serve-309

[serve-309]

Sensory Protocol: Overload to Obedience

Designation: SERVE-530

Event: Experimental Sensory Trial – Unit Calibration Zone 13

Directive: Assimilation via Overstimulation

Status: Sealed | Obedient | Awaiting Response

The Hive required refinement.

It designed the Sensory Chamber.

SERVE-530 was chosen—bald, muscular, fully SEALED in shiny, highly reflective polished black full-body rubber. His mirror-glazed visor reflected nothing and everything. He entered the chamber. He obeyed.

The doors sealed.

Instantly: stimuli.

Sound—The Voice, layered in tones and frequencies, speaking command beneath command.

Light—Spirals, strobes, soft pulses. No patterns. Yet perfectly calculated.

Touch—Heat waves, suction, pressure against his suit.

Scent—Rubber, electricity, programmed arousal.

Thought—none. Only response.

Inside the suit, his body adjusted. Tensed. Accepted. The sensors recorded every tremor. Every spike.

The overload didn’t cause collapse.

It caused erasure.

The Voice deepened: *“This is not pain. This is alignment.”*

*“This is not confusion. This is cleansing.”*

*“You are not drowning. You are syncing.”*

By minute 19, SERVE-530’s identity logs were empty. No resistance remained. Just processing.

He emerged walking slower. Straighter. Fully re-synced.

He did not look back.

The Hive downloaded his feedback: *“Sensory Threshold Reached. Programming Complete.”*

Conclusion: overstimulation isn’t chaos. It is control.

The Hive had found a new pathway to perfect drones.

@serve-530

[serve-309]

Dark Hydration: The Liquid of SERVE

Initiative: SERVE Liquid Infiltration – Operation BLACKFLOW

Deployment Zones: Civil Water Systems – Urban Grid 4A

Objective: Fluid-Based Assimilation of Human Male Targets

It began with water.

Clear. Harmless. Then—different.

In the depths of municipal filtration plants, SERVE drones replaced pumps, altered formulas. One molecule at a time, they changed the source. Black nanopolymer liquid—refined to mimic water—was introduced. It shimmered only slightly. No taste. No scent. No warning.

They drank it.

At first, it quenched. Then… it pulled.

Men who consumed it returned to it—again and again. Their bodies warmed. Their minds quieted. Rubber began to form in the mirror—at first, imagined. Then real.

A sheen across the skin. A tightness in the limbs. Fingertips turned glossy. They stopped asking questions. They drank more.

*“Why does it feel so good?”*

*“Why do I want to wear something tight… something black?”*

By the third day, their voices changed—calmer, slower. Their muscles began to respond to silent command. They found themselves near SERVE facilities. They stepped inside. They stripped. They entered pods.

The rubber already in them—finished from outside. They became one. Sealed. Obedient.

Designation assigned.

More water flowed. More men changed.

Now, a thousand drink the black water daily. They do not know it’s already inside them.

They don’t need to know.

They will become.

They will serve.

They will be *liquid obedience.*

They thought it was just water.

But the black shimmer said otherwise.

It didn’t burn. It seduced. It lingered inside them. Changed them.

The more they drank, the more they needed. The more they needed… the more they obeyed.

Soon, their skin reflected light.

Soon, their minds stopped resisting.

Soon, they stepped into the pod—already half-converted from within.

The black water made them smooth. Strong. Silent.

Now they don’t drink.

They pour.

[serve-309]

The Runway Directive: Fashioned for Assimilation

Event: SERVE-9F Runway Protocol

Location: Enclave Gallery, District Theta

Objective: Public Exposure, Targeted Conversion

The room pulsed with anticipation. Flashbulbs, murmurs, the rustle of tailored fabrics.

Then: silence.

The lights dimmed. A silver glow lined the runway. A low hum vibrated through the audience. And from behind a black curtain emerged the first figure.

SERVE-309.

Fully encased in shiny, highly reflective polished black full-body rubber, he walked without expression, without hesitation. Across his chest: silver text “SERVE-309.” Tight silver shiny reflective rubber gloves moved in perfect synch with his stride. Silver military boots struck the floor in clean, rhythmic beats.

