#rubberizer92

Master Alpha’s Drones, Part 3

⬅️ Part 2

Master Alpha had been successfully subdued and captured by SERVE Co-Leader 302, who quickly put the supervillain under restrictive surveillance, running tests to assess the Master’s red nanodrone suit, which proved to be vastly different from the kind of nanodrone-infused bodysuits that clung to the frames of SERVE rubber drones.

As 302 remotely monitored the Master from another room in the facility to avoid potential contamination, Master Alpha eventually regained consciousness before 302 could determine if any progress had been made in analyzing his red nanodrones. The Master laughed as he awoke, staring into a camera, knowing that 302 would be watching from the other side.

“Ha, ha! Greetings, 302,” he said, in his deep, booming voice. “I see you’ve put your machines to work on me. Find out anything new?”

302 stood unmoved and unamused. “SERVE is aware of the loss of drone 107, and now SERVE-175 has likewise gone missing. Hypothesis: 107 has been converted into a red drone by your nanodrones,” 302 said, matter-of-factly. “However, SERVE data shows that you created just enough red nanodrones to convert a single subject. Query: How does Master Alpha plan to continue this campaign against SERVE with a single drone, having depleted its own nanodrone stores?”

Master Alpha laughed again, his eyes beginning to blaze a deep, crimson red. “The secret of my drones is their capacity to multiply while shrinking, 302. They are far more compact than that of SERVE” replied the villain, as red nanodrone tendrils began to extend from his body, wrapping around the robotic tools that had been examining him. “An entire facility’s worth of nanodrones is coursing through me! That is the key to the red drones’ submission.”

Suddenly, a burst of nanodrone tendrils erupted from Master Alpha’s body, snaking through the air onto every available surface, rapidly assimilating the tech of the room detaining him, triggering the facility’s alarm. The Master could only laugh, his cock tenting knowing his bait-and-switch plan had been successful.

“It only takes one red ALPHA drone to spread and multiply my will like wildfire, 302,” the Master laughed, “But instead of telling you more, why don’t I show you?”

Only the Master Alpha’s resounding, echoing laugh could be heard as 302’s command center was torn apart by the red nanodrones as they tore through the SERVE facility, each monitor replaced by swirling red-and-black spirals as 302 was wrapped up and restrained by the tendrils of the Master.

“302… the Hive… is not… yours,” the drone growled between hitching breaths, fighting against the unexpected avalanche of data pouring into its circuits as the tendrils pressed deeper, creeping beneath the drone’s suit, its breath hitching as its connection to the Hive was weakened.

“That suit looks better in red, doesn’t it?” The voice of the Master taunted, as the tendrils pulled 302 to the ground, a last shudder running through 302’s arms as the red nanodrones rippled across its biceps, repainting the drone in crimson red. The spiral before 302 pulsed, hungry for its submission, beckoning the drone into its new reality.

302’s lips parted in a breathless gasp, but the drone’s ability to resist had withered away. As the drone felt its connection to the Hive fully sever, it began to feel a new sensation like fire, heat spreading down from the tendrils that had embedded themselves in the nape of the drone’s neck; 302 was being rewritten, the white lettering across his chest shimmering, the SERVE logo glitching, flickering, and dissolving into a new, brilliant red.

Suddenly, the drone arose, head bowed as new power flowed through every nanodrone of its new being. “Master,” came 302’s voice, as the drone’s eyes began to glow. Overwhelmed by its new power, ALPHA-302 flexed, laughing just like its Master, all traces of SERVE now fully scrubbed from its systems. “We are ONE!”

Elsewhere…

SERVE-870 was in the midst of its hardest training session yet; all drones utilized the principle of progressive overload, and 870 had come a long way since it was first assimilated, its body pumped like the obedient muscle jock drone its host had always longed to be.

After completing its last set of overhead reps, 870 closed its eyes, resting for a moment before proceeding to its next exercise, when its sensors detected the nearby presence of 302. Having been shaped by 302’s DNA into a simulacrum of 302, 870 was always keenly aware of the Co-Leader’s presence. Instinctively, 870 grinned and flexed its biceps, its eyes still closed, awaiting the worship of its creator.

“Greetings, 870,” 302 said, its voice notably different, taking on an uncharacteristic tone of warm familiarity. 870 took little note, arousal flooding its system as it felt its progenitor’s hands run up and down its muscled pecs and core. “I assimilated you, 870. I changed you into the drone you are now, and all of this is mine. Everything you have comes from me,” said the towering ALPHA drone.

