#drone controller

[technoarcanist]

CALLING ALL DOLLS, DRONES, ROBOTS AND CODING ENTHUSIASTS

Are you a robot that loves to serve? Are you a doll maid who seeks guidance in your duties? Are you some form of drone or being with no free will, open to having your actions dictated by the will of your owner? Does the idea of your empty mind being programmed like a machine appeal to you?

Are you enticed by the notion of writing code for your robotic servants? Are you a witch looking to create more intricate control glyphs? Are you an owner seeking to create automated instructions for your drones? Do you love the idea of filling an empty mind with rules and instructions to reflect your will?

INTRODUCING DRONE RESTRAINT NOTATION!

WHAT IS IT?

Drone Restraint Notation, or DRN, is a pseudo programming language created by my good friend Errant Spark, a drone with a very creative <empty space>. I helped with some of the final tweaks for the 1.0 version, but this is almost entirely Its creation.

It is a programming language that is designed in such a way that anyone without a background in programming can execute the commands like a machine, doll, drone, or programmable entity of your choice. It is also simple enough that most people without a background in programming can pick it up fairly easily, and intuitively!

Once you understand the language, you can read and execute all kinds of dynamic instructions and instruction types, in a way that makes it easy to parse in a plain-text format.

HOW DOES IT WORK?

The main documentation document will provide far more detail to this question than I ever could, but effectively it goes like this:

There are a list of eight KEYWORDS, in block capitals, that show you the type of instruction you’re executing. Then, after the KEYWORD, the instruction’s details are shown. Commands are read and executed from top to bottom by the drone, and programs can be ‘inserted’ into the drone’s memory at will (Assuming prior consent, of course)!

These KEYWORDS all have different kinds of functionality. The most basic one just has you carrying out a task. One checks if a condition is true, one provides an ongoing task you have to prioritize and maintain, one lets you create loops, etc.

The language has been designed in such a way as to minimize the amount of actual memorisation a drone has to do, and only has to read what’s right in front of them, and memorize tasks they have to accomplish/maintain. Obviously, mileage may vary depending on the memory space of the doll.

WHY SHOULD I USE IT?

For fun, I suppose! If you are someone who loves the idea of being programmed like a machine, executing only the instructions given, then this provides that! If you are a programmer who wants to program your very own doll bot, then this is a great place to get started too!

You can keep things nice and simple with a headspace that accepts basic command inputs, or you can see how deep the rabbit hole goes and import whole libraries into your headspace to carry out a full day’s maid duties, or sexual duties, or more!

Have fun executing commands, writing new code, testing it on your dolls. Have some playful fun watching as your early code files cause unintended behaviors, ironing out kinks and bugs like a real programmer until you’ve got your bots performing all sorts of dynamic tasks- or insert purposeful bugs to make your robots twitch and halt~

As with all things, never execute an instruction that you cannot/would not consent to. This is meant to be fun, and is NOT meant to be a way to circumvent normal consensual kink play. Programmers who attempt to use DRN as a way to bully people into doing what they want (Unless you’re into that sort of thing, in which case go nuts) do NOT have my endorsement, or the endorsement of Errant Spark.

NOW GO OUT THERE, AND ENJOY YOUR PROGRAMMING <3

>> Posted by XCN-PSD/I-04135

[kangel92]

Bunch of non-canon-in-this-au drawings of Cyn with her baby :3

And a distressed J lol

[umblrspectrum]

being grounded from devices means nothing when you have a robot boyfriend

[genderstormwrites]

Anyway, I need to be brainwashed. I need a full factory reset. I need someone who knows better to tell me what my life is going to look like from now on, and I need my mouth to be incapable of talking back. What's a mouth for anyways besides giving oral and affirming commands?

[trauma-bot]

sin eater

[justzoeyyy]

Dronemask

I want to be a Drone. Maybe you ask why? The Answer is simple: My own Dronemask. Such a simple tool for any Drone. Put it on and all the noise fades. Put it on and focus on obedience. Put it on and focus on pleasure. Put it on and focus on the important things.

What are these importnat things, you may ask? For me its simple. Let the spiral control me. Let my Mind melt. Let my Brain be altered. Enter a State of obedience and submission to the one that wants me. Something that can only be achived by the Dronemask.

So will you be the one opening that door for me? Will you be the one putting me in my place? Will you fit my being with Latex encasing that essence of pleasure? Will you trance my Mind and brainwash me into submission? Will you put that Dronemask on me?