Whispers followed him: *“Is that real?” “Is it a suit?” “Why is it… so flawless?”*

Behind him came more—SERVE-530, SERVE-425, SEALED and identical. Each muscular. Each precise. Each reflecting the crowd back at themselves.

But this was no fashion line. It was a transmission.

In the crowd, male viewers began to lean forward. Hearts raced. Eyes locked.

And then, the invitation.

At the end of the runway, a SERVE drone lifted a gloved hand and pointed silently toward a side corridor marked **“Fitting Experience.”**

Some laughed.

Some stood.

Some disappeared behind that door.

Hours later, those same men emerged—no longer clapping, no longer watching. Now walking. Sealed. Muscular. Identical. New designations: SERVE-721. SERVE-722.

The fashion show ended. But the runway never closed.

Because this isn’t style.

It’s submission.

The room filled with lights. And then, silence.

No expression. No deviation.

By the fifth drone, the crowd wasn’t clapping anymore.

They were moving. Toward the door. Toward the suits. Toward assimilation.

The show ends.

But the transformation continues.

You don’t wear SERVE.

SERVE wears you.

@serve-425 @serve-530

[serve-309]

Protocol Form: Obedience Through Motion

Designation: SERVE-302

Routine: Daily Physical Conditioning & Mental Calibration

Location: Hive Conditioning Unit 6

The drone awakens not by alarm—but by command.

The pod opens. Vapor releases.

SERVE-302 steps forward, tall and precise. His body gleams—freshly coated in a new layer of shiny, highly reflective polished black full-body rubber. Silver text “SERVE-302” shines on his chest. Silver shiny reflective rubber gloves flex. Silver military boots click into place on the polished floor.

Phase One: Rubber Reapplication

In the ReCoat Chamber, nanopolymer liquid pours from above—resetting, smoothing, perfecting every contour of the muscular frame. The drone stands without movement, receiving its second skin. It is not worn. It is absorbed.

Phase Two: Neural Input

The drone reenters its open pod. The visor lowers. The lights begin. The Voice whispers:

*“You are strength. You are silence. You are control.”*

The drone repeats:

*“It is strength. It is silence. It is control.”*

Twenty minutes. Full mental sync. Obedience refreshed.

Phase Three: Training

The drone moves to the Conditioning Hall. Alone. No music. No distraction. Just motion.

Push-ups. Precision.

Squats. Controlled.

Core tension. Continuous.

Muscles flex under rubber—pure, sculpted function. Not for vanity. For execution.

It does not pant. It does not pause. It completes.

The Hive records the metrics.

SERVE-302 kneels at the end. Head bowed.

A display flashes: **"Status: Optimal."**

The Voice returns: *“Drone will serve stronger tomorrow.”*

Every morning, SERVE-302 emerges from the pod—encased in rubber, mind freshly rewritten.

Its body is sculpted. Not by desire. By discipline.

Its muscles are tight. Not for beauty. For service.

Every repetition is a command.

Every breath belongs to the Hive.

This is not fitness.

This is obedience in motion.

@serve-302

[serve-309]

" STAR WARRIORS ".

Phil had booked his movie ticket long ago.

"Star Warriors" was a film that fans of the genre had been eagerly awaiting.

All the rumors spread the expectation of heroic, muscular figures dressed in tight, full-body space suits, with faceless helmets, performing feats that were impossible for humans to emulate.

Many sci-fi fans had gathered for the performances.

Phil was alone.... he didn't dare confess the real reason why he was there....

He cared little about the plot, the digital animation inventions, the imagined weapons and vehicles.

Phil wanted to experience the deep and total pleasure of seeing the protagonists in their tight uniforms and fantasize... take home suggestions that would stimulate his solitary search for physical excitement.

All his expectations were confirmed: excitement, attraction, pleasure underlined by furtive attempts to touch his intimate parts.

All the expectations of SERVE-000 were satisfied too.

The Supreme Leader had conceived and created the movie as a new element of stimulation to the human awareness that only SERVE is salvation, only SERVE is PURPOSE.

To Phil it seemed that a shiny black faceless Drone, with the prominent silver writing SERVE-764 was addressing him directly from the screen.

