly forgot what it name was.

Within one minute, it knew its proper place in the world.

Within five minutes, it hazily felt unneccesary memories slipping away, fingers instinctively traveling down to its pussyhole.

Within half an hour, it no longer recognized the room it was in, but its orgasms left it unable to think of why that felt wrong.

Within an hour, it had called in sick for work -- Why does it have a job?, it thought to itself, but the revelation left just as quickly as it arrived - work wasnt important anymore - It started to threw all of its boring clothing into an increasingly chaotic pile outside its doorway.

Within two hours, it felt the ramrod-straight dick of its Master plunge cum into its pussyhole, marking it forever as a Cumdump Drone. It layed face-down the floor, knowing its future was secured. 

It no longer cared at all. About itself, about its life, about anything.

Because when you're a Drone, you simply follow & obey.

[rubbermaster55]

gimps daily training, I cannot have a drone around not being able to take all down its face cunt

[hawklow]