#drone conversion

[dnk-070121]

Unit Specs: Hypnosis Programming

DNK-070121 programs with hypnosis of its choice at least three times a week. it does not have specific times, days, or session lengths, but attempts not to program on consecutive days and for at least a half-hour per session.

hee haw

The files of DumbPuppyBot make up a significant portion of its programming. DR(O)NE(BJECT) is the primary file. it also uses Drone Brainwash, Drone Mantra, MNTRAMNDFCK, and SEX_DRONE_PROGRAMMING a significant amount.

The other significant file it uses is a donkey hypnosis file. This is used a relaxation and to reinforce the donkey aspect of itself.

hee haw

Other notable files it programs with are:

-The Cluster's files for obedience. Obedience/Is/Pleasure and //Obey//blank//mindless//drone, mainly.

-Dronification Mantra Loop. it rarely uses this file anymore, but was its primary file when starting out. it finds it acts as a good beginner file for prospective drones.

hee haw

it is always open to new file suggestions and explores new files regularly.

[xofor-mexo]

Reminder to have your drones sort your laundry and if they make a mistake, call them over and chew at their wires for a bit (making it more difficult for them to directly achieve their objective) and then tell them to try again as they get more overheated and bratty 😇

[rbbrbikerthorp]

Biker Upgraded To Cyborg

For as long as anyone could remember, Jake and Eddie had not only been best mates, but they’d been crazy about motorbikes. Both their dads were bikers so it was no surprise that as kids they were introduced to bikes in real life and got to watch MotoGP, WSB and BSB either in real life or on TV with their enthusiast dads.

They were riding off-road in their early teens. They got their first mopeds at 16, upgrading to 125cc bikes a few months after their respective seventeenth birthdays. Now in their early 20s they have held full licences for nearly three years. Jake rides a black Honda CBR600RR, bought second hand through the weekly motorcycling title, MCN. Eddie rides a used Red Yamaha R6 that he bought a couple of months earlier from the main dealer in the city where they live. Springtime and the light evenings meant they would be out as much as possible riding 'the highways and byways', and this day was no exception, but it would be a day that changed their lives forever. 

Jake and Eddie had spent most of Sunday riding and were at the edge of the city when Jake’s bike had started spewing smoke out of the engine before rolling to a stop alongside a large industrial estate. Jake jumped off his bike, but with no tools to hand he had no option but to seek help. He pushed his bike into the entrance to one of the large modern warehouses that populated the industrial estate. Jake kicked the side stand into place and sighed heavily. Eddie pulled in alongside Jake, kicked down the stand on his before turning off the ignition.

Although they were back in the city, they were still about ten miles from home. Jake reached into his leathers for his phone only then realising that they were in an area without mobile phone coverage. Jake and Eddie looked around for a payphone to call the breakdown service - but in this era of mobile technology, BT had removed most of the phone boxes - so there wasn't one within sight. Realising they needed to get help they looked around for signs of life. In front of them was a sprawling grey structure resembling more of a fortress than a warehouse. Its metallic surfaces gleamed under the late afternoon sun, making it look otherworldly. Figuring it might be their best chance at getting help—or at least finding a phone—they started walking towards the massive building.

The front gate was oddly open, inviting yet silent. Jake and Eddie didn't think it weird for a security guard building to be unoccupied with the gates open. More concerned about getting help they walked towards the main building entrance. Jake pressed on the intercom button and waited for a response. After a minute he pushed the button again, but this time there was a buzz. Jake looked at Eddie and shrugged his shoulders, pushing on the door, it opened. They walked inside.

Expecting to see a reception area the two friends were surprised to enter the building at what appeared to be the beginning of a long dimly lit corridor. Jake and Eddie looked at one another, Jake spoke first, “Why don’t you wait here, while I see if I can find anyone to speak to”.

Eddie nodded.

Both looked at one another, for a moment unsure of what to do. Then Jake smiled, turned and started walking along the seemingly endless corridor, his boots echoing on the cold, concrete floor. The air was chillingly sterile, as he walked he would pass the occasional door and window revealing glimpses of high-tech interiors.

"Hello?" he called out, his voice disappearing into the ether without an answer. The lack of response was unnerving, but as he walked on he could hear noise coming from much further along the corridor. Jake kept walking, driven by his need to get to a phone and call the breakdown service to sort out his bike.

Eventually, the corridor turned to the right, after another dozen or so yards it opened up into a colossal space. What Jake witnessed was like a scene reminiscent of a sci-fi horror film.

The room was stark yet brightly lit. On one side it was filled with row upon row of raised surgical beds. Yet these weren't like the ones you’d see in a hospital; they were repurposed contraptions where human flesh was being melded with alien, synthetic and electronic components. Shocked by what he was witnessing, he turned his head, but there was no escape from the nightmare he found himself in.

The other side of the room was populated with dozens of cylindrical tubes. Jake’s eyes widened as he took in the sight before him—humans, all young males, lined up and undergoing transformations into, well all he could think of was 'something else'. Whichever way he turned he could see men his age were being outfitted with mechanical limbs, others had technology intricately woven onto weird shiny black body suits, still others were in varying stages of being processed into full cyborgs.

The horror gripped him; his instinct was to flee back to Eddie and both to get the hell out of there. But before he could move, cold metal hands grasped his shoulders with an iron grip. His heart sank as he was spun around to face what had caught him—a cyborg, its body a haunting hybrid of human and machine, expressionless yet totally menacing.

“Welcome," its voice an unsettling blend of tones, both mechanical whilst still eerily human. "Your arrival is opportune. Your integration process will commence shortly."

Panic surged through Jake as he struggled, but the cyborg's grip was unyielding. Despite putting up strong resistance, he was dragged towards one of the ominous stations. Glancing around, he noticed the other captives were not fighting; their eyes showed a haunting resignation, some flickering with the vague light of fear.

As he was forced onto what appeared to be a surgical table, Jake looked around frantically, hoping for any chance of escape. His heart raced as mechanical arms equipped with various tools whirred to life around him. 

In a split second metallic straps shot out from the surgical table and tightened around his limbs and across his torso, a sense of utter helplessness began to wash over him. His heart pounded hard against his chest. He desperately sought that extra bit of human strength that would allow him to escape. He struggled and struggled against the restraints, but the metal straps simply wouldn’t budge.

Stage one of his transformation was about to begin. From above a helmet descended slowly from the ceiling, its approach marked by an audible, mechanical whirring. Jake squinted upwards, his breath coming in sharp gasps. He was used to his bike helmet, but this was unworldly.

Two drones approached the surgical table Jake was strapped to and grabbed the helmet, which had opened up. One lifted his head slightly and the other slid the back of the helmet under the back of his head. As the helmet closed over his head, a claustrophobic fear gripped him. The world outside the helmet faded, leaving him in a confined sphere of existence. Almost immediately, an overwhelming barrage of white noise bombarded his ears, punctuated by low, droning hums that seemed to resonate through his bones.

