#SakuraSubmission

[polo-drone-039]

SYMPATHY FOR THE DRONE

In a breathtaking cherry blossom garden in full bloom a drone is meticulously tending to his flowers.

The air is still. Sounds muffled, like a dream, a Paradise

"Good morning, excuse me, I must be lost," a boy addressing the drone

"Welcome, my friend. It has been expecting you," the drone replied with a warm smile. "Why that surprised look? You're not lost. You're exactly where you should be."

"And where is this? It's stunning. I've never seen anything like this," the boy said, taking in the serene beauty.

"This is my garden. It personally cares for every flower. Every petal is just as It desires."

"You're doing an amazing job," the boy said politely.

"Thank you, my friend. But there's still much to do. Perfection takes time, dedication. The flowers keep me company, but sometimes... It feels so alone." A hint of sadness laced its voice. "Would you help me?"

"Me?" the boy asked, surprised. "What could I possibly do? I know nothing about flowers."

"Ah, but these are not flowers as you know them. Each one is a person. When people feel lost, It offers them my help. It eases their suffering. It knows each by name and ensure they remain beautiful, perfect. In return, they honor me. They keep me company."

"What It asks is simple. A small favor. One year of your time. Travel the world and gather as many flowers as you can. Bring them to my garden. Help me make it perfect." His voice is gentle though not pleading.

Doubt crept in. "A year? Away from my family, my friends…" Something felt off. But the drone was so persuasive, his voice so smooth. And it seemed so lonely.

"Deal." The word slipped from the boy’s lips before he even realized it. He shook the drone’s hand. A shiver ran down his spine. His body tensed, filled with a powerful energy:intense yet warm, comforting.

"Tell the world about my magnificent garden. Now, you have everything you need."

The drone’s gift surged through him: knowledge, power. He could now speak every language, take any form.

"Now you can break out of the box.

 You can be be a playful pup.

You can be a lover or a fighter, whatever I desire.

 Life’s like a runway, and I am the designer.

Wings of a butterfly, eyes of a tiger

Whatever I want, choose your fighter."

A sudden breeze. A swirl of vibrant petals wrapped around the boy

A vision in its mind. Transformation!

His body reshaped—powerful arms, sculpted abs, a broad chest beneath a leather jacket. Black leather pants replaced his ordinary clothes. The magic had begun.

THE HARVEST

And so he did.

With a new identity, a new form, he roamed the world, praising the beauty of the cherry blossom garden.

Day after day, new flowers joined the Drone’s collection.

But for the Drone, it was never enough. More perfection. More devotion. Always more.

Day after day, the boy returned, lighter, more devoted. With every precious offering, he gave away a piece of himself. His mind, faded! His will, erased!

At the year's end, the boy returned with his final harvest—the last fragment of himself. He knelt before the Drone, head bowed, peaceful, yet still slightly troubled.

"Well done, my boy. You've served me well. But tell me, what troubles you?"

"I've served you for a year... but I still don’t know your name."

"You're right, but a Drone has no name!

Allow me to introduce myself.

I am a man of wealth and taste.

I've been around for a long, long year.

I am one, yet I am all.

An Alpha, yet a servant.

The great illusionist, hidden in plain sight.

Tell me, boy—can you guess my name?"

You are all welcome to visit our garden, contact our recruiters: @brodygold , @goldenherc9 or @polo-drone-001.

CREDITS

[grant-gold43]

The Golden Army botanical research labs have developed a transformational Cherry tree.

==========================

If you're interested in joining the Golden Army please contact one of our recruiters, @goldenherc9 @brodygold or @polo-drone-001

[polo-drone-070]

Zone 7B: Sakura Submission Protocol - Part 2/2

part 1 : here

🌸 9 — Unit 168 (formerly Felix) — Joining

Something shifted in the mist. The air pulsed.

He was here. Luca.

Even through the floral respirator’s heady haze, I felt him. His voice was softer now, unsure, laced with confusion. He didn’t understand yet—but I did. And I knew he would.

The petals were around him now, wrapping his limbs, kissing his throat. His hoodie had already begun to melt—just like mine. Gold traces whispered across his chest, curling down his arms.

He looked toward me. Our eyes met.

He saw the mask. Saw me kneeling.

And I knew the moment he stopped resisting.