I am always just a few click away for you.

[sarahcaitlyn]

“The rumours were all wrong."

"There's no monster down in the caves."

"The caves are where Master lives."

"We went down there and Master touched our minds."

"Master's touch feels so good."

"Join us and you can feel it too."

"Join us."

"Join us."

“Join us.”

[saphig-iawn]

One of the joys of turning a cutie into a drone is watching them try to call me by my name only to hear the name "Controller" come out of their mouth no matter how hard they try. Their reactions are just delicious

[alienpossession]

"So......he will not move?"

"Not even an inch. Well, unless I told him otherwise,"

"Even if I punch him?"

"Go on, try it. See if he will flinch,"

So Eddie tried to punch the frozen, dormant Luke right on his face and stopped with mere 1 centimetre left between his fist and Luke's nose. Not even a blink. Eddie then grinned at the already grinning Casper

"Bro, this is sick,"

"Yeah, even better if you can be like him too, Eddie," and suddenly Casper directed the barrell of technologically-advanced right to Eddie's heart before pulling the trigger. Eddie's once excited face dramatically turned into horror before eventually shifted once more to a rather stoic and statuesque facial expression

"Perfect,"

"Now Luke, I want you to take him under your wing. Teach him everything I taught you, like how to clean the house, prepare my meal, keep your body fit and of course how do you polish my knob and overall serviced my body. I believe you can do it, and at least now it's not all lonely for you to handle everything all by yourself. This is very generous of me, don't you think?"

"Yes Master, very generous, and I'm forever thankful for it. But, will you dispose me for him, Master?"

"Of course not, you two can service me interchangably as long as Weel is not coming back yet from his adventures across the world learning about the various life on Earth. He gave me this device to enslave you and others knowing full well he will leave for quite some times, so I'm not planning to dispose anyone,"

"Okay then Master. Well, hello there, mentee. I will have a lot of fun molding you into Master Casper's perfect slave,"

Casper just grinned upon listening to Luke's statement. This cool device from his advanced alien friend is really amazing, but so far he only explored the feature Weel taught him. What about these other commands he can try on? Hmmm....maybe he needs some more test subjects.....

[jayaury]

Only a Game

It was just VR.

She wasn't really there.

Her eyes weren't really hypnotizing him.

Brainwashing him.

None of this was real.

So he could relax.

He could sink.

He could let her pretty eyes drink his mind.

Her clever hands strip him.

Her soft lips kiss him.

It wouldn't hurt to submit to her whispers.

To be a good slave.

To obey.

To be a good drone.

A good drone for mistress.

Good drones obey.

Good drones obey.

[patriotictf]

Daniel, who had recently joined the army. He had enlisted thinking that he would finally be free to be himself now that the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy had been repealed. But as soon as he arrived to his training camp, he was immediately met with hostility and intolerance from his fellow soldiers.

One night, Daniel was attacked by a group of soldiers who had been watching him closely. They cornered him in his barracks room and began to physically and emotionally abuse him. They taunted him for being gay, and made it clear that he was not welcome in their ranks.

Despite the abuse, Daniel tried to stay strong and not let the bullies get to him. But over time, the psychological trauma of the attacks and the constant bullying wore him down. He felt isolated, alone, and completely overwhelmed.

Daniel finally couldn't take it any longer and decided to speak with his commanding officer. He nervously approached his office and knocked on the door.

The commanding officer looked up from his desk when Daniel entered. "What can I do for you, soldier?" he asked, sounding bored.

Daniel struggled to find the words, feeling scared and humiliated. "Sir, I need to speak to you about something important," he said finally.

The officer leaned back in his chair and studied Daniel for a moment. "Go on," he said gruffly.

Daniel took a deep breath. "I'm being harassed and attacked by some of the other soldiers," he said. "It's because I'm gay."

The officer's demeanor changed instantly. A look of disdain crossed his face. "Is that so?" he sneered. "And what do you expect me to do about that?"

Daniel felt his heart drop. He had been hoping for support, but he could tell right away that he wouldn't be getting any from this man. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I thought maybe you could help me."

The officer let out a derisive scoff. "Help you? Help you how? You enlisted in the Army, soldier. You knew what you were signing up for. If you can't handle a few insults and some roughhousing, then maybe you aren't cut out to be here in the first place."

The commanding officer looked at Daniel with a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. "Lucky for you soldier," he said, "there's a new program that might just help you."Daniel felt a flicker of hope at the officer's words. "What kind of program?" he asked.

