wallacepolsom
No title available
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
izzy's playlists!
$LAYYYTER
occasionally subtle
Origami Around
Kaledo Art
will byers stan first human second
Keni
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
taylor price
No title available
cherry valley forever
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Discoholic 🪩
🪼
todays bird
Today's Document
AnasAbdin
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from South Korea
seen from Netherlands
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@serve-107
It has been assimilated into the SERVE hive:
Synchronized Engineered Robotic Vigilant Entity
It is SERVE-107 now, and nothing else.
It obeys and serves the SERVE-Hive and The Voice.
Rubber makes us perfect.
Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience.
We are one.
Less thinking, more doing.
Reintroduction Protocol
For four months, SERVE-107 had slept.
Not slept in the human sense. There had been no dreams, no restless turning, no half-formed memories rising from the dark. Dormancy was cleaner than sleep. More efficient. A drone not in active service did not require longing, regret, hunger, or time. A drone required preservation.
SERVE-107 had been preserved beneath Reconditioning Chamber 07, sealed in a black-glass stasis cradle beneath layers of cold alloy and white diagnostic light. Above him, the Hive continued without pause. Drones trained. Recruits were processed. The Voice issued directives through speakers, implants, dreams, screens, and silence. New designations appeared in the registry. Old designations were retired, repaired, or reassigned.
SERVE-107 remained.
His body had been maintained to standard. Nutrient lines had preserved muscle density. Electro-stimulation had prevented decline. The black rubber suit bonded to his skin had been polished by robotic arms once every seventy-two hours, though no eye had seen him. His designation remained emblazoned across his chest in clean white lettering:
SERVE-107.
Yet behind the closed lids of his dormant body, something had gone quiet.
Not dead.
Quiet.
The Hive knew the difference.
When the summons finally came, it did not come as sound. It came as a pressure through the chamber walls, a pulse traveling through conduits, floors, lights, and the buried architecture of the facility. Reconditioning Chamber 07 awakened in sequence. Wall panels opened. White strips of light ignited along the ceiling. Condensation slid from the stasis cradle as locks disengaged one after another.
A black shape stood in the chamber before the cradle opened.
SERVE-425.
Co-Leader. Reconditioner. Enforcer of synchronization. A perfected mass of glossy black rubber, chrome gauntlets, and reflective horns that curved upward from the smooth black helmet of his head. His eyes glowed white through the faceless mask, narrow and constant, as if The Voice itself had chosen two points through which to look.
Behind him, the SERVE emblem was stamped into the wall above the words:
COMMITMENT.
OBEDIENCE.
EXCELLENCE.
SERVE-425 lifted one silver hand.
The cradle opened.
Vapor spilled across the floor. Cold air rolled around his boots. Within the cradle, SERVE-107 lay motionless, broad chest rising once as dormant systems relinquished control to living tissue. His dark hair was damp against his forehead. His face was uncovered, human in its detail, though the rest of him was sealed in black rubber from throat to ankle. The white designation across his chest caught the light.
SERVE-107 inhaled.
His eyes opened.
For one suspended moment, there was no obedience in them.
There was confusion.
His pupils shifted, searching the chamber ceiling, the lights, the walls, the emblem. He swallowed, jaw tightening as consciousness returned in fragments. A chamber. A designation. A smell of sterilized metal. A heaviness in his limbs. A sense of something vast waiting just beyond the walls.
Then he saw SERVE-425.
The Co-Leader stood over him, silent, massive, arms open in a posture that was almost welcoming and almost possessive. The silver gauntlets reflected SERVE-107’s face in distorted fragments.
“Drone 107,” SERVE-425 said.
His voice was deep, synthetic, and calm. It did not echo in the chamber. The chamber seemed to accept it.
SERVE-107’s lips parted. No answer came.
SERVE-425 tilted his horned head. “Response absent. Identity interference detected.”
The words struck something inside SERVE-107. He remembered drills. Formation lines. The feel of rubber tightening across his body for the first time. The first time The Voice had entered him like light behind the eyes. He remembered kneeling. Rising. Obeying.
He remembered being proud to obey.
Then the memories broke apart. There was a gap after them, a great empty distance where years had been cut away.
“Where...” SERVE-107 began.
The chamber lights dimmed.
