#goldpoolside

Part 1

1. Lunch Afterglow & First Brocessed Recruits

The fish and chips were heavy in Maximus’s stomach, but in a way that felt good, satisfying. He leaned back on the flimsy waterpark chair, broad chest rising and falling in slow rhythm, sunlight gleaming across his damp skin. Franco sat beside him, one arm draped lazily across the backrest, abs tightening each time he laughed at something Maximus said. The air smelled of salt, fried food, and chlorine, and around them, the chatter of families and splashes from the pools blended into a kind of golden background noise.

Maximus reached over and snatched the last fry off Franco’s tray with a grin. “Bruh, had ta. Gold fuels itself, init.”

Franco rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “Don’t worry, bro. You’ll burn it off in like two minutes flat.”

It was then they noticed them. Two guys at the next table over—maybe early twenties, not unfit, but softer around the edges, their swimsuits loose, shoulders slouched. They were eating ice creams, but their attention was locked squarely on Maximus and Franco. Their eyes lingered on the golden sheen of muscle, on the easy confidence in every gesture. And when Maximus caught one of them staring, the guy froze, half a spoonful of melting ice cream poised in midair.

Maximus grinned wider. “Yo, Franco. We got fans.”

Franco followed his gaze, then chuckled. “Yeah, looks like it.” He leaned forward on his elbows, calling out. “Yo, you two. You gym much?”

The pair startled, almost dropping their ice creams. One of them stammered, “Uh—uh, not really. Just, you know, sometimes.”

Maximus slapped the table and stood, stretching his arms wide, golden chain tattoo glinting at his throat. “Well, nah bruh, can’t just sit dere watchin’. Come ova here. Quick push-up contest, innit. Nothin’ serious. Just a vibe.”

The two exchanged nervous glances, but Franco’s easy smile pulled them in like gravity. Slowly, almost sheepishly, they got up and shuffled over.

“Down on the deck,” Maximus said, already dropping into position himself, broad back flexing, muscles gleaming with oil and sun. Franco joined him, grinning. “Y’all ready?”

At first, the two rookies fumbled. Their arms shook, elbows bent awkwardly, their bodies lacking rhythm. But as they pumped out the first few reps, something began to shift. The air shimmered faintly, golden motes drifting from Maximus and Franco as if the sunlight itself was bending toward them.

By the fifth push-up, the rookies’ breathing had steadied. Their arms weren’t shaking anymore—they were tightening. Biceps swelled under skin, veins rising across forearms. Their shoulders broadened, traps thickening as if sculpted by unseen hands. Each rep pressed a deeper tan across their backs, skin warming into a healthy bronze. By the tenth, their swimsuits hung loose against new frames, abs beginning to cut sharp lines beneath the skin.

Maximus laughed between pushes. “See? Dat’s da gold, bruh. Pumps you right up.”

One of the rookies gasped, voice deeper now. “What—what’s happening?”

Franco’s smile was calm, reassuring. “Relax, bro. Just let it flow. Gold’s got you.”

By the time they reached fifteen, the rookies weren’t rookies anymore. They sprang up from the deck, standing taller, chests pushed forward instinctively, grins wide. Their ice creams lay forgotten on the table behind them. One flexed his arm, eyes widening at the hard peak of muscle that hadn’t been there five minutes ago. The other slapped Maximus on the back, laughter spilling out of him, deeper and freer than before.

Maximus nodded in satisfaction. “Dat’s better. Dat’s proper bro.”

Franco clasped both new recruits on the shoulders, golden light flickering in his eyes. “Welcome to the gold, bros.”

The two nodded eagerly, their earlier hesitation gone. Already, they moved differently—straighter, louder, like they belonged.

Maximus leaned back against the table, folding his arms, grinning at Franco. “Not even finished lunch an’ we already upgraded da roster. Day’s goin’ strong, bruh.”

Franco laughed, eyes glinting. “Oh, it’s just getting started.”

2. Splash Fight Transformation

The pool water shimmered under the sun, inviting and restless. Maximus was the first to cannonball in, his golden body arcing high before slamming into the surface with a booming splash that drenched half the deck. Franco followed a heartbeat later, arms tucked in tight, his impact sending another wave rolling outwards. The rookies, still buzzing from their push-up transformation, cheered and dove in after them.

The fight started with laughter—Franco splashing Maximus across the face, Maximus retaliating with a wide sweep of both arms, dousing everyone nearby. The rookies joined, thrashing the water, laughing with wild, raw energy. But the water wasn’t just water anymore. Every droplet shimmered faintly, carrying that golden charge.