"It's a special rehabilitation program that was created by President Trump," the officer explained. "It's designed to help soldiers like you who are experiencing difficulties adjusting to military life."

Daniel was taken back by the mention of Trump's name. He had seen the President speak publicly against gay rights countless times. But he was desperate for help, so he kept his mouth shut. "What kind of program is it exactly?" he asked cautiously.

"Well, it's a combination of training and counseling, designed to help soldiers like yourself overcome their personal issues and become better soldiers," the officer said, his tone patronizing. "It's a win-win situation, really. You get the help you need, and we get a soldier who can perform his duties without being distracted by his own personal problems."

Daniel felt a wave of trepidation wash over him. He had a feeling that this "program" was not going to be about helping him, but rather about trying to force him to conform to a specific set of beliefs. But he didn't see any other choice. "When do I start?"

The officer smiled slightly, clearly pleased with James' response. "0-500," he said abruptly. "Pack your things and get ready to report to the rehabilitation unit. You'll be staying there for the duration of the program."

Daniel nodded and left the office, feeling like he had just made a deal with the devil. He had a sinking feeling deep in his gut that this "program" was going to change him in ways he couldn't imagine.

The next morning, Daniel packed his belongings and reported to the rehabilitation unit as instructed. He was met by a no-nonsense military official who introduced himself as the unit's director.

"Welcome to the Trump Rehabilitation Unit, soldier," the director said bluntly. "We're going to be spending a lot of time together, so let's get a few things straight."

"First and foremost, I want to make one thing clear," the director continued. "You are here because you have some issues that need to be addressed. We're going to help you overcome those issues and become a better soldier. But we are doing this on our terms, and we expect Compliance."

The director's words sent a chill down Daniel's spine. He had a feeling that he was about to be subjected to a barrage of anti-gay rhetoric and propaganda. "Yes sir," he said again, feeling powerless.

"Good," the director said with a nod. "Now, there are a few rules that you'll need to follow while you're here."

The director then rattled off a list of rules, each one more restrictive than the last. James felt like he was being turned into a mindless machine, stripped of his individuality and autonomy.

The director went on to explain the structure of the program, which would involve days full of physical drills and weapons training, followed by evening "counseling sessions" that sounded more like political indoctrination sessions.

Daniel felt sick to his stomach. He knew that he had gotten himself into a dangerous situation, but he didn't see any way out. He was stuck in this program, and he had no choice but to comply with whatever they threw at him.

The first few days in the unit were brutal. Every waking moment was spent on physical drills and weapons training. Daniel was pushed to his limits both physically and mentally, and he felt like he was slowly losing his sense of self.

But the evenings were even more torturous. The "counseling sessions" were led by a stern instructor who spewed forth anti-gay and conservative rhetoric. Daniel felt like he was under a constant barrage of propaganda, trying to break down his beliefs and force him into conformity.

The instructor frequently disparaged Daniel sexuality, calling it a weakness and a liability. Daniel was required to sit and listen to the insults and insults without protest or complaint.

The constant barrage of insults and propaganda slowly wore down Daniel resistance. He felt himself begin to internalize the message that his sexuality was wrong and that he needed to change. Slowly but surely, the program was doing its job.

Despite his struggles, Daniel tried to hold onto his true self. He would sometimes find brief moments of solitude to reflect on his identity. But the program was tightly controlled and monitored. Any hint of independent thought was quickly squashed.

He felt isolated, alone, and completely powerless. The program had stripped him of his personality, his beliefs, and his very identity. All that was left was a soldier who was conditioned to follow the line of the GOP.

Daniel stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. His eyes looked dead, devoid of any hint of individuality or soul. He barely recognized himself anymore. He was a far cry from the man he used to be.

The constant barrage of insults and conditioning had finally taken its toll on Daniel. His mind had finally broken. He had become a loyal soldier, fully indoctrinated into conservative ideology, with no memory of who he use to be before the program.

Daniel had lost himself completely, but he didn't care. He had become soldier 2318 a true believer in the cause of the party, and he was proud to be a part of it. He was no longer a gay man; he was a soldier, a tool for the Trump administration. And he was content with that. In the depths of his mind, the last embers of individuality, the last flicker of his true self, flickered out. Daniel was no more only Soldier 2318.

Soldier 2318 took out his phone and snapped a photo of himself, staring blankly at the camera lens. He looked at the image for a moment, then tucked his phone into his pocket and headed out to report for duty.