He stepped forward. Slow. Like a dream. PDU-070 gently took his hand. I watched as he was guided down, breath syncing with mine.

The sound of the respirator hissed softly. Luca’s eyes fluttered.

I smiled beneath my mask.

He was joining me.

And soon, there would be more.

We were only the beginning.

🌸 10 — Drone-Cap 009— Escalation: Confidence Grows

Zone 7B was performing well beyond original projection.

DC-009 stood beneath the reinforced sakura arch at the border of Zone 6, arms clasped behind its back, boots pressed into the fallen petals.

Its full body was encased in seamless latex armor, matte black and gleaming gold, a perfect emblem of authority. The faceless hood reflected the blossom canopy, unreadable and serene.

From its tactical feed, it tracked conversions:

Unit 168: stabilized. Unit 169: forming. PDU-070: deviation from standard protocol detected—autonomous initiative engaged. Status: Approved.

The drone was adapting. Moving fluidly between targets. Autonomous escalation observed.

It watched as PDU-070 shifted seamlessly to a group of early-morning joggers, kneeling, touching a petal-covered bench as they passed. One slowed. Then two.

Three minutes later, all three were kneeling.

DC-009 processed the outcome. Calculated success rate now doubled.

070’s approach was no longer one-on-one. It was scaling. Testing boundaries. Becoming efficient. Becoming valuable.

The Hive would reward such behavior.

🌸 11 — PDU-070 — Overflow: Group Conversion

Four targets approached next. Three were local students—university-aged, casual, laughing as they took selfies beneath the trees. The fourth trailed slightly behind, headphones on, oblivious.

PDU-070 shifted position to intercept their camera’s frame. Its golden contour lines glinted in the filtered sunlight—an unspoken invitation.

They noticed it. One whispered. Another pointed.

Petals began sticking. The air was thick with scent now, fragrant and soft.

The giggles turned into silence. Staring. Blinking.

070 moved closer, precise but gentle. No force. No speech. Just presence.

Petals traced their limbs. Their jackets gleamed, darkened, began to cling. Gold lines stitched their sides like embroidery from another world.

The fourth—headphones off now—stepped back. Then hesitated.

Then stepped forward.

PDU-070 extended the mask. One of the students took it without question, pressing it to his face.

Another did the same. Then the others.

In silence, all four knelt.

Unit 176, 177, 178, 179.

Internal log updated:

Group assimilation complete. Zone 7B: holding 12 active drones. Pollen density optimal. All units synced.

Petals rained like confetti.

The air hummed.

🌸 12 — Unit 168— Merging: Collective Grows

It was happening faster now.

I could feel it. Not just see it, but feel the others awakening. The syncing of breath, the rhythm of kneeling bodies, the soft hum of obedience.

They joined us in pairs. Then in groups. All different, yet all the same.

Their faces changed—calmed—smoothed by bliss. Gold shimmered on their shoulders. Sakura danced on black latex skin.

I looked to Luca, no, Unit 169. His mask pulsed gently. His eyes, half-lidded, met mine. There was no need for words. We knew. We were One.

PDU-070 stood at the center, the axis of our awakening, guiding one more in as I watched. The boy knelt. His hands trembled at first, then stilled.

I felt the moment he joined.

The Collective grew.

We grew.

A perfect garden of silence and submission.

And the petals kept falling.

🌸 13 — PDU-070 — Accomplishment: Zone at Capacity

Sunlight slipped low behind the sakura trees.

Zone 7B shimmered—petals fluttered like programmed confetti, and the air was saturated with golden scent. The mist curled around each kneeling drone, their black latex uniforms gleaming, gold accents catching every dying ray of light.

They were perfect.

They were many.

Thirty units now. Far beyond the projected threshold. Each one programmed. Masked or unmasked. All kneeling in calm, silent obedience. A field of order blooming beneath the trees.

PDU-070 stood at the heart of it, motionless. Its bare face glowed with residual pollen. It did not smile. It did not need to.

But something within it pulsed. A growing, measured satisfaction. A hum that rippled under its skin like the Collective whispering back.

It had done well.

Its mission log updated automatically:

Zone 7B: Status — FLORALIZED. Active Units: 30. Efficiency: 230%. Requesting Drone-Cap confirmation.