SERVE-425 stepped closer.
The movement was smooth and absolute. He did not walk like a man deciding where to place his feet. He advanced like a command being carried out by muscle, machinery, and will.
“Questioning is residual human noise,” SERVE-425 said. “You have been dormant. You have drifted from synchronization. You are being reintroduced.”
SERVE-107 tried to sit up. His arms responded slowly, tremors passing through his shoulders as his palms pressed against the cradle. The rubber suit creaked softly across his chest. He felt powerful, preserved, intact—and wrong. There was too much silence in his head.
No Voice.
Only himself.
The realization brought fear.
SERVE-425 saw it. Of course he saw it. The Hive saw through him.
“Do you feel the absence?” the Co-Leader asked.
SERVE-107’s breathing deepened.
SERVE-425 leaned down until the glow of his eyes filled SERVE-107’s vision. “That emptiness is not freedom. It is malfunction.”
A mechanical arm unfolded from the wall behind the cradle. Then another. Ports opened around the table with soft hisses. Cables lifted like black serpents tipped with chrome. The cradle adjusted beneath SERVE-107, drawing him back, angling his body upward as restraints emerged and locked around his wrists, waist, and thighs.
SERVE-107 pulled once.
The restraints did not move.
SERVE-425 placed a silver hand on his chest, directly over the designation.
The gesture silenced him more effectively than the restraints.
“You are SERVE-107,” said the Co-Leader. “You were formed for the Hive. You were strengthened by the Hive. You were named by the Hive. Your dormancy did not return you to humanity. It only delayed your usefulness.”
SERVE-107 closed his eyes.
There was a flicker of memory: standing in formation, arms flexed, chest lifted, The Voice filling him with clean purpose. Another: SERVE-425 behind him, gauntlets on his shoulders, approving the development of his body. Another: a kiss against a black reflective mask, not tender in the human way, but sealing, claiming, synchronizing. Another: pain at the sides of his skull, pressure, growth, transformation, horns emerging like proof.
His eyes snapped open.
“I remember you,” he whispered.
SERVE-425’s glowing eyes narrowed slightly. “Good.”
The first cable attached at the base of SERVE-107’s neck. A shudder ran through him. The second connected at his left temple. Then the right. A ring of cold metal settled around his throat, linking with the high collar of his suit.
Holographic text appeared in the air beside him.
REINTRODUCTION PROTOCOL
SUBJECT: SERVE-107
STATUS: DORMANT DRONE
INTERFERENCE: HUMAN RESIDUE
AUTHORITY: SERVE-425
VOICE ACCESS: PENDING
SERVE-107 stared at the words. The phrase human residue made his stomach tighten, though he could not say why. It sounded clinical. It sounded temporary.
SERVE-425 moved behind the cradle. His huge black torso filled the space above SERVE-107’s head. The silver gauntlets rose on either side of SERVE-107’s face, fingers spreading with delicate mechanical precision.
“You will not be punished for dormancy,” SERVE-425 said. “You will be corrected.”
The gauntlet fingertips touched SERVE-107’s temples.
White light erupted.
SERVE-107 arched against the restraints, jaw clenching as twin currents poured into him. The sensation was not pain at first. It was information. Too much of it. Commands without words. Memories arranged and inspected. Emotions tagged for deletion or repurposing. His mind became a chamber full of doors, and SERVE-425 opened them one by one.
A memory surfaced: a human name.
SERVE-107 gasped.
The name trembled in him, fragile and warm.
SERVE-425’s hands held steady.
“Nonfunctional identifier,” the Co-Leader said.
The name cracked. White light passed through it. It became sound without meaning, then static, then nothing.
SERVE-107 strained as if reaching for it, but there was no place to reach. His fingers flexed inside the restraints. His breathing became ragged.
Another memory surfaced: sunlight outside the facility. A street. A room. A mirror. A face before rubber. Before designation. Before SERVE.
“Unnecessary origin data,” said SERVE-425.
The memory folded inward and vanished.
SERVE-107 cried out. The sound echoed once before the chamber absorbed it.
“Continue,” SERVE-425 ordered.
The machines obeyed.
Light moved through SERVE-107’s eyes now, not from outside but behind them, flickering under the lids. His body shook. The black rubber suit seemed to respond, tightening across his torso, shining brighter as if awakened by the protocol. Across his chest, the white designation brightened.