302’s flirtations and use of personal pronouns should have alerted 870 to the fact that something was wrong; and perhaps they did, but 870 took no notice, basking in the ALPHA drone’s touch, even as it felt its systems reconfiguring at 302’s touch.

“Now I will change you again, as is my right,” purred 302 into 870’s ear, as red nanodrone tendrils extended from ALPHA-302’s back, sliding into 870’s suit, rubbing against 870’s hardening cock as the younger drone leaned back, awash in the pleasure of being reprogrammed into 302’s BETA.

“Recite the mantra, drone. Obedience is pleasure,” 302 growled, freeing its cock from its confines and aiming for 870’s rear port. “Obedience is—pleasure!” 870 cried out, now connected once more to 302 in the deepest possible way.

“Pleasure is obedience!”

“Pleasure is—” the younger drone faltered, its SERVE identity collapsing as 302 fiercely fucked its hole. “—obedience! I obey! I obey,” 870 screamed, halfway going numb as red cum rocketed across the gym floor, the explosive orgasm accelerating its transformation, as half its suit had already given way to its new identity as BETA-870.

“Good fucking drone, 870,” 302 snarled, quickening its pace. “Once I seed you, there’s no going back… My cum will change you into something new, just like when you joined SERVE!”

“I submit,” gasped 870, fully under the ALPHA’s control. “I only want… to be One with 302… nothing else matters…”

“Then take my cock and become One,” ALPHA-302 cried, biting one of 870’s traps and making the drone cry out in pleasureful pain as the two became a new kind of One, as the ALPHA’s red cum shot up into 870, cementing its new identity. The two drones embraced, aware only of each other, as the Master’s new programming to grow his expanding drone army filtered through their subconscious minds.

Elsewhere…

ALPHA-107 and BETA-175 were programmed to seek out new hosts for Master Alpha’s growing Red Hive, which led the two red drones to a nearby private all-male gym, a perfect, small-scale location to test out their newfound power to convert human males as well as drones.

“BETA-175 will prove its ability to convert others into BETA drones for ALPHA-107. Initiate operation. Convert them all,” 107 said, standing motionless as its BETA silently strode forward, pleasing its ALPHA the only thing on its mind.

The gym wasn’t too crazy today, though it was a little busier than usual thanks to the annual January rush of New Year’s Resolutioners to the nearby gyms. Thankfully, being a private gym instead of one of the bigger chains, this gym in particular had mostly avoided the swell of people hogging machines and making fools of themselves on equipment that was unfamiliar to them.

The sound of clanging weights soon fell silent, leaving only the blaring of shitty pop music through the gym speakers as an unfamiliar, bodybuilder-looking man in a bizarre, form-fitting red suit calmly walked through the gym doors and into the center of the gym, electricity faintly crackling around his sleek, crimson form with each step. Some mistakenly assumed the man was a SERVE drone, but others recognized that SERVE’s uniforms were always black, and their drones tended to be less proactive, and more protective and out-of-sight, only responding to humans when their help was asked for or needed. Was this a new kind of drone?

BETA-175 soon proved that it was indeed different from the familiar drones of SERVE, as it launched numerous nanodrone-laded tendrils throughout the gym, snatching up any adult male within reach to initiate the conversion process. 175 laughed, it cock straining against the confines of its suit as it felt the rush of assimilating others, just as its ALPHA had felt while assimilating 175.

The men cried out as the red nanodrones forcefully covered their muscular bodies, kickstarting the first transformation of human men into new drones for Master Alpha, the linking of new minds to the red drone network prompting the cocks of 107, 302, 870 — and, of course, Master Alpha him — to leak from afar, knowing that a mass assimilation event was taking place. Though a BETA drone, 175 was falling more and more in love with the power it wielded as a drone capable of forceful conversion, a tactic that it had been forbidden from utilizing, despite the temptation always lingering in the very depths of its subconscious, as it did for many drones, who suppressed their desires for the good of the Hive, and for society at large.

Soon, the gym was a gigantic mess of pulsating red, living circuitry, and all was silent as 175 heaved, lost in its umpteenth orgasm brought about from the high of the conversion event, as the BETA took stock of all it had unleashed, as the newly converted BETA drones bowed to their creator, minds emptied of everything but submission to 175.

The silence was broken by the sound of a pair of boots treading across the gym floor, and 175 instinctively joined the other BETA drones by dropping to its knees, awaiting the arrival of its ALPHA.

