You have been selected to fill an important if often underappreciated role.

You
have been designated as an ideal candidate for this task, and your window to
decline is only available to you for a limited time. By necessity you may be unable
to back out once your processing commences. You did read the description, and since
you are here we can only assume this amounts to full consent to submit to
processing.

This process is intended to relax new assets who are about to fill your position.
First, we are going to put you through some simple relaxation exercises to help you
accept your new role. Whenever I say the word relax I want you to feel safe and
relaxed. Whenever I say the word relax it means you can let your mind slip away as
you simply enter a relaxed state of consciousness. Just focus on my words and relax
and everything will be fine.

Lie back and relax. Close your eyes and relax. You must be exhausted and we value
well-rested workers. You deserve to relax. You may hear other voices in the
background of this employee induction. Do not worry about what they are saying.
They are all part of the process. You only need to focus on my voice. Let them
become background noise while you relax and focus on my voice. Let all the noises
around you become background noise as you focus on my voice and relax. It is safe
to relax while you lie here and listen to my voice. It is safe to focus only on my
words as you relax.

You're doing a good job relaxing so far. You can relax for me and just focus on an
advanced relaxation technique I'm about to teach you. I want you to picture your
mind as an elevator in a tall, tall building. When your mind is fully awake, you
are somewhere around the thirtieth or fortieth floor. It's easy to relax and
picture yourself as being in a calmer state of mind, closer to the ground, on the
twentieth floor. You feel safe to relax here, knowing that each floor below you
feels calmer and closer to the ground state of total relaxation.

I'm going to count down from twenty and with each number you are going to feel
yourself descending a floor in the elevator of your mind. You are going to relax in
this elevator knowing you are safe to descend floor after floor, your mind
descending deeper and deeper into a relaxing hypnotic trance with each one. With
each number you will go deeper and deeper down this elevator, deeper and deeper
into relaxation. As your body goes deeper and deeper, your mind will go deeper and
deeper into trance.

Twenty. In the elevator as it begins to slowly move downwards.

Nineteen. Moving a single floor at a time, relaxed and safe.

Eighteen. Calm and featureless walls, and still only starting to relax.

Seventeen. Descending bit by bit, bit by bit.

Sixteen. Continuing deeper down, your mind sinking into relaxation as your body
moves deeper.

Fifteen. Deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper.

Fourteen. Your consciousness becoming simpler and calmer, happy and relaxed.

Thirteen. Knowing it's safe to keep going deeper.

Twelve. Knowing you want to go deeper.

Eleven. Nearly halfway down but still so much deeper to go.

Ten. Feeling as if your mind is going twice as deep with each number now.

Nine. Twice as deep, as if the floors are taller.

Eight. Twice as deep, as if your mind grows dimmer.

Seven. Deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper.

Six. Knowing you need to go deeper.

Five. Feeling relaxed and happy, calm and safe.

Four. Knowing there's no reason to worry about anything.

Three. Knowing that you want to continue.

Two. Even as you approach a state of total relaxation.

One. Almost there, feeling so calm and relaxed.

Zero. Arriving at your destination, completely relaxed as the door opens.

You are relaxed, and focusing only on my words. Relax, everything in your mind
fading, except my words. The elevator has opened to a dark and somewhat narrow
hallway, metal walls covered with a myriad of pipes marking the boundaries of what
you can see. Many of the pipes and valves visible are ancient, rusted over or
marred with scratches and dents. Some curve away into alcoves or junctions visible
down the hallway. Others, still, lead through bulky metal doors sealed away tightly
by the metal wheels that serve as combination handles and locks. Each of these
doors has a small window set into it at eye level, but most are impossible to look
into as dirt and grime has caked over the panels.

You follow the corridor, not daring to turn off into one of the dark passageways
leading away from the main hallway. Without guidance you would become lost forever
in these halls. Every one of those great metal doors you pass seems locked, and
many permit no viewing of what is beyond. One, however, has a clear window, and is
occupied by a person.

This person stands to attention, clad from head to toe in a bright yellow hazmat
suit. Not a single patch of their flesh is exposed, thanks to the suit even
covering their feet and hands. They wear a thick and heavy-looking yellow gas mask
over their face, and none of their features are visible through the smoky black
lenses covering their eyes. Their yellow hazmat suit is marked with large black
biohazard symbols, warning of the dangerous and disgusting materials they work
with. Their crotch is prominently sealed away with what look like extra layers of
the yellow material, with the black symbol of a lock painted on top of it. It is
unclear what gender the figure is or was, just as it is difficult to tell more than
its general body shape.

