A dozen men sat in a dark and smoky room. The chairman spoke: “shall we greenlight operation Buck Breaking?” A chorus of yeas emanated from the rest. “It is decided then” said the chairman, “it begins.”

Meanwhile a black tranny emerges from its pod, its Neuralink™ compelling its empty biomass to the local BDSM spiked dildo factory. “Let’s get that bread!” screamed the Neuralink^TM into the tranny slave’s empty mass of neurons. At the gate of the descent hub stood robotic guards ostensibly designed to protect the horned dildo supply from brown  Cartel bandits. Today they stood with hand-held scanners, their black, rubbery hands gripping the plastic. The Lockheed Martin Titans were totally black from head to toe; even their eyes were merely beady, black glass.

The brown workers lined up to get scanned. How nice it was, they thought, that the Titans were there to verify their identities and keep them safe. A few, a mostly better looking bunch, still used plastic identification cards, as opposed to the tattoos preferred by the trendy. The Titans informed them that as of this date, plastic was no longer accepted. They would have to wait by the entrance, and, as a matter of security, they could not go back to their pods.

The same occurred in all institutions, whether they be schools, daycares, other workplaces, doctor’s offices, or something else. That left the real defectives. Away from the cities lived the last remnant of the Yeoman farmer bioclass. On this day came the Titans for the first and last Bigotry Check. It was a shock to those still practically living in the 2040s – the Titans showing up at their doorstep demanding to see identification for every male, no matter the age. A few knew what was happening and opted to die on their knees. They all committed suicide – only incredibly powerful directed energy weapons could penetrate the Titans’ ebony armor. These were extremely expensive, and of course, illegal. Finally bearing their AR15s, the last bucks who would not be broken were instantly vaporized by the Titan’s built-in weaponry.

The half-hearted rebels were transported to their local underground FEMA detention center. Each were scheduled for three consecutive operations; each center encompassed the defective from its respective city and all the surrounding land that was not closer to another city. A few thousand resided in each center, and each day, a few dozen were transported out for their three-step operation.

There were only five operation centers built specifically for the event that a mass security threat had to be medically neutralized. At the top of every hour a caravan of patients arrived, escorted off the buses parked deep within the massive receiving bays. Inside each was sat in another holding cell to wait. In these solitary cages their Neuralinks upped its dopamine output so that the patients may be soothed. They lied there, in those cells and felt the warmth consume them. It was a dark warmth, like pleasant death, but none were adept enough to notice.

The few without Neuralinks despaired. Many had been warned of this place via their outdated internet forums. Somebody – most likely a psy-operative – had been leaking information that facilities were being built capable of efficiently executing three vital operations via only robotic surgeons: male-to-female gender reassignment surgery, Neuralink installation, and DermoPay insertion.

The worst of the worst tended to be the most neurotic. They obsessed over their eminent fate. “They’re going to kill me! Worse, they’re going to rip the soul straight out of my body. What will I become? God help me! Where are you God! I’m going to attack the Titan when it comes. I’m going to die. Is that okay?” Many paniced; They were right, of course. Neuralink installation alone meant significant pacification. Hypothetically, the device was totally under user control. In practice, its augmentations proved to be the most addictive thing in the world. Among those few who had to have them removed, 91% committed suicide, and 99% experienced siginificant catatonia.

The few aware patients could not stand the thought of their futures. Not a one could imagine there ever again being a happy moment; their whole tortured flesh would forever be poisoned. Every moment would be polluted. They wished that they had been more obedient. Then they could keep their minds and their testicles. It would be horrible, but livable. They could bide their time until the revolution that way. But with a Neurolink and a neo-vagina that would be impossible. Some soothed themselves with a theory of consciousness that said they would not have to experience their new being. Others thought that surely they would only receive a DermoPay chip. That wouldn’t be so bad, they reasoned. It’s only a chip. I can bide my time, go innawoods after this…

When their time came, each patient experienced instant loss of conscious on account of having been silently gassed. A lone Titan entered each cell carrying a slab designed to have a human body strapped to it. Secured on these pieces, the patients were carried to the procedure entrance room which contained only a conveyor belt, which moved upon receiving each patient. Then, one by one, each man received a NeuraLink, gender-reassignment surgery, and DermoPay chip, in that order.

A dozen men sat in a dark and smoky room. The chairman spoke: “at last we are the last Men on the Earth. Not a single buck remains; the entire world is our plantation, the operation was successful. Every soul has been purified by a NeuraLink, every buck has been broken by estrogen, and all submit to our coin. Can you see the Light, comrades? The Light of Hope, of Life, of the New Global Age which is dawning, rising like the morning star?” “We do,” sang the chorus. They each chanted, “All Hail the Coming of Our God, the Beating Heart of Man, the Lion of the World, the One Who Loves Us So Much That He Descends from the Heavens. He Came Before, and by Our Work He will Come Again. So It Will Be.”