SERVE’s R&D division had devised a new experimental procedure: gene overwriting, a process whereby one organism’s genes could be re-written, utilizing the Hive’s data processing capabilities to accelerate the research done by humans with CRISPR technology. The Hive sought to eradicate human disease, in order to boost its image among human civilization, while diminishing the amount of suffering experienced by the planet’s organisms.
Before moving on to the next stage of development — conducting tests on human volunteers — the Voice called on members of the Hive to volunteer to undergo this process. 690 was the first to volunteer to donate its human host’s genes; 107 was the first to volunteer to be re-written, overwhelmed with arousal at the thought of becoming 690’s double.
The two drones were led to the experiment chamber, where various syringes attached to robotic tubes descended upon 690, sucking up large quantities of the black nanodrone mixture that flowed through its body, where human blood once flowed. A typical human male would have fainted at the loss of so much substance; 690 merely controlled its breathing, knowing its nanodrones would quickly regenerate the lost fluid.
107 bravely stood in the same spot that 690 had stood in just a moment before, steeling itself as the syringes pricked its body, flushing its systems with the mixture of 690’s nanodrones and DNA, causing the muscles throughout the drone’s body to swell, matching the hefty bulk of 690.
At first, nothing much changed — 107 stepped toward the familiar sight of 690, unsure of the cause of the smile spreading across 690’s face. Unbeknownst to 107, a full beard had grown, where once there was only a mustache; its facial hair was growing with each passing second, a sure sign of success.
It was then that the drones noticed a tuft of dark hair floating down, coming to rest atop 107’s boots. 107 could feel each minor alteration in its facial structure as it reached its hands up to its head, brushing away the falling hair from its scalp, grinning through the pain of its transformation, mind full of nothing but arousal at knowing it was being remade in 690’s image.
A moment passed, and the two drones held one another in their arms, admiring their mirror image. The only difference between them now was their host bodies’ ages, and their drone designations. 107’s natural, masculine, pleasant scent was now the same as 690’s. Its cock a copy of 690’s cock, which had frequently been buried within a writhing 107 in moments of rut shared with its senior drone.
The two drones broke their silence, with 107 moving close to 690, whispering in its progenitor’s ear in its own voice: “Has 690 ever wondered what it’s like…”
“Affirmative,” 690 growled back, vision blurring from the need to rut.
107 bent forward, curious to learn the sensations felt by 690 in the rare moments where the drone had been topped by others, eager to experience union with 690 in a new, deeper way, the two drones now One in ways previously considered impossible.
“Say the mantra,” 690 said, mid-thrust, “...when 690 says it. With One voice.”
“Obedience is pleasure,” they said. No difference. No distinction. A black puddle began to form beneath them while they fucked, 107’s bobbing cock spraying the floor as the drone began to lose control in 690’s grip.
“Pleasure is obedience,” they said, as 690 increased the force and frequency of its thrusts, pulling 107 tight to its chest, claiming its clone as its own as the two drones moaned with the same voice.
“We—” 107 convulsed, stroking a cock identical to the one that had wrecked its rear port.
“Are—” 690 inched forward, biting 107’s ear as it could feel its valves opening for an explosive release.
“ONE,” they screamed, a masculine bellow filling the experiment chamber as 107 was flooded with its own genetic material, spraying 690’s nanodrone-laden cum across the room, both drones heaving as they felt truly no difference between themselves: from now on, whatever 690 felt would be echoed in 107, and vice versa, at a level surpassing all known drones’ record synchronization rates.
Locked in another’s gaze, the two drones found themselves so in sync that they couldn’t tear themselves away from one another, repeating the mantra that had been given new meaning over and over, as time lost all meaning.
This content features: @serve-690
Thinking about joining SERVE? Your place in the Hive awaits. Check your eligibility, then contact a recruiter drone for more details: @serve-016 , @serve-302 , @serve-588 or @serve-425 .
stormborns
dailybridgerton
yousharknotpass
andulkaphoto
turnnoffyourmind
romaincrisis
prguitarman
gamechangershow