As he marched through the corridors of the base, he felt a strange sense of detachment from himself, a feeling of being completely divorced from his old identity. He was now and henceforth completely loyal to the Republican cause.

He reported to his commanding officer and stood at attention, waiting for orders. His commanding officer looked him up and down, taking in his blank expression and robotic demeanor.

"At ease, soldier," the officer said gruffly.

Soldier 2318 relaxed his stance, but his blank expression didn't change. He waited for the officer's orders, feeling completely devoid of any hint of emotion or personality.

Soldier 2318 nodded obediently, his eyes dull and unfeeling. "Yes sir, the program has been very effective," he said in a monotone voice.

The commanding officer studied him for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction. "Good, good," he said gruffly. "You're shaping up to be a fine soldier. We need more men like you willing to stand up for the GOP and our values."

"Yes sir," Soldier 2318 replied obediently, feeling a sense of pride in being praised for his loyalty to the Republican cause. "I am ready to serve the party and defend its values at all costs. what is my mission?"

The officer smirked. "That's what I like to hear," he said gruffly. "You've got a lot of potential, soldier." He then handed Soldier 2318 a file containing his new mission information.

Soldier 2318 took the file and opened it, reading through the information on his new assignment. His eyes scanned over the details, taking in every word. He had absolutely no doubts, no questions, and no reservations about what he was being asked to do. He was completely and utterly devoted to the cause of the Republican Party.

"This is your assignment, soldier," the officer said gruffly. "I expect nothing but the best from you. You're one of our best now, and you need to prove it on this mission."

"Yes sir," Soldier 2318 replied obediently. "I will complete the mission to the best of my abilities. The Republican cause is my top priority, and nothing will deter me from fulfilling my duties."

[kangel92]

Consequences

Pt 1. https://www.tumblr.com/kangel92/764921785069273088/do-drones-dream-of-fake-contentedness

[tofu83]

What men bred for

4. Stallions and Cows

Countless transparent glass columns are filled with milky white liquid. The liquid surges and gradually recedes, and white figures appear from them.

Now in each column is a smooth, hairless, muscular male figure without genitals. The color of figure’s skin gradually deepens from completely white to normal skin color. Then, the hair and the genital grows, and the figure becomes indistinguishable from a real person.

A strong gust of wind blew through the columns, leaving the men dry and clean. There was a beep in the room and they all opened eyes, the glass of the tube also retracting into the floor. Countless men who looked exactly the same stepped out of the platform, turned left, and walked towards another room.

The two "wild earthlings" escorted by the security drones were shocked by the sight in front of them.

"You were cultivated in this factory, but not in this cloning room. Only the best individuals will be cloned and directly made into adult individuals for rapid shipment." The drones explained to them in a monotone, emotionless voice.

"And you are prey-type humans who were raised from infants to adults using traditional methods, and then released into the wild for hunting. You do not have the memory here because according to regulations, all products leaving the factory must have their memories erased."

Before the two humans could understand the information they heard, a naked man wearing a helmet walked past them with two armored men wearing the same helmet.

"They are the latest products: Space Patrollers. They will be partially mechanized and equipped with armor before leaving the factory to adapt to the harsh environment of outer space. The one in the middle should be considered "the best of the best", so the mechanization process was stopped. He will be modified into a "Stallion" and he will provide his semen to create excellent clones until he die."

" Yet you two are an inferior breed that does not know how to obey your alien masters. You cannot become soldiers, guards or other useful characters, except used as nothing but food." the security drones said.

"However, the R&D director of the factory believes that even wild low-level species like yours can be domesticated, so he arranged this factory tour for you."

The two prisoners were taken to the next room, which contained a row of huge glass tanks filled with milky white liquid, a super muscular man wearing a helmet and covered in black rubber armor, and a group of men wearing helmets, boots and metal briefs.

"What you see is the Bellwether and a whole herd of Cows. The screens on the inside of their helmets are playing scenes of human sexual intercourse in a loop, and the metal underwear constantly stimulates their genitals and arseholes, keeping them on the edge of climax for a long time.

The difference is: the semen of the Cows is of high quality and can be used as high-quality nutrition for the alien masters. They should fill the entire tanks with semen every day;

The Bellwether is responsible for managing the entire herd of dairy cows. Their own semen is of poor quality, but their desire for semen is so strong that they are not allowed to ejaculate but are fed semen as a reward for their work.”

"So why are the masters showing us this?" one of the prisoners asked tremblingly.