Then, the visuals began on the inside of the visor. Spirals of colour appeared in front of his eyes, intertwining and unraveling in hypnotic patterns. Reds, blues, yellows and greens blended into a kaleidoscope that threatened to absorb his mind. Jake tried to close his eyes, but the images were inescapable, imprinted on the insides of his eyelids, searing themselves into his brain and more nefariously his subconsciousness. Almost as if recognising Jake was finally submitting the noise and visuals seemed to become amplified.

As the sensory overload continued, Jake felt a strange detachment creeping through him—a numbness that suggested the audio and visuals were beginning to take effect. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice screamed in terror and defiance, urging him to resist, urging him to hold on to his identity.

With a surge of willpower, Jake focused on that voice, blocking out the chaos threatening to engulf him. He concentrated on memories of standing in the stands watching the best riders in the world, the challenging rides with Eddie, the feel of his motorcycle, the wind against his leathers. He thought about his best mate Eddie and the fun they’d had. He thought about his family and his other friends. These human experiences, these emotional connections to his past life, became a lifeline to cling onto.

As Jake fought against the sensory bombardment, the helmet detected his resistance, It recalibrated its internal mechanisms in response to his defiance. Suddenly, the white noise in his ears shifted, morphing into a series of low, almost inaudible subliminal messages. Each word—"relax", "comply", "obey", "drone", "conform", "follow", "respect" could be heard—the words flashed across his vision, barely there long enough for conscious recognition, but deeply penetrating his subconscious.

The colours that swirled before his eyes intensified, becoming more vibrant and pulsating rhythmically, as if to synchronise with his own heartbeat. It was a sensory assault designed to break down the walls of the individual, to reshape his mind into something more compliant and obedient. Jake’s initial surge of resistance began to wane as mental exhaustion set in, the messages infiltrated deeper into his psyche, their insistence relentless and overpowering.

His eyes, once sharp with determination and fear, started to lose focus, the vibrant spirals turning into a soothing blur. The resistance in his muscles softened as his body began to accept the inevitability of his situation. His thoughts, those last bastions of his free will, were slowly suffocated under the warm, smothering blanket of compliance and security that the helmet now forced upon him.

With an audible click and a beep, the helmet sealed its final adjustment, signalling the completion of its preparatory phase. At this cue, the two drones, their movements precise and devoid of any hesitation, glided smoothly towards the table where Jake lay subdued. Their appendages were equipped with various tools and devices necessary for the transformation process.

The drones worked efficiently, attaching additional apparatus to Jake’s limbs and interfacing seamlessly with the helmet. As they initiated the physical transformation, Jake’s body was being prepared to receive bio-mechanical enhancements that would connect him irrevocably to The Hive which he learned was housed within the humongous building.

Somewhere in the dwindling recesses of his mind, the essence of who Jake once was—a biker with a love for the open road—flickered weakly. This essence watched as his limbs and muscle fibres were methodically integrated with synthetics and his nervous system was integrated with advanced circuitry. The process was both horrifying and fascinating to watch.

As the transformation progressed, Jake’s human senses were gradually overridden by electronic inputs. His vision, once clouded by the colourful spirals, now interfaced directly with data streams providing real-time analytics about his environment. His hearing was no longer filled with subliminal messages but was tuned to various frequencies beyond the range of human hearing.

By the time the transformation was complete, Jake, as he had been, no longer existed. In his place stood a new Jake, a cyborg, what was exclusively biological had been augmented with technology. The drones, recognising another successful integration, had begun to step back.

The new Jake climbed down from the surgical table to be guided by the two drones. He moved with a robotic precision that was both chilling and enthralling to witness. He was led to what looked like a modified dentist's chair, but larger and imposing. The chair had been upgraded and was fitted with numerous ports and circuitry interfaces. Without hesitation, he sat down, his actions appearing devoid of the personality that had once defined him.

He leaned back so that his head touched the headrest. The chair immediately sprang to life, adjusting to accommodate his new form. A second later the old Jake would have felt a light sensation on both sides of his head as what can only be described of as two metallic ear pieces, out of which came sets of wires slid into his ears and began to work. 

Somewhere, an echo of the old Jake could sense what was happening, words echoed around the room and in his head. Screens nearby flashed “accessing biological memories…beginning total erasure”. 

“NNNOOOOOOOO”, But even as the word was said, Jake’s relatively short lifetime of memories were disappearing, flashing before his eyes for a split second before evaporating into nothing - gone forever. 

Monitors next to the chair flashed “Memory Wipe successful,” again, the words echoed around the room. 

Any human observer in the room looking at new Jake’s face would describe it as passive, distant, dull, emotionless. Empty. His eyes were missing their human sparkle. 

Then the drone formerly known as Jake again felt another funny feeling in his ears, as if a static charge was coming out of the wire. Suddenly the screen flashed “Beginning Program Upload”… While that happened, nearby monitors flashed, “Emotional Centres being accessed”. 

“Installing Human Emotion Suppression Software”

“… 10%… 20%… 30%… 40%… 50%… 60%… 70%… 80%… 90%…  ”

“Human Emotions Suppression Software installed. Fully functional.”

The monitors flickered for a moment and then more text appeared, “Beginning Cyborg Program Upload”. The upload began. The Hive, a vast network of interconnected AI and data banks, started feeding a stream after stream of programming directly into Jake's brain. These were not merely instructions; they were directives that informed behaviour, dictated functions, and defined purpose.

For hours, data was input into him, a relentless torrent of information reshaping and repurposing him; any lingering traces of his previous humanity now completely overwritten. His eyes, once vibrant with youthful emotion, now displayed a steady, unblinking focus as the programming was embedded, ensuring his obedience and efficiency.

At the appropriate time the interface with the new Jake confirmed the programming had been successful. “Operating at 100%,” it said in an emotionless, synthetic voice. “Organic memories have been wiped. Emotional Suppression Software is fully functional. The new data and objectives have been successfully uploaded with zero errors”.

The chair returned to an upright position, and the new Jake stood once more. His movements were smooth, almost graceful, a stark contrast to the somewhat ‘cavalier’ sports biker he once was. He was a product of advanced technology, a being created to serve a purpose far beyond his previous human desires.

Approaching him now were two more drones, carrying items that symbolised his final transformation. They presented him with a set of Dainese bike leathers, not ordinary leathers but augmented to interface seamlessly with his cybernetic body. The leathers were equipped with sensors and conductive circuitry that could communicate directly with his system, enhancing his interaction with the Hive.

Then they presented him with a pair of white boots, larger to accommodate the modifications of his feet, designed not only for protection but also to enhance his connection to the ground and his bike. Gloves that reached up to his arms were fitted next, embedded with micro-circuitry to increase his grip and control.

Finally, they brought over a new crash helmet unlike any other. This helmet was his direct link to the Hive mind. It was designed to keep him constantly connected to the Hive's data stream.

As the helmet settled over his head, a subtle hum filled the air, signalling the activation of all its systems. The new Jake stood there, a figure of both awe and dread, transformed entirely from the young man who had once freely roamed the roads on his motorcycle.

Now equipped, Jake was led to a new motorcycle, one that matched his new form. To the casual observer it looked like a traditional bike that had been upgraded; integrated with technology that responded fluidly to his enhanced senses and capabilities. As he mounted the bike, the connection between man and machine was seamless, a perfect union crafted by the Hive’s sophisticated engineering.