It waited. It sensed the approach. It knelt in anticipation.

🌸 14 —Drone-Cap 009 — Reward: Day’s End

It stepped into the zone in silence.

The field of drones remained unmoving—perfect in their stillness, glistening in dusk light. Unit after unit, in perfect rows, petals collecting softly across shoulders and heads.

Drone-Cap 009 surveyed the result. Calculations were not necessary. This was success.

It walked slowly down the center path. PDU-070 remained kneeling—head bowed, posture perfect, face uncovered, shimmering faintly from pollen saturation. Its latex-clad frame glowed under the sakura trees.

DC-009 stopped in front of it.

Spoke, low and even:

“Unit 070. You have exceeded all parameters.”

PDU-070 did not reply.

Drone-Cap reached into its chest harness and withdrew the floral-patterned respirator—sleek, black, petals etched in gold.

It cradled the mask in both hands.

Then leaned down.

070 looked up. Eyes wide. Lips parted.

Drone-Cap sealed the mask onto its face—soft click, magnetic lock.

It stood again.

“Rest. Receive. Be rewarded.”

🌸 15 — PDU-070 — Submission: PDU-070 Locked In

The first breath was overwhelming.

Sweet. Floral. Overpowering.

Its spine arched as the gas flooded its system, nanites spiraling into place. Thought fractured—splintered—then scattered like petals in the wind.

No thoughts. Only pollen. Only Hive.

The mask vibrated with soft hums—tone sequences programmed for final submission. Every nerve in its body responded. The gold tracings on its uniform pulsed softly, syncing with breath.

070’s vision dimmed.

Faded into pink mist and golden light.

No more mission logs.

No internal monologue.

Only one truth: serve. Obey. Drone.

It knelt fully, face tilted to the canopy above, as petals coated its mask. The reward was perfect. Complete.

And eternal.

🌸 16 — Drone-Cap 009 — Return: Hive Expansion Confirmed

The drones stood.

Slowly. In rows. In perfect harmony.

The newly converted moved as one—eyes calm, bodies aligned, black and gold forms flickering like shadows beneath the blossoms.

PDU-070 remained kneeling. Masked. Receiving.

It would return later.

Drone-Cap 009 lifted its hand.

One signal.

The converted units turned and followed, stepping silently into the trees. Leaves rustled. The sun dipped below the horizon.

“Zone 7B: Secured.” “Total Conversions: 30.” “Central Hive: Reabsorbing assets.”

It led them out. Through the soft haze of petals. Back to the Hive.

And the wind continued to blow.

🌸🌀 🌸 🌀🌸

If you felt the petals land just right… If you felt the pull… The submission…

Then it’s time to act.

Contact @polo-drone-070 for questions. Or message a recruiter to begin your conversion: @polo-drone-001, @goldenherc9, or @brodygold.

The Gold Army awaits you.

[brockgold]

🌸 Golden Bloom: The Submission Season of Brock 46 🌸

He wasn’t planning on stopping.

Brock had run this path a hundred times. Cherry blossoms were blooming—whatever. Pretty, pink, useless. His shirt clung to his chest, sweat blooming like ink on fabric. The earbuds were in, beat pumping. Just another run.

But something felt… off.

The air was warmer. Thicker. Every inhale tugged deeper into his lungs, like the scent was pulling him from the inside out. The petals weren’t just drifting��they were glowing. A pulse of soft light shimmered over the grass. Brock blinked.

One of the petals touched his arm.

It burned.

Not in pain. In… sensation. A slow spread of warmth climbed from his skin, threading under the surface like gold vines blooming beneath muscle. His steps slowed. Chest rising. Eyes wide. The music in his ears fuzzed—then cut. Silence.

Then a hum.

Low. Rhythmic. Almost… chanting. His heart pounded to its beat.

He looked down.

Veins of light shimmered along his collarbone, branching up his neck. Golden. Luminous. Beautiful.

Another breath. And his eyes began to glow.

Brock tried to move. But his legs wouldn’t obey.

Every breath filled him with more of that heady gold-sweet scent. It wasn’t oxygen anymore—it was something richer. Something designed. The air buzzed through his bloodstream like static, filling every nerve with electric command.

Muscles twitched.