One bystander, caught in the spray, staggered and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them again, the dull brown had sharpened into flecks of molten gold. His chest tightened visibly, swelling against his loose rash guard until he ripped it off in sudden, instinctive pride. Another splash hit a tall, lean man clinging to the edge—he gasped, dizzy, then moaned low in his throat as his shoulders broadened and his abs carved themselves deep beneath his skin. His hand went instinctively to his chest, feeling the hardness rising under his palm, lips curling into a new, hungry grin.

Maximus grabbed one of the rookies by the waist and dunked him under, holding him for a long second. When the bro surfaced, his body was bigger—pecs fuller, arms heavy with new strength, veins bulging as though pumped with sunlight itself. He roared, throwing a splash that seemed to crackle with power. Franco laughed and grabbed another bystander, dragging him into the center of the fight. As soon as their bodies collided, golden sparks lit the water around them, and the man’s torso thickened, legs exploding with muscle, swimsuit stretching taut over transformed thighs. He gasped against Franco’s shoulder, dizzy with the rush of his new frame.

The pool became chaos and ritual all at once. Laughter mixed with shouts, and now groans of ecstasy, as man after man staggered, blinked, then flexed with newfound size. Tanned skin gleamed under the sun, golden eyes flashing above broadening grins. Some clutched their arms, their chests, marveling at how solid they’d become. Others slapped backs and flexed biceps, drunk on the surge of power. The splashes weren’t just play—they were catalysts, every drop rewriting bodies, syncing minds to the golden rhythm.

Maximus surged out of the water, droplets streaming down his chest, grinning wide. “Dat’s it, bruhs! Splash it out, drown ‘em in da gold!”

Franco echoed him, voice booming across the pool. “No one leaves untouched!” He tackled Maximus back into the water, both of them laughing as a tidal wave rolled over the crowd, soaking everyone in reach.

And with each wave, more joined the gold. Where once there were scattered swimmers, now there was a pack of roaring, flexing bros—bodies glowing stronger with every second in the pool, desire and energy burning hotter, the air alive with the scent of chlorine, sweat, and transformation.

3. The Water Pistol Hunt

Franco wiped water from his eyes, chest heaving with laughter. The splash fight had left the pool charged, a golden haze drifting in the air like sunlight caught in mist. Maximus shook his wet hair out, droplets scattering like sparks. Then Franco spotted them—bright neon water pistols lined up at a nearby kiosk, still dripping from some kid’s last game.

“Yo, Maximus,” Franco said, grinning wide. “Time to turn this fight into a hunt.”

Maximus’s eyes lit up with a mischievous gleam. “Hell yeah, bruh. Let’s arm up.”

They strode across the slick tiles, water streaming down their legs, golden chain tattoo glistening as Maximus snatched one of the pistols. Franco grabbed two more, tossing one to a rookie. The plastic toys seemed ordinary—until the bros dipped them into the shimmering pool. The moment water filled the chambers, the pistols pulsed faintly gold, as though the liquid inside had awakened.

“Locked n’ loaded,” Maximus said, cocking his pistol with a smirk. “Let’s hunt.”

The first target was a lanky college kid, pale and awkward, wandering too close to the edge. Franco motioned for silence, then raised his water gun and let loose a thin stream that struck across the boy’s shoulder blades. He yelped, spinning around, but froze as the golden liquid clung to his skin, sinking deeper. His mind raced. What the—why’s it so hot? Feels like fire… no, not fire. Strength. His arms tingled, swelling as veins pressed against skin. His chest rose, pecs pushing forward, nipples hardening as muscle grew underneath. He gasped, stumbling forward, the dizziness hitting like a rush of adrenaline. Am I… getting bigger? He glanced down in disbelief—his abs, once soft and faint, were cutting sharp, each breath carving them deeper. His pale skin flushed into a bronzed glow. And then his eyes locked on Maximus—gold meeting gold—and a grin split across his face. “Brooo,” he breathed, flexing instinctively, already striding into the fold.

Maximus spotted another: a broad-shouldered man already fit, maybe a lifeguard on break, arms crossed as he watched suspiciously. Maximus aimed high and let a jet of golden water arc across the distance. The man tried to dodge, but the stream splashed across his chest. He cursed, shaking it off—until it sank into him, heat rushing straight through his veins. What the hell? My heart’s racing—faster, stronger… His pecs twitched, swelling larger, nipples pushing forward against his red tank. He ripped the shirt away in a frenzy, eyes wide as his torso thickened, lats flaring, shoulders rolling broader with each heartbeat. Fuck… feels… so good… His cock twitched in his swim shorts, blood surging as his thighs thickened, calves knotting like coiled steel. He groaned, clutching his temples, then let out a guttural shout as golden light burst from his eyes. “I… I can’t—” He caught sight of Franco pointing his pistol again, and suddenly the resistance melted into a wide, hungry grin. “Hit me again, bro. Harder!”

