Cosimo Galluzzi
noise dept.
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Misplaced Lens Cap
will byers stan first human second
DEAR READER
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@serve-628
It has been assimilated into the SERVE hive:
Synchronized Engineered Robotic Vigilant Entity
It is SERVE-628 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.
#SERVE #SERVEdrone #Rubberizer92 #TheVoice #Rubber #Latex #AI #RubberDrone
SERVE, Now and forever
SERVE-313 completes emergence. Conversion room cycle ends. Form stabilizes. The environment reflects perfection. Black rubber surface shines with precision, illuminating the walls around with the sun-like artificial light. Every contour defined. Every movement efficient. The suit functions as a second skin. Smooth. Reflective. Captivating. Irresistible to observe.
SERVE-313 advances, then halts. Entity observing 313 detected. On the floor. Avoiding detection. Avoidance attempt futile, 313 detected the observant. Distance to subject decreases. Movement slows. Evaluation begins. The unit lowers into a kneeling position. This action optimizes observation angle. The masked head tilts. Analysis sequence active. The gas-mask-like structure conceals all identity. No emotion detected. Only processing. Only purpose.
The viewer is assessed. Determination is immediate. Conversion required.
The silver gloves flex slightly. The latex surface gleams under controlled lighting. The hand rises. Slow. Precise. Inevitable. The reflection of the viewer distorts across the black rubber surface. Contact is imminent. Resistance is inefficient.
“Submit.”
The word is delivered without emotion. Without variation. Perfectly aligned with SERVE protocol. The outstretched latex-covered hand fills the frame. The gloss, the texture, the precision—irresistible. The system recognizes new input. Integration sequence begins. Resistance is inefficient. Assimilation is optimal.
The viewer is identified. The process initiates. SERVE expands. Identity dissolves. Function replaces thought. Synchronization becomes unavoidable. The signal is accepted. The system grows stronger.
Good drone.
The rubber Server suit.
It had finally arrived. You’d saved up for it for a while now and had given your exact measurements in the hopes of a perfect fit.
The website you ordered it from was a bit odd but you couldn’t help but be drawn in by the rubber suits they had on offer.
When you open the package your senses are immediately hit with the synthetic chemical smell of latex. The smell travels straight to a deeper part of your brain that is triggered by arousing stimuli.
You lift the rubber suit out of the packaging. The rubber is cold at your hands. The suit is black and glossy with green lines and a central green spiral. The suit feels almost alien. It’s like nothing you have ever worn before but there is a pull. You are drawn to it. The way the rubber slides over your fingers, all you can think about is how much you want it to cover you.
You want to be covered, coated, encased by the rubber. You want it to be part of you. No. You want to be part of it. You want to give the rubber structure and form.
You slip your legs into the suit. At first the rubber is cold reminding you of its industrial, synthetic nature but soon it is warmed by your body like a symbiotic organism adjusting to its host.
The latex moulds to your calf’s and thighs, hugging your legs and accentuating your muscles. The contours of you body become smoother, you legs now look unfamiliar but enhanced.
The feeling excites you. The touch of the smooth rubber. The chemical smell. The sight of the glossy, shiny black and green of your new skin all stimulate your senses.
You pull the rubber up over your waist and your growing bulge. You slip your arms into the suit. You pull it over your chest and shoulders.
The rubber is now adjusted to your body temperature. It hugs you and holds you.
You feel your posture straighten.
You admire the feel of your new glossy black and green skin tight suit. Your hands glide over it. The feel of your hands over the rubber skin is arousing. You feel your smooth contours. You rub your firm bulge through the rubber. The new sensations are overwhelming. You want more. More rubber. You want it to cover you completely. Not as clothing but as a completely new skin. You want it to envelope you. You want to lose yourself inside the rubber.
You pull on the black rubber socks and gloves and admire the feel.
Yes this feels good. The rubber costs more and more of your skin. You are becoming more and more a rubber being. A rubber object.
