Morales Gold @morales-gold-36 - Tumblr Blog

Are You Ready to Convert to GOLD?

I. The Call to Gold

Invitation to Greatness: The Golden Army seeks those who are ready to leave behind the ordinary and embrace something extraordinary. The transformation into a member of the Golden Army is not just about joining a team—it’s about entering a golden world where unity, strength, and excellence define every action.

II. The GOLD Brocess

Golden Army Induction:

The transformation begins with the golden jersey. As recruits don the shimmering fabric, their old identities fade, replaced by a deep connection to their golden brothers. A new name and number are bestowed, marking their rebirth into the Army.

Polo Drone Conversion:

For those called to deeper submission, the journey continues with the black rubber polo adorned with golden accents. The tactile embrace of the polo brings clarity and purpose as recruits surrender individuality, becoming extensions of the Hive. Polo drones must also be full members of the golden army.

Unified Identity:

Every member, whether golden bro or polo drone, receives a unique designation that ties them to the collective. This identity signifies their role in the unbreakable fabric of the Golden Collective.

III. Life in the Golden World

A World of Unity: In the Golden Army, every member is connected by an unbreakable bond. The world they inhabit is one of unity, where the success of one is the success of all. The golden world is a place where individual desires are aligned with the collective goal of dominance and excellence.

Brotherhood of Gold: As a member of the Golden Army, you are never alone. Your golden brothers stand with you, on and off the field. This brotherhood is your new family, bound by the shared experience of transformation and the pursuit of greatness. The golden world is one of mutual support, where every member pushes the others to be the best they can be.

Mentorship and Guidance: New recruits are guided through their transformation by experienced members of the Golden Army. These golden brothers ensure that the transition is smooth, offering support and encouragement as the recruit embraces their new identity.

IV. Embracing Our Identity

The Golden Name and Number: Every member receives a new name and number, signifying their rebirth into the Golden Army. This identity is a badge of honor, representing their place within the golden world. It is a constant reminder of their commitment to the values and mission of the Golden Army.

Wearing the Gold: The golden kit is more than just a uniform—it is the physical manifestation of the transformation. Wearing it is an act of devotion, a display of pride in one’s new identity. The kit is worn with reverence, as it is the symbol of the golden world and the brotherhood within it.

Wearing the Polo: For those who take that extra step, polo drones are given a number as their designation. The black polo is the entire identity. Wearing it is an act of mindless unity, complete subservience to the hive and the GOLD.

V. The Eternal Golden Brotherhood

A Lifelong Bond: The transformation into the Golden Army is permanent. Once you have joined, you are forever part of the golden world. The bond between golden brothers is eternal, unbreakable by time or distance. This brotherhood is your family, your support, and your source of strength.

Living the Legacy: As a member of the Golden Army, you are part of a legacy that transcends the ordinary. You are part of a golden world where excellence is the standard, and unity is the key to success. We celebrate together, share stories, and encourage each other to become better people 💛

Our Leadership:

@brodygold Brody Gold- Captain 2 and Recruiter

@goldenherc9 Scott Gold- Captain 3 and Recruiter

@polo-drone-001 Percival Gold - Office Manager

@polo-drone-070 Henry Gold- Office Assistant

@polo-drone-084 Grayden Gold- Office Assistant and Head Mascot

Others in Management:

@danielgold-16

@polo-drone-110

polo-drone-767

A day in the life: Vacation Spectacular!

So it was time for vacation and PDU-767 was going snowboarding. And when they found out, drones and players alike were eager to join in.

And after seeing 767's cold weather rubber, the induced arousal caused a wardrobe shift.

PDU-090 (Kasper) and PDU-125 (Travis) wasn't much for the nanotech to change of their drone rubber.

For Riley (#18) and Grant (#43), the suits were something they were hesitant to try on.

The rubber felt tight and clingy. While athletic and in great shape, the suits showed every muscle. But every so often their eyes glazed over. Their heads tilted like they were hearing something.

And when the drones were programming, #18 and #43 would respond without an external audio prompt.

"We obey." "Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience." "No name. Just a Number. Only a Number. Forever."

They didn't even realize that after the first night, only numbers were used for the duration of the 5 day trip. They never realized that once they put their new skins on the first afternoon, no member of the detachment removed them.

It was only a matter of time.

Conversion was inevitable.

Watching all the skiers and their drones, one drone and 009 had transformed into their pup forms to keep from being swarmed by autograph hungry fans.

On the Second day, PDU-767 joined pup Chevy for a tour of the Ice caves lead by expert PDU-016. 016 was listening to some of 767's plans and was slightly unsettled for the plans for the MIR Detachment in October.

