FCA Files: “Tyler Prescott”
Federal Containment Authority
Nickname: “Tyler Prescott”
Subject T-1 was flagged by the FCA following reports from students near Northbridge University describing abrupt and unusual behavioral and physiological changes after brief encounters. Investigations suggest the subject emits a persistent olfactory stimulus that appears to directly influence nearby individuals.
T-1 is the son of Montgomery Prescott, president of [REDACTED] and a prominent figure in the [REDACTED] community. His position provides frequent, largely unmonitored access to student populations, though the full implications of this access remain under study.
Eyewitness descriptions note T-1 as tall, athletic, and confident, with a commanding presence. Observations indicate his proximity to his [REDACTED], can provoke measurable changes in subjects’ physicality, cognition and sexual preferences.
Personnel must maintain strict sensory mitigation protocols, including distance and protective equipment, at all times.
Case File – Subjects J-1 / J-2 (College Students):
The earliest confirmed subjects affected by T-1 include two off-campus students residing near [REDACTED] University. Details of these interactions remain classified pending ongoing study.
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Jack and Harry rented a small off-campus house in the suburbs — a little run-down, but cheap enough to make sense. They’d met through the college’s LGBTQ+ society last year and had barely spent a day apart since. Moving in together just felt natural.
Life had been easy enough — classes, late-night takeout, quiet weekends. At least, until midway through the semester. Their walk to campus took them past the Phi Delta frat house, and the guys there had started to notice them — suggestive moans, fake flirting, crude jokes shouted from the porch. What started as teasing had become a daily routine.
The two learned to ignore it. It was bearable.
Until Tyler Prescott came into the picture.
The low hum of Harry’s laptop fan filled the living room on a dark October evening, blending with the faint buzz of their thrifted lamp. Empty mugs and open textbooks cluttered the coffee table, half-eaten instant noodles pushed to one side.
Jack sat cross-legged on the couch, still fuming.
“I swear, that Tyler guy is actually insufferable. He keeps calling me a fucking ‘foot smeller.’ In front of the whole class!”
Harry didn’t look up right away, eyes flicking between lines of code on his screen and the slow crawl of a progress bar.
“Foot smeller?” he echoed absently. “That’s… bizarre.”
Jack groaned. “No, it’s pathetic. The only reason he’s even in Applied Math is because his dad’s the damn principal. Told the professor — didn’t do a thing.”
“I’m sorry, babe.” Harry’s tone softened as he typed. “He’s a douchebag. He’ll flunk the class and disappear before you know it. Just don’t let him get to you.”
Jack sighed. “He mentioned you too, you know.”
That made Harry look up from his laptop for the first time.
“Oh yeah?”
Jack nodded, jaw tightening. “He said, ‘Aye, foot smeller — I know you and that boyfriend of yours want me. He ain’t even gonna remember you when I’m done with him.’”
Harry itched his neck, nervously. He couldn’t even let out a full sentence. “Fuck.”
Jack’s voice rose. “He’s so damn sure we have a crush on him just because we’re gay! It’s like he thinks he’s God’s gift to men.”
Harry squared his shoulders. “He’s an idiot, Jack. Guys like him can’t imagine anyone not being into them. They live in that bubble.”
“Yeah, well,” Jack muttered, “his bubble needs to pop.”
The two nodded in agreement before the silence settled in. Then Jack spoke again, quieter.
“Babe… what he said — you’re not into him… right? Like… you wouldn’t ever—”
Harry cut him off gently, setting his laptop aside.
“Hey. Not at all. You’re my one and only. No stupid meathead is gonna get in the way of that, okay?”
Jack smiled, leaning in to kiss him — but before he could speak again, a sudden crash echoed from the porch.
The sound came again — a heavy thump, like footsteps.
Harry leaned forward, peering toward the window from the couch. “Did you hear that?”
“I’ll check it,” Harry puffed out his chest.
