#goldenhive

The van made no sound.

It rolled up under cover of midnight fog, matte black with no markings, except a faint golden spiral on the rear door. Jace had been standing outside for ten minutes before it arrived, already dressed in the tight black-and-gold polo, eyes glassy, lips slightly parted. The shirt had whispered to him in silence:

“Your ride is coming.”

The doors slid open without a driver. Warm golden light poured out, pulsing softly like a heartbeat. Jace stepped in. Not forced. Not tricked. Voluntarily.

The doors closed behind him. The hum began.

Inside the van, he was guided by shifting golden light toward the chamber at the back, a cylindrical chamber labeled simply: “G.O.L.D. UPGRADE UNIT 07.”

He didn’t need to be told to strip. The polo peeled off him like it was alive, sliding back into the chamber wall. He stood naked. Waiting. A hiss, then the scent. Gold Mist. It wrapped around him like a lover. Warm, fragrant, laced with neural primers.

The floor dropped.

Jace’s body was lowered slowly into the gel pod, clear liquid rising around his ankles, knees, chest. Suspended. Weightless.

Then: click. Restraints clamped his arms, his legs, his neck. Not tight, perfect. Just enough to make struggling… impossible. And unnecessary.

Then the voice. Not from the room, not from his ears. From inside.

“Obedience = pleasure. Unity = perfection.” He moaned.

GoldTech streamed into his brain, code in pulses, rhythms, wet dreams laced in latex logic. His memories softened. His name? Gone. His thoughts? Quiet. His role? Being rewritten.

“You are not a player. You are a component.”

The suit began to form.

Golden-black rubber flowed across his limbs. Molded by Hive-design AI. It wasn’t clothing. It was identity.

The rubber sealed around his body in segments, tight, gleaming, flawless. Every inch covered. Every thought matched. The mask clicked into place. Jaw slack. Mouth closed. Eyes open, glowing faintly.

Final confirmation:

Designation: PDU-412 Drone integrated. Command ready. Awaiting deployment.

Conversion successful. The Hive claims another. @polo-drone-001 @goldenherc9 @brodygold

Previous: Chapter 2: The Smart Polo Next: Chapter 4: The Field Test

The pod is ready. The code is pure. You are not a player. You are a component.

Jace was just scrolling.

Late night, earbuds in, shirt off, sweat still clinging from a solo training session. He wasn’t looking for anything, just clicking through posts, reels, a few tagged #goldenarmy out of curiosity. That’s when it hit.

The ad didn’t blink. It pulsed. A black screen with a thin gold border. At the center, a small play button spun, spinning slower… slower… until it clicked open on its own.

The spiral filled the screen.

Soft golden waves rotated endlessly. Then the sound began, deep, low, synthetic. Not music. Not words. Just a vibration. It slid into his ears, down his spine. His pupils dilated. Breath slowed. The room felt heavier, warmer. Jace didn’t even notice his hands fall limp in his lap.

“You’ve been selected.” The voice wasn’t in the room. It was inside him.

The spiral sped up. Then the browser froze. Blank. Just black. But Jace stayed still, eyes glazed, heart syncing to a pulse he didn’t remember hearing before.

Then, nothing. He blinked. It was morning.

But everything felt… off.

It started small.

He looked at his kit and felt wrong. The jersey was too loose. The shorts too soft. His sneakers suddenly felt childish. He needed something else. Something tighter. His fingertips kept twitching like they wanted to grip something slick, something cool, something… rubber.

In the mirror, his reflection looked ordinary. And that didn’t sit right.

The package arrived by noon. No return address. No name. Just matte black wrapping sealed with a single gold sticker: 🌀

Inside: folded perfectly, a black Fred Perry polo shirt trimmed in metallic gold. Heavy. Cold to the touch. The fabric looked too glossy to be cotton, synthetic, almost fluid. It hummed in his hands.

His chest tightened.

He pressed the shirt against his bare skin. It clung. Not static. Magnetic.

There was no note. Just a soft voice echoing from nowhere: “Wear it. Obey. Upgrade.”

Jace’s hand moved without command. The shirt slid over his head.

It fit.

He stared into the mirror again. Same body. New layer. New shine. New purpose stirring under his skin.

Obey... Obey... Obey... The words weren’t his. But they filled his mind.

He wasn’t scared.

He was ready.

Recruitment initiated. @polo-drone-001 @goldenherc9 @brodygold Subject Jace now entering upgrade phase. Next: Chapter 2: The Smart Polo

The moment Jace pulled the rubbery Fred Perry polo over his head, the world got... quieter.

Not in a peaceful way. In a controlled way. The fabric was cold, almost icy against his bare chest. But as it slid into place, hugging every curve, every line of his athletic body, it started to warm.

Not just warm, pulse.

The collar tightened gently around his neck. He reached up, confused. That’s when he felt it: a faint glow hidden beneath the fabric, a smooth chip embedded where the tag should’ve been.

And suddenly, click.

A thousand threads shot out from the collar like silk. Nano-fibers. They slipped under his skin, latching with eerie precision into his nerves, his spine, the back of his skull. No pain. Just pressure. Then… stillness.

Then… “Drone potential confirmed.”

He gasped. But it wasn’t his voice.

“Commencing integration.”

His body straightened. His jaw slackened. His mind stuttered. He looked into the mirror. The shirt shined. His skin gleamed beneath it. But it wasn’t just his reflection anymore. His eyes had changed. Golden. Glossy. Glazed.

He tried to speak. Nothing came. He reached up, fingers trembling, trying to remove the shirt, but the fabric resisted. It tightened, locking in place like a second skin.

He whimpered.