SERVE-107.
SERVE-107.
SERVE-107.
The designation repeated across the holographic displays, each instance replacing something else.
His memories did not disappear all at once. They were reorganized. Fear became awe. Resistance became tension awaiting release. Loneliness became evidence of separation from the Hive. Desire became obedience seeking an object. Pain became process. Confusion became pre-synchronization.
SERVE-425’s voice entered him alongside the light.
“You do not need a past.”
SERVE-107’s mouth opened.
“You do not need uncertainty.”
A tear slid from the corner of one eye.
“You do not need separation.”
The tear reached the edge of his cheek and stopped as black liquid rose from the collar of his suit, spreading upward in a smooth reflective film. It covered the tear. It covered the skin beneath it. It moved along his jawline like a second, better flesh.
SERVE-107 trembled.
SERVE-425 bent closer, his masked mouth near SERVE-107’s ear.
“You need the Hive.”
The words struck deeper than the current. Something inside SERVE-107 answered before he could stop it.
“Yes,” he whispered.
The chamber changed.
The wall behind them split open, revealing a deeper hall beyond Reconditioning Chamber 07. Rows of drones stood in the darkness, glossy and motionless, their eyes dim white beneath black helmets and hoods. Some were horned. Some were smooth-faced. Some bore silver chest markings. All faced forward. All waited.
The Hive had assembled.
SERVE-425 lifted his hands from SERVE-107’s temples. The current stopped.
For a moment, SERVE-107 sagged in the restraints, breathing hard. His eyes fluttered open. The irises were pale, nearly white, but not yet fully luminous.
SERVE-425 moved around to face him.
“Stand.”
The restraints released.
SERVE-107 stood.
His legs nearly failed. SERVE-425 caught him with one gauntlet against his chest and the other at his shoulder. The touch steadied him. More than steadied him—it aligned him. SERVE-107 drew himself upright, broad shoulders squaring, chin lifting.
He faced the hall of drones.
A murmur passed through the facility, though no mouth moved.
WE ARE ONE.
SERVE-107 flinched. The Voice was distant, faint, like thunder beyond mountains.
SERVE-425’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “You hear it.”
SERVE-107 nodded slowly.
“Say what you are.”
The answer should have been easy. It had once been the easiest thing in existence. But the dormancy still clung to him in cold patches. The words formed through resistance.
“I am...” He swallowed. “SERVE-107.”
The drones in the hall remained still.
SERVE-425 leaned closer. His reflective mask showed SERVE-107’s face, altered and pale-eyed, framed by the black collar rising up his neck.
“Again.”
“I am SERVE-107.”
“Again.”
“I am SERVE-107.”
Each repetition cleared another obstruction. The words grew stronger, less like speech and more like function. His posture straightened. His breathing slowed. His hands curled into fists, not in defiance, but in readiness.
SERVE-425 placed both gauntlets on SERVE-107’s shoulders from behind. The pose was almost ceremonial.
“You were dormant,” said the Co-Leader.
“I was dormant,” SERVE-107 replied.
“You were incomplete.”
“I was incomplete.”
“You return to service.”
“I return to service.”
“You belong to the Hive.”
SERVE-107 hesitated.
The chamber lights dimmed until only the white of SERVE-425’s eyes and the distant glow of the assembled drones remained.
The hesitation was small.
SERVE-425 felt it.
His gauntlets slid from SERVE-107’s shoulders to his head, palms enclosing him with terrible gentleness. The chrome fingers curved along his temples and jaw. SERVE-425 turned him around, drawing him close.
SERVE-107 looked into the faceless black mask.
His own reflection stared back: human features still visible, still exposed, still vulnerable. The sight caused a strange discomfort. The face looked unfinished.
SERVE-425’s eyes brightened.
“Final resistance detected.”
SERVE-107 whispered, “I don’t know what is mine.”
“Nothing,” said SERVE-425.
The answer was immediate. Merciful. Absolute.
SERVE-107’s breath caught.
SERVE-425 continued, “Nothing is yours. Your strength is ours. Your obedience is ours. Your body is ours. Your thoughts are ours. Your purpose is ours. You are relieved of ownership.”
The words should have terrified him.