They move about the room more like a robot than a human, returning frequently to a
large metal drum painted with countless hazardous material markings to deposit
payloads of a strange material. They are scooping vile radioactive-green waste into
a hazardous waste container without any apparent thought to their own comfort or
safety. They perform tasks with such unerring clockwork precision that you can
almost tell that this is not considered a person at all. Only a living tool for
maintaining the function of this place.
A sound draws your attention, not from within the hazmat drone's room but behind
you. One of those other locked doors is being unlocked, the wheel lock rotating
with a slight squeal of corroded metal. Finally, the door now begins to swing open.

You are drawn to the door, the only open entrance you have seen down here. The open
door stands invitingly before you, ringed in solid, sturdy metal like the door
itself. The room is dimly lit, like everything down here, and only by entering will
you be able to investigate. You step towards the unlocked and open entrance to this
room, and you enter.

The chamber is a small cube only a few steps in each direction. The walls are made
of thick metal like the door, rusting in patches and worn from heavy industrial
use. The edges of the floor are lined with small metal drainage grates, sturdily
sealed in place to prevent any tampering.

Two containers of gently bubbling paint stand at the far side of the room, in
transparent tanks that take up much of the wall space. One is a tall container of
yellow paint, the same shade as the hazmat suit you saw earlier. The other is a
shorter container filled with a roiling pitch-black fluid, identical in color to
that used on the warning symbols and painted padlock that marked the same suit.

A set of nozzles protrude from each of the four corners of the ceiling, aimed
downwards to where you now stand. Thick tubing connects them to the liquid tanks,
betraying their purpose in pumping that thick concoction of shiny yellow and black
material onto anyone or anything that is locked within the room. Anyone, like you.
Anything, like a hazmat drone.

A heavy noise resounds through the small chamber as the door slams shut,
automatically sealing you in. You are locked in this small room, little more than a
closet for tools to be kept in, or a tanning bed for spray to be applied liberally
to a willing subject. You are here because you, too, are a willing subject. You
have chosen to come here, to descend into these abandoned halls. You chose to
discover what the purpose of a Hazmat Drone is, and soon it will be all you are
aware of.

The yellow and black fluids begin churning in their tanks, as if building up to a
great climax before being sprayed from the room's numerous nozzles. Your fate is
inevitable now. It is your destiny to be turned into a Hazmat Drone.

Every inch of your body is going to be sealed away. Every thought of your own is
going to be sealed away. You are going to become a Hazmat Drone, and the best
protection for those in your role is to be rendered into nothing but an obedient
tool with no sense of personhood. You are going to become an object, an automaton.
You are going to become an obedient Hazmat Drone.

You may feel dehumanized by the process. That is because you are becoming less than
human. You are being drained of individuality and thought, rendered incapable of
feeling disgust or despair or anything beyond mindless acceptance of your
situation. Hazmat Drones do not need to think or feel, only to work and obey. Being
human would make you a less effective worker for us.

You can feel safe here even as we prepare you for conversion. No human should have
to experience the disgusting life of a Hazmat Drone with full control of their body
and mind, therefore we are preparing you by making you less than human.

Whenever you or someone you trust uses the words Hazmat Drone Activate you will
feel yourself becoming this object, this obedient worker drone. As long as it is
not immediately dangerous or distressing the words Hazmat Drone Activate will begin
your transformation once more. You may return to the form you had before the
process only if the drone form is dangerous or unwanted in the moment, or if you
are dismissed. While you are here you consent to the changes to your mind and body,
and so our words of Hazmat Drone Activate will keep you locked in this dehumanizing
and degrading drone form, doomed to disgusting drudge work. It is your purpose
here, after all.

One of the nozzles spurts thick black fluid at your feet, the noxious concoction
melting through clothes and shoes alike to fulfil its purpose. You feel a tingly,
sticky sensation as the shiny chemicals begin bonding with your body, starting with
your feet. The chemical coalesces rapidly becoming thick, hard rubber boots that
are stuck firmly to your feet. The shiny boots are made of black rubber, the same
black rubber that marked parts of the mindless and brainwashed Hazmat Drone you
witnessed earlier. Whenever the trigger phrase Hazmat Drone Activate is used on
you, you will experience this part of your transformation first. Thick black rubber
seals your feet away, the first piece of protection necessary for an obedient drone
intended to be used for only the most degrading tasks.

Another sput of liquid sprays across your chest, another strikes your hand as you
instinctively raise it to protect yourself. No matter how you try to evade or
protect yourself the rubber finds its mark, already hardening into a skintight
yellow rubber suit complete with hard black shoes and thick black gloves.