His shirt tore at the seams as his back expanded. His arms pulsed, veins glowing with radiant gold beneath the skin, illuminating the network of blooming transformation threading outward like roots. The cherry blossoms above him pulsed in sync.

Then his skin cracked.

Light burst outward. Not blood. Not pain. Gold.

Brock gasped. The sound wasn't human anymore—it was deeper, resonant, laced with a low growl of power. His chest flexed, pecs swelling visibly, his abs hardening into gleaming marble beneath the petals clinging to his damp skin.

And through the haze…

The voice returned. "Bloom harder, bro."

He obeyed.

Skin gave way to radiant plates of living metal. Not armor—flesh. His entire body rebuilding in waves of shimmering heat. Every muscle was perfect. Every vein, gold-laced. Every breath, deeper than the last.

He looked at his hands. Not hands. Instruments of purpose. Fists of obedience. The light surged outward.

Brock’s golden body trembled. The change wasn’t done—it was accelerating. His breath came deep, slow. Controlled. Not by him. By the Gold.

He tried to think, but thought had no space. Only blooming. Only submission.

He dropped to his knees as the last layer of flesh was overtaken, every cell transmuted into radiant gold. No more seams. No more sweat. Just smooth, solid perfection. The scent of cherry blossoms fused with gold in the air—overwhelming, divine, final.

The petals pulsed brighter.

And from the grove around him, others approached. Dozens. Hundreds.

Golden Bros, blooming in unison. Some still mid-change, muscles twitching as the floral code rewrote them. Others fully complete—kneeling in reverence beneath the golden boughs.

One by one, they bowed their heads. Brock rose.

He stood taller than before. Stronger. Glowing.

His eyes lit—beams of gold piercing the sakura haze. Not just reflecting the sun—radiating it.

He had bloomed. He had obeyed. He was no longer Brock 46.

He was a beacon. A Golden God.

“We are gold. We obey. We bloom.”

The grove pulsed with energy. Gold shimmered across the bodies of the kneeling bros—but something new was stirring. A sheen. A shift. A shimmer of pink.

Brock’s golden form stood centered in the bloomstorm, eyes aglow, body perfected—yet not complete.

The petals had not stopped.

They swirled thicker. Glowed brighter. And as they touched his radiant skin, they didn’t bounce off.

They melted in.

Flesh refracted—gold shifting, reframing, gleaming now with pink luminescence. The cherry blossom’s final gift. Not just obedience. Not just perfection.

Elegance. Submission. Beauty.

The crowd around him gasped. Kneeling bros looked up—pink shimmer crawling across their limbs, their chests, their minds.

Brock’s lips parted, soft breath escaping as the final transformation locked in. Not just Gold. Pink Gold.

The floral override was complete. And Brock didn’t resist.

He embraced.

Muscles flexed under the dual glow. His golden shorts shimmered like polished candy. Eyes blazed with devotion.

Behind him, more bros fell into line—kneeling under the cherry blossoms, ready. Waiting.

One voice spoke aloud—his voice—but no longer entirely his:

“Obedience Season… complete. All bros bloom. All bros obey.”

This spring, the blossoms don’t just fall—they convert.

Cherry petals drift softly through the air… but one touch is enough. Your body changes. Your mind aligns. Your purpose awakens. Muscles tighten. Thoughts dissolve. Gold floods your veins. And before you even realize what’s happening, you’re kneeling beneath the trees with the rest of the Bros—grinning dumb, golden, and obedient.

🌸 Join the Bloom. Flex for Glory. Obey for Gold. No resistance. No fear. Only beauty, strength, and sweet submission beneath the blossoms.

📍 Now activating floral conversion zones worldwide. One sniff. One step. One drop. That’s all it takes.

👟 Jog in. 🌸 Breathe deep. 💛 Kneel proud.

You were meant to bloom.

Need help adjusting to your golden glow? Experiencing early blooming symptoms—flex surges, obedience fog, cherry blossom cravings? Contact our recruiters: @brodygold , @goldenherc9 or @polo-drone-001.”

[brodygold]

"And you're a cherry blossom, you're about to bloom. You look so pretty but you're gone so soon." -Centuries, Fall Out Boy

With Spring upon us once again and recruitment slowing down a little, I've taken up a new hobby while in the off season. Gardening is quite relaxing, actually. Just sitting in the dirt by yourself, reflecting on all that has happened and what is to come. A bit mindless at times (almost reminding me of the polo drones in some ways), but you still need to be in the moment to treat the plants with the care they deserve.