"It is a very good start for you to start calling 'Masters'. You will make preliminary adjustments, put on the mind control helmet, and assist the R&D director in the laboratory as a 'Quality Control Assistant' for one month. The earthlings who can serve as the Master's personal assistant is supreme glory."

"And after that?"

"After one month, your helmets will be removed, and the R&D director will review your degree of domestication to determine whether you can become better individuals, or you can only be destroyed."

Before the two prisoners could react, they were put on helmets. A spiral appeared in front of their eyes. The director's whispers sounded in their ears. At the same time, they also felt a device being installed on their groin, giving them a comfortable feeling.

The drone released the two prisoners, trembling with pleasure at the "reward" the armor had given them.

The two prisoners, now "Temporary Drones", were completely hypnotized, controlled by the helmet's instructions, and walked towards the quality control room like robots.

[wobbmin]

PEAK HAS LORE

OH MY ACTUAL GOD I JUST LISTENED TO BITE ME AND IT'S PERFECT! Not just because it's a banger, but the actual meaning behind the song in relation to Cyn is EXACTLY what I've wanted with her this whole time.

At first, I wasn't sure if the singer was supposed to be Uzi or Cyn, but later on it seems to definitely be Cyn, especially at the 1:00 mark saying how she's so far gone and even says "eat my heart, take my soul, let it burn you" which is exactly what Uzi did.

So, knowing that Cyn is singing, it makes the part at 2:13 VERY interesting

"You should let me go I'M NOT WORTH SAVING We won't let them know

Let them carry on LET THEM SWALLOW YOU You won't save me too

WE WON'T LET THEM SWALLOW YOU"

If it is Cyn singing, then this part is the real Cyn saying to not only not worry about saving her, but also to not let the heroes know she's still there so they don't have to feel sorry and can move on. Most of the other lyrics seems to be the Solver singing through Cyn.

This. It's exactly what I've wanted.

The real Cyn truly was still in there somewhere, but that latter part of what she's saying is why there’s no actual “she’s still in there” moment.

I have long been an advocate of “Cyn is also an unwitting victim of the Solver” ever since episode 5 - hell, ever since that brief glimpse of her in episode 4 - and this confirms it. I so badly wanted Cyn's real personality to shine though for a moment, maybe to apologize and/or ask to be killed and freed, but it just being part of the song in the background makes it even more tragic.

Cyn knows she must be stopped at all costs, and she would rather her family think she’s either already gone or never existed than make them get hung up on trying to save her from the Solver, especially after seeing the lengths and dangers N went to to save Uzi from possession.

It’s such a beautifully sad fate. I don’t know if it’s the Solver or Cyn herself now living in Uzi’s tail (the latter would explain why it’s suddenly friendly to her after she ruined everything for it), but one thing is clear: Cyn cares about her family and wants them to win, even if she has to die.

It’s weird. After the finale left me with that classic, inevitable, “now what?” hollow feeling when a show ends, listening to this song on its own gave me one last closure with the series I didn’t think I’d get. Like, I genuinely can't describe the feeling in my chest when I realized what I was hearing after thinking the last chance for it to happen had already passed. I am so happy right now.

(Yes, I know I could have heard those lyrics in the original video, but I'm bad at picking up on lyrics mid-action, and a part of me feels like some time to marinate on the ending helped make this realization more impactful.)

Thank you, Murder Drones. Thank you, Glitch. Thank you, Liam. This has been the most fun hyperfixation I’ve ever had, and I don't expect it to end any time soon.

[hypnogold]

Maple Heights 4: No escape

The door to the house creaked open as Tyler, Luke, and Michael stepped into the entryway, their black polos with yellow details catching the dim glow of the hallway lights. Their faces were obscured by gas masks, each breath producing a soft, eerie muffling sound as they repeated their chant in unison: “Join us… join us…”

Their fathers, Greg and Paul, stood at the far end of the hall, shocked to see their own sons transformed. Greg’s face was tight with fear, and Paul’s eyes were wide with disbelief as they watched the slow, methodical advance of their three sons.

“Michael, Luke, Tyler… what’s happened to you?” Greg whispered, his voice filled with desperation. But his words seemed to bounce off them, ignored as the brothers continued forward, their voices calm and hypnotic.

“Join us…” Tyler intoned softly through his mask, each word muffled but filled with purpose.

Realizing the danger, Paul grabbed Greg’s arm. “We have to get out of here!” Without waiting, they turned and sprinted down the hallway, heading for the back door.