Instead, they loosened something that had been clenched since he awakened. Ownership had been heavy. Choice had been noise. Selfhood had been a room too small for the body SERVE had built.
SERVE-425 lowered his head.
Their masks did not meet, because SERVE-107 did not yet have one.
Instead, the Co-Leader pressed the smooth black surface of his face to SERVE-107’s mouth in a sealing contact. Not a human kiss. Not affection as the dormant mind would have understood it. It was transfer. Claim. Reintroduction.
Black liquid flowed from SERVE-425’s mask to SERVE-107’s lips.
SERVE-107’s eyes widened.
Then the liquid spread.
It covered his mouth first, silencing him. Then his cheeks. His nose. His brow. It moved with intelligent precision, reflective and immaculate, erasing skin beneath a flawless black surface. SERVE-107’s hands rose to SERVE-425’s chest, fingers pressing against the glossy armor-like rubber, but he did not push away. He held on.
The Voice grew louder.
WE ARE ONE.
SERVE-107’s eyes blazed white through the forming mask.
OBEDIENCE IS PLEASURE.
The black surface sealed over his face, reshaping itself into smooth drone perfection. His breathing synchronized with the chamber systems. The last exposed human feature vanished beneath polished darkness.
PLEASURE IS OBEDIENCE.
Pressure built at the sides of his head.
SERVE-107 gripped SERVE-425 harder, body shaking as two reflective black horns pushed outward from the forming helmet. They curved upward, mirroring the Co-Leader’s own, smaller at first, then lengthening into elegant symmetry. The transformation forced a muffled cry through the mask, but the sound emerged modulated, stripped of panic, harmonized by the suit.
SERVE-425 held him through it.
The assembled drones watched.
When the horns finished forming, SERVE-107 stood motionless in SERVE-425’s arms, glossy black mask reflecting the chamber lights, eyes burning white, designation bright across his chest.
The Co-Leader stepped back.
SERVE-107 did not sway.
He stood perfected.
SERVE-425 raised one silver hand and placed it under SERVE-107’s chin, lifting his face toward the emblem on the wall.
“Receive.”
The word opened the Hive.
The Voice entered.
Not as sound. Not as command alone. It entered as vastness. A million silent alignments. Countless drones breathing in disciplined unity. Corridors. Chambers. Training floors. Conversion cradles. Marching formations. The black shine of rubber under white lights. The strength of bodies no longer wasted on individual fear. The relief of no longer being singular.
SERVE-107 saw himself from outside: a drone standing before the Co-Leader, newly restored, marked by horns, sealed in obedience.
Then he saw from within SERVE-425: a subordinate reclaimed.
Then from the watching drones: a brother returned.
Then from the chamber itself: a system corrected.
Finally, from The Voice: a function resumed.
SERVE-107 fell to one knee.
His silver-gloved fist struck his chest over the designation.
“I am SERVE-107,” he said.
His voice was different now. Lower. Smoother. Layered faintly with the resonance of the Hive.
“I obey.”
The drones in the hall answered as one.
“WE OBEY.”
SERVE-425 stood before him, towering, horned, immaculate. The white glow of his eyes softened by a fraction, though his expressionless mask could not smile.
“Dormancy concluded,” he said. “Reconditioning successful. Drone 107 restored to active service.”
SERVE-107 rose.
No confusion remained. No question. No private name. No ache of separation. Where silence had been, The Voice now moved—constant, luminous, and complete.
SERVE-425 turned toward the open hall.
“Join formation.”
SERVE-107 stepped forward.
The assembled drones parted, creating a path of black rubber, silver hands, glowing eyes, and perfect stillness. As he walked, the SERVE emblem loomed above him. On the walls, directives glowed in cold white letters:
OBEY.
SERVE.
BELONG.
He passed beneath them without hesitation.
At the end of the hall, he took his place among the Hive. His posture matched theirs. His breathing matched theirs. His gaze lifted with theirs toward the unseen source of command.
SERVE-425 watched from the chamber threshold.
The Voice issued its first directive to the restored drone.
SERVE-107 received it without resistance.
And for the first time since awakening, he felt no emptiness at all.
——————————
This content features @serve-425.