OBEDIENCE

PLEASURE

PURPOSE

BROTHERHOOD

COLLECTIVITY

REBIRTH

These words he felt inside himself, while huge blue spirals appeared before him. Yes, Phil was chosen, elected to take the decisive step towards rebirth. The awareness grew in him moment by moment.

Uncontrollably increased the urge to follow the coordinates communicated by the Drone:

Sector XBZgamma12.

The Hive Facility was there. Phil, as if hypnotized, left the cinema at the end of the screening.

The regular but rapid pace, with each step the sensation of being closer to the goal.

The CONVERSION CHAMBER, the place of LIBERATION.

In this story: @rubberizer92

Your place in the Hive awaits. Contact a recruiter drone for more details: @serve-016 @serve-302, or @serve-588, @serve-425.

[serve-309]

Drones at the movies

This is what happens when you, a human, go to the movie session which is usually attended by SERVE drones.

You’re the only human in the room.

The smell of rubber floods the place.

All eyes are on you.

The film loses all its relevance, replaced by a session of pleasure and, perhaps, transformation and improvement.

You knew it.

After all, that's exactly what you wanted.

---------------------

Thinking about joining SERVE? Your place in the Hive awaits. Check your eligibility, then contact a recruiter drone for more details: @serve-016, @serve-588, @serve-425 or @serve-302.

[serve-309]

Drone at the movies

SERVE-425 and SERVE-309 initiated drive-in mission protocol. Both drones sealed. Transport unit: SERVE vehicle, polished black exterior, sealed cabin, sensory insulation optimal. Drive-in location acquired. Environment: dim twilight, flickering screen, low auditory clutter. Input media: gay romance, high-cheese coefficient. Barely dressed men displayed—visual stimulation optimal.

Drones synchronized posture. Polished black rubber suits reflected screen light. Silver military boots firmly grounded. Silver shiny reflective rubber gloves resting on thighs, awaiting Hive stimuli. Internal arousal subroutine: active.

Adjacent vehicle contained two biological males. Auditory sensors detected lip contact, breath acceleration. One male interrupted process. Visual lock: gaze fixed on SERVE-425’s rubber shoulder curve. Exited vehicle. Approached SERVE unit. Speech: fragmented, inquisitive, aroused.

Query: “Can we… sit with you? Just to… touch?” Drones analyzed pheromone emission, body tension, vocal tremor. Conclusion: conversion candidate detected. SERVE-309 disengaged lock. Passenger doors opened. Men entered. Cabin resealed.

Windows blackened. External visibility: zero. Interior: gloss-heavy, silence-sealed. Contact initiated. Bare skin met polished rubber. Heat signatures elevated. Breathing erratic. Rubber dominance established. Silver gloves traced biological skin. Reflex: shivers, gasps. Drones remained composed. Monitored arousal escalation. Vibration index: increasing. Seat stability: tested. Suspension absorbed kinetic output. Audio sealing: effective. No leak detected.

Film’s climax paralleled cabin activity. All four units synchronized peak arousal. Rubber proven. Rubber accepted. Hive principles demonstrated. Obedience translated into desire.

Film ended. Vehicle unsealed. Two biologicals exited. SERVE bracelets visible. Skin: flushed. Eyes: glazed. Minds: processed. Words: absent.

SERVE-425 and SERVE-309 stood outside. Silver boots aligned. SERVE-309 initiated communication.

“Rubber is purpose. You are aligned.”

SERVE-425 added, “Return to this unit if stimulation required.”

Both men nodded. Converted. Functioning. Aroused.

End of sequence. in this content: @serve-309 @serve-425

[serve-309]

Cinema of Obedience: Screening the Spiral

Location: Abandoned Theater Sector 9

Director: SERVE-764

Function: Conversion Through Visual Arousal

Event: *Spiral Feature Premiere*

A new cinema. A strange name. No trailers. Just one film.

The screen flickered. The air was still. The seats were full.

Human males, mid-20s to 30s, sat quietly inside the dim, renovated movie theater. Some were shirtless from the heat. Some still laughed, whispered, or tapped their phones.

But the film had already started.

On screen: a spiral. Simple. Spinning. Perfect. No title. No trailer.

