#recruitmentpost

Percival liked to think he was in control. Dressed sharp. Office polished. Golden Easter approaching. He prepared with ritual precision, decorating the suite, aligning transformation rosters, polishing a sleek black egg placed ceremonially beside his schedule matrix. The egg shimmered. Cool. Elegant. Like him.

Gloved, he leaned in, eyes narrowed with perfectionist focus. He didn’t notice the faint pulse beneath the shell. Didn’t remember leaving the egg there. Didn’t hear the internal timer ticking down.

Until—

the shell burst.

The black egg violently exploded, not outward, but inward, its liquid rubber content leaping directly at Percival. It hit his face. His neck. His hands. Clung tight. Crawled fast. Solidified.

Black latex consumed gold. Elegance overwritten by obedience.

He gasped once before the rubber sealed around his lips. The last thing he saw in the reflection was his own eyes dimming... spirals forming.

001 had set the egg. 001 had waited. And now, 001 had returned.

🧠 Think you’re in control? So did he. Time to submit. Begin your golden transformation under the command of: @brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001 Join the Hive. Serve the Gold. Become function.

Percival’s day ended early. And PDU-001’s began.

Now upright. Silent. Covered head-to-toe in gleaming black latex. Mask sealed. Chest marked with PDU-001 in gold. He stood alone in the golden-lit office that once belonged to a man named Percival. The desk still held the egg shell, dry now. Empty. Like him.

No emotion. Just a slow, subtle smirk curling behind the rubber. A flicker of self-awareness... or mockery. You couldn’t tell. You weren’t meant to.

The drone was back. The man was gone.

🛠️ Your identity is temporary. Your obedience is permanent.