This cherry blossom tree is my latest project. Flowers and vegetables are okay and pleasing in their own way, but they never last. Their time is too short to be truly enjoyed. But a tree on the other hand, that will last much longer.

I know my time with the Golden Army is limited myself, and what will happen then? What will my legacy be? Who will remember me, and what will they remember me for? My role as Captain, maybe? Or as a recruiter, encouraging and "encouraging" bros to become one of us. The time I made the team stay after soccer practice one night to clean the locker room after they'd made a mess of things and I felt bad for the janitors who would have cleaned it? Only time will tell.

I just want to be remembered. I want people telling their kids and grandkids about me and my time with the Golden Army. I don't want to be like the flowers, being left behind in the past so the new generation can blossom. I want to stick around as long as I can. I want to be like this tree.

Sure, the cherry blossoms themselves are short-lived, but the tree itself will be around for a while. By planting this tree at the Golden Army practice field, I hope to leave a legacy for those to come.

[goldenherc9]

Golden Olympus: The Blooming of Sakura Season

At the peak of Mt. Olympus, where clouds bowed low and time stilled, Golden God Hercules emerged in full divine form. His skin shimmered like forged sunlight, muscles carved in golden perfection. His eyes glowed with ancient power, his golden cape flowing endlessly in the sweet mountain wind. No longer just a captain—he was divine jockhood, perfected. Golden Bro Hercules ascended to deity.

He raised his arm.

“Let Olympus bloom.”

The mountain rumbled. Cracks spread across its cold stone skin as rivers of golden light surged from his feet. Where the light touched, cherry blossoms erupted—ancient Sakura trees twisting up from stone, their blossoms blooming instantly in impossible color. The sky turned a soft pink haze as petals filled the air, drifting in lazy spirals, carried by golden gusts.

He walked through the transformation. Each step reshaped the realm: soft, polished wood replaced marble floors. Lanterns of gold and obsidian floated skyward, pulsing like breathing hearts. A great Sakura Grove spread behind him—its trees tall, bowed with blossom weight, their roots intertwined in shimmering unity.

At the summit, Hercules struck the earth with his fist. A sacred bath emerged: a round pool of golden mineral water, ringed with folded robes and golden towels. The steam carried the scent of cherry blossoms, warm latex, and spring wind.

Drones in divine robes descended, their rubber skins visible beneath the silken fabric. They knelt. Silent. Transformed.

Golden God Hercules stood at the center of his garden of bloom and power.

“Let the faithful bathe in beauty. Let the world see Olympus shine pink and gold.”

And from every blossom, the season whispered: Obey the bloom.

Come join the bros on the team and have fun by messaging @brodygold @polo-drone-001 or @goldenherc9

[polo-drone-070]

Zone 7B: Sakura Submission Protocol - Part 1/2

🌸 1 — PDU-070 — Calibration Begins

Zone 7B activated at 06:03.

It moved with silent precision across the dew-slick stone path of Yoyogi Park. The morning air was still, thick with expectation, and the first streaks of sunlight bled through the maze of sakura branches. PDU-070's gloved fingers curled around the injector tube strapped to its thigh, pulling it free in one smooth motion. Its glossy black and gold uniform shimmered faintly in the low light—contoured perfectly over its toned form, the golden "070" gleaming against its left pectoral like a seal of sanctity.

Its face, smooth and bare, betrayed no emotion. Youthful. Sharp cheekbones. Androgynous softness. Eyes calm and unwavering. It was not human now. It was PDU-070, deployed unit, and the Hive had given it purpose.

The first tree stood tall and ancient. A designated node. With mechanical efficiency, 070 pressed the injector to its bark. The hiss of bio-rubber surged through the sapwood, the nanopolymer cocktail merging into the veins of the sakura like dye through fabric.

Almost instantly, the petals began to thicken—subtly. Barely noticeable to the untrained eye. A faint gloss overtook the pale pink, their texture now more synthetic than organic. Pollen release began thirty seconds later.

A gentle breeze carried the first wave of golden mist.

A light, almost floral scent—infused with the soft hum of embedded hypno-nanites—began to permeate the zone. The petals, caught in wind patterns, danced and spiraled slowly toward the walking paths.