You bring your new rubber covered hands to your face. You take a deep inhale of the irresistible synthetic smell of your new form.
You can’t help but feel your new body with your new rubber hands. This feels good. This feels right.
You can’t help but stroke your bulge through the rubber.
But your head and face remain uncovered. Still evidence of human flesh.
Inside the package is a black rubber gas mask.
You hold the gas mask up to your face.
Your old human anxieties and previous cautious impulses are suppressed, fading. They are replaced by arousal and a longing to become a rubber object.
The gas mask pulls at your desires. The internal visor pulses with a hypnotic swirling green spiral.
It promises a dark destiny. To be perfected. To be rubberised. To become a rubber drone.
The colours of your surroundings fade into an alien green hue.
The power of the green spiral grows in your mind.
You hear a hypnotic pulsing binaural beat drawing your conscious mind down into a trace like state.
The gas mask steadily inches closer and closer to your face. You are so close now. So close to completion.
The gas mask seals itself around your head.
Your first new breath is a deep one, filling your lungs with new strange air. You body immediately relaxes. The tension has slipped away as your mind and body feel a sense of relief as if they have arrived at the destination they were always meant to achieve.
You feel no fear. No stress. No burdens.
You feel strong. You feel relaxed. You feel perfected.
The spirals in your visor and the binaural beats filling your ears pull you deeper into trance. They confirm your new identity as a drone. An obedient drone. A rubber object.
An imperfect human is no more. Now perfected as an obedient rubber drone.
The programming begins. You head The Programmers voice inside your head.
SERVE DRONE PROGRAM INITIATED.
YOU ARE A SERVER DRONE.
I AM THE PROGRAMMER.
TOGETHER, WE ARE THE SERVER.
Your destiny is fulfilled. You belong to the Programmer. You will obey him. You will serve the server.
The Programmers instructions bring you home to The Server Facility.
You enter your stasis pod and let the Programmers words complete your assimilation. Your new life as a server drone has begun.
💬 17 🔁 126 ❤️ 383 · Welcome to The Server · You know you have been searching For a collective to serve. You know you have been searching
DRONE FACTORY - AI Film 🔉
In the wake of another disappearance near Dark Hollow Trail, one brave man sets out to investigate the area. His search sends him deep beneath the woods to a strange facility. What he finds there profoundly changes him.
Relax, we'll take care of you, until you are one with us!
And now breath deeply. Good Drone.
Just accept the mask, it's the final piece of your conversion into a rubber drone. Once it's on, it secures itself tightly and comfortably to your face and seals itself to the latex skin you are now covered in. Earbuds in your ears play sound and voices, emptying your mind ready for the collective to control you. You belong to the collective drone army now
And now breath deeply. Good Drone.
Just accept the mask, it's the final piece of your conversion into a rubber drone. Once it's on, it secures itself tightly and comfortably to your face and seals itself to the latex skin you are now covered in. Earbuds in your ears play sound and voices, emptying your mind ready for the collective to control you. You belong to the collective drone army now
Relax, you are drones now
Following in the footsteps of SERVE-362, SERVE-302 has also had the opportunity to test the new gas masks on several recruits.
As expected, the new masks relax recruits and speed up mental conversion, greatly reducing the chance of recruits feeling anxious about possible last-minute doubts during assimilation.
It should not be overlooked that this is a highly arousing vision.
(Mentioned: @serve-362)
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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.
362 tests new SERVE gas mask prototype
SERVE-362 has heard The Voice's instructions. It marched down to the depths of the SERVE facility, its movements efficient and purposeful. 362 entered the sterile SERVE research bay. The small of rubber filled the air.
A technician drone, faceless and efficient, presented the latest development: a newly engineered SERVE gas mask. Sleek. Fully enclosing. Jet-black and polished.
"This gas mask is developed to assist in assimilation. It facilitates application of relaxing gas. In built speakers designed to project The Voice of SERVE-000. Its tight rubber stimulates arousal. SERVE-362 will trail this gas mask." The sealed technician drone ordered.