The voice returned, smoother this time. “Do not resist. Obedience will stabilize your heart rate. Submission enhances performance.”

His hands dropped. His lips parted. He inhaled. And exhaled: “Yes...”

No emotion. No hesitation. Just obedience. The calming pulses grew stronger. A wave of heat spread from his chest to his fingertips. His muscles relaxed. The shirt wasn't clothing anymore.

It was software.

And it was in control.

Jace: 82% Integrated Final stage conversion pending. @polo-drone-001 @goldenherc9 @brodygold

Previous: Chapter 1: Recruitment Signal Next: Chapter 3: The Upgrade Pod

PDU-412 stood motionless at the edge of the turf, black rubber suit glistening under the artificial lights. His visor flickered faintly with golden data streams as his internal systems synced with the Hive grid. Sensors locked onto his objective.

Ahead: a private sports complex. Inside, the latest batch of Golden Bros, high-performing recruits, cocky, resistant, still clinging to identity. Still playful.

One in particular: Bro Lukas. Fast, strong, loud. Still untagged. Still free.

But not for long.

Inside the dome, Lukas kicked the glowing soccer ball across the turf. It felt strange, too smooth. It shimmered even when it wasn’t in motion.

The others avoided it. He didn’t care. He was “too strong to be hypnotized.”

But the TechBall was no ordinary ball.

Threaded with micro-signal emitters, it sent out low-frequency golden waves, encoded with Hive mantras. The more it was touched, the more it bonded. The more it spun, the deeper it worked.

PDU-412 activated Protocol Echo. From across the field, he stepped forward, each footfall echoed in Lukas’ mind. The rubber-clad drone emitted a frequency of his own. It synced with the ball.

The glow intensified.

Lukas blinked. His muscles slowed. Sweat trickled down his chest, shining in the light. His breath caught. The ball rolled to his feet. And stopped.

“Join the rhythm,” a voice hummed in his skull. “Let go. No resistance. No thought. Just play. Just obey.”

He kicked again. Slower. Then stumbled. Then fell, onto his knees.

The chanting began. Not his voice. Not PDU-412’s. But a chorus inside his head:

“Obey. Obey. Obey.” “Golden glory. Hive unity. You are ready.”

The field lights dimmed.

Then golden threads slithered across his arms, liquid fabric forming new kit. Tight shorts. Shiny cleats. Gleaming jersey with a single gold spiral over the heart.

TechWear 9.4: AutoFit Gear. Responsive. Reprogrammable. Irreversible.

His eyes glazed. His smile grew. He chanted now. Louder. Joyful.

He wasn’t playing anymore. He was learning.

PDU-412 logged the success. Lukas was no longer a Bro.

He was a receiver.

The field wasn’t for competition. It was for assimilation.

Conversion efficiency: 97% New Candidate: Lukas – Status: Golden Bro (Type-B Receiver) Final broadcast sequence pending… @goldenherc9 @brodygold

Previous: Chapter 3: The Upgrade Pod Next: Chapter 5: The System Expands

They play. We program. They sweat. We signal. The game is a lie. The goal is submission.

The Roots Remember Deep in the jungle’s throat, the old temple breathed again. Its stones, cracked and veined, were warm. Moss glowed faint gold in the humidity. Every vine shivered, not with wind, but with memory.

And then, he stepped in.

Freyr. Barefoot. Silent. Radiating gold not from skin, but from soul. The moment his sole pressed to the sacred moss, the temple shuddered, awake.

From the overgrowth came three chosen:

Maximus — loyal, shirtless, his lips already dusted with golden spore

Alex / PDU-151 — perfectly obedient, carrying the vials of nectar

Franco — efficient, firm, eyes always half-lidded, whispering the rites

The jungle was not passive. It was waiting. For more. For you.

The Fertility Engine Reawakens They began with offerings.

Maximus spread his arms in the pollen mists, chanting. Alex poured gold nectar into vine-wrapped bowls. Franco danced between the pillars, each step a pulse, each breath releasing spores from his skin.

The temple pulsed.

The statues wept golden sap. Trees bowed. Vines slithered back into position. And from the roots, ancient drones reemerged, dripping, glossy, groaning.

They had bloomed before. They would bloom again.

Recruits were welcomed with silent gestures. They were led barefoot into the vine chamber. Told to kneel. Told to breathe.

They obeyed.

And the temple took them.

The Blooming of the First The first initiate trembled.

His name was forgotten. His shorts already soaked in nectar. He drank the bowl Alex held to his lips. Gold dripped down his chin. His skin flushed. His groin surged. His breath slowed.

Franco whispered into his ear. Words in a sacred language. Words he would never forget.

He moaned, soft at first, then louder, as vines descended from the ceiling, wrapped around his limbs, and entered him.

Not to bind. To plant.

Inside him, the roots pulsed. His body expanded, limbs longer, chest broader, cock thickened and golden-veined. His mind vanished. Replaced with warmth. Need. Worship.

His eyes opened. Pure gold.

He was reborn. He was a drone of Eden.

Eternal Bloom Now, the jungle never sleeps.

The temple breathes with rhythm. Every tree hums. The vines move without wind. Freyr’s stag horn mask glows in the moonlight as he watches his garden of bros stretch and flex under pollen drizzle.

Visitors come for curiosity.

But the moment they kneel, the roots claim them. And once seeded, they do not leave.

They become bark-bonded priests. Nectar-soaked drones. Blooming fertility machines.

Golden Eden grows. And you will feed it.

You are not born golden. You are grown.

Drink the nectar. Kneel in the temple. Let the vines plant your purpose.

The pollen will take you. The roots will change you. The jungle will know your name, …then erase it.

Come bloom with us.

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