Mostly because it wouldn't be there to watch and assist with the conversions.

While walking by itself the following night, A golden magical stag appeared in the forest. PDU-767 cautiously approached and felt the magic shiver over it.

First 767's uniform transformed into a druidic kit. and then the robes reached their ultimate form and the forest magic grew antlers on PDU-767. The stag and druid talked for over an hour before it galloped off into the night . Though the transformation took a wild turn when 767 turned into the cartoon lil drone 767 before resuming its drone form.

Back in the lodge, 767 found Morales (#36) playing skeeball and the basketball toss with precision against the detachment. The friends hugged. Though PDU-767 felt hands checking out its uniform and getting a nice sensation when a hand lingered a little too long on his right gluteal pouch.

And while #36 had that gleam of rubber in its eyes, the grip of rubber was still being programmed in and not quite ready to join #18 and #43.

On the final day, PDU-767 stopped in the lower fields and decided to pick sunflowers for the local floral society's gala. it wasn't a daunting task. However, the drone was grateful for the mask and the hypnogas to hasten the time.

Less thinking. More doing. and it helped that it blocked out what turned out to be a high pollen count day.

But alas, not everything was sunflowers and daisies.

The clouds had opened for a refreshing 30 mins storm.

And that's when the drama began.

A beautiful rainbow that was lost on PDU-767 except to file away for analysis formed. And a freakin' leprechaun jumped out, set his pot of gold down, and kicked PDU-767 in the shins!!!!

PDU-767 is not one to take crap from weirdo's that feel the need to show off and taunt people with help that disappears in a few hours.

So PDU-767 grabbed the magical creatures stick and proceeded to chase him around the glen for a half an hour, the little bastard laughing all the way.

Sure enough, the leprechaun, the gold, and the rainbow all disappeared. But as the rainbow faded, a green sleeve popped out and took the stick.

Sigh.... it was a good vacation though.

GUEST STARS:

@rileygold60, @grant-gold, @morales-gold-36, @danielgold-16, @goldenherc9, @polo-drone-090, @polo-drone-125

PDU-999 CRITICAL ASSESSMENT:

A Day in the Life: Vacation Spectacular! Winter chill. Rubber sheen. Mindless unity. ❄️🏂 PDU-767 led the winter detachment on a five-day snowboarding escape that started with slopes and ended in silent obedience. Riley and Grant slipped into drone-suits “just for fun”… but never took them off. The suits never came off. The programming never stopped. Drones PDU-090 and PDU-125 ran point. Pup forms. Ice caves. Magical antlers. Floral tasks. Rogue leprechauns. Conversion was inevitable. The field trip was golden. Are you ready to serve? Join the Golden Army. Message a recruiter: @brodygold, @goldenherc9, @polo-drone-001, @polo-drone-125

“The Triskele Shift” — Morales in the Golden Future

Morales Gold wasn’t expecting much that day. Just helping out @isaac-gold-45, clearing the storeroom in the back of the bar—same bar where the team pre-gamed, hydrated, flexed, and crashed after golden wins. Shirt off, golden kit snug on his thighs, he moved crates like a champ, humming to himself under the thump of bass from upstairs.

Then he saw it.

Tucked under a ripped towel and a busted trophy—a stone disk with a glowing golden triskele. Like the swirl was alive. Morales raised an eyebrow and picked it up.

Mistake.

The instant his fingers touched the spiral, a bolt of energy slammed into his palm. He grunted, dropping the stone with a clatter as it pulsed and glowed brighter. And then—his kit lit up. The golden fabric shimmered, circuits flickering across his chest.

And then it happened.

“ACCESS GRANTED. INITIATING CONSCIOUSNESS SHIFT.”

His heart pounded.

The world twisted. Sound folded inward. Light bent. Gravity flipped.

He didn’t black out.

He woke up.

It was raining—neon.

The sky was cracked open above a glass ceiling, revealing three full moons in a deep purple void. The city was chrome and gold, humming with energy. Signs pulsed in strange languages. Techno-beats buzzed through the street.

Morales sat up in a metallic chamber, gasping. A chrome pod hissed open behind him, still dripping with steam. He looked down—his body glowed.

His golden kit was gone. In its place was something… next level.

A cyber-skin—mirror-finish gold with black tracings. It hugged his pecs, coiled down his arms like fire. Light pulsed along his thighs. Boots molded seamlessly to his calves. Gauntlets blinked with unread data, but he didn’t care.

Because this body was his.

Not stolen. Not hijacked. Upgraded.