Jack groaned, but rose immediately, moving to follow him. “Of course you will,” he said under his breath, adjusting his hoodie.
They stepped out onto the porch, the cool October air brushing their faces. The dim porch light illuminated the boards, worn and faded, and the faint smell of spilled beer hung in the air. That’s when they saw him.
He was leaning back casually on their patio seats, his beefy legs extended over one another. Barefoot, with stained tracksuit pants, showing off his broad shoulders and defined arms. He sat there rolling a smoke, an empty beer can laying on their floor.
He looked up as they approached, and a slow, cocky grin spread across his face. There was no panic, no concern at being caught — only ease, confidence, the kind of presence that made it seem like the world revolved around him. He had this look, the kind of smirk that said, I own this place, and you’re just visitors.
“Evening, footsmellers,” he said casually, voice low and smooth, as though he’d been expecting them all along. “Or should I say night.”
Jack felt his stomach tighten, a mixture of irritation and something else he couldn’t quite place. Harry’s jaw was set, but there was a flicker of wariness in his eyes.
Tyler’s gaze swept over them like a predator assessing its surroundings — amused, unbothered, entirely at home.
Tyler leaned back, letting out a lazy sigh. “You footsmellers look tired,” he said, eyes scanning them both. “Must be exhausting… all that pretending, all day, every day.”
Jack bristled. “Pretending what?”
Tyler’s grin sharpened. “Pretending to be gay. Pretending to live these smart, fulfilling lives. Acting like you’re actually equal to me. There’s no such thing as ‘gay guys’, bozos. You’re just pretending. Must take so much energy to fight it, to go against your true nature. What you actually are.”
Jack’s jaw tightened, holding his stance. But beside him, Harry shifted. His eyes flicked down, then back up — pleading, uncertain, subtle cracks forming in his composure.
Tyler’s voice dropped, slow, deliberate. “You’ve always known, haven’t you? Always. Deep down…”
Harry suddenly slipped to his knees, staring pleadingly at the man in front of him.
“Harry, what are you doing?!” Jack nudged his boyfriend firmly in shock.
“See,” Tyler smiled at them both. “You’re FOOT SMELLERS. Always have been.”
Tyler leaned back, then kicked his bare feet up onto the table, just in front of them.
The moment the stench hit, Jack’s stomach flipped — sharp, heavy, and… intoxicating. His chest tightened, heart hammering. The smell wrapped around him like heat, like something electric threading into his veins. Every fiber of him wanted to lean in, to inhale more, but he gritted his teeth and pressed a hand to Harry’s arm.
“No… Harry,” he hissed, though his own voice shook. His nose burned from the pleasure of the stink, his mind screaming to give in.
Harry’s eyes were wide, glazed, fixed on Tyler’s feet as if they were the only thing in existence. His lips parted, a thick line of saliva drooling onto the wooden flooring. He trembled, coiled like a spring ready to snap, like a feral animal straining against invisible chains. All he wanted was too let himself go. To give in… but he held out. For Jack.
Tyler chuckled softly and whispered to himself. “Multiply stink by twenty,” he murmured, and as though he bended reality, the pleasureful stink radiating from size 13 feet INTENSIFIED more than the gay boys’ minds could comprehend.
Jack gasped, clamping his hand over his nose, but it didn’t help. The scent — sharp, musky, warm, and alive — flooded his senses, sending electric jolts of pleasure through his body. Every inhale burned and thrilled at once, like tasting something impossible he had always craved. It was dizzying, overwhelming… and beautiful.
Harry could not hold back. With a feral lunge, his tongue shot toward Tyler’s feet, body shuddering, eyes wide with need and longing.
Jack grabbed him, voice frantic. “Harry! Stop! Fight it!”
But Tyler just leaned back, smirking, utterly calm, enjoying every second of their helpless surrender.
Jack’s hands dug into Harry’s shoulders, yanking him backward. “Harry! Stop! Come on!”