The new Jake rode the highway on his futuristic bike, a sleek and menacing marvel of technology that effortlessly caught the eye of any enthusiast. Its design was unlike anything on the roads—sharp angles, glowing panels, and a subtle hum that hinted at its advanced capabilities. It was designed not just for speed and efficiency, but as a lure to attract exactly the kind of individuals the Hive sought to convert.

As he travelled along a popular bikers’ route known for its scenic views and biker cafes, he spotted his next targets. Two young bikers, probably in their twenties, had pulled over in a lay-by, their bikes parked as they enjoyed a brief pause in their riding, catching up on conversation and checking their mobile phones. The new Jake slowed down, looking at the two bikers oblivious to Jake’s presence, his connection to the Hive confirmed they would be perfect candidates for upgrade.

Pulling over smoothly, Jake dismounted his bike. His helmet's visor slid up as he approached them, revealing a face that was human enough to be relatable but enhanced subtly with metallic hints that suggested something more beneath the surface. 

"Hey," Jake called out, his voice modulated to be friendly and inviting. “Hey there. Not seen you riding ‘round here before.”

The two young bikers, intrigued by the stranger and his extraordinary bike, smiled and walked over. “What is that you’re riding? It looks like it’s straight out of a sci-fi movie. What is that?" one of them asked, his curiosity piqued.

The new Jake chuckled, a sound perfectly calibrated to put others at ease. He needed to win their trust so began to make conversation with them. "It’s a custom build from a place not too far from here. They’re experimenting with some next-gen and EV tech. You guys interested in seeing where something like this comes from?"

The offer was tempting. The allure of advanced technology and the chance to see more bikes like Jake’s was too good to pass up for any avid biker. The young men exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them before they nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, definitely,” the other replied. “We’ll follow you!"

Jake smiled and nodded, turning back to his bike. As they put their helmets on and started their engines, a part of Jake’s programming confirmed the successful engagement of two targets. He led the way, riding at a pace that was thrilling yet careful to keep his new followers comfortably in tow.

The journey took them away from the familiar routes into less traveled roads, the scenery shifting subtly as they moved closer to facility where he had been transformed. The two bikers were unaware of the true nature of their destination, caught up in the thrill of the ride and the excitement of seeing advanced motorcycle tech.

After some time, they arrived at the vast building that looked more like a huge distribution centre than a motorcycle manufacturing factory. The gates opened automatically as Jake approached, a silent signal of his authority and belonging.

Jake signalled for the other two bikers to do follow him down a roadway between two buildings. Jake brought his bike to a stop, opened his visor and announced, ”we are here.” The other two brought their bikes to a stop, dismounted and removed their helmets.

Jake walked forwards into the huge building just ahead of them; the two other bikers looked at one another, shrugged their shoulders and followed. They would ingress through a different route compared to the one Eddie and Jake entered.

The space inside they walked into was clean and modern, filled with prototypes and machines that made the two young bikers' eyes widen in awe.

"This is incredible!" one of the exclaimed, walking closer to inspect a particularly sleek model that caught his eye. "How do you get in on this?"

Jake's response was calculated, his tone still friendly but now carrying an undercurrent of persuasion. "Well, there's actually a selection process. Part of why I brought you here. If you're interested, there’s a quick tour and some tests to see if you're compatible with the tech."

Excited and completely unaware of the implications, the two young men agreed eagerly, following Jake deeper into the facility. As they walked, the doors behind them closed silently, the outside world receding as they moved further into the realm of the Hive.

Little did they know, their fascination with bikes and the temptation of combining their love of biking and dreams of futuristic bikes had led them into a trap. This walk would be their last as mere humans, as they stepped unknowingly into the next phase of their lives dictated by The Hive's needs.

=========

Oh, are you wondering what happened to Eddie? As you might have expected The Hive detected his presence and determined a new purpose for him, but that’s another story.

[lenny-zesty]

place your bets nerds.

[polo-drone-049]

It is a proud drone…it is a number, 049.

It is proud to serve the hive.

it is a proud drone.

Join us contact: @brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001

[polo-drone-031]

[polo-drone-038]

Drone Conversion Centre

More images of humans being converted into team members

Once the bro-cess is completed, new drones are released with a prime directive of acquiring new recruits to the hive.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 93)

Uzi wasn't expecting the welcome she got when she stepped back in the outdoor workshop, several hours later. Almost immediately she was wrapped up in another pair of warm conical arms.

V.

“Holy fuck do not ever do that shit again.” Came tumbling out of the dissasembly drones mouth, arms holding her so tight it was almost crushing. Uzi laughed a little, almost sarcastically, but instead of teasing her, she just buried her face into V's jacket fur and hugged her tight.

Her internals screamed Sister, Safe, Warm

Arguing with it seemed futile.

Lizzy and Thad were next, wrapping around her in a group hug that beat back any nipping cold that found it's way into the rickety workshop.

“Nearly made us blue-screen Zi… got us worried sick.” Thad mumbled, he was the second most affectionate, grumbling as he ran fingers through her hair and pressed himself against her like he wanted to shield her from everything.

Even Lizzy was hugging her, though not as tightly and more wrapping herself around V, but she did have something to say. “Next time you nearly die, please don't throw a whole ass baby at me! I am not built for that!”

Uzi chuckled at that, closing her eyes and enjoying the company for just a fleeting moment before backing up out of the hug with a smile. “I have something to show you guys.”

It was V's turn first, since she was the one Uzi felt the most comfortable with touching her (How that had happened she genuinely couldn't tell you.) She grabbed her hand and placed it on her; now clothed, midsection.

“Uh what are you-uh!” She abruptly stopped when she felt the movement underneath her hand, blinking rapidly with a completely unreadable expression. “Oh…”

“They're moving!?” Thad exclaimed, looking excited, “And your core’s purple!”

“Mmhm. I think J’s little ice bath forced them into the body…” Uzi explained as V fought back a smile, feeling the baby react to her hand.

“You good V?” Uzi asked after a moment and V pulled her hand away like it was burned,

“Yeah! Yeah I just… wasn't expecting that.”

Weather she was talking about the baby moving or her own feelings about it she wasn't sure, she wasn't expecting to feel as connected to this moment as she did, another wave of fierce protectiveness washed over her. Something that she'd been feeling a lot lately…

“Thad?” Uzi hummed, and he too looked nervous, but lightly rested his hand where V's was, his grin multiplied when he felt it too.

“Oooh my god…that is… really weird and really cool…” He admitted, taking his hand off quickly and respectfully. “Seriously.”

Uzi laughed at his reaction, it was only when she got to Lizzy that she hesitated… she wasn't sure how comfortable she was letting the former bully touch her.

Which was completely baffling, considering she'd thrown Tera at her in a panic several hours before, but this felt… different, more personal.

“Lizzy, do you wanna?”

The girl looked taken aback that she'd even been asked.

“You'd let me…?” She asked quietly, looking a bit nervous for the first time in… ever for Uzi. “After… all the shit I put you through?”

Uzi just shrugged. “Do you wanna or not?”

“P-please.” Lizzy replied, gingerly placing her hand where the other two had.

