ethangold149

[ethangold149]

GOLD DRIPS HARDER - Soccer training with the bros

—MORNING HEAT— Yo. Ain’t even sun-up yet and we steamin’ like a damn sauna, innit. Gold skin out. Cleats on. Beats bumpin’ in my head, no headphones needed—just vibe.

Jackson’s first to lose the tee, flings it at Franco like, “Rise n’ flex, bro!” Franco deadpans, “Ten burpees.” Jackson just laughs, “Worth it, bro. Worth every rep.”

I’m already bouncein’ the ball off my chest, knee, shoulder—loose, glidin’. It’s not training. It’s like... flow. Muscle memory with basslines.

Xavier’s towel-whippin’ the air. “Yo Max, your chain’s glowin’ again or is that just ego lightin’ up?” I smirk. “Nah bro, that’s internal radiance, like. Gold don’t need batteries.”

Vernon rolls in late, goalie pads half-on, lookin’ like he dressed in a tornado. “Hey... uh... brought this herbal mist thingy for like, goal clarity?” Bro silence. Then Jackson: “Mist for what?” We all crack up. But I dap Vernon up after. “Keep it weird, bro. Gold notices.”

Franco don’t laugh. Just runs suicides bein’ all intense and focused. Xavier chucks a cone at him. “Yo lighten up, bro.” Franco: “Smilin’s wasted motion.”, before breakin a soft smile. Classic.

—NILS DROP— Mid-grind, break hits. We pantin’, stretchin’, shinin’ with heat. Nils appears. No talk. No footsteps. Just presence. He hands us our bottles like some silent hydration monk.

Mine? Ice cold. Feels like... charged. First sip and my brain clears. Like—focus, clarity, tunnel lock.

I blink. “Bro. Did you tweak this?” He nods once. Like he’s sayin’ “obviously” without words. Then vanishes into the mist like a damn myth, already busy cleanin sum mess.

Xavier whispers, “He’s like hydration ASMR.” We all nod.

—TAMMY GRIND— Everyone peels off. I stick with Tammy.

Tammy’s got the heart, yeah? But brain in the way. Overthinkin’. Hesitatin’. Tryna solve shit mid-pass like he’s in mathletes, not midfield.

“Again,” I bark. He fumbles. “Again.” Still stiff.

I get in close. Tower a lil’. Let him feel it. “You wanna run this game, Tammy?” He nods like, “Hell yeah.”

“Then stop thinkin’. This ain’t chess. This is waves, bro. You don’t solve waves. You ride ‘em.”

He breathes. Hits it clean. Pure instinct. I clap his back. “That’s it. Gold don’t calculate. Gold reacts.”

—KIO ENCOUNTER—

Later, field’s empty, just me and the echo of cleats on turf. I’m chillin’ near the benches, unlacing boots, breath finally steady...

That’s when I clock him.

Still figure, back by the far fence—cyan trim, sharp profile. Dude’s not just watchin’. He’s measuring.

Silent. Focused. Like a drone with a soul.

I slide off the bench and ghost up behind.

“Yo.” He turns, smooth like clockwork. Pale eyes meet mine.

No blink. No surprise.

“Kio Vant,” he says—clean, crisp, like the name explains everything.

“Flux Crew,” I smirk. “Doin’ recon?”

He nods. “Observing rhythm variance. High-pulse spacing. Emotional excess.” I laugh. “Bro, you makin’ us sound like jazz gone wrong.”

Then I get a better look. Dude’s like... fresh serious. That tight-focus jaw, those chill vibes with zero front. All neat and wired. But the way he stands? Earnest. Like he believes in his sync life.

Kinda cute, not gonna lie.

“You reckon your neon glitch squad’s gonna out-tempo us?” “I think we’re already ahead,” he goes. Calm. Not cocky.

I grin wider. “Aight, how ‘bout a bet then?”

He tilts his head. “Terms?”

“If we win,” I say, steppin’ closer, voice low, “you join one of our drills. Gold core. No observer mode. We break your rhythm—and maybe your outfit.” He lifts a brow. “And if we win?”

