You were hoping to find out what happened to your friend. He ran into a tough crowd, some kind of biker gang that kept him out at all hours. they were sleazy, crass, and led by some kind of charismatic rockabilly that told you not to worry about it. You didn't buy it. The last time you spoke to your friend, he told you to fuck off over the phone. It was strange; out of character. Then he went quiet. Then he disappeared. He might have been an asshole, but he was your friend, you needed to know what happened to him. Your investigation led you to some kind of factory. The doors weren't locked, so slipping right in wasn't a problem. The rooms were dark, and configured in a way uncharacteristic of a factory. Smooth black monoliths dominated a large room, sprawling so high you couldn't see the ceiling. There was a scent in the air, lavender or some kind of spice you couldn't put your finger on. Either way, it made your ears tingle. Lights shone down on a pillar and your eyes immediately gravitated to the clump of purple stripes illuminating the room. What you originally assumed was just a trick of the light was a muscular figure leaning casually against a pillar. Tall, imposing, sporting black rubber and leathers so dark they served as camouflage amongst the monolithic structures. Two glowing purple lenses were fashioned to resemble shades. Closer inspection revealed they were merely merged with some kind of gas mask. A single vent pointed to the side was accented in brown, reminding you of a cigar. purple smoke slowly billowing from it. He was vaguely canine, but it was impossible to tell further than that. The massive figure looked like a greaser at least in shape, but it was devod of features suggesting it had any interest in individuality. Your voice was caught in your throat as he gracefully pushed off the pillar and started to walk over to you. Each steel toed boot stomp echoing in the room, resembling a steady heartbeat. His pompadour bounced ever so slightly. The only soft part of this hard body. You tried to speak, but the moment words finally came, his hand was slowly closing round your neck. "SHUDDUP." An artificially deepened, but entirely calm voice implored. You only saw the glow. the purple. Silence fell between you two, or rather, the drone had pulled you into its own world of quiet and serenity. You trembled, tingling as your sense of self became... uncertain. As if this greaser drone has more grounding in reality than you ever could. As if its distinct features had more of a right to exist than your own. There was an urge to relinquish. to feel the cold rubber ooze down over your neck and up your head. It closed around your clothing, your flesh. even the tail, if you had one, was coated in a sleeve. As the lenses formed over your eyes and quietly snuffed out the last vestige of unique features on your body... A deep voice nestled into your mind, replacing the small whelp of a punk that had no business distracting a proper greaser drone. "Yussuh." You chimed in a deep, monotone purr. "Prowl." The greaser drone said back. You turned away, beginning your patrol. Thoughts to find your friend seemed irrelevant now. If he was here, he was likely a drone. It was fine, it's not like he would respond to his name anymore; much like yourself. You were just part of the gang. You were a greaser drone, Bruh.
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Art by Toughset
Story by Darkwitt
Character is -koamaro-
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Art by Toughset
Story by Darkwitt
Character is -koamaro-
Category All / All
Species Wolf
Gender Male
Size 931 x 1280px
Awesome pic, and neat story, too! Only way that a greaser can be improved is by adding rubber into the mix! ^o^
Hot greaser drone!
Wonder where this place is... So I can jo-I mean, avoid it... Yes... Avoid... Not join... Y-yeah...
Wonder where this place is... So I can jo-I mean, avoid it... Yes... Avoid... Not join... Y-yeah...
Mmh, no. Very few of the greasers have drone experience/interest.
We need to see greasers get turned into drones; their pompadours so tight and shiny; ready to obey their Master.
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