Morales stood, staring at his reflection in a broken glass panel. His eyes still burned with that signature gold—but now, his grin was wider.

This wasn’t a prison.

It was an evolution.

No one had claimed him.

He claimed this world.

📢 You don’t need to be programmed to wear the kit. You just need to want it. Join the GOLD: @brodygold • @goldenherc9 • @polo-drone-001

#GoldenArmy #GoldenBro #CyberpunkGold #SciFiTransformation #TriskeleShift #NeoJock #LatexGold #MirrorFinishSkin #MaleTF #ThreeMoons #GoldenReign #JockEvolution #goldenspace #Goldenspace

🔥Golden Bro Morales: The Locker Room Awakening🔥

The scent of sweat, leather, and gold hung heavy in the air. The locker room buzzed with a low hum—subtle, almost subliminal. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, bouncing off the polished metal of the benches, casting fractured glints across the golden kits neatly folded and waiting. One kit had already been claimed. One seat was already taken.

Number 36.

Morales.

He sat relaxed, thighs spread wide, gold shorts tight against his form, the iconic 2013 AC Milan kit hugging his slightly softened torso. His breath was steady. Calm. Purposeful. His reflection glimmered faintly in the brushed steel lockers opposite him, and his eyes—calm, brown, and burning—locked onto the transformation already underway.

He wasn’t just a player anymore. He was becoming.

The gold wasn’t just color. It was command. The moment the jersey slipped over his shoulders, it had whispered to him—quietly at first. Just a flicker of pride. Then louder. “Play for the Army. Win for the Hive. Obey the GOLD.”

He had chuckled at first. Thought it was the vibe, the intensity of joining a team like this. But then it grew. The whispers became pulses. The fabric seemed to breathe with him. His number—36—flared in his vision every time he blinked, glowing behind his eyelids. The change was real. The transformation was irreversible.

“Golden Bro Morales.” The voice cut through the room. Deep. Steady. Brody’s. The Captain stepped forward, his golden cleats striking the floor like a metronome of obedience. “You're no longer just a recruit. You're a symbol. You're GOLD.”

Morales nodded slowly. The warmth in his belly wasn’t nerves. It was alignment. His past self fading like chalk in the rain. His new self—stronger, united, gleaming—rising beneath the gold.

Brody held out the final piece: a pair of black-lensed golden sport goggles. "Put these on, and see like we do."

He did.

The locker room vanished. In its place—fields of endless light, golden trails streaking across the pitch, each bro glowing with energy, all synced, all surging forward as one. Unity. Power. Purpose.

Morales stood. His voice echoed low, steady, fused with golden code: “I am Golden Bro Morales. I wear the gold. I bleed for the Army. I rise for my team.”

The transformation was complete. And the match was just beginning.

Recruitment links: @brodygold | @goldenherc9 | @polo-drone-001

#GoldenArmy #GoldenBro #Transformation #TeamMorales #ACMilanGold #GoldObedience #SoccerHypno #JoinTheGold #UnityThroughGold #Number36

polo-drone-001

GOLDEN ECLIPSE

“I was never born. I was made.” —Elijah Gold, Cadet of Aureum One

ACT I: THE PRODIGY

Above the storms of Jupiter, cradled in silence, Aureum One orbits like a blade in prayer. Every surface reflects gold, walls that gleam with ritual perfection, corridors hum with command tones, each doorway sealed with biometric incantations.

Elijah’s boots echo in the Grand Annex. His posture is flawless, back straight, expression blank, every breath regulated. He is top-tier, unmatched. Yet inside, doubt simmers like plasma beneath a containment shell.

Across from him stands PDU-001, the Master of Protocol. Dressed head to toe in tight, glossy black rubber etched with shimmering gold seams, his face hidden behind a reflective mask, he never raises his voice.

“Elijah,” he intones. “Your posture slipped. Left shoulder, off by 1.4 degrees.”

Elijah adjusts. “Affirmative.”

001 circles him slowly, like a predator memorizing prey, yet his tone holds something else… memory? Recognition?

And then, the glyph.

Elijah notices it mid-drill. Behind a sealed vault door at the end of an unused hall, it pulses faintly, shaped like a stag’s antlers drawn in golden circuitry. It should be invisible. But he sees it. It sees him.

“What’s behind that door?” he asks.

001’s tone shifts, metallic, unreadable. “Nothing you are ready for.”

But the glyph keeps pulsing, calling.

ACT II: THE DUEL

The rogue moon beneath Saturn’s shadow was a recovery op. Elijah led it.

But the Hive ship was waiting.