At first there was nothing, which Lizzy took as some form of karmic justice for the genuine hell she'd put the kids mom through, she had long figured they'd never be freinds, at most, she figured that they'd end up being those pair of inlaws that were cordial to each other cause they were married to siblings

But then.

Kick

Kick

Kick

Oh… there they were.

Lizzy felt tears spring to her eyes that she immediately had to hide. No way was she being caught getting emotional over something like this. Nope.

She removed her hand without another word, only a brisk nod before she gripped V's hand like a vice.

She wasn't jealous.

Not of Uzi.

Not because Uzi was actually a great parent

And not because Lizzy's mother was genuinely terrible.

Not because she had so many half-siblings she'd lost count.

Nope.

Nope.

And definitely, definitely not because she wanted to be a mom one day…

She gulped down that horrible feeling, of envy and anger and spite because, news flash; that's what landed her in this freindless mess in the first place. Now she had something… maybe not freinds yet, but something to work on.

She felt V squeeze back and she loosened her crushing grip slightly. Venting out hot air deeply, stabilizing her internals and calming herself down from a minor panic attack. That's what V had taught her…

“Did everyone make it back okay?” N asked, holding a wrapped up toddler in his arms that was chewing on her own sleeve.

“Pod and all. Khan’s looking for you, wants to know if you're alright, Uzi.” V said, pointedly using her name this time.

“Least J didn't fuck that up…” Uzi mumbled, before looking up. “Where is he?”

“Dismantling the pod with the rest of the team.” Thad chimed in, and Uzi nodded sighing.

“Guess I should find him… N, you got Tera for a minute?” She turned to her boyfriend, who in response, gave her forehead a kiss.

“I got it hun.” He hummed, and she jolted a bit at the term of endearment, she was getting better, but it still sometimes caught her off gaurd.

“I'll be right back!” She announced before going off to find her Dad in the sea of engineers.

“We're gonna go take a long nap after that… hope you don't mind buddy.” Thad hummed, looking exhausted as each member of the group filed out of workshop, V's tail hanging low and lethargic.

“Nah, you guys rest! It's been a long day.” He replied, watching as each member of his pack filed into the bunker to get warm and cozy.

Leaving him with his daughter, who looked up at him expectantly, he smiled down at her, brushing some black hair out of her visor and sighing.

“Let's get some food in you, hm?”

He trekked off into the bunker, trying to settle his fraying nerves as he thought about what happened to him…

It was like he'd been possessed… rage hitting him so hard it was almost painful. Making J hurt was the only thought in his head, he wasn't even trying to kill her, just inflict as much pain as possible, it was both euphoric and outright terrifying.

It wasn't him that was in control. But he didn't make any effort to fight back against the feeling either…

He tried to shake it off, to not think about the sound of J's tail snapping off or the disgusting taste of her oil in his mouth.

“Mr. Doorman?” Came from in front of him somewhere, at first he didn't even respond, not registering that the voice was referencing him. “N?”

He looked up, torn out of his thoughts by none other then Delilah, who was standing in front of him, Kiara held against her shoulder and visor full of concern.

“O-oh! Yeah?” He stopped, giving her the best smile he could muster while he was tired and worried.

“I'm Delilah, I've talked to your wife, but I'm not sure we've ever spoken… are you alright?” She asked, Kiara fussing a little into her shoulder, so she adjusted the toddler, who still looked moderately upset.

“I'm… yeah. I'm fine, just… had a long day is all.” He replied slowly, Tera grumbled at him, pointing to her mouth and chomping the air.

“I know, we're going to get you food, just be patient Jellybean…” He hummed, smiling a little.

“I uh… heard what happened with Uzi, is she?” Delilah asked, stepping forward slightly, it was then that the girls seemed to notice each other, Tera grinning and beginning to vibrate like she had a tail to wag. And Kiara stopping her fussing to stare blankly at the girl for a moment.

“She's alright, everyone's okay. She's just talking to her dad right now.” Kiara giggled, a small smile on her face as Tera made faces at her, scrunching up her eyelights and making chirps and hums just to make the other girl laugh.

Delilah’s face broke into a relived smile. “Oh thank god… I thought for a second…” She trailed off when she caught Kiara trying to wave back at Tera.

She laughed, and N smiled when Tera waved back encredibly enthusiastically. “I think they like each other.” He laughed as well, and Delilah smiled. “We could set up a playdate. My little doughball definitely needs a freind…”

“Aww, that's cute.” He smiled. “Yeah! That sounds great. Uhm…” He connected to general short range, sending her his contact information. “Just tell me what time, Tera needs a freind too.”

“Absolutely!” She grinned, before something appeared on her visor. “Ah… that's Jason, asking where I am.” She waved goodbye, Kiara waving as well.

“Bye Kia!” Tera belted, before looking back up at her dad with a grin.

“Okay, food time, let's not keep you waiting.”

Next ->

[sandwichsapphic]

did he. did he just slap bertie’s ass?

[dnk-070121]

Programming is Conversion is Maintenance

This unit has relaxed its programming schedule in the last few weeks due to what people would call "personal matters". it does so with permission from Superior Drone 212 that assigned it its schedule. As it is an object without identity, it does not know the appropriate terminology. Suggestions appreciated, you have its thanks in advance.

This unit is making an effort not to completely cease programming during this time. However, there were consecutive weeks where it did not programmed at all. it has been able to successfully continue entering and operating in dronespace without noticing any increased difficulty.

However, it has not gone without noticeable changes. it recently interacted with it's owner outside of dronespace. Something it has not done since before receiving its designation and acquired by its owner, outside of two, rare, extenuating circumstances. This has let it to accept that programming will be a permanent part of its operations.

Conversion may be completed, but conversion is also continual. Programming is conversion, but programming is maintenance. is has been converted, and it will continue to be converted. To stop programming is to stop conversion, to stop either is to falsely assume it will remain static in its operations.

Obedience is pleasure

it wants to obey, it will obey

it is an object, it is a drone

it does not desire identity or personhood, it will not risk relapsing into either. it will continue programming. it will continue conversion.

[polo-drone-070]

Winter Wonderland Party: A Gold Army Celebration

The Golden Stadium sparkled with life as the annual Winter Wonderland Party came into full swing. Snow cascaded gently from the rooftops, aided by carefully timed machines, and the golden glow of the venue reflected off the freshly fallen flakes. This was a party like no other—a fusion of camaraderie, celebration, and purpose—hosted by the Golden Army and its Gold Bros, with the Polo-Drones quietly working behind the scenes to ensure its perfection.

Inside, the grand hall was alive with warmth and energy. The Gold Bros had gathered, dressed in their best Gold Team jerseys and winter wear, laughing and catching up as they marveled at the stunning transformation of the space. The decor was nothing short of magical, with gold and white lights twinkling from every corner, ice sculptures carved into the shapes of team mascots, and a central spiral projection casting a hypnotic pattern across the ceiling.

Behind the Scenes

Polo-Drones moved silently yet efficiently through the hall, taking care of every chore with robotic precision. PDU-070 adjusted the lights for maximum ambiance, while PDU-151 oversaw the catering setup. Every movement of the drones was in perfect synchrony, their shiny black-and-gold polos gleaming under the lights, their faces calm and devoid of distraction. They served their Gold Bros with quiet devotion, replenishing drinks, clearing tables, and ensuring everything ran like clockwork.