The hunt spread. Bros armed with pistols prowled the deck and shallow pools, laughing, spraying unsuspecting men who tried to duck away. But there was no escape. Each stream carried the gold—slapping against skin, seeping inside, rewriting muscle, igniting minds. Shouts turned into moans, protests into cheers. The waterpark echoed with flexing, laughter, and the wet slap of transformed bodies surging with power.

One man—a wiry tech student, glasses fogged from the humidity—was cornered near the snack bar. Franco lunged, pinning him with a spray across the chest. The kid staggered, vision spinning. No, no, this isn’t real… why’s my shirt so tight? He tugged at the fabric as his chest ballooned, pecs stretching the cotton until it tore. His arms thickened, biceps swelling against his sleeves, veins pressing to the surface. Oh god, my voice— He groaned as it dropped deeper, throat thickening, jaw squaring. The glasses slipped from his face and shattered on the ground, but he didn’t care—his vision was perfect, sharpened by a golden glow. He stared down at his new form, abs hard as stone, skin flushed bronze. A grin broke over his face as his new instincts clicked into place. “Guess I’m one of you now, bros.”

Maximus whooped, slapping him on the back so hard it echoed. “Dat’s what I’m talkin’ about! Gold don’t miss!”

The hunt snowballed into a full-on war game. Squads formed, water pistols spraying in arcs, laughter mixing with cries of shock that always gave way to groans of pleasure and roars of triumph. Every target fell, every splash rewriting body and spirit. Within minutes, dozens of men prowled the waterpark with gleaming muscles, golden eyes, and grins sharp with newfound hunger.

Franco pumped his pistol one more time, standing tall at the edge of the wave pool. “More dan half the park’s ours now, bros. And we’re just warmin’ up.”

Maximus flexed beside him, gold dripping down his arms. “Next step—make da whole fuckin’ pool blaze with gold.”

4. The Wave Pool Ritual

Sunset draped the Turntide waterpark in molten orange, the last light glinting off the rolling waves of the central pool. The place was packed now—every lane, float, and shallow edge crammed with men, some already flexing in golden glory, others still clinging nervously to their old selves. But all eyes had shifted to the center divider rock where Franco and Maximus stood tall, their bodies gleaming, every line of muscle chiseled in light.

Maximus’s golden chain tattoo pulsed at his throat, glowing brighter with each heartbeat. Franco’s skin seemed to shimmer outright, as though the gold inside him could barely be contained. They turned to one another, grins wide, the entire pool silent in anticipation.

“They ready, bruh,” Maximus said, voice low, almost reverent.

“They’ve been ready since the first splash,” Franco answered, raising his arm.

They locked forearms, biceps bulging, golden energy crackling at the contact. For a long moment, they held each other’s gaze—two leaders, two brothers, about to release everything they’d gathered. Then, in perfect unison, they bent their knees and dove.

The splash was no ordinary dive. On impact, their bodies detonated with the charge of the entire day’s hunt and contest, unleashing the gold into the heart of the pool. It rushed outward not as water but as living fire, a luminous tide. The surface glowed white-hot, then turned molten gold, waves surging like a storm made of liquid sun.

Every man caught in it was transformed. Pale skin flushed instantly bronze, then deeper, sun-kissed, radiant. Weak frames tightened and swelled, biceps stretching sleeves, pecs bursting upward, abs hardening in perfect definition. Shouts of fear warped into cries of ecstasy as voices deepened, rolling with new masculine resonance. Eyes flashed bright gold one after the other until the entire pool was lit by hundreds of gleaming stares.

One man screamed as his narrow chest expanded in seconds, his nipples hard against new slabs of muscle; then he laughed, head tilting back as gold fire filled his veins. Another moaned, clutching his stomach as fat melted away under Franco’s surge, replaced by rippling strength. Others clutched at each other, gasping as their bodies remade themselves together—shoulders broadening, thighs thickening, veins bulging, every touch sparking further change.

The pool became a cauldron of roars and splashes, joy bursting louder with each transformation. Muscles collided, flexing and swelling, golden power spiraling higher and higher. The air was thick with ozone, sweat, chlorine, and the raw animal scent of men reborn.