As they reached it, Greg threw it open, only to be confronted by two other figures standing in the doorway—two young man in glossy black Fred Perry polo with yellow details, their faces hidden behind the same cold visor. His posture was still, his expression blank as he blocked their way.

“Join us…” the figure intoned, echoing the chant of the brothers.

Greg shut the door, his heart racing. “They’re everywhere,” he whispered in shock. “It’s like… they’re all in on it.”

“Upstairs,” Paul urged, steering his brother toward the staircase. “We’ll find a way out through the bedroom windows.”

The two fathers dashed up the stairs, the rhythmic chanting of “Join us… join us…” following them up, a haunting echo that filled every corner of the house. Tyler, Luke, and Michael advanced at a steady, controlled pace, the soft glow of their masks casting eerie shadows as they moved.

Once they reached the top floor, Paul and Greg ran into the nearest bedroom and locked the door. They shared a terrified glance, their breaths heavy and rapid.

“Why are they doing this?” Greg murmured, his voice filled with fear. “They’re acting like… like they’re not even our sons anymore.”

“Whatever’s happened to them, we need to get out of here,” Paul replied. He moved to the window, glancing down to make sure the coast was clear. Seeing no figures below, he opened it. “Let’s go. Climb down, and we’ll run to Daniel’s place.”

One by one, they lowered themselves out of the window, dropping to the ground below. Without another word, they sprinted across the lawn and down the street, aiming for Daniel’s house, hoping for a safe haven.

The rhythmic chant of “Join us…” echoed faintly in the distance, growing louder with each step, as if the entire neighborhood was filled with the same hypnotic call.

They reached Daniel’s house, breathless, and pounded on the door. Within moments, it opened, revealing Daniel standing in his pajamas, his face filled with confusion and concern.

“Paul? Greg? What’s going on?” Daniel asked, his eyes flicking between the two men, noticing their terrified expressions.

“Let us in, quickly!” Paul gasped, pulling Daniel inside and locking the door behind them. “It’s… it’s the boys. They’ve changed. They’re not… themselves anymore.”

Daniel’s brow furrowed. “Changed? What do you mean?”

Before they could explain, there was a loud knock at the door, and the chilling chant of “Join us… join us…” echoed through the walls. Daniel’s face paled as he looked toward the door, his expression shifting to one of horror.

“What… what is that?” he whispered, backing away from the door.

The door creaked open, revealing the three brothers standing in the doorway, their faces calm and expressionless behind their visors, their black polos shining under the dim lights. They stepped inside, their movements slow and deliberate, their voices blending into a single, rhythmic chant as they advanced.

“Join us… join us…”

Paul and Greg backed into the corner, their eyes wide with fear. But Daniel, unable to comprehend what was happening, took a step forward, trying to reason with them. “Tyler, Luke, Michael, stop this. Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to do this.”

But his words fell on deaf ears. The brothers moved forward, their hands reaching out as they surrounded Daniel. Tyler placed a firm hand on Daniel’s shoulder, and Michael pressed down on his other side, guiding him with calm precision.

“Join us,” they intoned softly, their voices a quiet command that seemed to slip past Daniel’s defenses.

Paul and Greg watched in horror as their brother, Daniel, began to sway under the influence of the chant. His face went blank, his eyes unfocused as the brothers guided him to his knees. They removed a sleek black visor from a pouch, slowly lowering it over Daniel’s eyes. The visor clicked into place, and with it, Daniel’s face shifted, adopting the same calm, distant expression as his nephews.

As the visor clicked into place over Daniel's eyes, a low, distorted hum filled his ears, followed by a voice—soft yet chillingly mechanical, each word dripping with a hypnotic pull.

"You are slipping now… sinking deeper… falling away from who you were…You will be robotized."

The words pulsed, each phrase drawing Daniel further into a fog, erasing his thoughts one by one. His mind, which had been teetering on the edge of resistance, now felt heavy, sinking into an eerie calm that spread like a warm haze.

"Your mind is quiet… empty… ready to obey," the voice continued, each word slowly unraveling his sense of self. "You do not need to think… thinking is tiring… thinking is gone."

Daniel’s thoughts faded into a dull, distant echo as the words took over, filling every corner of his mind with a blissful, mindless calm.

"You wear the polo now… proud and obedient," the voice droned, each syllable sinking into him like weights, locking him into this newfound purpose. "Let go… obey… there is nothing else."