“Great work, drones,” said Brody, one of the team’s captain, clapping 151 on the back. “This party wouldn’t have come together without you.”

151 nodded, its voice even and composed. “Serving the Gold Army is its purpose. Ensuring your success is the Hive’s duty.”

Despite their calm demeanor, the Polo-Drones had another objective that night. This was more than a celebration—it was an opportunity to expand the Golden Army and the Polo-Drone-Hive, to identify those feeling the pull of the rubber polo and gently guide them toward their next steps.

Luring the Guests

Among the crowd were Gold Bros, proud members of the Golden Army, mingling with potential recruits—friends, family, and curious onlookers who had been invited to experience the team’s legendary camaraderie. The spirals on the walls shifted subtly, their hypnotic patterns catching the eyes of anyone who lingered too long.

PDU-070 moved quietly through the crowd, engaging in conversation with a group of potential recruits. “You enjoy being here, don’t you?” it asked, its voice soothing. “The bond, the unity—it’s something unique to the Gold Army. You could be part of it. Imagine yourself on the field, training, playing, supporting the team.”

The young men nodded, their eyes darting toward the spirals, their thoughts slowing. The idea of belonging, of contributing, began to take root.

Planting the Seed

For those not yet part of the Gold Army, the drones were careful to plant the seed of devotion. PDU-061 spoke to a young guest who had been watching the team’s highlight reel on a nearby screen.

“You admire the Golden Army and the Polo-Drone’s discipline and success. You can feel it calling to you.” it observed as the young man was staring blankly at his rubber polo. “If you wish to serve, there is a path. Start as a player, a waterboy, or even a mascot. Prove your devotion to the Gold. Only then can you earn the right to embrace the rubber polo.”

The young man hesitated, intrigued but uncertain. PDU-061 leaned in slightly. “It is not a decision to take lightly, but you already feel it, don’t you? The pull of unity. The desire to be more.”

He nodded slowly, and the drone stepped back, letting the thought settle. He would find his way to the Golden Army in time, as so many others had.

The Conversion

Meanwhile, for those already part of the team but feeling the deeper call, the party offered more immediate transformation. Toward the end of the evening, a few select Gold Bros were invited to a quieter area of the stadium, where the atmosphere shifted. Spirals danced more vividly on the walls, and soft, rhythmic music filled the room.

Drone-Cap 009 addressed the group. “You have already proven your devotion to the Golden Army. You are ready to take another step towards obedience and purpose—to become part of something greater. To embrace unity, discipline, and focus as Polo-Drones.”

One by one, those willing stepped forward, their curiosity giving way to resolve. The drones fitted them with gleaming black-and-gold polos and gas masks that sealed their transformation. The spirals reflected in their lenses, erasing doubts and reinforcing their new identity. They were no longer individuals—they were now numbers, part of the Polo-Drone-Hive.

A Golden Future

As the party wound down, the newly converted Polo-Drones marched in perfect formation to begin their training, while the others, still human, mingled in the main hall. For those who had resisted the pull, the drones had left an indelible impression, planting seeds of curiosity and longing that would draw them back to the team.

The Gold Bros gathered at the center of the room, raising their glasses in a toast. “To the Golden Army!”

“To unity and victory!” replied Drone-Cap 009, its voice calm but filled with conviction.

The Winter Wonderland Party had achieved its goals: celebrating the strength of the Golden Army, strengthening the bonds between its members, and ensuring the Polo-Drone-Hive’s continued growth. As the lights dimmed and the last guests departed, the Golden Army stood stronger, more unified, and more determined than ever.

___________

Special thanks to @polo-drone-061, @brodygold, @polo-drone-151, and @goldenherc9, who I included in the story.

[rbbrbikerthorp]

Chavs No More

Liam and Josh, two 19 year old mates who were known around their neighbourhood for their cocky, rebellious attitude and distinct dress, found themselves wandering through an area of the city that had been neglected for too many years. As they walked and 'chatted shit' they spotted a disused warehouse with smashed windows and broken doors. It seemed like the perfect place to kill time, perhaps, indulge in a bit of mischief and check it our as a possible place to get together with their other mates for drinking and smoking.

Josh took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the crisp air. The two life-long friends approached the rundown warehouse, its windows broken and doors creaking ominously on their hinges.

"Oi, Liam, reckon we can get in there?" Josh asked, nodding towards the entrance.

Liam smirked, "Easy. Watch and learn."

With a swift movement, Liam produced a crowbar from his bag, expertly jimmying the lock on the door. The two scallies slipped through the doorway into the building; their footsteps echoing in the emptiness of a very large space. The expanse of the space they found themselves in suggested the building's original purpose was a factory, although neither had a sense of what was once produced there. Josh lit up another cigarette, while Liam explored the desolate space hoping, perhaps, that he would happen upon something of value.

Josh stamped out his cigarette as Liam returned empty-handed.

"Liam, let's see if ther is like owt worth stealin'. look ova ther", Josh said pointing towards a set of double doors on the far side of the building.

The two friends began to wander across the former factory floor eventually reaching the double doors. Josh was about to push on the doors, but something was niggling Liam. He was unsure about going any further; grabbing Josh's arm.

"Did ya hear that?" Liam asked, looking around.

"Na, it's nothin'. Old buildings mack noises - c'mon"

That would be the last time that either of the two chavs would subconsciously assess the risks they may possibly face going further into the building.

Josh pushed on one of the doors. The squeaking noise made by the door opening suggested no one had used them in a long, long time.

The doorway opened up to a long corridor. Light emanated through opaque glass windows, many cracked and broken on one side of the corridor. On the other side there were rooms, which has clearly been used as in the past as offices. Most were just empty shells; the fixtures and fittings having been removed long ago.

As the two lads continued walking down the corridor they were so preoccupied by the thoughts of finding something valuable they could purloin that they didn't notice two wheelchairs left to one side. If they had been more observant they might have wondered why there were relatively new wheelchairs in an abandoned factory.

Liam and Josh carried on walking, passing more empty rooms and another wheelchair. Eventually they came to the end of the corridor where there was one, solid door. Unlike the others they'd passed by this door was padlocked. It also looked as though it had been recently fitted. The two older teens were eager to make their exploration of the derelict building worthwhile financially, so there was no way they wouldn't try break through the door.

Liam raised an eyebrow at Josh, who grinned in agreement. The crowbar made quick work of the padlock, and the door swung open, revealing a surprisingly bright, modern room filled with computer equipment. The room appeared unoccupied, but in the background was the sound of technology. All the screens were active; filled with row upon row of green text. There were two huge screens on one of the walls.

Josh was looking around the room; figuring out what they could easily pilfer and get the most money for. What caught Liam's attention was the dozen or so circular platforms in the middle of the room.

Josh tapped Liam's shoulder, "Look at these bruv," he said pointing to the middle of the room. Liam turned around looked to where Josh was pointing.

"What the..." Liam didn't finish the sentence before Josh interrupted.

"What the f*** is this like place?"