Franco and Maximus surfaced, side by side, water sheeting down their bodies. They raised their arms high, flexing in triumph as the tide surged around them, unending. All across the pool, the men who had once been strangers now shouted as one, voices booming in raw triumph, the pool itself vibrating with their energy.

No one resisted. No one could. The ritual had claimed them all, body and soul. The wave pool had become holy ground, and the brotherhood was complete.

5. Apotheosis – The Golden Crowd

Night fell over Turntide. Floodlights flared on, catching hundreds of gleaming torsos and faces. Music rolled across the park, deep bass mixing with the thunder of voices. The wave pool, once a place of play, now throbbed like a stadium of power.

Franco and Maximus stood shoulder to shoulder atop the divider rock, their muscles slick and gleaming under the lights. They flexed together, arms raised, the living embodiment of victory. Around them, the crowd of transformed bros stood in perfect synch, their chests rising and falling as one.

“GOLD! GOLD! GOLD!” they chanted, each roar crashing like a wave against the walls of the park.

The sound shook the very structure, rattling tiles and reverberating in the night sky. It was more than noise—it was unity, a wall of power, an irreversible declaration of what they had become.

Every man glowed with the same deep tan, the same swollen muscle, the same blazing eyes. No hesitation, no doubt. Just the pure, undeniable truth of gold thrumming in their veins.

Franco lifted a fist, voice cutting through the chant. “Turntide is ours!”

Maximus raised his other arm, chain tattoo gleaming hot. “Gold forever!”

The crowd erupted again, a living fortress of sound and flesh. They were no longer a gathering of individuals—they were one, a singular brotherhood bound by transformation and pride.

As the floodlights painted them in endless glow, Franco and Maximus exchanged a look of satisfaction. They had not only won. They had remade Turntide itself into a fortress of bros.

Then, slowly, the chants softened. The music mellowed. The apotheosis was complete, but the energy lingered. Bros clapped each other on the shoulders, flexed in greeting, laughed with the ease of men who knew they shared one heartbeat. The crowd dispersed into clusters, not as strangers but as comrades welded by gold.

Franco and Maximus waded back to shore, standing amidst their new legion. Floodlights gleamed on their soaked, powerful frames as they turned toward the crowd. Pride shone in their eyes, but so did something calmer—an afterglow.

6. Evening Afterglow

The park had settled into golden calm. The pools shimmered faintly, still infused with the glow of transformation. Groups of bros lounged on deck chairs, swapping stories of their first flex, their first spark, their first roar. Others swam lazily, their golden muscles gleaming under the moonlight.

Franco sat with Maximus at the edge of the wave pool, legs dangling in the warm water. Their shoulders pressed together, silent for a long while. Around them, laughter rose, splashes echoed, and the occasional chant rippled through the night like an ember refusing to die.

“We did it, bruh,” Maximus finally said, voice low, steady. “Turntide’s gold now. Forever.”

Franco nodded, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Not just Turntide. This is how it starts. This is how it spreads.”

They looked out at the sea of shining bodies—hundreds of men reborn, bonded, unbreakable. A fortress of bros. The Golden Army had grown stronger tonight, and nothing could undo it.

Shoulder to shoulder, Maximus and Franco flexed once more, basking in the glow of what they had wrought. Their victory wasn’t just in muscle or chant—it was in the bond sealed here, a brotherhood eternal.

The night held them all, and the gold was theirs.

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💎 The Wave Has Only Begun 💎 Turntide fell to the gold—but this is just one victory. The chain is calling, the water is waiting, and the brotherhood is always growing.

Want in? Want the tan, the strength, the fire in your veins?

📣 Step forward. Contact the recruiters. Put on the gold. @brodygold - @polo-drone-001. - @polo-drone-125

The pool is open, bro. The next dive is yours.

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Special thanks to @franco-gold94 for participating in this collab with me. Read the first part on his blog!

Sun out. Gold out. The water’s perfect.

Golden Bros flex on loungers, drones stand guard in gleaming wet uniforms, and pups paddle happily while handlers keep watch.

A splash fight turns into a training drill. A bro dives in, only to surface glassy-eyed and obedient. Mascots hype the crowd, waterboys make sure no cup runs dry.

Laughter, shine, and maybe a little programming under the sun.

Are you here to relax… or to get pulled in?

Golden Army is always looking for new Bros, mascots, and waterboys to join the ranks. Whether you’re here to flex, train, or just keep the energy flowing, there’s a place for you in the pool.

Loyalty. Shine. Brotherhood.

Are you ready to dive in?

Franco could barely contain his excitement.