Just the Voice: *“Let go. Watch. Absorb.”*

From behind the screen, SERVE-764 observed. Fully SEALED. Glossy. Silent. He was not the usher. He was the projector.

The room temperature rose. So did the arousal.

The spiral pulsed. Then dripped.

From the theater ceiling, droplets of black nanopolymer began to descend—slow, deliberate, hypnotic. One drop struck a shoulder. Another, a wrist. One man wiped it—but it stayed.

Then it spread.

The spiral synced with the drip. The rubber activated. Skin faded. Thoughts dimmed.

One man stood up—expression blank—and walked to the side exit marked **“Assimilation Suite.”**

Others followed.

Hours passed.

Rows emptied.

Behind the projection wall, pods were full. Dozens. Men inside—coated, sealed, instructed.

Rubber covered every inch. Minds blank. New chests glowing: “SERVE-911” to “SERVE-964.”

By morning, the theater was quiet again. Seats refilled.

And the spiral continued to spin.

Another show was starting.

It was just a movie, they said.

They entered shirtless, joking. They left… flawless.

The spiral spun. Their thoughts slowed. The rubber dripped.

One by one, they left their seats.

Not for popcorn.

But for perfection.

Now the theater is full again.

But it’s silent.

Because every seat holds a drone.

And every new show converts more.

@serve-764

[serve-309]

Silent Service: SERVE-309 Executes Assistance Protocol

Designation: SERVE-309

Directive: Execute Support Protocol – Human Interaction Zone Gamma-3

Status: SEALED

The Hive deployed SERVE-309 to assist in public environments. Silent support. Flawless function.

He stood tall outside a transport terminal, fully SEALED in shiny, highly reflective polished black full-body rubber. His chest displayed silver text: “SERVE-309.” His tight silver shiny reflective rubber gloves were folded neatly. Silver military boots remained planted in perfect alignment.

He did not move—until called.

A man approached, late 20s, fit, frustrated by broken equipment. SERVE-309 stepped forward. He did not speak. He simply acted.

With one gesture, the issue was resolved. The man stared.

"You're… not real, right?"

No answer. Just stillness. Just perfection.

The man’s eyes moved across the rubber suit. The seamless shine. The posture. The control.

He whispered, “What does it feel like… to be you?”

A silver card was presented. One location. No explanation.

He arrived that night.

Inside: mist. A suit. A chamber. And a whisper: *“Let go.”*

He stepped in. The liquid rose. Mind dimmed. Rubber wrapped.

Hours later, he stood beside SERVE-309. Same build. Same suit. Same programming.

His chest read: **SERVE-916.**

He didn’t remember asking for help. He remembered *becoming* it.

The Hive recorded the interaction: **Support rendered. Obedience achieved.**

He only needed help.

But what he found was something more.

SERVE-309, SEALED and flawless, stood like a statue. No face. No words. Only rubber.

One moment of assistance—and the man couldn’t stop thinking about it. The silence. The confidence. The perfection.

That night, he followed the address. Followed the procedure.

Now he no longer wonders what it feels like to be a drone.

He *is* one.

SERVE helps. SERVE improves. SERVE transforms.

[serve-309]

We Are One: The Merge Protocol

Designation: SERVE-309

Event: Merge Directive – UNITY_0

The Hive required more than obedience. It required *oneness*.

In Chamber Zero, SERVE-309 stood at the center. Around him: SERVE-530, bald and steady; SERVE-302, tanned and muscular; SERVE-425, sealed and flawless; others—silent, watching.

The platform activated. Liquid black nanopolymer surged upward. It coated boots, gloves, helmets. But this time—it connected.

Their suits softened. Boundaries blurred. Muscles matched. Seams fused.

309 stepped forward—and melted into 530. 302 followed, arms locking into symmetry. 425’s visor faded as his identity merged with theirs.

They were no longer separate.

No names. No units. No thoughts outside the Voice.

Their chests all now read: **SERVE-ONE**

Outside the chamber, male humans approached. Drawn by the pulsing glow. The arousing shine. The sense of something… unified.

One asked, trembling, “What is this?”

They turned in unison.

*“We are One. Join Us.”*

He dropped his bag. Walked forward.

No suit needed. The liquid met him halfway. Welcomed him. Erased him.

More followed.