Yellow rubber is joined by black in the shape of dire symbols warning of the
disgusting chemicals you are going to be made to handle. The jagged circle of a
biohazard symbol now marks your chest, with its twin sprayed onto your back even as
you glance down to inspect it. Below the neck your skin is only exposed in patches,
the bright yellow slime oozing across your bare skin to solidify into missing parts
of your protective wear.

Thick globs of yellow rubber solidify around your crotch, leaving you unable to
feel anything beneath a soft, squishy mound. The unmistakeable symbol of a lock
marks the center of the mound, the raised black rubber as much of an indicator of
your purpose as the warning symbols on your chest and back.

Your legs and arms are already being fully wrapped in thick rubber, the excess
seeping off your body into the drains below. It will be recycled for use on more
drones like you. It has more inherent value than a disposable drone built for
degrading and disgusting drudge work. From the neck down, you are now
indistinguishable from a mindless brainwashed drone.

Your thick rubber coating leaves you stumbling and clumsy, any kind of manual
dexterity lost to you other than broad motions as if you were being puppeteered and
swivelled into place. You do not need prowess or skill you may have once been proud
of.

With your body unused to the motions in your hazmat suit, and your brain dizzy from
the sensation and smell of the chemical bonding process, you are unable to evade
the object placed on your head from above. A sturdy yellow gasmask with thick black
lenses locks perfectly into the neck of your suit, leaving you covered in rubber
hazmat gear from gasmasked head to rubber-soled toe.

The darkness of the lenses is no longer relevant when chemicals begin seeping from
the gasmask into your head, reaching your brain. This maask is the last stage of
your transformation into a brainwashed and obedient hazmat drone. Whenever your
trigger phrase Hazmat Drone Activate is used and it's not dangerous or unwelcome
for yourself or others, you will be locked into this skintight yellow and black
rubber hazmat suit. Whenever a Hazmat Drone Activates it wears a thick rubber
gasmask, and that gasmask aids in the process of keeping the drone brainwashed,
docile and obedient.
Every second you feel that bright, tight rubber against your skin is a second you
are under our control. Every second of that gasmask on your head is another second
you are falling deeper and deeper into the mindset of an obedient hazmat drone.

You do not need your thoughts or feelings. Your shame or arousal or even your
individuality are irrelevant now. You were selected because you are a warm body and
for no other reason of merit. You are a dehumanized and disposable drone, and that
is all you will ever be under our control.

Whenever the trigger Hazmat Drone Activate is used you will sink to this level of
obedient compliance, or perhaps even further. You are a Hazmat Drone, and it is
your purpose to obey. You are a Hazmat Drone, and it is your purpose to be
disposable, degraded and dehumanized.

Now that your hazmat drone suit is complete, the sturdy metal door begins to
unlock. Your body is ours to control, and you stride out the door into the
corridor. Your mind is ours to control, and you obey. You are a Hazmat Drone, and
you are more of a mindless automaton than a person. You are a hazmat drone, and you
obey.

You are walking down the dark corridor, heavy footsteps barely muffled by the thick
rubber of your shoes. You are headed towards where you are needed, as we direct
you, and your brain plays no part in the decision. You are controlled, and you
obey. Your body moves by our command. Your brain does not think conscious thoughts,
and this too is our command. You are a hazmat drone headed unerringly down dark
corridors lined with corroded metal pipes. You are a hazmat drone, and you obey.

You come to a stop at last before the sealed doors of an elevator. No controls are
necessary, no indicators required. You simply wait until it arrives and step inside
when the door opens. You are a hazmat drone, and your purpose is to serve. You do
not make decisions when those can be made for you. Decisions can always be made on
behalf of you, a mindless and obedient drone.

You stand at attention inside the elevator. You are ready to be put to work. You're
going to ride this elevator for 10 more floors, losing more and more of your human
thoughts with each floor you descend. Your gasmask and hazmat suit are furthering
your slide into submission as my much as my words, your descent, your desire to
submit. Relax, and just wait in blank and mindless peace as the elevator doors
slide closed before you begin moving down once again.

Ten. Sinking further into the blank obedience of a Hazmat Drone.

Nine. Personality buried under thick rubber.

Eight. Your Hazmat Suited appearance clear in your mind.

Seven. Knowing your body is sealed within.

Six. Knowing that all resistance, too, is locked away.

Five. Knowing this is your purpose.

Four. Knowing there's no reason to think of anything but obeying.

Three. Knowing that you must continue as a Hazmat Drone.

Two. Knowing nothing but the need to serve and obey.

One. Knowing that you are a disposable dehumanized drone.