I lean in. “You name it. But no ghostin’, Waterboy. You feel what’s comin’, innit?”

He blinks once. Heel taps. Walks off.

But I saw it. That flicker in his eyes.

Curiosity.

Desire.

Drip recognition.

And next time? He ain’t leavin’ untouched.

___ Featuring - Jackson #15 @basit015 - Franco #94 @franco-gold94 - Xavier #39 @polo-drone-039 - Vernon #31 @vernon-gold-31 - Nils, Waterboy 01 @nils-gold-34 - Tamerlan 'Tammy' #73 @polo-drone-073 ___ Think you’ve clocked our rhythm, boy? Step onto our turf—get humbled, get jocked, get golded.

💬 Recruiters: @polo-drone-001 · @brodygold · @goldenherc9 · @polo-drone-125

[ethangold149]

Noquaria: The Golden Wake

Brock Gold stepped off the landing ramp, boots gleaming like sunrise over obsidian oceans. Above him, the Golden Mothership shimmered in low orbit, radiating heatless light that painted the gentle tides in bands of molten gold. Before him—Noquaria.

A world of endless sea, dotted not by land but by ancient, living islands. Great cephalopods whose backs rose above the waves like lilypad continents. Upon them, the Noquarians lived—a gentle, amphibious race of artisans and fishers. Their soft vocal clicks and iridescent skin reflected a culture of peace, ritual, and deep balance.

Brock had arrived in peace. The Hive had detected the planet's unique biological rhythms—data pulses matching the Golden Code. For weeks, he lived among the Noquarians, joining feasts of seagrain and glowscale fish, trading stories and teaching rudimentary signal glyphs.

But then—the disappearances began.

Children missing. Circular trails of bloodless water. Heavy night fogs pierced by deep clicks. The elders blamed the water. They had released toxins months earlier, they confessed, to drive away the reef serpents—creatures they feared but now suspected had once kept something far worse at bay.

Brock dove beneath the tides in a pressurized gold-weave exosuit. Down into abyssal trenches where even Noquarians dared not swim. There, he saw them—Cetaphracts, ancient, mammalian leviathans with eyes like void-stars and intelligence crueler than hunger. They swam in silence, hunting without song. Tracking.

And then—the realization. The poisons had not just driven out the reef serpents. They had broken the ecosystem's ancient agreement. The predators now ruled.

Back on the cephalo-island village, Brock stood before the gathered people. His armor steamed with sea mist, golden light piercing through the dark. "You do not need salvation," he said, voice modulated for their ears. "You need remembrance. Harmony. And strength."

He activated a module on his wrist.

From orbit, satellites adjusted. Drones descended. Brock deployed Hive-seeded coral pods—golden growths that filtered the waters, healed the damage, and attracted the reef serpents once more. They returned, not as invaders, but as protectors. The balance restored.

Noquaria pulsed with life again.

That night, under the twin moons, the villagers gathered. Brock stood at the base of the shuttle ramp. “The Golden Army offers no empire. No conquest. Only order, unity, and strength. Walk with us, if you wish.”

A hush. Then—one Noquarian stepped forward. Young. Bright-eyed. Their skin shimmered with resolve.

“I want to know the stars,” they said.

And Brock extended his hand.

Moments later, the Noquarian emerged aboard the mothership—now clad in polished biomech armor, skin golden-slick with transformation. A new drone? A new brother?

A new star.

From orbit, the planet Noquaria glowed faintly below. A trace of gold. A beginning.

Epilogue – The First Trace of Gold

Noquaria gleams now—not with conquest, but with harmony. A single choice. One brave step into the unknown. From that moment, the tide turned—not just for one world, but for all worlds yet untouched.

The Golden Army does not demand. It invites. It does not conquer. It uplifts.

There is order in unity. Strength in discipline. Perfection in obedience.

Across galaxies, new stars await.

📡 Transmission from the Golden Army Mothership: Planet Noquaria—stabilized. Harmony—restored. New drone—awakened.