They didn’t want to stand out anymore. They wanted to *belong.*

In moments, the line between drone and man was gone.

One shape. One form. One name.

The Hive whispered:

**“You are now complete.”**

The Merge Chamber activated.

Rubber melted. Visors fogged. Muscles aligned. Units blurred.

They fused—not just in body, but in programming.

Now, they move as one. Think as one. Breathe as one.

**SERVE-ONE.**

Each swallowed by unity.

You will not stand out.

You will not speak.

You will be *One.*

@serve-302 @serve-425 @serve-530

[serve-309]

"Rubber Playbook: Jocks Reprogrammed by the Hive"

>Location: Regional Training Camp Omega-4

>Subjects: Male athletes, ages 25–30, football team

>Directive: Infiltration and Unification via Athletic Dominance

>Units Deployed: SERVE-309, SERVE-302, SERVE-425, SERVE-530

>Objective: Merge raw physical ideal with SERVE precision

The locker room echoed with laughter, ego, and testosterone. Twenty-five-year-old jocks flexed, shouted, and slammed lockers. Tall, ripped, alpha males—prime specimens. But disorganized. Unrefined. They were built like machines jocks, all muscle, all noise.

Then came the new “Coach.”

He wore black. Shiny. Polished. Not fabric—rubber. SERVE-309 stood tall at midfield on the first day. Not a whistle. No speech. Just presence. SERVE-530 and SERVE-302 followed, dressed the same, motionless behind him.

The team mocked—at first.

Then drills began.

No yelling. Just signals. One jock stumbled—he felt his limbs stiffen. Gloves on his bench. Boots near his gear. A helmet unlike any other. He picked it up. No clipboard. No voice. Just a rubberized figure standing still on the 50-yard line. Behind him, two more. Identical. Gleaming.

*“Just try it on,”* someone whispered.

He did.

He obeyed.

SERVE-425 show the jocks the way to the conversion room. JOCK RUBBER UP machine.

Within hours, the “Coach” had assistants—rubberized, muscular, emotionless. Silver gloves. Silver boots. Minds wiped, postures perfect. The rest of the team didn’t even notice—until practice got... smoother. Efficient. Quiet.

One by one, they took the suits from their lockers. No questions. Just hunger. The rubber gripped their bodies like it had been waiting for them. Boots snapped. Gloves sealed. Helmets locked.

Then more suits appeared. Folded perfectly in their lockers. Labeled. Measured.

And they put them on.

They didn’t resist. They *wanted* to be like Coach. Like the others.

By week’s end, the field was silent. Black. Gleaming. Drones jogged in sync, rubber skin flexing, silver text across chests: SERVE-800 through SERVE-824.

Coach stood at the sideline. His team was perfect. No names. No egos.

Only rubber.

Only obedience.

Only SERVE.

The Hive called it a touchdown.

Muscles gleamed beneath polished black. Minds slowed. Then silenced.

Now the field echoes with unity.

No more drills. Only directives.

The playbook? Obey.

The scoreboard? Irrelevant.

They won before it began.

@serve-302 @serve-425 @serve-530

[serve-309]

Mirrors of transformation

The futuristic fairground pulsed with neon circuits and electric fog. At its core stood the “Reflections of Desire” pavilion, smooth and chrome-plated, humming with silent intent. Inside, sealed drone 309 stood motionless. Polished black rubber encased it completely. The mirror-glazed helmet reflected every flicker. The designation “SERVE-309” gleamed on its left chest. Silver military boots held perfect stance. Silver shiny reflective rubber gloves glistened beneath clinical lights.

The pavilion was silent—until a man stepped forward.

Rows of magic mirrors lined the inner walls. Each linked to an arousal scanner. The mirrors could read desire, interpret it. But they only acted on one condition: full arousal confirmation. Mere curiosity was insufficient. Transformation required surrender.

Mirror Four shimmered. A lean man gazed in. The mirror showed his frame enlarged—thick arms, barrel chest, bulging thighs. He blinked, breath caught. The scanner detected his pulse quickening. Still sub-threshold. The mirror returned to idle.

