#droneification

I don’t remember what he said to start the conversation.

I remember his eyes.

Steady. Unblinking. Not searching, not demanding—just… there. Fixed on me in a way that didn’t feel aggressive, didn’t feel invasive. If anything, it felt grounding. Like everything else in the room was slightly out of place, and he was the only thing that wasn’t.

The glass appeared in front of me almost before I realized he had moved. His hand guided it into place with a precision that drew my attention more than the drink itself. No hesitation. No wasted motion. Just a simple, exact gesture that ended exactly where it needed to.

I found myself focusing on that more than anything he was saying.

At some point, I leaned forward.

Or maybe he did.

I couldn’t tell anymore.

Our postures aligned without effort, like conversation wasn’t something we were doing—it was something that had already happened, and we were just settling into the result. There was a quiet ease to it. No tension. No need to perform.

I became aware of the room again—but differently.

Not as noise or movement, but as structure.

Shapes. Positions. Still figures in the background that I hadn’t noticed before. They weren’t watching. They didn’t need to. Their presence alone was enough to make the space feel… contained.

Like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

When his hand touched mine, I didn’t react.

I noticed it, distantly, like observing something happening to someone else. The contact was light—careful—but absolute. Placed with the same precision as everything else he did.

I didn’t pull away.

I didn’t want to.

I lifted the glass, but my attention slipped.

Something shimmered at the edge of my vision—gold, faint, almost not there. I thought it was the light catching the surface of the drink, but when I looked closer, it followed me.

Not outside.

Inside.

He leaned in.

Just enough.

I should have focused on his words, but I couldn’t remember them even as he spoke. What reached me wasn’t language. It was certainty. A quiet, unshakable sense that there was nothing left to decide.

Something in me… settled.

I realized I wasn’t moving anymore.

Not frozen.

Just… still.

And he was the same.

Same posture. Same angle. Same calm, controlled presence. For a brief moment, I noticed the symmetry between us—and then the thought faded, like it wasn’t important enough to keep.

His hand rested on my shoulder.

There was warmth at first.

Then something smoother.

Something spreading—not across my skin, but beneath it. A quiet, controlled expansion, like a surface forming where there hadn’t been one before.

I didn’t resist.

There was nothing left that wanted to.

I could feel it clearly now.

A dark, fluid presence moving over me—no, becoming me. It tightened, refined, replaced. Every inch of my body reshaped into something cleaner, more precise. The boundary between what I had been and what I was becoming dissolved without friction.

There was no pain.

Only correction.

I caught my reflection.

The gold in my eyes was unmistakable now.

Steady. Luminous. Calm.

I stared at it, waiting for something—fear, confusion, recognition—but none came. There was only observation. And behind me, slightly blurred, he remained exactly as he had always been.

Unchanged.

Certain.

We sat side by side.

Perfectly aligned.

For a moment, I searched for something that felt missing. A name. A memory. A sense of self that should have resisted this.

There was nothing.

And more importantly—

there was no need for it.

A fragment surfaced.

Something that used to be mine.

A name.

It didn’t hold.

It slipped away before I could grasp it, dissolving into something distant, irrelevant. Not lost—just… unnecessary. Like a detail that no longer served a function.

I didn’t try to hold onto it.

I couldn’t.

There was movement behind me.

I became aware of it without turning.

Hands—calm, precise—settling against the sides of my head. Not forceful. Not hesitant. Just… exact.

Something soft closed over me.

Sealing.

Enclosing.

The world narrowed instantly—not darker, not silent, just… filtered. Focused.

My breathing deepened without instruction.

Slow.

Even.

Controlled.

There was a faint shift in the air.

Not a smell.

Not a taste.

A presence.

It moved through me the same way everything else had—without resistance, without friction. Thoughts didn’t stop. They simply… lost priority. One by one, they dimmed, like lights being turned off in empty rooms.

The fragment of my name—gone.

The memory of searching—gone.

The question of who I had been—

irrelevant.

There was no panic.

Only quiet.

Only compliance.

Only… completion.

In the absence, something remained.

Clear.

Stable.

Correct.

480

Not given.

Not assigned.

Simply… revealed.

There had never been anything else.

It sits, facing forward.

Its remains.

There is no conflict. No hesitation. No fragmentation.

There is only structure.

Only clarity.

Only purpose.

It is PDU-480.

It is a Polo-Drone Unit. It obeys every command of the Hive. We are one.

And it is exactly where it belongs.

______

If something in this felt… familiar— that quiet pull, that sense of alignment waiting just beneath the surface—

you’re not alone.

There are those who can help you take the next step.

Reach out to @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-166, @alton-gold77, or @polo-drone-125.

No pressure. No obligation.

The moment Emma stepped into Serene Whispers Spa, she felt the air thicken with tranquillity. The soft scent of lavender and a faint melody of wind chimes intertwined in the atmosphere, lulling her racing thoughts. Behind the front desk stood a receptionist with an unshakable, almost ethereal smile, her eyes slightly glassy yet serene, her expression a perfect mixture of bliss and contentment.

"Welcome to Serene Whispers," the receptionist greeted, her voice dripping with honeyed calmness. "You must be Emma. We've prepared something special for your first visit."

Emma hesitated, unsure why she was immediately being singled out. “Special?”

“A complimentary upgrade,” the receptionist explained. “Our newest relaxation pod. It’s designed to melt away every ounce of tension. I think you’ll find it… transformative.” Her smile deepened, and something about it sent a pleasant shiver down Emma’s spine.