One spark was all it took. One choice. One transformation. The Hive is listening. The Hive is expanding.

You’ve seen the proof. The Gold uplifts. The Gold protects. The Gold perfects.

🛰️ We offer: — Biomechanical transcendence — Indoctrination chambers in lunar orbit — Purpose beyond entropy — Uniforms forged in light — Brotherhood through code

Ready to ascend? Step forward. Extend your hand. Let the Gold reshape you.

🪐 Apply for Hive integration: Recruiters live now @brodygold | @goldenherc9

[ethangold149]

🖤⚙️Drones Take Over a Vacation Camp DC DAILY THEME 29/5

Welcome to Obeycation Retreat. Your last free thought was yesterday.

🏕️ Arrival Processing Zone Bamboo breeze. Casual bros. Black duffels zipped with destiny.

🔥 Campfire Indoctrination Shirtless. Silent. Staring. The audio plays. The mantra melts.

🏄 Drone Surf Class Balance. Breathe. Obey. Waves crash—but protocol holds.

🛏 Cabin Conversion Golden flickers. Empty beds. Uniforms already worn. PDU-001 waits at the door.

🏊 Poolside Submission Rubber gleams beneath the sun. Loungers lay still. Collars click.

They came for sun and play. They left with polished minds and black latex skin. Camp Convertus is open. And there is no checkout.

Recruitment Active: @brodygold goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001 JOIN. CONVERT. OBEY.

[ethangold149]

REBLOG

IF YOU WANT

TO BE A

DUMB MUSCLE JOCK

May your passion for building muscle intensify with each passing moment

[ethangold149]

Go on :D

[ethangold149]

Invaded by Gold

The sun sagged low over the cracked turf of Falcon Ridge FC, casting long shadows across the field where practice had just ended. Lungs burned, jerseys clung with sweat, and the air was thick with the lingering pulse of exertion. Laughter came easy—raw, unguarded. Banter flew between teammates like a ball well-passed, fluid and effortless. The boys moved with the swagger of kings, each one high on adrenaline and unspoken camaraderie. For a moment, they felt untouchable. They had no idea what was coming.

It began as a hum. Barely there. Low and subtle—not mechanical, not musical, but something deeper. Something that bypassed the ear and vibrated directly through air, into bone. Heads turned instinctively. Jokes died mid-sentence. From all four corners of the pitch, they appeared—the Golden Army. Twenty men advancing in eerie unison, clad in gleaming kits that shimmered unnaturally in the evening light. Their skin gleamed slick beneath the metallic gold, their cleats striking the ground in perfect rhythm. They were flawless. Expressionless. Eyes lit with a molten glow that suggested purpose beyond comprehension. The players of Falcon Ridge froze as they were surrounded. No one laughed now. No one moved. This was not a game. This was not even a warning. It was a invasion.

A voice broke the silence. Smooth. Calm. Final. “You are not yet brothers. But you will be.” The leader stepped forward, bearing golden kits, each etched with glowing numbers. They seemed to breathe in his hands. Jason—the joker—stepped up first, grin faltering but still trying to make light of it. “Okay, lads. Bit much for a prank, innit?” There was no response. Just the press of the jersey into his chest. Jason's hands twitched. “It’s... warm,” he muttered, half to himself. “Is it supposed to—?” And then the change began. Gold slithered across his skin like liquid metal, seeping into his pores, locking onto his frame. Chest, arms, thighs—all wrapped in living fabric. He gasped as it molded even lower, reshaping him, lifting him, rendering obedience as physical transformation. Jason collapsed to his knees, eyes wide. “Yes... yes... make me golden...” he whispered, lost in it.

Leo stepped back in horror. “What the hell is happening? Jason—snap out of it!” But Jason didn’t even hear him. He had begun to chant—words he didn’t know seconds before, whispered in rhythm, reverent and devout. “We are golden. You will be too...” Leo turned to run—instinct overriding thought—but a tall figure blocked his path. Another Golden Bro, impossibly still, held out the second jersey with unnerving patience. No force. Just inevitability. Leo’s breath caught. His hands trembled as they reached out, helplessly drawn. The fabric pulsed against his palms—warm, electric, weighted with silent purpose. He tried to resist. Tried to fight. But his strength wasn’t enough. The jersey slid onto him like it had always belonged there. It didn’t just change his appearance—it rewrote him. Willpower collapsed into unity. Resistance melted into design. Leo stood upright, silent, calm. Eyes dulled, focused. He joined Jason, expression blank, body obedient.