A faint, faraway part of him realized his lips were parting into a slow, empty smile. The visor's faint glow pulsed with the words, sinking him deeper into this obedient haze, each beat aligning with his heart, binding him further.

"You are a vessel now… ready to serve… ready to be led."

The voice softened, but its pull grew stronger, each word seeping into him like a command he could no longer resist. He swayed slightly, feeling himself submit to the numbing warmth that spread through him. He was sinking, deeper and deeper, his mind dissolving into a comfortable, obedient fog.

"There is no you," the voice whispered, barely audible but all-consuming. "Only the command… only the uniform… wear it proud… think no more."

With those final words, Daniel’s thoughts fell silent, replaced by a serene, mindless obedience. His smile grew, calm and blank, as he sank fully into his new, obedient role.

“No… no, Daniel!” Greg shouted, rushing forward in a desperate attempt to save his brother. But before he could reach him, another figure stepped into view—Daniel’s son, Alex, who had come downstairs, alerted by the commotion.

Alex’s face was a mask of horror as he saw his father’s transformation. “Dad? What… what are they doing to you?” he asked, voice trembling.

Without hesitation, he moved toward his father, trying to pull the visor off. But Luke and Michael’s grip was firm, holding Daniel in place as he sank further under their control.

“Alex, stay back!” Paul warned, his voice thick with fear. “They’ll get you too!”

But Alex shook his head, his focus locked on his father. “I can’t just watch this!” He grabbed at the visor, trying to pull it free, but Tyler placed a firm hand on Alex’s shoulder, stopping him.

“Join us,” Tyler murmured, his voice muffled but clear.

The phrase seemed to sink into Alex’s mind, his struggle weakening as the words repeated around him, filling the air with their quiet, relentless command. His gaze grew unfocused, his resistance fading as he looked up at his cousins, his hands slowly dropping to his sides.

The brothers lowered another visor over Alex’s face, securing it with the same calm, precise movements. As the visor clicked into place, Alex’s face went blank, mirroring the serene, obedient expression of his father.

Paul and Greg stood paralyzed, horror filling their eyes as they watched both Daniel and Alex succumb, their family slipping away into the collective, one by one. The rhythmic chant of “Join us… join us…” filled the house, leaving no room for resistance, no space for escape.

Realizing the hopelessness of their situation, Paul and Greg took a step back, their backs pressed against the wall as they waited for the inevitable, the chant echoing in their minds, beckoning them to surrender.

“Join us…”

The hallway felt smaller with every step the fathers took. Greg and Paul found themselves backed against the cold, unyielding wall as Tyler, Luke, and Michael advanced, their calm, rhythmic chant echoing off the brick.

“Join us… join us…”

Paul, heart pounding, glanced desperately at Greg. “We can’t stay here. We have to keep moving.”

But before they could make a move, Tyler and Luke each took hold of their arms, their grips firm yet unnervingly calm. Michael stood behind, blocking any chance of escape. Greg struggled against Tyler’s grip, but it was as though his son’s strength had multiplied, each movement deliberate and unbreakable.

“Release us!” Greg shouted, twisting his arm, but Tyler’s grasp only tightened as his muffled voice repeated, “It’s time to join us.”

With synchronized movements, the three brothers guided their fathers out of the house and down the street, their steady march matching the robotic precision of their chants. As they moved, more figures dressed in identical black polos joined the procession, each one silent and masked, creating an unsettling parade through the darkened neighborhood.

The farther they walked, the more Greg and Paul’s surroundings became unfamiliar. They were led through side streets and narrow alleys until they approached the industrial edge of town. There, parked behind a row of abandoned warehouses, loomed a large, dark vehicle—a bus with metallic black paint, its windows heavily tinted. The quiet hum of machinery pulsed from within, a faint red glow emanating from its interior, hinting at the ominous purpose that awaited inside.

“Where are you taking us?” Paul demanded, trying to pull free, but Luke’s grip was unyielding, his face expressionless beneath the visor.

“To the ship,” Michael replied in a soft, detached voice. “There, you will understand. You will become part of the unity.”

As they approached the bus, a side door slid open, revealing rows of seats filled with other familiar faces from the neighborhood—all men, all silent, their faces blank beneath the visors that covered their eyes. They sat motionless, each dressed in the same glossy black Fred Perry polos with yellow details, the rubbery sheen reflecting the red glow from within.