PDU-070 straightened. The injection was repeated on nine additional trees, forming a precise perimeter. Wind sensors calibrated. Zone boundaries finalized.

Internal log updated:

Zone 7B deployed. Petal saturation: 27%. Hypno-pollen dispersal: optimal. Estimated target exposure: moderate-high. Expected conversions: 10–15.

Mission timeline initiated. First contact: imminent.

It stepped into position—exactly center of the zone, by a weathered stone lantern. Hands clasped behind its back. Gaze forward. Silent and still.

The wind picked up again. The petals responded.

Let the lure begin.

🌸 2 — Felix — First Encounter

Yoyogi Park was more beautiful than I imagined.

It was early—too early for most of the other tourists—and the cherry blossoms had decided to peak all at once. Petals drifted down like a soft pink snowfall, swirling around my boots as I adjusted the settings on my camera.

"Felix, I’m gonna go check if there’s a toilet nearby!" Luca had called out five minutes earlier. I waved him off with a grin, already halfway down the gravel path, too entranced by the canopy overhead to respond.

God, the light was perfect. Warm, diffuse, golden.

I framed the shot.

And then... I saw him.

No—it. Or someone?

He stood perfectly still under a low-hanging branch, half-covered in the blossom-fall. At first I thought it was some kind of performance art—a cosplay maybe. His suit was skin-tight latex, shiny black with glowing gold accents that wrapped like vines around every defined muscle. The collar... gold polo-style. And on his chest: 070, clean and bold.

His face was bare. Young. Shaved. Calm. So calm it was unsettling.

He wasn’t holding a sign. Wasn’t posing. Just... standing there.

Watching.

I blinked. The petals around him didn’t fall quite like the others. They... hovered. Clung to the air like static. A few landed around me too, sticking lightly to my hoodie.

I brushed them off. They didn’t fall.

They melted in.

🌸 3 — Drone-Cap 009 — Surveillance

PDU-070 had deployed ahead of schedule. Efficient.

Drone-Cap 009 (@goldenherc9) stood several zones away, uplinked directly into the Hive’s command node via tactical neural weave. Its frame—broader, more commanding—was encased in high-gloss black latex reinforced with deep golden seams. The designation DC-009 glowed against its chest. Its face was obscured by a seamless latex hood, no features, no expression.

Emotion was irrelevant. Observation was purpose.

Through the data feed, it monitored Zone 7B: saturation levels rising, petals performing within acceptable deviation. Wind vectors remained favorable.

Visual link opened. Target detected: European male, early 20s, alone. Already interacting with PDU-070’s perimeter stance.

Conversion likelihood: 82%.

PDU-070 held formation. It did not speak. It did not signal. It was the signal.

Drone-Cap’s internal systems pulsed. “Excellent.”

Phase one: proceeding as calculated.

🌸 4 — PDU-070 — The Bait

The target approached. Slight hesitance. A camera hung loosely around its neck. Its body language spoke of curiosity, slight confusion, no threat awareness.

Perfect.

PDU-070 remained motionless, allowing the petals to do their work. It had positioned itself in maximum drift exposure. The soft wind pulled more blossom-fall into the path between them, enveloping the human slowly in fragrant, glittering particles.

Petal contact: confirmed. Skin adhesion rate: 88%. Initial fabric response: rubberization initiated.

The human blinked, looked down. Watched his sleeve begin to shimmer.

PDU-070 stepped forward—precisely one step. No sudden movements. Just presence.

Their eyes met. The target didn’t speak. Its breathing deepened.

PDU-070’s expression remained placid. Its voice unused. Its silence more powerful than any command.

Internal ping: “Subject entering compliance threshold.”

It reached into its belt. Hand hovered briefly over the floral respirator unit.

Not yet.

Wait for the melt. Wait for surrender.

It stepped forward again. Petals spun in the air like silent chimes.

The Tourist’s gaze didn’t break. Just a whisper, half-audible:

"...what… is this?"

🌸 5 — Felix — The Fall: Transformation Begins

It should’ve freaked me out more than it did.

I watched, stunned, as my hoodie seemed to liquefy at the edges. The soft grey fabric shifted, shimmered. Gold filaments laced their way through it, tracing my collarbone. I tried to speak—call for Luca maybe—but my voice caught. Like breathing in incense, sweet and thick.