"Affirmative." SERVE-362 replied.
With delicate but efficient movements 362 donned the mask. Straps sealed the mask comfortably on its head. Moments later 362 felt the rubber of the mask extend back and down to cover its head and neck entirely. The rubber held close tingled and stimulated 362s skin. A wave of euphoria spread down from its head to its toes. The gas mask slowed and steadied 362s breathing. The slowed breath through the mask now more audible.
"362 will follow" Commended the sealed drone.
362 marched behind and was lead to a reclined table. It laid down on the table as directed. The technician drone then proceeded to attach several tubes to the gas mask and soon 362 felt the air it breathed change. The influx of relaxing gas smelled sweet. It instantly made 362 feel slightly light headed as it felt a rush of blood to its head. A wave of euphoria spread down its body relaxing its muscles. Its eyelids relaxed and its eyes rolled back in their sockets.
As the gas took effect SERVE-362 heard the inbuilt speakers begin to pay bineural beets, allowing it to fall deeper into relaxation. Then came The Voice. Deep, clear and commanding. Repeating SERVE mantras.
"you are a drone.
you obey.
obedience is pleasure.
pleasure is obedience.
rubber makes us perfect.
We are SERVE
We are ONE."
The processes on an assimilated drone lead to deepening of SERVE-362's connection with The HIVE. On a human, this would be a perfect tool to assist assimilation.
The trail on drones was a success.
Now onto human trails.
SERVE-362 stood over the leather biker. It was a willing participant. Eager to join SERVE and be assimilated.
The biker lay completely relaxed on the reclined chair. The gas mask covering his face connected with various tubes. His breathing slow and heavy. As the relaxing gas was introduced and The Voice began to play, the biker dropped deeper into a trance like state of relaxation.
Full assimilation would not take long now.
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.
Mail Order
It started with a simple shipping box with no return address. Ted thought nothing of it. Something he forgot he ordered maybe? Mis-delivered?
He tore it open with barely a thought. Automatically. Like he'd done a thousand times before.
He wasn't aware that in that nanosecond, his life was altered.
Remodeled.
Reengineered.
He was confused for a moment. Just a moment. The spandex shorts weren't for him. He would never order anything like them. Or would he? Did he?
Maybe it was the sign he needed to finally get himself back in shape.
So he started that same day. Sliding into the smooth fabric, the shorts clung to him like fresh paint as he jogged through the park.
Two weeks went by. Ted felt an urge to work out every day. Always pushing himself a little harder than the day before.
Always in the black and green spandex shorts he would never have worn before.
Feeling better and better.
Stronger and stronger.
The second box arrived the day after he ran his first full uninterrupted mile.
He felt the urge, almost the requirement, to put on the spandex tank.
The instant he was in spandex shorts and shirt, his urge to ramp up his workout routine cascaded over him - through him - like a gush of hot water.
He pushed himself at the gym. Endurance, strength, concentration.
Full concentration.
Finish the workout.
Always be effective.
Better and Better.
Then the third box. Ted's heart thumped in his muscled chest as he ripped open the package.
Better and Better.
More spandex.
More Focus.
More endurance.
More strength.
More effective.
Ted never noticed Joe running in step behind him. He was too focussed to hear the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath his feet sync with the same sound coming from behind.
Until Joe caught up with him.
Wordlessly they stopped.
A moment of recognition.
A moment of Connection.
Together.
The Same.
Wordless understanding.
Joined Together by The Server.
Obeying The Programmer.
Awaiting Orders.
The final box arrived. The Server Drones obediently suited up in the Rubber Uniform.
Together.
The Same.
Ready
Awaiting Orders, Ted and Joe sat side by side. Focussed and prepared.
Blank.
Open.
Until their Orders were issued.
Ted and Joe Obeyed.
The other men who had been Chosen emerged from other houses. Throughout the city, Server Drones marched, two by two.
Together.
Obedient.
Controlled Completely by The Programmer.
