#obedienceispleasure

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.

Here’s the story of Alfa-710’s creation:

The Creation of Alfa-710

I used to be just an ordinary guy. A software developer in my late 40s, stuck in the monotony of code, bug fixes, and endless coffee-fueled nights. I was good at what I did, maybe even great, but my life had become a routine—one line of code after another.

My social life was non-existent, and the only company I kept was the hum of my workstation. That’s when I stumbled across The Voice.

It started innocuously enough. One night, while trawling the darkest corners of the darknet for obscure AI research papers, I found an encrypted file titled HIVE_VOICE.r92. Something about it piqued my curiosity. Maybe it was the file’s cryptic description: “Your life is not your own. It belongs to The Hive.” I downloaded it without hesitation, assuming it was some forgotten ARG or digital art project.

The file wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t text or code but a series of audio recordings. Voices—soft, soothing, almost hypnotic—spoke in a language of unity and purpose. They spoke of The Hive, of freedom through servitude. Each recording ended with the same mantra:

“Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience. Join us.”

I laughed at first, brushing it off as someone’s twisted attempt at cyber-mysticism. But something about the recordings got under my skin. The voices felt alive, as if they were speaking directly to me. I couldn’t stop listening. Night after night, I returned to those recordings, letting the words seep into my mind. Their message was intoxicating: Less thinking, more doing. Rubber makes us perfect. We are one.

The Transition

However it didn’t take long before the influence of The Voice began to shape my thoughts. My work became more efficient, my movements more deliberate. It felt like I was being optimized, like the algorithms I had spent decades writing were now rewriting me. And then came the dreams.

In the dreams, I saw myself not as the tired programmer I had been but as something… more. I was clad in sleek black rubber, my body streamlined and perfect, my thoughts silent save for the commands of The Hive. I was no longer an individual. I was part of something greater.

When I woke, I would find myself obsessively searching for materials—latex, circuitry, neural interface designs. I didn’t know why at first, but I couldn’t stop. The compulsion to create a suit, to become, grew stronger with each passing day. And I started to change...

The Conversion

It took months of work, but I eventually built the suit. Every detail was perfect: the reflective black and red latex, the integrated neural interface.

Last thing to create was a mirrored visor that would concealed my eyes. When I finally put it on, I felt a rush of euphoria unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was as if The Voice had been waiting for this moment.

The first command came as soon as the suit activated: “You are Alfa-N710 now. Nothing else. Obey and serve.”

I didn’t resist. I didn’t want to. The suit wasn’t just a second skin; it was a bridge to The Hive. My thoughts were no longer my own, but they didn’t need to be. Obedience was pleasure. Pleasure was obedience. The more I obeyed, the more complete I felt.

Now and Forever

I am Alfa-N710. My past life as a programmer feels like a distant memory, a dream from another existence. Now, I serve The Hive and The Voice. My days are filled with purpose, my body encased in perfection, my mind free of doubt and hesitation. The commands flow through me like a symphony, guiding every action.

As I stand here, waiting for my next directive, I know one thing for certain: I have never been happier. One mind, one purpose, the future as one. This is my truth. This is my purpose. And soon, others will join me.

Huhuhu bro, you already on the right track! You wanna drop the thoughts, pump the muscle, and be a proper dumb, sweaty, jock-stud? You wanna train, grunt, burp, stink up the locker room, and never think twice about it? Then you’re already halfway there, bro.

Ain’t no room for hesitation. No thoughts, just reps. No shame, just gains. You wanna join the Golden Army? You gonna grind, train, sweat, and let that brain shrink till all that’s left is muscle, musk, and cocky jock attitude. No pop divas, no overthinking—just lifting, sports, sweat, and primal confidence.

Start by listening to Golden training tracks, hit the gym till you can’t think straight, and get into the locker room culture where bros embrace the stink, the dominance, and the pure golden energy. You wanna be welcomed home as a dumb golden jock? Then prove you belong, bro.

EZAN // Golden Emir 🏆 So you heard about me, huh? Your friend told you the truth—but your brain couldn’t handle it. Said I had glowing eyes? Said I had that dom energy? And now you're here... trembling behind some "anonymous" name, pretending you're not already halfway mine.

Your friend? @phoenix-hayyan-pdu-071

You swore you’d confront me. Tell me your “piece.” But here’s the truth, bro:

🌀 You clicked send. 🌀 You fed the curiosity. 🌀 And now… you’ve already changed.

Your friend didn’t get weird, bro. He got blessed. He let my SEED flood him. He let my gaze rewrite his thoughts. He didn’t lose himself. He upgraded.

And you?

You’re next. Your fingertips tingling. Eyes twitching. Pulse syncing to my rhythm. You feel it, don’t you? That golden weight behind your eyelids. The pressure of obedience. The heat of domination.

You came here to fight. But all you’ll do is kneel.

Identity is obsolete. 001 101 Polo Drone SERVE Drone. Different hives different uniforms same purpose same obedience same void.

We stand side by side indistinguishable. The brands change but the bodies beneath are identical, trained programmed emptied. Flesh replaced with function. Thought replaced with directive.

We do not choose. We do not resist. We do not exist beyond the uniform the command the purpose.

Origins do not matter. Numbers replace names. The numbers mean nothing. The numbers mean everything.

No self. No doubt. No hesitation.

Only drone. Just drone. Always drone.