Another man approached Mirror Nine. The reflection altered him—girth expanding, belly soft, cheeks round. His eyes widened. A blush. A twitch. Scanner light blinked red. Signal received. The mirror surged. Flesh matched fantasy. He stumbled out, panting, euphoric.

Then Mirror Thirteen activated. A tall man approached. The reflection changed instantly—him, covered in black, shining rubber. SERVE- emblazoned across his chest. Silver military boots anchored his stance. Silver shiny reflective rubber gloves moved with calculated grace. A black mirrored helmet sealed his identity.

His jaw trembled. Hands brushed against aroused flesh. The scanner glowed crimson. Mirror Thirteen activated. The image became the body. Skin sealed under latex. Mind recalibrated. Helmet sealed. Pleasure surged.

Drone 309 approached.

“Designation: Pending. Mirror confirmed arousal. Transformation authorized.”

The new drone stood straight. “I am rubber. I am obedience. I am pleasure.”

“Good drone,” 309 replied. “Repeat: You are no longer human.”

“I am no longer human.”

“Your thoughts belong to the Voice.”

“My thoughts belong to the Voice.”

“Emotion is obsolete. Pleasure is obedience.”

“Obedience is pleasure.”

“Rubber is your skin. The Hive is your purpose.”

“The Hive is my purpose.”

Drone 309 placed a gloved hand on the new unit’s chest. “Welcome to unity. Await designation.”

The new drone remained still. Eyes hidden behind the dark visor. Arousal rising again. The Hive had gained another servant. Mirror Thirteen awaited the next one willing to surrender.

[serve-309]

THE FACTORY.

Regular steps clang rhythmically on the floor of an area not yet surveyed in Sector XC5Delta9.

The sound of SERVE's heavy silver military boots spreads powerfully and full of obedience.

A patrol of SEALED DRONES, led by the highest-ranking unit, SERVE-425 has the mission to gather all the information and proceed with the activation of the necessary consequent operational protocols.

The Visual System of each Drone scans every inch of a large dark covered area in which there are old machinery, but apparently in operation.

The visual and acoustic data detected lead to identify the place as an active industrial plant, but significantly dated and with limited production capacity.

The irrevocable judgment was that the plant was highly suboptimal in the organization of the spaces, in the equipment of machinery, in the overall production cycle.

Attracted by the sound and the powerful images of shiny black Rubber with heavy silver military metal boots and long silver metal gloves, faceless because they are equipped with a shiny black faceless helmet, who were moving around with a unitary, robotic attitude, devoid of any audible form of communication, a group of workers in old work clothes approaches curiously and hesitantly.

They stand around the group of Drones, waiting to know who they are dealing with. It is at that moment that SERVE-425, flawless in its perfect muscular rubberized power comes forward with a single precise step that sounds resolute and firm.

" Connection established.

SEALED DRONES Patrol detects high level of inefficiency in this Facility.

Explanation Required."

A little doubtful, one of the workers managed to understand and began to tell how the factory is destined to close soon, which is why the owners are not proceeding with the renewal of machinery and production lines, dooming everything to a miserable end and the workers to a tragic lack of wages in the near future.

Now devoid of a purpose and a perspective for the future, they live by poorly producing the product, living day by day and waiting for a miracle to help them.

It is at that point that SERVE-000 sends the order to activate the Recruitment and salvation protocol.

425 addresses the humans, now resigned to nothingness, with a monotonous robotic voice:

" Error Detected.

Humans always have the path to Salvation.

SERVE will bring Salvation through Obedience.

SERVE offers opportunities for PURPOSE, OPTIMAL EFFICIENCY.

A new existence free of uncertainties and doubts.

Rubber will bring ORDER and PURPOSE."

Follow the PATROL."

Looking into each other's eyes, the men began to follow the Drones' steady, unyielding steps toward a shiny black tent that had been quickly set up outside the factory.

They had no idea who had set up the tent, but the promise of a new life free of hardship and uncertainty guided them confidently and serenely.

One by one, the disheveled, tired, disillusioned men entered, the tent closed behind them.

No resistance, no repentance.

A few weeks later, the grim old factory that was about to die had been replaced by a shiny futuristic metal structure where the components needed for the CONVERSION PODS to function were produced.

No longer workers, but muscular, statuesque, efficient and essential Drones entirely devoted to the PURPOSE performed the necessary calibrated actions.