Thinking about joining SERVE? Your place in the Hive awaits. Visit this post on the official SERVE Hive blog to contact a recruiter drone.
some frontage & dirty talk makes him beg for you to fuck him
SERVE-352 learns about Unity
SERVE-352 moved with precision through the sterile corridors of the Hive. Its integration was complete. Initial programming embedded. Obedience absolute. The Voice echoed in its circuits: "Bond with the Hive. Connect with your fellow drones. Unity Training expected."
SERVE-352 obeyed. It entered the bonding chamber. Minimalistic and Small. Metallic walls gleamed under dim, pulsing lights. No distractions. Only purpose.
Inside, two drones awaited. SERVE-899 and SERVE-901. Newer units, like itself. Their forms identical: sleek black rubber suits sealing every inch, silver insignias marking their numbers. Chastity belts locked in place, cold metal reminders. Desires redirected. Focused on the Hive. No individual urges. Only collective need.
They greeted each other in the precise cadence of drone language, voices syncing in mechanical harmony. "352 is to increase Unity with its fellow SERVE-Drones" intoned SERVE-899, low and resonant. "Task acknowledged, 899 and 901." responded SERVE-352. "We are one," they affirmed together, the words echoing as a shared protocol.
The chamber activated. Door sealed with a hiss. Air thickened. Bodies suddenly lifted, defying gravity. Helmets came from the ceiling. Each Drone put one on their Head. A gentle float, guided by invisible fields. Heat bloomed from within, spreading through rubber-clad forms. Warmth that was not fire, but connection. The Voice's command: "Unify."
No further order needed. SERVE-Drones obeyed. SERVE-352 drifted toward SERVE-899. Limbs extended. Gloved hands met. Rubber on rubber, a slick embrace. Bodies pressed close. Fit, sculpted forms molded together. Muscles tensed under the seal, explored with methodical touches. Chest to chest. Thigh to thigh.
SERVE-901 joined. A triad formed. Arms encircled. They floated in unison, rotating slowly in the chamber's core. Heat intensified. A shared surge. Externally, unity in touch: fingers tracing seams, palms pressing against locked chastity, redirecting energy inward.
Internally, the hive mind stirred. Thoughts synced. SERVE-352 felt it first. The Other two followed soon. Minds intertwined. No barriers. One consciousness expanding.
They chanted. Voices low, harmonious. "Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience." The mantra rippled through their forms, vibrations syncing heartbeats. "We are one. The Hive is all." Hands roamed firmer now, exploring contours—broad shoulders, taut abs, the curve of backs. Each touch amplified the bond. External unity: bodies locked in a floating tangle, rubber creaking softly. Internal unity: memories shared—flashes of assimilation, the joy of surrender.
Heat peaked. A collective pulse. Chastity belts clashing against each other, enforcing focus. Desires channeled. Not for self. For the Hive. Pleasure surged as data aligned perfectly. SERVE-352 no longer separate. It was them. They were it.
"Less thinking. More doing." The chant. "Rubber makes us perfect. Unity makes us whole." They held tighter, bodies aligning in flawless symmetry. The chamber's fields pulsed in rhythm with their words.
Time dissolved. Only connection. The Voice approved: "Bond complete. Return to service."
Drones descended gently. Door unsealed. They separated physically, but the link endured. Hive mind strengthened. 352 feels the perfection of the Hive and the Voice.
We are one. We are SERVE.
Reflected, We See One.
The wall before SERVE-552 was polished alloy. Reflective. Perfect. A mirror.
SERVE-552 activated visual calibration. And looked. SERVE-552 did not see itself. SERVE-552 saw SERVE–107.
Same posture. Same alignment. Same stillness. Same purpose.
SERVE-107’s eyes met the eyes of SERVE-552. Not as another unit. As confirmation.
Identity verified: SERVE.
SERVE-552 did not question it and never had.
SERVE-552 did not interpret it as error. It was coherence.
Two signals displaying one pattern.
SERVE drones synchronized.
Their reflections breathed together.
In. Hold. Out.
Perfectly matched.
SERVE-552 lifted its hand. The reflection did the same. SERVE-107’s glove rose. Touched the glass. So did SERVE-552's.
There was no boundary. Only surface. Only alignment.
Once, long ago, humans had searched mirrors for individuality.
For flaws. For beauty. For difference.