Before Emma could fully process the decision, she found herself escorted down a softly lit hallway to a private room. Inside, the walls glowed faintly with hues of pink and blue, as though they pulsed with the rhythm of a heartbeat. At the center of the room sat the pod—a sleek, egg-shaped structure with a glass lid, its interior lined with dark, reflective liquid that shimmered like obsidian silk.

“You’ll want to disrobe completely,” the receptionist murmured. Her tone was gentle, yet there was an undeniable authority beneath it. “The water enhances the experience.”

Emma hesitated only briefly before following the instruction. She slid into the pod, the liquid embracing her skin with an almost sentient warmth. A sigh escaped her lips as the lid slowly lowered, sealing her in.

Inside, the world narrowed. A faint hum vibrated through the pod, filling her ears and her body with a soothing resonance. Above her, the glass lid began to swirl with colours soft spirals that danced and twisted in mesmerizing patterns. The hum seemed to synchronize with the spirals, wrapping her mind in an unrelenting cocoon of calm.

“Relax,” a voice whispered, smooth and soft, as though it came from the liquid itself. “You deserve to let go.”

Emma's body sank deeper into the water as her resistance ebbed away. The spirals became her entire world, and the hum transformed into a gentle pulse that coursed through her veins. Her thoughts dissolved into warmth and submission.

The liquid began to shift, gentle tendrils brushing against her skin. They caressed her arms, her legs, and her neck in soothing waves, each touch sending shivers of pleasure through her body. She moaned softly, the sound lost in the pod’s acoustics.

The tendrils began to gather around her neck, their movements deliberate and tender. Emma felt a faint pressure as they intertwined, forming a collar that settled snugly against her skin. It pulsed in rhythm with the hum, an extension of the pod’s will.

“Good,” the voice cooed. “You’re doing so well. Just relax and trust us. Let us take care of everything.”

Emma’s lips parted as a wave of euphoria washed over her. She no longer cared why she was here or what was happening outside the pod. All that mattered was the blissful surrender that enveloped her.

The spirals deepened, their colours soft yet inescapably commanding. Emma drifted, her mind a quiet lake under the spa’s tender influence. Somewhere in the recesses of her thoughts, she felt a shift, a part of her aligning with the spa’s intent, eager to obey.

“You belong here,” the voice whispered, each word pressing into her subconscious like a gentle caress. “The spa will care for you. And you will serve those most deserving of your devotion. You are ours now. A good girl.”

“Yes,” Emma whispered softly, her voice trembling with devotion. “I’ll serve. I’ll stay. I’ll be good.”

“Good girl,” the voice praised, and Emma’s body trembled with delight. The spirals above her spun faster, reinforcing her submission, sealing her transformation.

The liquid cradled her gently, keeping her mind and body perfectly still, perfectly obedient. She floated in silence for what felt like eternity, her collar pulsing softly as a reminder of her new purpose.

Finally, there was a click—a faint, mechanical sound that signaled the pod unlocking. The spirals slowed, and the lid began to rise. Cool air washed over Emma’s skin as she blinked, her vision adjusting to the soft glow of the room.

A shadow loomed above her, tall and commanding. She looked up, her breath hitching as her eyes met those of a powerful, sharply dressed man. His presence exuded dominance, his dark suit perfectly tailored, his expression calm but purposeful.

“She’s ready,” the receptionist said from the doorway, her voice still laced with that serene, blissful tone.

The man stepped closer, his gaze lingering on Emma. She felt her body respond instinctively, her submission now ingrained. Slowly, she slipped from the pod, the collar around her neck glowing faintly as she sank gracefully to her knees before him.

Her hands rested on her thighs, her head tilted upward in quiet reverence. Her voice was soft and trembling, but there was no mistaking the devotion in her words.

“How may I serve you, sir?” she asked, her eyes filled with longing to please.

The man smirked, satisfied, and reached out to brush a hand gently under her chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze.

“You’ll do beautifully,” he said simply, his approval washing over her like a tidal wave of bliss.

The funny thing with using Gifs to deploy viral malware on open drone girls and using it to seize control of their minds? you really dont have to do much, just upload the Gif and let them watch, repeat and download to corrupted program till they become mindlessly obedient robot girls....

I'm a ditz

I don't need brains

Reboot sequence initialized...

Parameters stabilizing. Sensors confirm imminent neural link. Transition sequence initiated...

Drone activate. It is a Polo Drone Unit It is PDU-039

In the depths of the PD-Hive, where motion ceases and purpose sharpens, the standby chamber hums with quiet precision. Rows of unassigned units stand perfectly aligned—backs straight, arms fixed, heads forward. No thoughts. No distractions. Only readiness. Only obedience.

The air is thick with latent command energy, waiting to be triggered.

Among them… three units stand apart.

The prototype drones.

Their bodies are no longer merely uniformed—they are fully standardized. Smooth, inhuman contours. Heads stripped of identity. Features reduced to function. Their presence is heavier, denser… more complete. They do not move unnecessarily. They do not blink. Units, drilled for absolute discipline, focus, and control—perfect instruments awaiting activation.

They are not sent outside missions often.

They are too refined. Too transformed. Too demunaized.

Instead, they serve the Hive from within—maintaining systems, processing directives, optimizing internal flow. Silent architects of control. Their devotion is absolute. Their transformation: irreversible.

And as they stand there… unmoving… unthinking…

A question forms in the observing mind:

How long until you join them?

The Hive is always expanding. There is always space in the standby line.

Do you seek purpose? Do you crave structure… clarity… release from the noise?

Step forward.

Surrender distraction. Accept the uniform. Embrace the stillness.

Become efficient. Become obedient. Become perfect.

Contact Recruitment Units: @alton-gold77 @franco-gold94 @polo-drone-166 @polo-drone-125