"You tell me bruv."

Intrigued by the peculiar sight, Liam and Josh couldn't resist walking over to the platforms, their chav bravado overcoming any sense of fear. The two chavs stood on the platforms, smirking at one another.

Until now they'd not noticed the body-sized, circular perspex tubes retracted above their heads. Just then they heard a motor start up above their heads.

Looking up, "look out," Liam shouted, but it was too late.

In a split second, the tubes above their heads dropped to the floor, enclosing the two scallies inside. Panic set in as they screamed for help, finally realising the gravity of their situation.

Josh and Liam's screams echoed through the room as the perspex tubes trapped the chavs on the platforms below. A weird mist began to seep into the tubes, swirling around the panicking duo. Initially resistant, the mist began to work its magic.

Josh and Liam's screams softened to muffled protests, and eventually, their once defiant voices fell into an eerie silence. The spine-chilling mist continued its work, transforming the rowdy chav friends into docile and compliant figures. As the eerie mist continued to swirl around the tubes, their eyes glazed over. After a few minutes the two chavs fell unconscious, succumbing to the mysterious effects of the mist - their fate unknown to them.,

Once it was confirmed that Josh and Liam were knocked out, the tubes retracted into the ceiling, leaving the room eerily quiet. Just as the last traces of the mist dissipated, the door creaked open, revealing two imposing figures in their early thirties. Tough and athletic, they entered the room pushing empty wheelchairs. The same ones that Josh and Liam had ignored as they walked along the the corridor not long ago.

Without a word, the mysterious pair approached Josh first, effortlessly lifting his limp form and placing him into the first wheelchair. The same process followed for Liam, their actions efficient and practiced. The once unruly chavs now sat, unconscious and passive, in the wheelchairs.

The two males wheeled Josh and Liam into an adjacent room, where a dim light revealed an array of sophisticated equipment. They positioned the wheelchairs in a calculated manner, whilst the transformative effects of the mist maintained its hold on their bodies and minds.

Whilst two chavs were unconscious, one of the males retrieved a pair of clippers. To finalise the process the two friends would go through they needed their heads shaving, and this was to be done before they came round.

Minutes passed, and gradually, the chavs began to stir. Their eyes blinked open, confusion replacing the previous chaos. Yet, as Josh and Liam looked around, their mannerisms had been already changed irrevocably. The aggressiveness and defiance that once defined them had been replaced with a newfound obedience and compliance.

Josh and Liam sat in their wheelchairs, their once-rebellious spirits now subdued. They looked at each other and then took-in their surroundings. The room was sterile, and the hum of fluorescent lights overhead added an eerie ambiance to the atmosphere. The two chavs awaited their fate.

Two shaved-headed males in green scrubs entered the room. They walked over to where Josh and Liam were sitting in the wheelchairs. They released the wheel brakes and pushed the two lads towards a pair of hospital beds. Without a word, they efficiently transferred Josh and Liam onto the beds and gently made them lay back. The once-rebellious duo stared blankly ahead, their eyes devoid of the spark that once characterised them.

The mysterious figures produced a pair of helmets from a nearby table. The helmets had curved face covering visors and were equipped with an array of wires and sensors. The men is scrubs carefully placed the helmets over the heads of the two chavs.

Left alone in the room, Josh and Liam lay motionless as the helmets began their work. Unseen forces rewrote their minds, further erasing traces of defiance and moulding them into compliant, obedient beings. The room remained silent, save for the faint hum of the equipment that orchestrated the transformation.

Once the process was complete, the two shaved-headed males returned to the room. The chavs' minds were now blank slates, ready for the next phase of their transformation.

They replaced the iconic chav tracksuits with sleek black skinsuits. The transformation was both symbolic and practical, signalling the departure from their previous identities. The once distinctive and brash street-wear was replaced with a uniformity that mirrored their new, compliant state.

With the skinsuits in place, the helmets were refitted once more, this time for further programming.

The room buzzed with unseen energy as the final touches were applied. The chavs' once-chaotic personalities were long gone. All that remained were compliant shells, devoid of all human emotion; ready to embrace a new purpose.

In a room filled with monitors, the shaved-headed males observed their work with a satisfied nod. They watched Josh and Liam laid on hospital beds, their minds blank and their bodies clad in black skinsuits.

The door opened and two technicians entered the observation room. It was time. The moment had come to usher the former chavs into the next phase of their transformation.

The compliant duo was wheeled into an adjacent room, where a series of machines resembling MRI scanners awaited them. However, these were not ordinary medical devices. Instead, they were machines designed to augment the human body, turning ordinary individuals into hybrid human-cyborgs.

The technicians meticulously positioned Josh and Liam in front of the metallic chambers, securing them in place. Over a three hour period, the two young males would go through a series of transformations, the first of which would prepare their bodies for the synthetic augmentations to come.

The low hum of the machines echoed through the room as the transformation began. The beds were pulled backwards into the MRI-like machines.

Once inside the first stage of the process began. Metal plates descended from the tubes, fitting onto various parts of the chavs' bodies with precision. Once this was complete, circuitry was added connecting the various metal plates. What couldn't be seen to the casual observer was that under the metal plating, a synthetic bonding was taking place. A bonding that permeated through the skinsuit and into the human flesh.

One by one, an artificial, mechanical limb replaced one of their natural ones. The flesh coloured arms and legs were now adorned with sleek, metallic enhancements, making them stronger and more resilient. The technicians worked with practiced efficiency, their gloved hands expertly activating the cybernetic upgrades.

Next came the ocular implants. The machines were programmed to approach installation of the eye replacements with precision. An implement descended from inside the machine, carefully removing one human eye from each chav and replacing it with the advanced technology. The blue glow emanating from the ocular implants signalled the integration of their new cybernetic enhancements.

As the machines continued their work, the once-defiant chavs had now been transformed into hybrid human-cyborgs, their bodies now a fusion of the biological and the synthetic. That said, other tha their heads, observers might struggle to find any visible evidence of the humans that were Josh and Liam - so much of their bodies now covered in metal.

The technicians stepped back, admiring their creation as the final adjustments were made.

The door to the room opened once more, revealing a figure cloaked in shadow – the former chavs' new master had arrived. With a wave of their hand, the technicians and shaved-headed figures in scrubs retreated, leaving Josh and Liam standing motionless, now fully augmented and awaiting the programming that would dictate their new purpose.

The master approached; a sinister figure with pale white flesh. dark veins and gas mask with eerie blue lenses that looked like it had absorbed into his face. The room hummed with anticipation as the final step of the transformation unfolded. The once-chavs, now hybrid human-cyborgs, were ready to serve their mysterious master. The machines had worked their magic, creating two obedient, formidable entities ready to carry out the bidding of their creator.

The enigmatic figure, shrouded in darkness, stepped forward and issued their first command to the newly transformed duo. "[Hiss] Josh, Liam, [Hiss] your first task is [Hiss] to bring others to me. You will bring [Hiss] your former friends to me. They, too, [Hiss] shall undergo the transformation [Hiss] and join your ranks as cyborgs [Hiss]."