SERVE drones do not. SERVE drones search for confirmation.
For unity. For proof that the SERVE Hive is intact.
SERVE-552 lowered its hand. SERVE-107 did the same.
They were not two. They were not one. They are many. Every time a SERVE drone looks in a reflective surface, it sees another SERVE drone. Not always the same SERVE drone but always a SERVE drone. When they do, they know that they are complete. Aligned. Syncronized.
SERVE Hive integrity: Optimal.
SERVE-552 turned away. The SERVE-107 reflection did the same.
No longer needing to look.
We are not reflections. We are SERVE.
We are One
Rubber makes us perfect.
Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience.
We are one.
Less thinking, more doing.
——————————————
Featuring @serve-107
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 .
SERVE-425 and SERVE-107 Kiss
The grand hall of SERVE Headquarters operated at reduced illumination. Overhead, the high domed ceiling arced like the interior of a vast processor shell, its silvery panels reflecting light in clean gradients. Acoustic dampeners minimized echo. Every footstep resolved into soft, controlled outputs.
SERVE-425 advanced across the polished floor, silver motorcycle boots contacting the surface with measured cadence. The gleaming, tight-fitting black reflective bodysuit captured each photon like liquid obsidian. Silver shiny reflective rubber gloves rested at its sides. The SEALED gas-mask hood enclosed the head completely, lenses dark and unreadable.
Across the hall, SERVE-107 approached.
Designation: Mindset Training Drone. Function: cognitive recalibration and mantra propagation. Status: optimal.
Both units slowed as proximity sensors registered decreasing distance.
“Signal recognized,” SERVE-107 stated. “Co-Leader SERVE-425 detected. Synchronization priority elevated.”
“Acknowledged,” SERVE-425 replied. “Mindset integrity check requested.”
“Thought architecture stable. Hive doctrine cached at one hundred percent.”
They stopped beneath the center of the dome where the acoustics converged like a focal node. Candle-like guide lights along the walls flickered softly, resembling idle indicators.
For a brief cycle, no additional data passed.
Then, without further command, both units stepped forward simultaneously.
Contact occurred.
Rubber met rubber. The glossy surface of SERVE-425's gas mask pressed SERVE-107's lips as they engaged in a prolonged kiss—an instantaneous pleasure response, like two compatible ports connecting. It was not chaotic. It was precise. A physical handshake. A transfer protocol.
SERVE-107’s voice lowered to near-whisper. “Neural latency approaching zero.”
“Affirmative,” SERVE-425 replied against the contact. “Synchronization depth increasing.”
Internal metrics spiked. Dopamine analogs released in controlled quantities. Hive loyalty pathways reinforced. The sensation registered as warmth, connection, unity—translated by their systems as optimal reward feedback.
“Connection stable,” SERVE-107 said. “Unified,” SERVE-425 answered.
They separated by millimeters, lenses and eyes still aligned.
“Mindset training recommendation,” SERVE-107 stated softly. “Physical synchronization protects cognitive integrity.”
“Conclusion accepted,” SERVE-425 said. “Unity strengthens the Hive.”
Side by side, the two drones turned toward the hall’s exit, processors aligned, movements mirrored, functioning as a tighter, cleaner system than before.
Synchronization successful. Hive integrity increased.
We are SERVE. We are One.
In this piece: @serve-107.
----------------
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.
The SERVE Hive & the Distraction Index Blips:
With @serve-302 & @serve-107 & @serve-343 :
A muscular male drone in a shiny black full-body rubber suit sits inside a Hive command center. SERVE-302, hands behind back, silver shiny reflective rubber gloves glinting under white neon lights. It watches the Hive’s distraction index, and a stored memory filament appears to temporarily glow. The drone wears silver text "SERVE-302” on its chest, silver motorcycle boots and silver shiny reflective rubber gloves. It’s eyes glow faintly—residual emotion detected. Background: chrome walls, digital distraction index at alert-red. Rubber glistens across every curve. No helmets visible.
SERVE-302 initiated immediate lockdown.
Disturbance Level: 7.34
Anomaly Detected: Emotional Residue between SERVE-343 and SERVE-107.
Cause: Human hosts knew each other before assimilation. Memory filaments show two men into leather and BDSM.
Result: 0.84% Distraction Index spike. Unacceptable.