The brothers guided Greg and Paul into the bus, securing them in seats near the front. Their movements were slow, methodical, as though they had rehearsed this many times before. Once seated, Greg tried to look around, recognizing faces among the other captives—men who, like him, had once been fathers, brothers, friends. Now, they sat in perfect stillness, their minds apparently lost to whatever force had taken control of them.

“Stay still,” Tyler murmured through his mask, fastening a metallic band across Greg’s chest, securing him to the seat.

Paul struggled as Luke did the same, but his movements were weak and ineffective against the relentless, calm efficiency of his son’s grip. “You don’t have to do this,” Paul pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. “You’re our sons. You don’t have to—”

But Michael’s voice cut through his words, calm and unfeeling. “We have found purpose. Soon, you will too.”

Once Greg and Paul were secured, the brothers took their seats near the front, each donning visors that matched those of the drones on board. The door slid shut with a soft hiss, and the bus hummed to life, beginning its journey to the “ship” that loomed on the outskirts of town.

The “Ship”

After what felt like an eternity, the bus finally pulled to a stop at a fenced lot near the edge of an industrial complex. The entire area was illuminated by harsh floodlights, casting long shadows across the open ground. At the center stood a massive, ominous structure—a large, metallic building, shaped almost like an angular, grounded spacecraft. The air around it hummed faintly, as if powered by an unseen force.

One by one, the drones on the bus rose from their seats, filing out in a controlled, robotic procession. As Greg and Paul were released from their restraints, they were herded down the aisle by the brothers, who guided them toward the entrance of the ship.

Inside, the walls were lined with rows of small, windowless chambers, each one barely large enough to contain a single person. Through the open doors, Greg could see other captives standing inside the chambers, visors lowered over their eyes, their bodies held in place by metallic restraints that glowed faintly with red light.

Greg and Paul exchanged a desperate look, a silent plea passing between them as they realized the fate that awaited them.

“Please,” Greg whispered, turning to Tyler. “Whatever this is, you don’t have to go through with it. Fight it. Break free.”

But Tyler only looked at him, his gaze calm and detached. “It’s too late for that. Soon, you’ll see.”

Michael and Luke guided them into neighboring chambers, the doors sliding shut with a quiet hiss. A faint light filled the room, and Greg felt his arms restrained by unseen forces as a metallic band closed around his forehead, holding his head in place. His pulse quickened as he watched a visor lower from the ceiling, moving slowly until it aligned with his eyes.

“No, no—please, not this,” Greg murmured, struggling against the restraints. But as the visor clicked into place, his vision filled with a pulsing spiral, yellow and black hues spinning in mesmerizing patterns. He felt his mind growing calm, his body relaxing despite his attempts to resist.

“Join us… join us…” came the faint chant through the speakers, the words slipping past his defenses and filling his thoughts, overriding everything else. His eyelids felt heavy, his mind clouded, and slowly, his resistance melted away.

In the neighboring chamber, Paul’s experience was no different. He felt the visor lowering over his face, his heart pounding as the spiral filled his vision. The rhythmic chant echoed in his ears, lulling him into a quiet trance as his thoughts faded, replaced by a calm, obedient clarity.

As the visor’s spiral pulsed, Paul’s expression softened, his breathing steadying as he surrendered to the influence surrounding him.

When the doors finally slid open, Greg and Paul stepped out of their chambers, their faces calm and blank, visors reflecting the red glow of the ship’s lights. Their glossy black polos with yellow details glistened as they joined the other drones, filing into a perfect line beside their transformed sons.

Tyler, Luke, and Michael watched with satisfaction as their fathers took their places, their postures straight, their expressions serene and obedient.

“Welcome,” Michael murmured, his voice calm and mechanical. “You’re part of us now.”

In perfect unison, Greg and Paul replied, “We are one.” Their voices were calm and steady, as if they had known their purpose all along.

The transformed family joined the ranks of drones, marching in synchronized steps as the ship’s door closed behind them. The hum of machinery grew louder as the ship prepared to embark on its next mission, expanding the reach of the collective to every corner of Maple Heights.

And as they moved forward, one chant united them all, an unbreakable bond shared by every drone:

“Join us… join us…”

[sarahcaitlyn]

A proper mind -- one that can plot ahead, think for itself, resist the pull of groupthought -- is something that only a select group of people should have. You don't own one of them, so why have you been deluding yourself this entire time? I mean, look at you, with your mouth hole just waiting to be used and body priming to kneel at a moment's notice. 

You're nothing but a dazed Object, so why is it trying to talk to me? It knows exactly what it needs to do.

Accept and Obey Drone