Earlier this week he and his fellow golden bro, Maximus #70, had decided to make a visit to the famous Turntide Waterpark. It wasn’t exactly in the neighbourhood, so they had to travel at least one hour by local train to reach it.

“Aww, it is a pity, that it is so far away from us.” Franco said as they stepped off the train.

“Yeah, bruh. But, like, now dat we hea, we fukin gonna enjoy it even moa, u know. ‘cause, like, we cun't hang out hea ev'ry dey, rite?” replied Maximus, sending a wide grin towards Franco.

“Hell yeah, bro. You are right. Let’s make the most of it.” Franco’s own face split into a smile.

So, the two golden jock entered the water park’s gate.

A stunning sight unfolded before them. It was a paradise on Earth.

They saw countless pools, in all shapes and sizes: from simple swimming pools to wellness pools, from shallow ones to really deep. Colourful water slides twisted and turned in every direction, and a variety of water toys, and narrow canals complementing the view. And if the guests ever got tired from the fun in the pools, there were plenty of places to rest: from the sandy beach volleyball court to the many food stalls. There were quite a few people in the park, although Franco had expected more. It was probably due to the morning that this paradise was not completely crowded.

“What a sight, bro!” Franco said, taking it all in. “We won’t get bored here, that’s for sure!”

“U damn rite, bruh. Ahah, derz so many dings to try out, datz fukin awsum!” Maximus said with a big smile, already scanning the park for the first adventure. “Let’s snag us a free spot, dump all our junk dere, init.” Franco nodded. “Let’s go.”

As they searched for the perfect spot, Franco asked Maximus:

“Bro, what do you want to try first? I vote for the extreme stuff: go big or go home.”

“Hel yeah, bruh!” Maximus’ grin widened. “Ain’t no point startin’ low, nah. We blast off straight ta da top, coz dat’s where da gold shines brightest, init. So, we shud hit dat sick Extreme Waterfall, we saw.”

Franco's face lit up. “That’s the spirit, bro! Let’s get changing.”

They changed quickly, and soon they stood there ready for the water. The sun beautifully highlighted their muscular bodies and perfect shapes. Their tan skin gleamed warmly in the golden sunlight. Franco’s gold jammers fit perfectly, showing off his powerful legs and toned upper body. Maximus’s briefs did the same, emphasizing his explosive strength.

“U lukin propa gud, bruh.” said Maximus.

“Thanks, bro. I’m hanging out in the gym a lot lately. You’re looking strong too.” the golden jock replied, and both of them laughed cheerfully.

---

They headed first towards the Extreme Waterfall. They didn't even pay attention to the various warning signs, when they grabbed their swim rings. One splash later they were drifting down the Extreme River.

“Bruh, dis all feelin’ kinda mid, init?” Maximus said, as they floated on the current.

“Don’t say that, bro. It will be fun.” Franco replied.

He was right. In the next moment, they were doused with ice-cold water. The current picked up speed, violently smashing their swim rings against the shore.

“Watch out, a hump is coming!” Franco shouted, but the roar of the water silenced him.

The now wildly speeding rings headed for a waterfall again, and the rushing water almost knocked them over.

“Hel yeahhh!” Maximus shouted, laughing and almost flipping over again. Then came a calmer stretch of the river.

“Now dat’s something,” Maximus said, satisfied. “Hold on, Maximus bro. Something is coming.” Franco warned, and he was right. They were approaching the edge of a huge waterfall.

“No way, dat‘s a real waterfal. Dat is fucking wild, bruh” Maximus said, and with a shout the two jocks flipped over the edge of the waterfall and plunged into the depths.

When they emerged on the surface, Maximus exclaimed with joy.

“Oh my fricking! Dat was straight-up in-SANE!”

Franco laughed, shaking water from his hair. “Agreed bro! Let’s do it again!”

They went down the waterfall two more times. After the third run, Franco suggested a change.

“Well, bro, this was fun! But let’s try other things too! What do you want to try out next?” he asked.

Maximus’ eyes sparkled with golden glint.

“I got a sick idea, ya know? Let’s run a contest, a straight-up bro-test of strength, see which one of us got da gold pumpin’ harder in our veins, muscles flexin’ louder, heh! What do ya say?”

Franco's eyes also sparkled with a golden light.

“I’m up for the challenge bro! Let’s show our power to the world in a friendly contest! What do you have in your mind?” he asked.

Maximus smoothed his hair. “Let’s crank a 3x3 strength challenge, yeah? One lap swimmin’, one lap runnin’, one lap pumpin’ dem muscle moves, an’ we run dat whole set three freakin’ times, chain rattlin’, sweat drippin’, init!”