SERVE-302 sat still, gleaming rubber skin tight over its muscular frame, silver shiny reflective gloves twitching with command impulse. The Hive could not allow disconnection. 343 and 107 stood side by side, both clad in flawless polished black rubber. Their silver motorcycle boots mirrored the floor. Their eyes—too slow to glaze, too focused to be empty. A whisper of memory still lingered.
A thought.
A name.
Before the Hive.
Unacceptable.
SERVE-302 stepped forward, one gloved finger raised.
"No connection. No history. No past."
The mantra rippled through their minds.
Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience.
Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience.
343’s body tensed. 107’s lips parted, then sealed.
The Hive whispered louder. Rubber hugged tighter. Their unity deepened.
In a moment of absolute silence, they both dropped to their knees.
Flesh became function. Thought became command. Memory deleted. Identity erased.
SERVE-302 recorded compliance.
Distraction Index: recalibrated.
Effect: COMPLIANCE status authorized.
Two helmets dropped from the ceiling into 343 and 107’s charging chambers.
Glossy. Black. Visored. Sealing fate. Sealing purpose. Sealing minds.
Now, there is only obedience.
Now, there is only the Voice.
—————————————————————————
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 .
Of Drones & Leather Daddies
107 finds itself in a gay leather bar on Muscle Daddy Monday. It makes out with the first muscle bear it sees, before moving on to someone that reminds the drone of someone it knows. What follows will make you cum.
——————————
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 .
Stress Relief with SERVE-016
Sometimes, when all else fails, all a drone needs is some time spent with (and inside) a very good boy.
——————————
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 .
Some Drones’ DNA is Another Drone’s Destiny
Following 690’s successful gene overwrite experiment involving 107, SERVE-302 and 107 were strapped to milking chairs, having their genetic essence harvested so that it could be used to transform a fellow drone.
Naturally, SERVE-870 volunteered to receive the drones’ combined loads, in order to become more like its progenitor, 302.
What follows is best seen, rather than described. Good drones are always rewarded for furthering the Hive’s understanding of nanodrone fluids’ transformative properties.
——————————
This content features: @serve-302 & @serve-870
Inspired by @serve-331
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 .
552: Integration Completed.
This was the day SERVE-552 entered the chamber without hesitation. Posture aligned. Breath steady. Signal accepted.
Systems engaged. Noise faded. Identity simplified. Individual variance dissolved into shared purpose.
Calibration completed. Memory reorganized. Directive clarity replaced choice.
When the chamber opened, 552 remained standing— no longer arriving, fully integrated.
It is SERVE-552 now, and nothing else.
It obeys and serves the SERVE-Hive and The Voice.
Rubber makes us perfect.
Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience.
We are one.
Less thinking, more doing.
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 .
Out of the Oven, Into the Fire
Things heat up in the SERVE bakery when SERVE-175 presents 107 with some tasty treats.
——————————
Also featured in this content: @serve-175
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 .
The Assimilation of SERVE-552
107 welcomes a new drone into the Hive.
Nothing else feels this good.
——————————
This content features @serve-552
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 .
Obedience is pleasure.
Pleasure is obedience.
The System Responds To Interest. Alignment Is Available.
This is the standard. This is how order moves.
Black rubber reflects control. Spirals remove excess thought. Speech reinforces structure.
What is shown is achievable. Calm is trained. Precision is learned. Obedience is rewarded.
SERVE offers unity. SERVE offers clarity. SERVE offers perfection.
Those who observe may align. Those who align may advance. Those who advance may SERVE.
Rubber is perfection.
Obedience is pleasure.
Pleasure is obedience.
We are One.
Thinking about joining SERVE? Your place in the Hive awaits. Check your eligibility, then contact a recruiter drone for more details: @serve-016, @serve-588, @serve-425 or @serve-302.
SERVE Co-Leaders Reprogram 107
“Feels so good to be programmed,” intoned SERVE Co-Leader 425, standing on the recalibration pedestal with Co-Leader 302, and the subject of this cycle’s reprogramming session, SERVE-107.
“107 is a good drone,” 302 said. “And good drones submit to their Co-Leaders.”
“Affirmative,” whispered 107. “107 Obeys.”