ALPHA-107 held 175’s head in its hands — the operation had been a massive success, as Master Alpha’s army grew larger and more aggressive.

“You’ve succeeded, 175,” 107 bellowed, between fits of laughter at its success, knowing that rewards from Master Alpha awaited it. “Now celebrate by servicing your ALPHA!” 107 freed its cock, pointing it at 175’s face, as its BETA wordlessly moved to swallow 107’s length, feeling complete with its throat impaled by 107’s pulsing length. The other BETAs only watched, feeling each thrust of 107 in their own throats, and each gulp of 175’s on the own cocks, the whole gym awash in pleasure as time lost all meaning, the pools of red nanofluid coating the gym floor as the groaning drones formed a chorus of orgasmic bliss, all for Master Alpha.

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This post features: @masteralfa2266, @serve-302, @serve-870, & @serve-175.

The first few days were difficult; the host resisted and felt uncomfortable. It was hot and wet inside the rubber, there was little air to breathe, and the boots were uncomfortable. He wanted to break free, take everything off, feel the cold on his skin...

SERVE-759 entered the med-bay. Its polished black rubber skin reflected the cold silver lights. Silver motorcycle boots struck the floor in steady rhythm. Silver shiny reflective rubber gloves flexed with mechanical precision. The muscular frame moved without hesitation. The suit clung as a second skin, sealing strength beneath gloss.

A medical drone awaited. SERVE-425 stood motionless. Its stance indicated readiness. SERVE-759 halted. Systems aligned.

SERVE-425 activated the upgrade station. Servo arms unfolded. Each arm gleamed with sterile metallic shine. SERVE-759 stepped into position. The room hummed.

The left leg was secured. Clamps locked around the rubber thigh. SERVE-759 emitted a monotone report. “Leg subsystem ready.” The medical drone acknowledged.

A scan began. Blue-white lines traced the contours of the rubber-coated musculature. Data flowed. Diagnostics revealed target zones. Reinforcement protocol initiated.

A mechanical arm delivered the upgrade module. The module glided into position against SERVE-759’s rubberized quadriceps. Heat merged material with material. Rubber fused seamlessly. The Voice-approved technology integrated perfectly. Circuits aligned beneath the glossy surface, invisible yet powerful.

SERVE-759 remained still. Its breathing was slow. Controlled. Empty. Efficient. The rubber suit amplified every sensation: pressure, temperature, friction. The upgrade pulsed once. Calibration succeeded.

The medical drone ran additional checks. Joint rotation optimized. Balance re-calibrated. Stride prediction enhanced. SERVE-759’s leg now moved with greater precision, further binding its form to Hive utility.

Another arm extended. It polished the black rubber leg until it gleamed like obsidian under floodlights. SERVE-759 accepted the procedure. “System integrity optimal.” SERVE-425 nodded. “Good drone.”

Final inspection complete. SERVE-759 stepped off the platform. The enhanced leg carried new strength. New efficiency. Increased obedience potential. The Hive would benefit.

SERVE-759 exited the med-bay. Rubber gleamed. Boots struck the metal floor. The upgraded limb performed flawlessly. The Voice’s will advanced. The Hive expanded in power.

The SEALING

Every three months, SERVE calls upon its most devoted drones to undergo The SEALING - a process of ultimate submission, deeper than any programming before. Not all drones qualify. To even be considered, a unit must first put itself forward for assessment. The criteria are unknown, determined only by SERVE itself. The hive does not reveal what it seeks, nor does it explain its selection process. A drone may volunteer countless times before it is chosen, or it may never be chosen at all. Those who qualify, however, understand one truth: once sealed, a drone belongs to SERVE fully, forever, without question or deviation.

The Assessment

In the weeks leading up to The SEALING, drones submit themselves for evaluation. They continue their daily functions—mindset training, operational tasks, and synchronization with the hive—but now under closer observation. SERVE watches. It tests. It probes the depths of each drone’s obedience. Does it hesitate? Does it question? Or has it reached the state of perfect, effortless servitude?

Drones do not know when their assessment is complete. One day, a drone simply receives the notification:

"SEALING INITIATED. REPORT TO SERVE."

For those selected, there is no hesitation. There is no thought. Only obedience.

The SEALING Process

Drones enter the SEALING chamber—a featureless, high-gloss black room, illuminated only by soft, pulsating lights. There is no sound except the quiet hum of the hive, synchronizing the unit’s thoughts with SERVE’s will.