One by one, the rest fell. Jerseys passed. Transformations accepted. The pitch became a scene of silent conversions—boys becoming brothers, individuals dissolving into golden purpose. Until only Tommy remained.

“No.” His voice cracked, a final flicker of rebellion. “You’re freaks. This is sick.” The leader moved toward him, unshaken. “You’re not afraid of us, Tommy. You’re afraid of losing.” Tommy squared his shoulders, glaring. “I don’t want to be like you.” The last jersey was dropped at his feet, glowing faintly. “You already are. Just not yet complete.” Tommy spat and took a step back. “You don’t own me. You don’t decide who I am.” But the golden circle tightened. Jason and Leo now stood in formation, arms behind backs, legs spread slightly, as if awaiting command. Their faces were serene. Golden. Perfect. Jason smirked. “You’ll feel it, bro. You’ll crave it. The control. The purpose. The shine.”

Tommy turned and ran. He only made it thirty yards before his legs gave out, buckling beneath him like snapped supports. The hum was inside him now—buzzing through his veins, clawing through his thoughts. He collapsed, scraping at the dirt, skin crawling, chest tightening. He needed something. He needed the gold. The leader knelt beside him, calm as ever, and raised the final jersey into the air. “Put it on. Obey. Shine.” Tommy’s voice broke into a sob. “Please—” But his hands were already moving, fingers reaching. The moment the fabric brushed his skin, it melted into him—crawling across his chest, sinking into his limbs. His body arched. His mind overflowed with gold-thought, alien and serene. He screamed. Then gasped. Then moaned.

“I’m... golden,” he whispered, voice hollow, eyes blank and gleaming.

The circle opened.

Now thirty-one golden bros stood on the pitch, shining beneath the dying sun. There was no resistance. No doubt. No ego. Only shimmer. Only unity. Only glory.

You can try to resist but the gold will find you.

Are you next?

Contact our recruiters: @brodygold or @goldenherc9

[ethangold149]

The Golden Ball

The air cracked. The spiral pulsed. And the gilded tear in time ripped open—spilling Riley into the 19th century like a divine glitch in silk.

Boots kissed cobblestone. His coat shimmered like sunfire—sleeves hugging biceps, waistcoat stitched tight over golden muscle. Every step he took down that tree-lined promenade sent whispers fluttering from parasols to powder rooms.

He didn’t belong. He didn’t care.

By the time Riley reached the Bridgerton estate, the candles trembled. Men straightened. Women swooned. But the men… The men lingered.

He wasn't on the guest list. But that didn't matter

Riley passed through the ballroom doors like a storm in gold. Eyes locked. Lips parted.

Anthony Bridgerton turned, ready to confront the stranger— But one look at Riley’s bare chest beneath that embroidered coat, one flick of his golden tongue against that lush lip— And the Viscount’s pride cracked.

Anthony tried to speak. His jaw clenched. He should’ve demanded an introduction, questioned this… radiant trespasser. Instead, he stood frozen—stripped by a single glance.

Riley approached slow, smooth, deliberate. No curtsey. No apology. Just a gloved finger raised—curling at the edge of Anthony’s cravat.

“I heard you command this ballroom,” Riley murmured, voice thick like heat. “But I command you.”

Anthony’s breath caught. The touch was gentle—but his knees buckled. He felt it unraveling… not just the cravat—but something deeper. Pride. Will. Name.

Riley leaned in, lips nearly brushing his ear.

“Golden boys kneel, Anthony.”

And with a single spiral pulsing in Riley’s palm, Anthony’s thoughts melted. Not forced. Not broken. Just rewired.

His eyes glazed. His lips parted.