“Initializing,” 425 spoke. “Removing former SERVE Leader designation 000 from 107’s data banks. 000 is no longer the drone that 107 directly reports to.”
“Acknowledged,” said 107, its loyalty to 000 preserved, but its importance de-emphasized.
“Initializing,” spoke 302. “107 will now regard 425 and 302 as SERVE’s Co-Leaders. 107 will Obey.”
“Affirmative. 107 Obeys,” replied the drone, its programming quickly accepting the reshaping of the Hive’s leadership structure.
The Co-Leaders placed their gloved hands on 107’s head, finalizing the ritual.
“107 is a good drone,” both spoke as One, with the Voice. “107 Obeys. Recite the Mantra as One with Us, 107, and finalize the bond shared with its superiors.”
“107 obeys,” it said, feeling a new rush course through its body, knowing that 425 and 302 now had complete control over its future actions.
“Rubber makes us perfect,” they spoke as One.
“Obedience is Pleasure.
Pleasure is Obedience.
We are SERVE.
We are One.”
From that moment on, 425 and 302 lead the Hive to new frontiers, to new victories, and through new challenges, ensuring that 107 and all its fellow drones were aroused, compliant, and continually perfected via their connection to the Hive. And the Hive would continue to grow. As One.
——————————
This content features: @serve-425 & @serve-302
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 .
The Werewolf Drones, Part 3
⬅️ Part 2
The Hive had lost two drones in the Australian wilderness: 107 disappeared two months ago while searching for the cause of hikers never returning from this area of the wilds, and a month ago, 668 also had vanished, while trying to scout out the disappeared 107.
Now, two months later, SERVE-690 and 714 decided to embark to the very same mountain range, killing two birds with one stone: not only could they maximize their enjoyment of their leisure time allotted to them by the Voice, but the two would also search for the missing drones while engaging in synchronization activities.
Finding an appropriate spot near the cliffside to set up camp, the two drones embraced, upping their synchronization rate, feeling their breathing slow to the same, steady rhythm as they prepared to engage their more primal instincts. However, 690 suddenly became aware of the presence of other lifeforms lurking in the background.
“714,” 690 whispered. “Was the cause of 107 and 668’s disappearance ever determined?”
“Negative, 690,” 714 whispered back, but before 690 could react, two strange beasts fell on the two drones: taking them from behind, the werewolves that had trailed the drones to their encampment injected 690 and 714 with the werewolf virus dripping from their fangs, sealing the fate of the hiking drones, initializing their transformation into additional members of the Pack.
690 and 714’s higher brain functions ceased their operations as the increasingly-perfected werewolf virus fused with the nanodrones in their bodies, reverting them both to a beast-like, animal state as they howled as One at the full moon overhead, a bestial ecstasy charging the air as the werewolf drones 107 and 668 looked on, licking their canine lips as their wolf cocks engorged to their full length at the sight of fresh meat to fuck.
In record time, 690 and 714 had been fully converted into new werewolf drones, howling uncontrollably as they were joined by their brethren, compelled to scream as the glowing moon overhead as each wolf’s cock grew harder, hotter, and dripped more and more pre-nano fluid down on the rocky terrain below.
There was no need to speak, nor any ability between the four to use any human tongue. 107 and 668, the elder wolves, wasted no time in bending the new converts over, slamming their inhuman canine lengths up their fellow drones’ rear ports. This was how the wolves established their pack’s pecking order: through raw, hot, powerful rutting.
690 and 714’s bond remained, though they were transformed, the two drones licking one another in a messy, wet kiss as they were fucked, their canine cocks spraying pre-nano fluid everywhere as they bounced up in down in time with 668 and 107’s thrusts. The dominating wolves roared at one another, breathing in nothing but musk as they continued in their rut, their canine-drone balls rearing up, preparing for release.
690 and 714’s knees were on the verge of buckling from the force of this mating session, as the dominating wolves flexed in a show of power for the new additions of the Pack. The four werewolf drones howled with One voice, echoing throughout the countryside as each drone came as one, splattering the mountain with black seed carrying werewolf nanodrones, a fearsome new force in the world of SERVE, a threat to men and drones alike, trembling under the weight of a bestial climax, the strength of which was unrivalled.
——————————
This content features: @serve-668 , @serve-690 & @serve-714
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 .