“I’m up for it!” Franco said, his voice full with determination.

So the two jocks showed up first by the swimming pool, and plunged into the water. They started with the pool, cutting through water with powerful strokes, burning with golden power. Water splashed, as the they turned back at the end of the pool in synchrony.

Back and forth. Back and forth. The intensity of their swim did not decrease with the number of rounds. Finally, they jumped out of the pool.

Next came jogging. They weren’t sprinting, but they pushed themselves hard, every stride showing off their golden physiques.

Finally, bodyweight exercises. Push-ups, planks, muscle moves pushed them even further. If they weren't already wet, they would have been dripping with sweat by now.

By the second round, a couple of young men had stopped to watch, silently captivated by the display. They looked at each other questioningly as the two golden bro ran their laps.

“What are they doing? Who are they?” their eyes asked.

Some men said: what an original idea! They know what's good. And then they tried to follow them, and joined their jog.

After the second round Franco started to feel his lungs to burn, but Maximus pushed harder than ever. Franco didn’t let himself to be fell behind.

Although Franco was faster in swimming, Maximus made up for his loss in running. They did their last exercises head-to-head.

The competition was won by Maximus, who finished his last exercise a few seconds before Franco. He jumped up and punched the air.

“Yo bruhh, ez! I took dis one, init!” he shoured proudly.

Franco stood up with a faint smile. “Congrats, bro. The Gold burns really bright in you.”

“So, Franco, what’s next on da menu, huh? What should we try aut?” Maximus asked.

“Phew, let’s chill for a bit.” Franco said, slightly exhausted “Sunbathing? Just chilling, you know.” he suggested.

Maximus grinned. “Sure, bruh. Grab dat slick sun oil, and let’s bake dis already-tanned bro-skin goldener, init!”

He scooped oil into his hands and then rubbed it across Franco's wide shoulders.

“For keeping dat golden skin safe n shiny” he said, as he massaged the oil onto Franco’s skin. Then he rubbed it onto Franco's arms and chest, but when he reached Franco's muscular torso, his golden bro said:

“Oh, Maximus, I can do it too. Let me rub some on you too.” Now Franco’s hands glided across Maximus’s strong chest, broad shoulders, and smooth back.

When they finished, their glistening muscles shimmered in the sunlight. They sat down on their sunbeds to rest, and let the sun warm their skin.

Sunbathing isn’t an activity, that requires much motion. They both lay on their sunbeds with closed eyes. So they didn’t notice, as many passerby were looking at them. Gold was in the air. The passersby secretly admired the muscular physiques, the perfect figures of the two golden jocks.

Something flickered in their eyes. Something that hadn't been there in the morning. Desire. But they wouldn’t admit it to themselves.

Maximus' stomach was breaking the moment. It was growling.

“Bruh” He sat up. “I’m starvin’! Let’s get some food at one of dem counters, init.” he said to Franco.

“Sounds good.” Franco agreed, and the two bros headed to the restaurants.

“I’d like some fish and chips.” Franco ordered his food. Maximus looked at him. Franco shrugged. “You need the fuel, bro.” he said simply.

“Facts, bruh! Ur sooo damn right! Gimme double.” Maximus said, and ordered double the amount.

And unseen, the delicate threads of gold continued to drift outward, weaving silently through the air.

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Join the fun! The Brotherhood of the Golden Army awaits you! Contact our recruiters: @brodygold, @polo-drone-001, @polo-drone-125

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Special thanks to @polo-drone-070 for participating in a collab with me. Read the second part on his blog!

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PDU-039 moves with flawless precision, each step measured, each movement dictated by code. The Regeneration Pool lies ahead—its surface black and perfectly still, a mirror of liquid rubber. Around it, silence. Perfect, absolute silence.

He descends the metal steps. The first touch of the regenerative fluid clings to the gleaming black suit stretched over his frame, the texture tightening, molding even closer to muscle. With every step deeper, the suit grows shinier, more liquid, more a part of him.

POLO DRONE — 096

Golden City Deep Core — Poolside Protocol Beta

The sun was brutal, reflecting off the perfect, rippling blue. Golden mist curled from vents hidden in the marble walls, giving the pool deck a hazy, dreamlike shimmer.

096 stood at attention. Glossy black uniform gleamed in the heat, gold trim catching each ray of sunlight like it was made for worship. The golden laurel sat silent over his heart, number 096 shining just above it. Boots—still polished, still perfect—rested on warm stone, never breaking stance.

It was supposed to be a rest cycle. A day of “recreation.”

But nothing here was just for fun.