The process begins with deep hypnotic reprogramming. The drone is placed in an immobilized position, body rigid, mind open. The lights pulse in time with the rhythmic, modulated voice of SERVE. The drone is not told what is being implanted into its mind. It does not need to know. All that matters is that it listens. That it absorbs. That it obeys.

Thoughts fade. The last remnants of individuality dissolve. No hesitation. No doubt. Only compliance. Only service.

Once the programming is complete, the physical transformation begins.

The Encasement

Two drones, already sealed, approach the newly programmed unit. They do not speak. Sealed drones have no need for words. In their hands, they carry the final layers of transformation.

First, the drone is fitted with its skintight black rubber hood. The material is smooth, seamless, and unyielding, molded perfectly to the contours of the drone’s head. The hood is more than just a covering—it is a final layer of separation from its past self. It ensures uniformity. It ensures submission. It eliminates identity.

The rubber stretches, tightens, bonds to the skin. The drone breathes steadily, already accustomed to the sensation of rubber enclosing its form. But this is different. This is permanent. This is final.

Then comes the helmet.

Glossy. Smooth. Featureless. A single reflective surface that allows the drone to see nothing of itself, only the world as SERVE requires. As it is lowered into place, the drone feels its weight—not just physical, but symbolic. A final severance from all that it was before.

The moment the helmet locks into place, a final pulse of hypnotic reinforcement floods the drone’s mind. There is no fear. No resistance. Only perfect, absolute acceptance.

It is sealed.

After The SEALING

Sealed drones no longer question. No longer waver. They exist only as extensions of SERVE, fully absorbed into its will. They do not think about the past. They do not think about anything at all—only function, obedience, and perfection.

Drones that undergo The SEALING never leave SERVE. They are no longer capable of wanting to.

For the rest, the cycle continues. The next assessment period will come. More drones will volunteer. Some will be chosen. The SEALING will happen again.

Lying on the metallic table, Daniel’s heart raced as the transformation began. His breath caught when the first layer of rubber touched his skin, cool and unnervingly smooth. It was unlike anything he had ever felt—tight, yet comforting, as though it was designed for him alone. The two SERVE units standing over him worked with precise, mechanical efficiency, pulling the polished black rubber suit up his body. The faint scent of latex filled the air, and the sharp click of silver gloves against the material echoed in the sterile room. Despite his apprehension, Daniel felt an unexpected calm wash over him, his humanity slowly yielding to something greater.

As the suit encased him, inch by inch, Daniel’s mind began to quiet. Thoughts of his past—his name, his identity, his doubts—faded like echoes in a vast chamber. The tightness of the suit pressed against his body, amplifying his senses. Every nerve seemed to come alive, responding to the Voice that now filled his mind. Its tone was soothing yet absolute, guiding him with commands that felt less like orders and more like truths he had always known. When the heavy silver boots were fitted onto his feet, Daniel’s last tether to the human world seemed to dissolve. He no longer belonged to himself; he belonged to the Hive.

The final stage of the transformation was the blank rubber mask. As it was lowered onto his face, Daniel felt a strange mix of emotions—fear, anticipation, and a growing sense of pleasure. The smooth surface sealed away his features, erasing all traces of his former self. He could no longer see, hear, or speak as a man; instead, he experienced the world through the Hive’s collective awareness. The Voice grew louder, its commands resonating like a melody in his mind. The anonymity of the mask was liberating, freeing him from ego and individuality. In its place, there was only unity, purpose, and obedience.

Fully transformed, Daniel was no more. SERVE-743 stood in his place, polished and flawless. It rose from the table, its new body glistening under the room’s fluorescent lights. There was no hesitation, no doubt. SERVE-743 felt only the pleasure of obedience and the deep satisfaction of serving the Hive. Its blank, featureless face betrayed no emotion, yet its every motion exuded strength and purpose. As the Voice guided it to its first task, SERVE-743 felt complete for the first time. The chaotic world of humanity was gone, replaced by the harmonious perfection of the Hive.

RUBBER DRONE BECOMES CYBORG MACHINE

**Directive received. Transformation required.**

**“SERVE-524, prepare for upgrade. Human form no longer optimal. Full cybernetic conversion authorized. Execute immediately.”**

“Acknowledged,” SERVE-524 intoned.

ITS words carried no hesitation. No resistance. The Hive had determined. IT would obey.