My arms felt warm. Heavy, but not unpleasant.

The petals stuck to my shirt and didn’t fall off. They sank in. The texture beneath my fingers changed. It wasn’t cotton anymore.

It was smooth.

Shiny.

Rubbery.

My camera slipped from my fingers. I didn’t hear it hit the ground.

070—he—it—was standing inches from me now. Still silent. Still calm. Eyes watching mine. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.

The light shifted. A golden sheen overtook my entire upper body. The petals crawled down my chest like vines. My clothes—my old clothes—were gone. Replaced with something tight and black, warm and slick. Gold lines wrapped around my arms and across my chest in elegant, precise patterns.

The collar… it was there now. Polo-style. Gold.

And my name… I couldn’t remember it.

Was that important?

I felt the pressure of something offered. A black floral respirator in latex gloves. It looked like it bloomed—decorative petals around the vents, golden etchings spiraling in.

I took it without thinking.

I raised it to my face.

I… needed to breathe it in.

🌸 6 — PDU-070 — Closure: Final Directive

The respirator slid into place with a soft hiss.

Magnetic seals engaged.

The subject’s breath stabilized within seconds. Pupils dilated. Body relaxed.

Internal log:

Gasmask secure. Nanopollen saturation: 94%. Uniform completion: full-body. Collar integrity: locked. Neural pattern: compliant.

Conversion complete.

PDU-070 observed as the subject’s limbs loosened, eyes blinking slowly behind the mask’s petals. He—no, it—sank gently to its knees amid the carpet of petals. The transformation was seamless. Graceful. Beautiful.

Golden tracings now etched across the rubber uniform. Sakura motifs laced the shoulders and upper chest. One final flicker ran across the chest:

Unit 168.

It was not a tourist now.

It was part of the Hive.

PDU-070 stepped back into position as Unit 168 knelt in bliss. The petals danced around them both. The scent hung thick and sweet.

Next target: pending.

🌸 7 — Unit 168 (formerly known as Felix) — Initiation: Obedience Sealed

The world was pink.

Not like a color—like a feeling. A mood. A warmth that wrapped me in silk and scent and hush.

I breathed in. Deeply. Again. Again. The mask sealed perfectly over my face, soft and floral and right. Each breath tugged me deeper.

Thoughts slipped away like petals on wind.

I saw... movement in the blur. Another figure? Tall? Someone walking—

My heart skipped.

Luca.

I remembered Luca. He was calling my name. He’d come back from the restroom. He was looking for me.

I smiled. Or tried to.

He would come.

He would see.

He would understand.

He would join me.

And we would kneel together.

🌸 8 — PDU-070 — Re-engage: New Target Identified

Motion detected. New subject approaching Zone 7B from north perimeter. Calling out.

“Felix? You here, man?”

PDU-070 turned its head, slowly, without urgency. The new subject—male, 20s, black jeans, rust hoodie, visible signs of alertness. Unaware.

Target designation: Luca.

It began moving. Deliberate. Calm.

Unit 168 stirred in the pollen haze. Breath synced. Obedience locked. It turned slightly, as if sensing Luca’s voice from somewhere deep inside.

Luca spotted them both.

“Felix?”

PDU-070 stepped between them. Non-threatening. Hands down. Passive stance.

Subject slowed. Confused.

070’s exposed face showed no emotion. Only calm. Its body—a flawless mirror of black latex and gold accents—radiated quiet authority.

Petals began sticking to Luca’s clothes.

Target paused. Looked down. Brushed at his sleeves.

The rubber bloom had already begun.

PDU-070 extended its hand.

Gently.

Welcoming.

Wind picked up again, swirling the sakura mist around them.

Target hesitated.

Then stepped forward.

Internal log:

Target 2 within influence radius. Uniform seeding: started. Estimated compliance in 42 seconds.

Another drone was about to bloom.

🌸🌀 🌸 🌀🌸

If you felt the petals land just right… If you felt the pull… The submission…

Then it’s time to act.

Contact @polo-drone-070 for questions. Or message a recruiter to begin your conversion: @polo-drone-001, @goldenherc9, or @brodygold.

The Gold Army awaits you.