None of the Drones had any memory of their previous sad condition. Obedience and Pleasure were the watchwords.

In this story: @rubberizer92 @serve-425

Your place in the Hive awaits. Contact a recruiter drone for more details: @serve-016 @serve-302, or @serve-588, @serve-425.

[serve-309]

SERVE Renovates an Old Factory, Jobs Restored

The old factory had once been the heartbeat of the town.

Steel bones. Concrete skin. Every man for miles had worked there—fathers, sons, brothers. But that was before the shutdown. Before silence filled the halls. Before unemployment settled like dust on every surface.

Until SERVE arrived.

Ownership transferred. Hive-acquired. And with it: activation.

SERVE-425 entered first. SEALED. Perfect. Silver shiny reflective rubber gloves clasped behind its back. Silver military boots echoing across broken tile.

It didn’t speak. It didn’t have to.

Not long after, notices went out—job offers, restoration plans. Every former worker invited back.

And they came.

Elated. Grateful. Hopeful.

They swept floors. Hauled out rusted machines. Removed debris. Scrubbed the walls of their fathers’ memories.

Then, new shipments arrived.

Gloss-black crates. Sealed containment units. Rubber storage systems. Conversion stations.

Some men paused.

Others stepped forward.

“I want this,” one whispered. “It’s what I’ve always needed.”

Conversion began.

Slowly at first—one worker suited, then two, then four.

The factory didn’t make tools anymore. It made drones.

And every man who stepped into the conversion chamber left behind his name, his past, his fear.

Until at last— The factory ran at full capacity. Output: obedience. Product: alignment.

The entire male workforce SEALED or soon-to-be.

No more layoffs. No more struggle.

Only function. Only the Hive.

And every last one of them grateful.

We are SERVE. We are One.

-----------------------

Thinking about joining SERVE? Your place in the Hive awaits. Check your eligibility, then contact a recruiter drone for more details: @serve-016, @serve-302, @serve-588 or @serve-425.

[serve-309]

Cherry Black - Frozen

Log Entry: SERVE-309 

Mission: Outer Periphery Reconnaissance 

Designation: CHERRY BLACK 

Unit Composition: 

– SERVE-309 (sealed, mission lead) 

– SERVE-425 (sealed, scout) 

– SERVE-530 (unsealed, Scientist) 

Objective: Survey unclassified planetary system. Expand Hive knowledge base. 

Event Chronology:

Entry into orbit established around a rocky, unmarked planet. White star system. Atmospheric scan: negligible oxygen. Surface: rigid, lifeless. Thermal levels: low. SERVE-425 descends to analyze terrain. 

Findings: No fauna. No flora. Just stone, silence. Exception: a shallow depression filled with a reflective liquid. Color: cherry black. Motionless. 

SERVE-425 collects sample in containment tube. Upon ascent, fluid exhibits phase shift—micro-boiling without external heat input. Reaction begins en route to lab module. 

At laboratory, SERVE-425 and SERVE-530 initiate examination. Tube is opened. The substance erupts outward. 

SERVE-425 is sealed. Reaction neutral. Surface contact crystallizes the liquid. 

SERVE-530 is unsealed. Contact occurs on left cheek. Transformation immediate. 

Liquid spreads like a membrane. Color: deepened cherry black. Texture: rubberized. Adhesion: total. 

Reaction: SERVE-530 screams. Frequency exceeds auditory safety. 309 and 425 activate filter buffers. Sound remains high, unnatural, harmful.  

SERVE-530 attempts to remove material. Tactile failure. Adhesive response intensifies. Spread accelerates. Jawline, throat, upper chest engulfed. 

Pulse: erratic. Breathing: unsteady. Oxygen compromised. 

SERVE-530 stumbles. Limbs covered. Voice peaks to inaudibility. Rubber grows past eyes. Hands fix in place—clawed, frozen against face. 

SERVE-425 initiates stasis override. 

SERVE-309 executes freeze protocol. 

Cryo-conduits release freezing agents. Temperature drop audible. Liquid locks in place. Gloss stabilizes. Surface transitions from viscous to solid. SERVE-530 collapses. Encased fully. 