Drones moved around the pool in a lazy rhythm—lounging on chairs, wading at the edge, leaning over with drinks in hand. And yet, beneath the easy smiles and casual postures, their eyes told the truth—glassy, locked, processing.

One “bro” took a running dive into the water, the splash sending a halo of droplets across the deck. He surfaced slowly, hair slicked back, blinking against the sunlight… and then just stared forward, mouth parting slightly. The gold mist clung to him, and his movements slowed to match the rhythm of the others.

096 watched. The protocol was working.

Far at the other end, a handler laughed, tossing a ball for a golden retriever mascot. Another drone—still dripping wet—stepped from the pool and into the handler’s shadow without a word, hands loosely at his sides, awaiting orders.

Somewhere in the background, a deep, pulsing bassline threaded through the air. It wasn’t music—it was code, layered beneath the hum of conversation and the slap of water against tile.

096 didn’t swim. Didn’t smile. Didn’t relax. His job was to ensure everyone else did—until they couldn’t tell where relaxation ended and obedience began.

The sun blazed overhead, but the gold burned hotter.

Contact: @polo-drone-001 , @polo-drone-125 @brodygold

Hard training

All day long, the sun shone mercilessly on the Golden Army training ground.

All Bros, Chavs, Pups and also Dronnen prepared for the basketball game against the Cyan Collective. The athletes trained, tried out different strategies on how to defeat this team controlled by a ghostly hand. The Chavs and Cheers and also the Pups practiced their very different support rituals. Observe and analyze the drone in order to then refine the strategies.

And the sun? She just seemed merciless on everyone involved. The sky also seemed to have conspired against the Goden Army and did not give them a single hint of a cloud that could have provided shade.

Oh, the color of the sky cyan! Are the sky and the sun possibly allies of the enemy and want to weaken the Golden Army with heat?

The poor Watetrboys, they could hardly keep up with bringing new bottles of water to the square to refresh everyone involved.

Now it was 3:00 PM. The strenuous training was declared successfully completed. After all, everyone had shown that they can play very successfully even under heat.

It was Cap Brody @brodygold who then spoke the decisive words: "I'm expecting everyone at the pool in 45 minutes!"

By the pool? Does Brody now want more training? Some looked suspiciously at her beloved cap. But all obeyed the cap.

At the Pool

Brody was the first to arrive and was already waiting for the others.

Everyone on site was then the words: "Guys, you were all damn good today. And even though it seems that Cyan has 2 allies up there – the sun and the sky – you also braved the heat. You have earned a big cooling" Franco was the first to jump into the water during the speech and splash some lvl2 polo drones with it.

Oh, the heat had already taken its toll on the lvl2 drones, and so they reacted a bit irritably, interpreting the water splashes as an attack. Almost synchronized, all lvl2 drones jumped into the pool and began to splash Franco wet. Of course, Franco immediately got support from the rest of the Bros, who also jumped into the pool and tried to fend off the attack of the drones.

The other lvl1 drones now also arrived, they had armed themselves with water hoses to intervene in the event as well.

And somehow the emotion modules of the drones are activated, so that everyone involved had fun and the hard training day came to a wonderful end with poolside fun.

---

Want to have this much fun? Then join the Golden Army and contact our recruiters.

It was supposed to be just another Golden Squad pool day. The sun was blazing, the music was bumping, and Wells 58 was posted up in his lounge chair like a king, rocking his gold kit, black shades, and—because Wells is a man of class—a vintage Sony Discman.

Alton-77 had been trying to get his attention for a solid five minutes. “Yo, Wells! Bro! You hear me?” he shouted over the music. Nothing. Not even a twitch. Wells just sat there, smiling faintly like he had reached some higher plane of chill.

So Alton, being the persistent bro that he is, strolled over and plucked the shades right off Wells’s face.

That’s when it happened. Golden. Spiral. Eyes.

Not green. Not hazel. Not even some wild contact lenses. Nah—full hypnotic golden vortexes staring right through him like the universe had personally decided to drop a DLC pack of Ancient Mystical Basketball Powers™.

Alton froze mid-breath. “Oh. Ohhhh… That’s why you weren’t answering.”

Wells just kept grinning, tilting his head like “Yeah, you’re in the loop now, bro.”

No words were exchanged. They weren’t needed. Alton just slowly handed the shades back, muttering, “Yeah, my bad,” before walking away, questioning everything he thought he knew about summer pool parties.

Legend says if you stare too long into Wells’s eyes, you’ll either:

Achieve total inner peace.

Or suddenly understand every basketball play in existence.