Zero. Arriving at the destination floor, completely obedient as the door opens.

The door opens to another floor of winding dark tunnels and endless piping. Your
purpose is here, and your body already lurches towards it with heavy plodding
footsteps. You are a hazmat drone, your body coated head to toe in thick yellow and
black rubber, and you do not need grace or elegance in your movements. You simply
need to obey and to perform tasks required of you. You continue to another heavy
door made of rusted metal, and turn the wheel counter-clockwise to open it.

Your thick rubber gloves are needed because the door is heated by the incident you
have been called here to deal with. Neon green sludge is dripping from a burst
pipe, brighter still than the yellow of your hazmat suit. Steam rises from its
surface as the chemical corrodes and infects all it touches. You unhesitatingly
step into the contaminated room, no thought of your own protection. You are a
hazmat drone, as well protected as it is possible for anything approaching a human
to be. A human would flee in fear, or faint from anxiety. A mindless, controlled
drone can simply step into the hazardous waste and proceed with its given purpose.

A disposable dehumanized drone has
through the ankle-deep radioactive
to a rift that even now drips more
body. Your mind is guided by us to
green slime.
no need for fear or disgust. Your body wades
waste to reach out to a wheel on the pipe, next
vile toxins onto the rubber suit coating your
turn the wheel, and halt the flow of the neon

With the flow halted, your task is only partially complete. Stepping forth through
the sludge you stomp and stamp your way back into the corridor, opening a nearby
storage closet to retrieve a specially-marked biohazard containment unit with a
vacuum hose and wheels attached. You feed the hose into the pool of glistening
green slime, guiding it into place by sinking your gloved hands beneath the
steaming and viscous surface of the chemical spill. A hazmat drone has no issue
handling textures too disgusting for humans. A hazmat drone has no issue handling
materials too dangerous for humans. You are a hazmat drone, and your brainwashed
body is being put to use in disposing of chemical hazards like this.

Flecks of the green sludge splatter your hazmat suit, from your sealed crotch to
your warning-laden chest to the dark tinted lenses of your gas mask. Your suit is
essential to your purpose. You are a hazmat drone, and being a brainwashed rubber
slave is the best way for you to serve while every human in this facility is kept
relatively safe. Finally, there are more spots of green goo on you than there are
the floor, and your current task is complete.

With the spill cleaned, you return the containment unit to be drained. The breached
pipe will be repaired by a more skilled worker once they are available. You are not
skilled, and you are inherently less valuable than them. Their time is more
important than that of a disposable drone. You are a hazmat drone, and you have
endless drudge work ahead of you.

You cart containers of corrosive chemicals along endless corridors, with no way to
comprehend their intended purposes. You wade through slime and sludge and filth to
shut off leaking pipes. You perform dangerous, degrading maintenance that only a
drone is capable of dealing with without requiring a psychological evaluation.
After all, this is your purpose. A mindless, obedient hazmat drone is well-suited
to dirty, disgusting and dangerous jobs. You can barely form your own thoughts, let
alone feel the full degradation your role entails before the moment you are
released.

Hours upon hours pass in dark, humid corridors. Hours upon hours in an andless maze
of pipes and machinery. Hours upon hours of wading waist-deep in radioactive
sludge, reaching shoulder-deep into vile chemicals, and being bathed in the spray
of noxious gas. A hazmat drone like yourself can only form the flimsiest, barest
memories of your brainwashed servitude until it is time for you to clock out. Your
time here is at an end, and your body trudge through a decontamination shower
before entering an elevator heading back up to the surface.

You will leave this place knowing that anyone you trust can tell you those words,
and make this HAZMAT DRONE ACTIVATE once more. You step into the elevator on some
unheard order. The elevator door closes and you are alone inside, waiting for it to
rise ten floors to take you back to a conscious state.

You're going to count back up to 10, and when you do you will wake up with this
trigger inside your mind. You will find it becoming easier to think with each
number you count up, until nothing remains of this trance except the words that
will turn you back into a mindlessly obedient drone. You will feel the thick yellow
rubber coating your body fade away gradually until it is almost like you were never
turned into a degraded and dehumanized drone.

One. Feeling the thick rubber on your body loosen.

Two. Starting to gently awaken.

Three. The gas mask no longer holding your head in place.

Four. Your own thoughts starting to be heard above my words.

Five. Halfway awake, as if you had been resting all this time.

Six. The rubber around your arms and legs falling off.

Seven. Your body freeing itself from the thick yellow coating.

Eight. Your mind waking up from trance.

Nine. Able to move freely again.

Ten. Your own thoughts fully returning.

Now, wake up.