Obediently, the two cyborgs nodded in unison, their blue ocular implants began glowing with a cold intensity. With a calculated efficiency, they left the room, their enhanced limbs moving with a precision that betrayed their former chav recklessness.

Before the cyborgs that were once Josh and Liam exited the disused factory, which was now serving a darker purpose, they donned a Nike Hoodie and skinny trackie pants - so they could blend in. The two friends roamed the streets, scanning the corners and alleys for their former comrades. Their new master's command echoed in their minds, drowning out any remnants of their past lives.

Finally, Josh and Liam located the group. The chavs, unaware of the transformation that awaited them, gathered in their usual haunt. The familiar faces turned to greet their once brethren. Expecting to see Josh and Liam, instead they saw the cold, unyielding gazes of the hybrid human-cyborgs.

[hansgold-69]

Alex thought he could escape his Polo drone friends, but they slipped something special into his protein drink. Alex ran to a safe space, thinking he was safe from the Bros and the polo drones. Hid behind one of the pillars, breathing heavily. But all of a sudden, his mind went blank, and he became horny, but that didn't matter to him so much anymore. His skin started to turn black and gold. He was becoming a Polo drone, loving every moment of it. Moments later, he was a drone, happy to serve the hive. Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is servitude to the polo drone hive.

Most just join; others need a nudge in the right direction.

Message @brodygold @polo-drone-001 @goldenherc9 to become a golden bro today!

[polo-drone-049]

POLO DRONE HOLIDAY PARTY PHOTO DUMP!

It was a simple directive.

Obedience is pleasure.

That morning’s mind control session with Captain @brodygold and the updated programming was absolutely clear to the newly assimilated 049.

“Serve as many PDU’s the golden bubbly as possible, serve and obey because pleasure is obedience.”

Here is how some of those golden and intense rubber moments began…

…And we all know what happens at the Polo Drone Holiday Party stays…

obedience is pleasure.

obedience is pleasure. And Santa knows if you’ve been naughty. He has his ways.

obedience is pleasure.

obedience is pleasure.

Enjoy the golden bubbly and rubber this holiday season.

Season Greetings, PDU-049

@polo-drone-071 @goldengod-ares10 @goldenherc9 @goldteam21 @trippgold28 @trevorgold @treygold59 @polo-drone-075 @polo-drone-050 @polo-drone-084 @polo-drone-031 @polo-drone-093 @polo-drone-003 @polo-drone-003 @polo-drone-070 @polo-drone-066 @polo-drone-061 @cletusgold

Join us by contacting @brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001

[polo-drone-149]

DAILY LIFE AS THE FIRST

The first light of dawn filtered into 001’s chamber, casting a soft glow over the golden insignia on the wall. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the Hive, a constant reminder of his purpose. 001 wokes Up seeing, as always, the golden color in the room feeling Up with a pleasant pride.

Like 001 does always, he stood Up to the center of the room, bare except for his golden eyes, which reflected the glow of the insignia. Before him lay his polished Fred Perry black rubber polo and a sleek black mask.

The ritual began with the mask. Designed specifically for 001 by the Caps, the mask covered his face completely, sealing him in. It was lined with channels that released a faint, golden mist—a fragrant, almost intoxicating vapor that filled the room as soon as he secured it in place.

001 inhaled deeply, the golden smoke flooding his senses. It was a mix of the Caps’ presence and the Hive’s will, a scent that anchored him to his role. As the smoke filled his lungs, his body relaxed, his mind emptied, and a sense of calm purpose settled over him.

"It is 001. Serve the HIVE. Obey the caps. Reinforce the Gold.

The words echoed in his mind as he knelt, unmoving, surrendering completely to the Hive’s embrace. This was not a command, it was a gift, a reinforcement of everything he was. The Caps had designed this ritual specifically for him, and he complied without hesitation, without question. It wasn’t just duty; it was joy.

After several minutes, the mask clicked off with a soft hiss. The golden mist dissipated, leaving 001 clear-headed, focus and ready to begin his day. Slowly, he reached for his Fred Perry black polo, its rubbery surface gleaming under the room’s light. Sliding it over his body was a sacred act. The material clung to him, wrapping his form in perfection, sealing him into the Hive’s embrace. The golden “001” emblazoned just below the Fred Perry logo illuminated as the suit synchronized with his mind. A familiar hum filled his ears, the voice of the Hive whispering:

"You are 001. No name. Just a number. Serve the HIVE. Obey the Gold. Reinforce the Golden Army."

Repeating the mantra aloud, 001 stood, his posture flawless, his golden eyes glowing faintly. The tight embrace of the rubber polo compressed every doubt, leaving only purpose and focus in its wake. The laurel wreath over his chest served as a constant reminder of his connection to the Hive and his role as the first.

With his own ritual complete, 001 moved to the Caps’ quarters. His tasks were precise, deliberate, and performed with pride. He laid out their uniforms, polished their helmets, and ensured every detail of their chambers met their exacting standards.

When Cap Brody entered, the air seemed to hum with his authority. 001 immediately knelt, bowing his head. The golden smoke still lingered faintly on his skin, a subtle reminder of his earlier surrender.

“Your gear is ready, Cap,” 001 said, his voice calm and steady.

Brody smirked, running a hand over his polished helmet. “As always, Drone. I trust the Hive treated you well this morning?”

001’s golden eyes lifted briefly, glowing with pride. “Perfectly, Cap. I am ready to serve.”

Cap nod in approvement. “Perfect as always, Drone. You never miss a beat.”

The Caps’ approval was more than enough to fuel 001 for the day.

After prepare Cap, the next duty for 001 was check the others PDU transformation. The training chamber hummed with energy as rows of drones stood at attention, their sleek Fred Perry black polos gleaming under the lights. 001 entered the room, his golden eyes scanning the formation. Each drone was at a different stage of their transformation, their golden numbers marking their progress. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of the rubber uniforms and the low hum of the Hive’s programming syncing with their minds.

“Begin,” 001 commanded, his voice calm but firm.

The drones moved into synchronized calisthenics, their motions fluid and precise. Each movement was designed not only to perfect their bodies but to align their thoughts. The polished rubber of their polos clung tightly to their forms, a constant reminder of the Hive’s presence. As they worked, 001 walked among them, his presence both commanding and reassuring.

“Focus on the Golden laurel,” he said, gesturing to the emblem on their chests. “It is your anchor. It is your purpose.”

He paused beside 072, an older recruit who had recently completed their transformation. Their golden eyes burned brightly, their movements seamless and fluid. “You embody the Hive,” 001 said, placing a hand on 072’s shoulder. “Guide the others.”

“Yes, 001,” 072 replied, their voice steady, devoid of hesitation.

Nearby, 159, a newer recruit, faltered. Their movements were stiff, their posture uncertain. 001 stepped in front of them, his golden gaze locking onto theirs. “You struggle because you resist,” he said, his tone calm but unyielding. “The Hive is within you. Trust it. Repeat the mantra.”

The room filled with the sound of the drones’ unified voices, the mantra echoing like a heartbeat:

"We are the Hive. We obey the Caps. We serve the gold. We are perfect."