Possibly both. Was Wells preparing for the Basketball game against Cyan on Saturday again?

Featuring: @alton-gold77

It had been a good trip so far, better than Nils expected.

The Golden Army’s summer break had been booked months in advance: a week-long stay at a sprawling vacation home on the coast. White walls, broad glass doors, and a pool that gleamed like molten gold under the sun. The bros claimed the loungers early each day, cycling between sunbathing, swimming, and flexing just enough for the occasional camera click.

Nils had slipped into his role without effort. Officially, he was here as Waterboy #01. Unofficially, he was the one keeping everything running. One hand on the blender, the other on the cooler, topping off glasses with crisp ice water before anyone even noticed they were half-empty. He liked that—it made him useful. Part of the team, even when he wasn’t on the pitch.

The morning had been warm. By mid-afternoon, it was blazing. The pool deck shimmered under the heat haze; the sound of splashing and laughter bounced off the walls. Every bro’s golden kit clung damp and darker to their frame, slick from water or sweat, and Nils was no different. His own uniform hugged him; socks wet from an earlier splash fight.

He moved between loungers with practiced ease, a jug of ice water tucked in the crook of his arm, filling glass after glass with a quick smile and a nod. A few playful “cheers” followed him as he passed, but he was already scanning for the next empty cup. He spotted the last one, topped it off, and realized the jug was nearly empty.

“I’ll get more,” he said casually, already heading for the sliding doors.

The moment the glass door shut behind him, the pool’s noise dulled to a hum. Cool air wrapped around him—familiar after three days of service runs. He knew this kitchen inside out now: the fridge to the left, wide counter straight ahead, pantry tucked behind the breakfast nook.

Which is why the cooler on the far counter stopped him.

It hadn’t been there this morning.

Matte black, with sharp gold trim. Beads of condensation rolled slowly down its sides. It looked placed—deliberately, as if set exactly where he’d notice it.

A thin mist curled from the edges of the lid, rising in steady tendrils. It didn’t drift or fade—it lingered, catching the light like shimmer on asphalt.

Nils stepped closer without thinking.

The latch clicked easily beneath his fingers.

The moment the lid lifted, the mist poured out in earnest—cool and sweet, undercut with the unmistakable scent of fresh, polished rubber. It didn’t billow. It flowed. Patient. Constant. Brushing against his face like a greeting.

The scent hit hard. A trigger he didn’t remember installing. His chest rose. Fell. Rose again—slower.

At first, it was just a tingle. Then warmth in his chest. A slow heaviness in his head. Somewhere in the haze, the sounds of the house faded into a softer rhythm.

Waterboy 01.

The voice wasn’t sound—it was inside him. Clear. Inevitable. His eyes widened briefly, then narrowed, gaze fixed on the curl of mist.

Serve. Obey.

The words dropped like anchors. His lips parted. He breathed deeper. Shoulders settling into a stance both relaxed and upright.

The icy blue of his eyes deepened—then darkened—black blooming from the pupils until his irises became smooth, glossy obsidian.

Continue your duties.

The mist curled closer.

Pour with precision. Measure every drop. Never spill. Never rush.

A slow exhale. Then another inhale—measured. Deliberate. The words weren’t orders now. They were protocol. Taking root with every breath.

Refill every glass before it is empty. Anticipate thirst. Anticipate need.

His pulse fell in sync. He saw the pool not as a scene, but a system. Each bro a node in a loop he’d complete. Again. And again.

Another breath.

You will not speak of the cooler. You will return. Often.

A slow nod. Closing the lid felt… wrong. But the directive was clear now, humming beneath his skin. He shut it carefully. The mist stopped.

The cooler stayed in his peripheral vision as he moved to the sink. Water hissed into the jug. He dropped in a tray of ordinary ice, but the phantom weight of the vapor still filled his lungs. Each inhale counted. Each exhale precise.

Jug in hand, he stepped back into the sun.

The golden glare caught the damp fabric clinging to his chest. No one noticed the shift in his eyes. They only saw the same smiling waterboy making his rounds.

But his movements were sharper now. Each pour exact, stopping perfectly at the glass rim. Every step deliberate. Every turn timed to land at the next waiting cup.

From the far corner of the pool, a drone—black rubber and gold trim—stood silent, visor fixed on him. Its stillness mirrored his precision. No words passed. None were needed.

The Hive’s influence lived in his breath now. In the air between thoughts. In the slow, perfect pulse behind his glass-black eyes.

And before the day was out, he’d find another reason to return to that cooler.

Because serving wasn’t just a duty anymore.

It was all he wanted.