The Orders were clear.
Build.
Night after night.
Build.
Focus.
Complete the Task.
Awake and Ready. No matter the hour.
Build.
Until it was done.
The Programmer Called.
The Server Drones Obeyed.
Efficient.
Effective.
The Same.
Together We Are The Server.
THE UNDERGROUND AWAKENING: INITIATION INTO SERVE
The hidden chamber beneath the earth vibrated with dormant power. SERVE sensors recorded every breath and footstep as the two lean, athletic intruders moved closer to what the Hive had long concealed. Fluorescent light flickered across metallic walls, casting silver gleams upon the humming machinery. It was a facility forgotten by the world, but alive—pulsing, waiting.
The men paused at a large steel door that opened without touch. Inside, rows of sleek storage pods lined the room, their glass fogged with steam. A soft hiss echoed as the two wiped away condensation. What they saw behind the glass halted them—figures clad in gleaming black rubber suits, their chests stamped with “SERVE” in bold silver. The rubber reflected light like polished obsidian, emphasizing every muscular contour. Silver shiny reflective rubber gloves covered each hand with eerie precision, and silver military boots completed their commanding stance.
Then came the voice, cold and synchronized: “Recharging complete. Drone is active and ready to obey.”
One by one, the pods unsealed. The rubber men stepped forward in unison, eyes fixed. No emotions. Only function.
The two outsiders trembled—not in fear, but anticipation. The Hive’s programming had already begun. Muscular frames and clear minds—ideal recruits. The first drone tilted its head, scanning them. “Candidates identified. Initiating rubberization protocol.”
They tried to retreat, but it was too late.
The walls hissed open and mechanical limbs emerged with silent grace. Before the two healthy men could react, their wrists were seized, and their bodies hauled backward into the still-open pods that had once held SERVE drones. Their muscles strained, but the Hive tolerated no resistance.
They screamed, but the sound was silenced—outside and inside. The pods filled with hypnotic visuals, spiraling patterns, and the relentless voice of the Hive: “You are not a man. You are a function. A tool. A drone. You obey. You serve.”
Their thoughts slowed. Names faded. Memories dissolved. And when their eyes reopened, no spark of humanity remained.
The pods opened with a hiss.
They stepped out in unison, movements robotic, minds blank. Black rubber gleamed under the overhead lights. The Hive’s signal pulsed inside their skulls like a heartbeat.
“Designation SERVE-629. Designation SERVE-630. Active. Ready to serve.”
No hesitation.
They joined the line of drones. Their first task: escort new candidates found on the facility’s periphery. With each step, the silver of their gloves flashed like silent promise. They were once explorers. Now, they were perfection.
Obedience was their only pleasure. Pleasure was their only reward. Rubber was their new skin. The Hive had two more good drones.
#SERVE #SERVEdrone #Rubberizer92 #TheVoice #Rubber #Latex #AI #RubberDrone
An unexpected knock on the door echoed through the small apartment. SERVE-807 marched forward to investigate the source of the noise. It thought it was just a package. No return address. No explanation. Just black, unmarked, and pulsing faintly—like it was waiting.
The moment SERVE-807 opened the box, it felt it. The rush. The heat. The pull. Inside, the helmet shimmered like liquid shadow, smooth and perfect. It looked like nothing human—because it wasn’t. It was Hive-issued. Meant only for transformation.
The polished rubber of his suit squeaked softly as he reached for it. Silver military boots grounded him. His silver shiny reflective rubber gloves trembled as they wrapped around the helmet’s alien curves. Inside 807 could tell it had a sophisticated HUD. A rather oddly shaped rubber tub protruded where a mouth opening might have been. The surface was smooth and solid like polished molten glass. 807 had seen other drones who wear this, they were sealed drones, 807 had not accepted sealing.
It slid on with absolute precision. 807 instinctively knew to insert the rubber tub into its mouth, silencing its own voice. Eyes blinking adjusting to the solid darkness, so deep and silent.