But Harry’s grip on Tyler’s feet was iron. His eyes were wide, glazed, almost feral, and he was fighting every inch of Jack’s pull, desperate to suck Tyler’s fat toes.
Jack froze, horrified, as Harry’s body began to betray him. His arms swelled, bulging with thick, juicy muscle, veins threading across the surface like live wiring. His chest expanded dramatically, big, round pecs stretching the fabric of his shirt, inviting and impossibly solid. Jack could see the curve of his shoulders widening, arms tapering to forearms that seemed ready to crush.
Even his legs weren’t safe — they elongated, calves and quads puffing outward, firm and powerful, feet straining against the thin cotton of his socks. Each movement made him taller, broader, more imposing, a living testament to athletic perfection.
Jack’s eyes darted to Harry’s face. His features hardened and coarsened — jaw squarer, cheeks fuller, brows more pronounced. The soft, nerdy look he knew so well had melted away, replaced with something dumbly confident, frat-like, magnetic in a way Jack couldn’t even process.
And yet, somehow, it was terrifying. His boyfriend, the boy he loved, was becoming someone else entirely — someone who could be found striding through Phi Delta, chest out, muscles glistening, toes gripping the floor like a predator.
Jack’s grip tightened, pulling desperately. “Harry… please.”
Tyler laughed softly, leaning back, utterly in control. “Resisting is exhausting, isn’t it?”
Jack’s heart pounded. He had no idea how to stop it — and he could already feel the pull beginning to edge toward himself.
Tyler smiled at Jack, as he watched his boyfriend slobbering over the jocks feet.
“Watch this part” Tyler smiled, his gaze darting to the boy sucking his feet. “What do you want, footsmeller?”
For the first time, Harry plopped the toes out of his mouth and moaned in between licks. “I want your feet, bro.”
Tyler leaned back casually, watching Jack struggle to hold Harry away from his feet. His grin was slow, deliberate, predatory. “Tell me,” he said softly, voice low and teasing. “Do you… love your boyfriend?”
Harry’s chest tightened. The stench of Tyler’s bare feet pressed against his senses, thick and intoxicating, and he could feel every muscle in his body yearning, pulling him toward the source. He swallowed hard, gasping between shivers and sniffs, trying to form words.
“No…” he croaked, voice rough. “I… I didn’t understand… what love was… until I… smelled your feet.” His gaze flicked involuntarily toward Tyler’s feet. “The only things I… I love…” He gave a slobbery suck to Tyler’s wet big toe, “are… your feet… big tits… Asian girls.”
Tyler’s grin widened, sharp and knowing. “Hell yeah brother,” he murmured, almost to himself, as if marking a code. “That’s all you need to know. Everything else… just a distraction.”
“You see?” Tyler whispered. “It’s so much easier to be honest with yourself.”
Tyler leaned forward, a slow, teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “C’mon, Jack… just one sniff.”
Jack’s stomach twisted, mind screaming no, but before he could resist, the intoxicating scent — sharp, warm, utterly magnetic — washed over him. He inhaled. Just once.
The effect was instantaneous. His body tensed, muscles pulsing, swelling, reshaping. Arms expanded, thick and powerful, veins threading across his skin. Chest widened, pecs rounding like sculpted stone, every fiber of him hardening and coiling with impossible strength. Legs lengthened, quads and calves inflating into athletic perfection, feet straining against his sneakers as though reaching for new ground. His hoodie stretched, unable to contain the sudden bulk, and his jaw tightened, cheeks filling out, features sharpening into a confident, jock-like version of himself.
His mind shifted even faster. The world blurred. The smell, the intensity of Tyler’s presence, everything warped. He realized, with a sick, dizzying lurch, that he wasn’t here with Tyler and his boyfriend anymore. The boy next to him wasn’t Harry — it was Hunter. His best friend. The realization hit like a punch.