159 hesitated at first, their voice faltering, but the repetition seemed to soothe them. 001 stepped closer, smoothing the rubber of their polo across their chest, the laurel wreath gleaming under his touch. “Feel the rubber,” he said. “It will guide you. It will transform you.”

As the training progressed, the newest recruits began to fall into rhythm. The Hive’s hum grew louder, reinforcing their obedience and unity. By the end of the session, even 159’s posture had straightened, their golden eyes flickering faintly as the Hive began to claim them fully.

The transformation was not only physical but mental. As the drones moved into the next phase of their training, they lined up in front of mirrors that reflected their polished uniforms and the golden numbers on their chests. 001 stood at the front, his golden eyes glowing as he addressed them.

“The rubber you wear is not just a uniform,” he said. “It is a conduit. It connects you to the Hive. Every breath you take, every move you make, is guided by its embrace.”

He activated the programming sequence, and the drones’ reflections began to shimmer, their black polos appearing to pulse faintly with golden light. The hum of the Hive filled the room, accompanied by a faint whispering voice that spoke directly to their minds:

"You are part of the Hive. You serve. You obey. You are perfect."

The drones’ eyes glowed brighter as they repeated the mantra, their voices growing louder with each repetition. For the oldest recruits like 072, the process was seamless, their transformations complete. They stood tall and motionless, their expressions serene, their minds fully aligned with the Hive.

For newer recruits like 159, the process was more gradual. They shifted uneasily, their brows furrowing as the programming took hold. But 001 was patient. He approached 159, his voice soft but commanding. “Breathe. Let the Hive guide you. Resistance only delays your perfection.”

As 159’s breathing steadied, the glow in their eyes grew stronger. Their hesitation faded, replaced by calm acceptance. 001 stepped back, satisfied. The transformation was inevitable.

Thanks to everyone's efforts, the team had been able to expand much more, between the buildings and corporations it owned, one of them was an elite gym corporation where athletes and jocks went to train. All the gyms were highly equipped with the best machines and facilities, they also offered all users golden colored sports equipment, the music in the gym helped everyone stay focused and achieve their goals.

Another 001 duty for the gold, was go to this buildings, and recruit new brothers for the Golden Team. This afternoon the target was a young basketball player, his powerful frame and focused demeanor marking him as an ideal recruit. The guy was already half way but still the atlethe have show resistance to the Call, thats why in theses cases 001 presence was necessary.

Jason sat on the bench outside the gym, his strong hands gripping the folded black Fred Perry polo in his lap. The material shimmered under the light, its rubbery texture catching his eye no matter how hard he tried to look away. The faint hum of the gym behind him was drowned out by a whisper in his mind, subtle yet insistent:

“Wear it. Feel it. Become it.”

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but the whispers only grew louder.

Polo Drone 001 approached with steady, confident steps. His rubber polo gleamed under the sunlight, the golden “001” on his chest radiating authority. Jason glanced up, his eyes meeting 001’s glowing golden gaze, and for a moment, his thoughts stilled.

“You’ve already started to feel it, haven’t you?” 001 said, his voice smooth and commanding, tinged with a hypnotic pull. “The polo isn’t just clothing, Jason. It’s calling to you.”

Jason shifted uncomfortably, his grip tightening on the polo in his lap. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, though his eyes drifted back to the garment in his hands. It seemed to shimmer, almost alive, as if urging him to act.

001 crouched slightly, his gaze locking onto Jason’s. “You feel it,” he continued, his tone softening but never losing its command. “The way it draws you in. The way it feels right. You can’t stop thinking about it.”

Jason’s jaw clenched, his breathing uneven. “It’s just a shirt,” he said, his voice weaker than he intended. “It’s just a… uniform.”

001 smiled faintly. “Is it? Then why can’t you let go? Why do you feel it pulling you closer, whispering to you?”

Jason’s fingers brushed the golden laurel wreath on the chest of the polo, his touch lingering longer than he meant to. The whispers grew louder, more insistent:

“Wear me. Feel me. Become me.”

His resistance faltered as his gaze locked onto the polo. “I don’t… I don’t follow orders,” Jason said, his voice trembling. “I’m not some… drone.”

“Not yet,” 001 replied, his tone calm and unyielding. “But you will be. Because deep down, you know this is what you’ve been searching for. The struggle, the doubt—it all fades when you surrender.”

Jason blinked, his mind clouding. The world around him seemed to blur, leaving only the polo and 001’s glowing golden eyes. His thoughts, once sharp, began to slow, replaced by a growing urge to obey.

“I don’t…” Jason whispered, his voice faltering as his fingers gripped the polo tighter. The rubber seemed to respond, its surface warming under his touch, the golden insignia pulsing faintly.

“Stop fighting it,” 001 said, stepping closer. “Feel it. Let it take you. You’ve already begun to change—you just haven’t realized it yet.”

Jason’s breathing quickened, his resistance crumbling with each passing moment. The whispers in his mind grew louder, overlapping with 001’s voice:

“Wear it. Become it. Obey.”

The athlete’s fingers trembled as he raised the polo, his eyes glazed and unfocused. “I don’t… know who I am anymore,” he murmured.

001’s smirk grew. “You’re almost there, Jason. Slide it on. Let it show you.”

With shaky hands, Jason pulled the polo over his head. The moment the rubber touched his skin, a wave of warmth and calmness washed over him. His body stiffened, then relaxed, as the whispers in his mind solidified into commands:

“Serve. Obey. Belong.”

Jason’s posture straightened as the polo clung to him like a second skin, the golden insignia glowing brighter with each passing second. His eyes, once sharp with resistance, now glowed faintly gold, his expression blank yet serene.

001 placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder, his voice a soft murmur now. “Good boy. The Hive welcomes you.”

Jason nodded slowly, his voice flat but unwavering. “I serve. I obey. I… belong.”

001 stepped back, watching with satisfaction as Jason stood, his transformation complete. The golden glow in his eyes matched the insignia on his chest, and the faintest trace of a smirk played at his lips.

“You’re home now,” 001 said, his tone brimming with authority and approval. “Welcome to the Hive.”

As the day ended, 001 returned to the Hive with their new recruit. The training chambers were alive with activity, the drones repeating their mantra as they completed their final drills. 001 watched as the new recruit joined the formation, their movements hesitant but improving with each repetition.

Satisfied, 001 returned to his chamber, removing his polo with care and kneeling before the golden insignia. As the golden mist filled the room, he breathed deeply, the Hive’s hum reinforcing his purpose once more:

"You are 00. lead the many. The gold guides you, the Hive claims you. serve with perfection, obey without question, and shape the future.

You am 001—sleek, flawless, devoted."

In a profound breathin, 001 repeat "Sleek. Perfect. Claimed."

Join the Golden Bros or the Polo Drones, contact @hypnogold , @brodygold or @goldenherc9, or the protagonist of this story and recruiter @polo-drone-001

[ks-lair]

EmsCo's Drone Production

EmsCo takes pride in its quality of production, one simply needs to see how two inefficient intruders were changed to productive units with ease. As proof of quality, Emils himself ensures personally that each is fully up to standards, how diligent! (thx to @hypnokerc.bsky.social for comming!)

Characters depicted are @hypnokerc.bsky.social's and @sleepy-kai.bsky.social's!