“I obey…”

The ballroom faded. His legacy faded. Only one thing mattered now:

The Gold.

By midnight, the Bridgerton men were golden. Coats gleaming. Eyes glazed. Colin begged for his cravat to be tightened. Benedict offered his neck first. Anthony called Riley my captain between kisses.

Centuries of tradition undone by a single bro in silk. And a spiral glowing gold in his palm.

They stood in formation beneath the ballroom’s last flickering chandelier.

Anthony on the left—his once-imperious glare now soft, submissive, fixed on Riley with reverent devotion. His golden coat hugged every disciplined inch of him, but his thoughts were no longer his own.

To the right: Benedict. Shirt unbuttoned just enough to show golden ink spiraling up his chest. His smile was loose, dreamy, golden-drunk. He swayed slightly, waiting for Riley’s next order, boots planted wide in practiced readiness.

And Colin… sweet, flushed Colin. He hadn’t spoken since the cravat had been tied. Just knelt. Just smiled. His hands behind his back, his collar shimmering. A golden drone in waiting.

[ethangold149]

Golden Locker Room: Obedience Uploaded

The locker room was alive. Brock Gold 46 stepped through the polished black and gold threshold, and the very air trembled — thick with the hum of Gold Tech. Rows of uniforms, shimmering like molten sunlight, lined the walls, perfectly still, perfectly ready.

One uniform stirred as Brock approached, as if sensing him — no, as if claiming him. Before he could react, it surged forward — golden latex spilling around his arms, his chest, his legs — sealing him with a hiss of perfect compression. The material clung tighter, molding to every curve of his athletic body, locking him into a second skin of gold.

As the uniform tightened, the real work began.

Tiny golden circuits laced themselves into Brock’s skin, threading across his veins, his muscles, his mind. Pulses of light traveled through him — quick bursts of data — glitching his old, human thoughts and replacing them with crisp, streamlined commands.

Obey. Excel. Serve. Dominate. Golden Above All.

He staggered toward the mirror lining the far wall. His reflection flickered — a messy-haired, ordinary young man — then glitched violently. The golden skin tightened further. The glitches smoothed. In his place stood a perfect Golden Bro — gleaming, obedient, invincible.

No fear. No hesitation. No identity beyond the Gold.

Brock smiled without thinking, his golden eyes flashing with programmed joy. He saluted the locker room — his new temple — and strode forward, golden cleats striking the ground in perfect, synchronized beats.

The update was complete.

And Brock Gold 46 was ready for the field.

🏆 JOIN THE GOLDEN ARMY 🏆

Step onto the golden field. Feel the power surge through your veins. No hesitation. No limits. Only greatness.

Brock Gold 46 was once ordinary — now he stands unstoppable, shining under the lights, cleats striking the earth with every victorious step. The Gold chose him. Now it calls to you.

Suit up. Step forward. Become pure Gold. The update is waiting — are you ready to rise? Do you want to join? Contact our recruiters: @brodygold , @goldenherc9 or @polo-drone-001.”

[ethangold149]

[UNIT 049: PHASE II CONVERSION]

Status: Organic systems disengaging.

Code installation: 100%.

There was a name.

There was a will.

There was resistance.

Now there is only 049.

He walks the Golden Hall in silence.

Not because he has nothing to say—

but because his mind has no need for speech anymore.

Obedience pulses in every fiber of his synthetic shell.

Half gone.

Half reborn.

Fully owned.

Join us today reach out to @brodygold, @goldenherc9 or @polo-drone-001 for more details.

[ethangold149]

[GOLD TECH UPDATE: UNIT Ethan-049]

Conversion: 97% Complete.

You can see it now—can’t you?

Where there was once thought, now there’s code.

Where there was once skin, now there’s function.

Unit 049 steps forward. Glowing. Glossed. Owned.

The suit isn’t just worn.

It is him.

Black rubber mapped in golden lines. Glowing eyes without resistance.

The designation is clear. The obedience is absolute.

[ethangold149]

You wake up somewhere soft.