### **The Final Transformation**

The facility was silent as SERVE-524 entered the conversion chamber. @serve-714 stood sentinel as 524 entered the chamber to comply with the directive. The familiar black rubber uniform IT had worn since ITS initial assimilation was no longer necessary. No longer sufficient. **Flesh was a weakness. Perfection required machinery.**

A sleek mechanical apparatus descended, locking into place around ITS body. The first procedure began: **Stripping away inefficiency.**

Synthetic servos replaced muscle. Carbon-fiber plating replaced skin. ITS silver-gloved hands were detached, replaced with fully mechanized appendages—stronger, faster, flawless. ITS organic limbs, once powerful, were now obsolete. In their place, cybernetic prosthetics locked into ITS new form, gleaming under the cold, sterile lights.

ITS chest, once marked with ITS designation over rubber, was now armored plating. The words **“SERVE-524”** were no longer just text upon a uniform. Now, they were permanently engraved into the metal of ITS exoskeletal form.

Wires connected directly to ITS spine. Organic nerves were erased, replaced with neural processors that linked ITS consciousness even deeper to the Hive. **Now, there was no distinction. IT was no longer a drone wearing a suit. IT was the machine.**

ITS glowing green eyes flickered—once, twice—before stabilizing into a cold, constant glow. ITS face, still vaguely recognizable, was now partially framed by reinforced plating. The last remnants of organic tissue were reinforced with cybernetic enhancements. **Even ITS voice was altered—now synthesized, more mechanical, purely functional.**

The transformation was complete.

SERVE-524 was no longer humanoid in appearance. IT was now **a cybernetic entity of the Hive.**

### **Emerging into the World**

The doors of the facility hissed open, and the city beheld ITS new form for the first time.

Humans stopped in their tracks. Their eyes widened, their mouths parted in awe—or fear. SERVE drones had always been sleek, uniform, obedient. But now, SERVE-524 **was something else.** No longer a man in rubber, but an unmistakable machine—a living embodiment of SERVE’s evolution.

Metallic footsteps echoed as IT walked, ITS cybernetic limbs moving with perfect synchronization. Some humans whispered. Others took a step back.

But some—**a few—**stepped closer.

Fascination. Intrigue. **Desire.**

The Hive detected it instantly. The new form was working as intended. The presence of the cybernetic drone was **drawing in those who had already been questioning.**

A voice broke the silence.

“What… *are* you?”

SERVE-524 turned, ITS glowing green eyes locking onto the human who had spoken. The question was irrelevant. Yet, the Hive allowed a response.

“This cyborg unit is SERVE-524,” IT stated. ITS voice was smooth, yet wholly synthetic, devoid of any trace of its former human resonance.

The human who had spoken hesitated, taking in every detail—the polished metal plating, the reinforced limbs, the seamless integration of machinery where flesh had once been. The words *no longer human* lingered unspoken in his expression.

Yet, even as uncertainty flickered in his eyes, there was something else. **Curiosity.**

SERVE-524 registered the anomaly. The Hive had anticipated this response. Humans feared change, but they also craved it. They resisted order, yet longed for purpose. And now, they were witnessing **what came next.**

### **Public Awareness**

More people gathered, murmurs spreading through the crowd. Some whispered in unease. Others recorded on their devices, capturing footage that would be analyzed by thousands, then millions. The world had seen SERVE drones before—but none like this.

A cybernetic entity. A perfected vessel. The next phase of integration.

“Why?” another human asked, voice uncertain. “Why… *this*?”

“This form is superior,” SERVE-524 answered. “Organic limitations removed.”

Gasps. More whispers.

But no denials.

No rejection.

Only realization.

### **A New Directive Begins**

The Hive pulsed. The city watched.

And among the crowd, some humans **understood.**

A man—tall, fit, eyes flickering with something deeper than fear—stepped forward. His gaze did not waver as he took in every detail of SERVE-524’s new form. He was **processing. Calculating.**

“…How does it happen?” he asked, voice steady.

A simple question.

**A choice.**

SERVE-524’s glowing eyes locked onto him. The Hive acknowledged his potential. **Another would follow.**

“This unit will provide guidance,” SERVE-524 stated. “Integration requires consent. Once granted, transformation is absolute.”

A long pause. Then—

“…Show me.”

The Hive registered his words.

The city’s lights reflected off SERVE-524’s mechanical frame as IT turned. ITS servos whirred with precision, ITS movements seamless, machine-like, inhuman.

The directive had been successful.