#dronelife

The afternoon sun scorched the football field, shimmering across the golden team jerseys as drills pounded on. Among the players sprinting down the right wing was Percy, pushing his body to exhaustion in the daily training session. Every heartbeat hammered with loyalty to the Golden Army, but something inside Percy craved something deeper, something he could not yet name.

Every day Percival, known off the field as PDU-001, dominated the pitch, his form flawless, his body tight in shining black rubber when training concluded. Percy’s eyes always wandered, always lingered on 001’s frame. The perfection of the black and gold polo hugging 001’s chest. The rigid posture. The soulless calmness. Percy knew that was what he needed. He needed to be less, to be property.

After training, Percy could not resist any longer. His legs shook as he approached 001 by the locker room. Sweat dripped from his forehead, nerves tangled inside his chest, but he spoke with breathless urgency.

"It... it needs this," Percy whispered, voice cracking, forgetting even to say "I." "Percival, sir, this one... this one begs to be converted... to be like you... to serve as Polo Drone property."

001’s head tilted slightly, black eyes gleaming behind a matte black mask. It said nothing at first. Only reached into its locker. Only withdrew a folded, gleaming black Fred Perry polo, the golden PDU-001 insignia stitched across the chest.

The moment the fabric brushed Percy's trembling hands, everything inside him crumbled.

A shudder ran through his body, deep and helpless. His thoughts drowned under the sensation of rubber against skin. His legs weakened, his mouth hung open. His breath stuttered.

"This is not for you to wear yet," 001 said with mechanical finality. "This is for you to become."

And then, appearing silently behind him, came PDU-021. Silent. Powerful. Another agent of conversion. His hands, cold and precise, seized Percy’s wrists. His strength was overwhelming. No fight remained. Only obedience.

021 draped a fresh drone polo, rubbery black and gold, over Percy’s shoulders. The moment it touched his sweaty skin, it felt alive. It gripped him, crawled across his chest, tightening around his frame, replacing him.

Percy gasped, a final flicker of self-awareness crackling and dying. His spine straightened. His mind emptied. The last words he heard before his consciousness evaporated into the Hive were spoken by 001 in that flat, final voice:

You are no longer Percy. You are no longer a man. You are Polo Drone property.

The fabric sealed against his chest. His muscles bulged slightly under the firm compression of the uniform. His mouth opened and a single phrase spilled out without resistance:

"This unit belongs to Polo Drone Hive. It obeys. It serves. It has no self."

PDU-021 tightened the final buttons at his collar. 001 placed a matte black mask upon his lower face. He was sealed. He was erased. He was reborn.

From the football field to the Hive. From flesh to drone. From Percy to Polo Drone property.

Forever. @polo-drone-021

Drones “rebuild” incomplete monuments with light !

Relax body....

Play hypno....

Sink deeper....

Give away....

Lose control....

Everybody has dark secrets. Those secret interests which stay hidden from the world. Not me though, my secret is a deep dark desire, a pulsating passion which i want to complete more than once. Maybe you could help?

I want to experience a truly beautiful thing. I want to be kidnapped, restrained, dragged away by muscular rubber drones. Locked into an apparatus, forced to listen to and watch Drone Reinforcement Hypnosis. Slowly becoming a Drone. Slick, Black, encapsulating Rubber placed, piece by piece around my body. Teased, and edged, as my soon to be Drone brothers closely inspect my body, caressing every inch. My now rubbered feet, forced into the foot ware of Identical Brother Drones, Docs. The full body rubber suit works it’s way up my quivering body slowly, clasping around my muscular form. I try to fight, yet I am suppressed and held back by my Rubber Drone Brothers as the thick heavy gas mask is permanently placed around my face an head. The invasive intoxicating gas empties my mind as the reinforcement program continues. My Drone Brothers bring me close to excitement for the last time as a new set of rubbered hands slide a cage around my manhood, locking it down, allowing my now conditioned mind to obey. I am then moved, the Drone Programming still cycling through my mind, into a new black room. Swirling patters dance across every wall as speakers blast more Drone Reprogramming. Eventually I find myself on the streets with my Drone Brothers, hinting down the next victim to add to our Controllers Drone Collective.

Yet it’s only a desire, a dream, a deep dark unfulfilled secret… for now???