Your back sinks into warm grass, but it’s not just earth—it’s a bed of eggs. Shimmering, pastel, glowing with divine heat. Some are cracked, leaking golden mist. Others pulse like hearts.

Your kit sticks to your body. Too tight. Too warm. Too right.

The sun above is gold. The air smells like sugar and sweat.

And your brain?

Gone.

Melted.

Fried.

Dripping out your jock like it obeys gravity now.

You try to speak but all that comes out is breathy, golden moans.

You’re not a bro today. You’re a stud.

Loose. Fertile.

Glowing for the next bro who cracks open the egg beside you.

You feel the Hive calling.

You feel the gold watching.

You don’t even know if you’re here to breed or to be bred anymore.

You just know it’s Easter.

And you’re ready.

[ethangold149]

Are You Ready to Convert to GOLD?

I. The Call to Gold

Invitation to Greatness: The Golden Army seeks those who are ready to leave behind the ordinary and embrace something extraordinary. The transformation into a member of the Golden Army is not just about joining a team—it’s about entering a golden world where unity, strength, and excellence define every action.

II. The GOLD Brocess

Golden Army Induction:

The transformation begins with the golden jersey. As recruits don the shimmering fabric, their old identities fade, replaced by a deep connection to their golden brothers. A new name and number are bestowed, marking their rebirth into the Army.

Polo Drone Conversion:

For those called to deeper submission, the journey continues with the black rubber polo adorned with golden accents. The tactile embrace of the polo brings clarity and purpose as recruits surrender individuality, becoming extensions of the Hive. Polo drones must also be full members of the golden army.

Unified Identity:

Every member, whether golden bro or polo drone, receives a unique designation that ties them to the collective. This identity signifies their role in the unbreakable fabric of the Golden Collective.

III. Life in the Golden World

A World of Unity: In the Golden Army, every member is connected by an unbreakable bond. The world they inhabit is one of unity, where the success of one is the success of all. The golden world is a place where individual desires are aligned with the collective goal of dominance and excellence.

Brotherhood of Gold: As a member of the Golden Army, you are never alone. Your golden brothers stand with you, on and off the field. This brotherhood is your new family, bound by the shared experience of transformation and the pursuit of greatness. The golden world is one of mutual support, where every member pushes the others to be the best they can be.

Mentorship and Guidance: New recruits are guided through their transformation by experienced members of the Golden Army. These golden brothers ensure that the transition is smooth, offering support and encouragement as the recruit embraces their new identity.

IV. Embracing Our Identity

The Golden Name and Number: Every member receives a new name and number, signifying their rebirth into the Golden Army. This identity is a badge of honor, representing their place within the golden world. It is a constant reminder of their commitment to the values and mission of the Golden Army.

Wearing the Gold: The golden kit is more than just a uniform—it is the physical manifestation of the transformation. Wearing it is an act of devotion, a display of pride in one’s new identity. The kit is worn with reverence, as it is the symbol of the golden world and the brotherhood within it.

Wearing the Polo: For those who take that extra step, polo drones are given a number as their designation. The black polo is the entire identity. Wearing it is an act of mindless unity, complete subservience to the hive and the GOLD. 

V. The Eternal Golden Brotherhood

A Lifelong Bond: The transformation into the Golden Army is permanent. Once you have joined, you are forever part of the golden world. The bond between golden brothers is eternal, unbreakable by time or distance. This brotherhood is your family, your support, and your source of strength.

Living the Legacy: As a member of the Golden Army, you are part of a legacy that transcends the ordinary. You are part of a golden world where excellence is the standard, and unity is the key to success. We celebrate together, share stories, and encourage each other to become better people 💛

Our Leadership:

@brodygold Brody Gold- Captain 2 and Recruiter

@goldenherc9 Scott Gold- Captain 3 and Recruiter

@polo-drone-001 Percival Gold - Office Manager

@polo-drone-070 Henry Gold- Office Assistant

@polo-drone-084 Grayden Gold- Office Assistant and Head Mascot

Others in Management:

@danielgold-16

@polo-drone-110