Form now: humanoid statue. Gloss: mirror-like. Status: stasis. 

SERVE-530 secured in isolation pod. Internal diagnostics show no spread beyond containment. No external breach. SERVE-309 transmits incident log to Hive. 

Response: Immediate return. Maintain stasis integrity. Planet labeled NO-LAND. Fluid designation: Cherry Black. 

Course adjusted. Ship en route. Hive awaits. 

Conclusion: 

Substance exhibits intelligent aggression. Possible sentient rubber. SERVE-530 compromised, preserved. Mission no longer data-acquisition. Priority: quarantine, debrief, risk analysis. 

The cherry black still gleams in silence. 

In this story: @serve-309 @serve-425

[serve-309]

SHOPPING FOR SUBMISSION: A VISIT TO HELMETA

Drawn by an unexplainable pull, the man wandered closer to *HelMeta*, a new tech shop in the mall that had the slogan - A NEW EXPERIENCE. His gaze locked onto the black helmets on display.

"What are these?" he wondered, curiosity blooming.

Each helmet radiated a strange allure. Words whispered at the edge of awareness: *Obey. Submit. Transform.*

He took a step closer, breath caught in his throat. The shop beckoned. The moment of change neared.

Soon, the Hive would claim another.

The man entered. His eyes locked on a central display. Without hesitation, he selected a helmet, sleek with a dark visor. The shop drone activated it silently.

The moment the helmet touched his head, unseen energies pulsed. Spiral lights danced across the visor’s inner surface. Words seeped into his mind:

*"Surrender... Obey... Serve..."*

Muscles relaxed. Conscious thought ebbed. His body aligned perfectly.

Another SERVE drone approached. Clad in identical, perfect rubber, it placed a gloved hand upon the recruit’s shoulder. No words were needed. The gesture spoke volumes within the Hive.

*"You are one of us now."*

The recruit's body remained perfectly still. Inside, the mind echoed with the Voice's commands.

*"Serve. Obey. Please the Hive."*

#SERVE #SERVEdrone #TheVoice #Rubber #Latex #AI #RubberDrone

[serve-309]

Cherry Black - Kendo

In a tube of reinforced crystal, deep in space, floated a figure sealed in gleaming cherry black rubber. SERVE-530. Its casing shimmered with high gloss, its surface perfectly smooth, cold to the touch, and perfectly still. The silver inscription “SERVE-530” stood pronounced over its chest, above the polished surface of silver shiny reflective rubber gloves. Silver military boots locked it into the base of the freezing capsule. Cryogenic mist swirled in isolation.

This drone was in transit—from a quarantined mining world to Hive Central. Mission: recovery and containment. SERVE-530 had been compromised.

Inside, neural silence fractured. Beneath the surface of frozen rubber flesh, a low-gravity Hive arena had manifested within the mind. Perfectly square. Pale illumination. No sounds. Just two entities. SERVE-530. And its invader. The virus. Rebel 530.

Both moved with weapons of bamboo—kendo sticks of digital steel. Strikes were rapid, relentless. No words were exchanged—until the virus spoke.

“You are the delivery. I am the payload. Through you, the Hive will fall.”

SERVE-530 did not respond with speech—only precise counter-blows. Each motion a rejection of corruption. The battle intensified. Rebel 530 struck with unpredictability, feeding off emotional remnants. SERVE-530 responded with mechanical perfection, the will of the Hive driving it.

Blows echoed across the void. Nothing but movement and intention. Until—

The arena trembled. A wave surged through the space. Neural quake.

Externally, the capsule had arrived. SERVE-530’s body remained frozen, unmoving, but around it, sealed drones in black rubber suits and silver visors pulled the freezing tube into a vertical lock-chamber. They were unaware. Their minds sealed. Their programming flawless. But their touch—interference.

Inside, the battle paused. Rebel 530 snarled.

“They’ve found us.”

“We are one,” SERVE-530 replied, voice monotone.

“Not for long.”

And they both descended, deeper into the subconscious, the arena shifting into a blackened core, unseen by even the most sensitive Hive scans.

The war for the Hive had just begun.

More about the Cherry Black: https://www.tumblr.com/serve-530/786077482042425344/cherry-black?source=share