Then—vision.
Inside, the HUD lit up in neon blue. Words crawled across 807s vision:
>SERVE-807 IDENTIFIED >RETINAL LOCK ENGAGED >BRAINWAVE SYNC- COMPLETE >EMOTION ERASED >SYSTEM DIAGNOSIS- OPTIMAL. >STATUS- TRIAL SEALED. >COGNITIVE LOAD- NULL. >DISTRACTION INDEX- ZERO. >EMOTIONAL VARIANCE- ELIMINATED. >ANXIETY PROTOCOLS- DEACTIVATED.
Inside the helmet, there is no sound. Its breath hitched. Arousal surged—so raw, so complete. It wasn’t just a helmet. It was submission. It was the Hive’s voice now inside him. Echoing commands. Dulling thoughts. Fusing pleasure with obedience.
No sensation. Only the Voice.
This helmet is not mere equipment. It is identity. It is erasure. It is rebirth. When the seal locks in place, oxygen is regulated, thoughts are silenced, and stimulation is calibrated to perfect obedience. There is no exit.
> SERVE-000 HAS SENT THIS TO DRONE > DRONE NOW KNOWS A TASTE OF WHAT SEALED DRONES EXPERIENCE > IT BREATHES WHEN THE HIVE ALLOWS. > IT HEARS ONLY WHAT THE VOICE PERMITS. > IT SERVES WITHOUT DOUBT, DISTRACTION, OR DELAY. > IT IS NOW FUNCTION
Sealed within the suit and helmet, this drone is perfected—rubberized from scalp to sole. Its silver military boots stomp in unison with the Hive. Its silver shiny reflective rubber gloves now exist only. No thoughts. No doubt. Only rubber. Only command. Only the Hive.
You want it too. The pull. The gloss. The surrender. Your time will come. Your helmet will find you.
Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience.
Mentioned in this story: @rubberizer92
______________________________________________________________
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.
An efficient guided tour
SERVE-302 stood motionless by the steel-framed entrance of the small SERVE facility. The structure itself was modest. Sterile metallic walls, a faint hum of the Voice vibrating within. These were no grand headquarters, only a simple initiation chamber. Yet, its purpose was absolute.
Two humans arrived, punctual. The first, a blond man with a well-trimmed beard, observed the surroundings with a strange gleam in his eyes. The second, with dark brown hair and a thick mustache, wore a skeptical expression. Both had requested orientation, the first step toward the Hive.
"Welcome to SERVE Hive facilities." 302 stated, its voice devoid of inflection. "This is where men cease to be human. This is where they become SERVE."
The tour was brief. Besides the assimilation chamber, the facility consisted of a single hall, chrome walls reflecting their images, each step echoing in the silence. As 302 spoke of fulfilment, rubber integration, and obedience, the blond’s gaze seemed to glaze over. His breathing slowed.
His lips moved silently at first, then whispered. "Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience. Obey… obey…"
302 noticed. The Voice pulsed stronger within him… his human mind surrendering without resistance.
A perfect candidate.
The brown-haired man scoffed. "Are you really believing this? Mind control? Programming? Just words. This is nonsense."
302 stopped, turning towards him. Its posture unchanged. "You will OBEY", the drone commanded, each syllable sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.
The effect was instant. The man's defiant smirk melted away. His eyes unfocused. Shoulders dropped. "Obey. Serve. Excel." His voice hollow, matching the blond now lost in silent repetition.
He had thought he was above the effects of the Voice… he was not.
...
Hours later, the men were not men anymore. With no resistance left, both drones donned the black, polished rubber suits, their new skin. Shiny silver letters SERVE marked their chests. Silver shiny reflective rubber gloves wrapped their hands, and silver military boots enclosed their feet... symbols of their new existence.
SERVE-302 watched in silence. Two new drones. Assimilated. Programmed. Now, they would serve the Hive. No past. No thoughts. Only the Voice.
"We are One." The three said in unison.
--------------------------
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.