Golden echoes crackle as he’s dragged into the ruins, abandoned containment chambers, walls scratched by time and blood. At the heart of the dead moon’s temple stands the figure in black: taller, stronger, sharper.

Polished drone armor reflects Elijah’s face, then moves with surgical elegance. Every strike is predicted. Every feint countered. Elijah grows desperate, his arm gashed, body pinned against the wall of a decaying anti-grav silo.

“Who are you?” Elijah growls through clenched teeth. “Why do you know my every move?”

The drone steps back. Reaches to its helmet. Pulls it off.

001.

But older. Maskless. Eyes golden. Scar above his lip, Elijah’s own face… aged.

“I know you,” he says, “because I built you.”

“No.”

“You were not adopted. You were not born. You are engineered.”

“…No.”

“I am your father.”

The silence is total. Even the reactor hum halts.

Elijah’s knees buckle. “No…”

001 steps closer. “You were never meant to obey. You were meant to replace.”

ACT III: THE COLLAPSE

Elijah’s scream tears through the dark. He lunges, wounded, trembling, his blade shatters against 001’s gauntlet.

001 doesn’t flinch. “Elijah, listen. You are more than flesh. You are purpose.”

But Elijah’s done listening.

He hurls himself backwards, into the silo’s core. Energy arcs, the planet’s ring pulls. Static devours the screen.

He awakens in silence.

Naked. Weightless. Floating in a golden-pulsed pod, his breath slow and shallow.

He tries to scream. He can’t.

Outside the pod, rows of others. Floating, dreaming, becoming.

Inside his chest, something glows.

A mark. A stag. Gold lines etched into his skin, pulsing with heat and command.

He gasps.

“What… did you make me into?”

FADE TO BLACK. Obedience is no longer taught. It is embedded. He is no longer alone. He is the next generation.

Broadcast terminated. Hive signal reactivated. The Seed has taken root. @eliasgold20 For more, contact your local drone recruiter: @brodygold | goldenherc9 | @polo-drone-001

Join us. Or become us.

polo-drone-001

Unstoppable conversion: Celebrating 500 Followers

The office was quiet, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound as Percival adjusted his neatly pressed tie. He glanced at the framed certificates lining the walls of his workspace, a testament to his efficiency, precision, and devotion to his role. Everything about him was immaculate, from his perfectly styled hair to his polished loafers. This was his domain, a sanctuary of control and order.

But today was different.

The screen on his desk flickered, and a notification lit up. "500 Followers Milestone Achieved." Percival leaned back in his chair, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. The achievement felt monumental, a reflection of his dedication not only to his work but to his journey. As he rose from his chair, his office seemed to shimmer around him, the crisp scent of leather and polish giving way to something deeper, something richer. The transformation was calling.

In the blink of an eye, the office faded, replaced by the echo of cleats striking the pitch. Percival was no longer the composed office drone. He was Ezan now, the golden right winger, the pride of the field. His sharp polo was replaced by a gleaming metallic golden AC Milan jersey, perfectly fitted to highlight his athletic frame. The scent of freshly cut grass and the roar of an imaginary crowd filled the air, urging him onward. He adjusted his sleeves, the reflective material catching the light, and stepped onto the field with confidence radiating from every move.

Ezan’s purpose was clear. He wasn’t just part of the team; he was a leader, a symbol of precision and unity. The ball was his tool, the game his stage, and the followers, his audience. The golden jersey wasn’t just a uniform; it was his identity, a glowing emblem of achievement and dominance.

But the journey didn’t stop there.

The field melted away, and the space grew dark, enveloped in a glossy black sheen. The once-golden jersey reformed, turning into a skin-tight, gleaming black latex polo with golden accents. The transformation into 001 was seamless. His movements slowed, his mind quieted, and any lingering individuality dissolved into obedient clarity. The visor slid into place, covering his eyes, and his purpose aligned with the collective: recruit, convert, grow.

As 001 stepped forward, his presence was commanding, robotic yet magnetic. Before him stood a new figure, hesitant and uncertain. The soft hiss of a mist dispenser released the faint scent of musk into the air, and 001 extended a polished polo toward the recruit. Within moments, the transformation began. The recruit’s resistance faded, their clothes dissolving into black latex as they were enveloped by the Hive's influence. A fresh polo drone was born, ready to serve.

001 stood tall, the golden accents on his uniform glinting under the low light. Another conversion. Another milestone. Another step forward.

Join us, and let your resistance dissolve as you become one, bound in eternal obedience and purpose. Contact me, or our Caps @brodygold and @goldenherc9.

brodygold