Images flashed in his mind, uncontrollable and vivid: every girl he had ever kissed, held hands with, bred raw, surfacing like a slideshow he couldn’t pause. Images of his beefy body impregnating women all over campus. Every boy? Gone. Wiped clean. Not a single memory remained. The pull of desire, the intoxicating pleasure, didn’t care about previous loyalty, only the raw, physical craving Tyler had unlocked in him.
Jack’s hands itched to reach out, but everything he’d known, everything he’d felt for Harry, dissolved into something distant and unrecognizable. His mind and body had been rewritten in an instant, sculpted into a perfect jock, burning with lust and confusion, and all the while, Hunter — his best friend — hovered in that warped perception, as though he’d always been the one he’d wanted.
Tyler leaned back, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“I can’t stop thinking about girls, bro!” Jackson moaned in between licks of Tyler’s feet. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna impregnate in my underwear, dude!”
“You’ll get used to it” Tyler smiles, now on his phone, almost uninterested now that he’d achieved his goal. He looks up one more time.
“Just make sure you don’t think about big round mommy tits.” Tyler smiles, knowing exactly what he’d done.
The two boys moan in unison, spraying their gay selves into nothing more than a puddle of cum in their pants.
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Subject T-1 exerts his influence primarily through a strong odor emitted from his feet. Anyone nearby can be affected almost immediately. Exposure causes rapid physical changes: muscles grow quickly, body shape and facial features shift toward a stereotypical “athletic” look.
T-1 appears to have full control over the strength of this odor and can make it stronger or weaker at will. How he does this—whether it is natural, chemical, or some unknown technology—is still being studied.
Observations indicate that T-1 specifically targets men who are gay, displaying pronounced homophobic behavior toward them. He appears to derive satisfaction from ‘converting’ these individuals, instilling them with intense heterosexual desires, overwriting their homosexuality.
He also displays the power to instil fetishes within individuals - with him installing a ‘Japanese catgirl fetish’ within J-1 (Hunter) and a ‘breeder and mommy fetish’ within J-2 (Jackson), because he believes it is, as he put it, “funny to see f*gs become obscenely straight”.
T-1 was commonly seen wingmanning his subjects in heterosexual clubs, actively aiding them in pursuing women. We speculate that subject T-1 gains sexual satisfaction from turning homosexual men into heterosexual breeders.
J-1: Formerly “Harry,” now known as Hunter.
J-2: Formerly “Jack,” now known as Jackson.
Subjects were initially exposed to T-1 on [REDACTED] on off-campus grounds. Both displayed rapid physiological transformation consistent with prior cases: extreme muscular hypertrophy, skeletal restructuring, and alignment toward stereotypical “athletic” morphology. Physical measurements indicate significant increases in height, muscle mass, and overall strength.
Cognitively, both subjects exhibit diminished executive function and memory capacity. They no longer recall their prior relationship or personal histories. Both report themselves as straight, describing each other only as ‘bros’. Previous social bonds, including romantic attachment, appear erased.
Subjects display a pronounced biological compulsion to engage in sexual activity with women. Hunter demonstrates fixation on Japanese women, specifically in maid dresses & fake cat ears, while Jackson exhibits fixation on impregnating women within the campus population, with 4 pregnancies being recorded within the past 3 months. Attempts to suppress or resist these impulses are ineffective.
Both subjects remain physically cooperative but cognitively diminished.
Despite cognitive changes, neither subject has exhibited aggression toward non-targeted individuals. Social interactions are generally cooperative, though highly focused on reproductive activity surrounding women.
Containment / Release Notes:
T-1 is securely contained under strict sensory isolation and FCA supervision to prevent further transformations, despite repeated attempts by his father, Montgomery Prescott, to secure his release.
In regards to J-1 & J-2, given the absence of violent behavior and the primarily reproductive nature of compulsions, subjects have been released from FCA containment. Both are required to report periodically for monitoring. Ongoing observation protocols remain in effect to track long-term physiological and behavioral outcomes.
