A Simple Interview
It was supposed to be a simple interview, at least that’s what your agent had told you. You twiddle your fingers anxiously in the warm lobby of Karv creative development. Your agent had lined up this interview with them saying “it’s for some human interest film,it’ll be good for your career.” Which had hit a sore spot for you as your stage name currently had only 5 credited roles and 3 were background extras. You’re sure you’ve never heard of Karv but a gig is a gig after all.
You heard the scratch of the intercom “Ryan Wells, your interviewer is ready in the next room. Please head to the large doors on the right wall.” You get up, discarding your, mostly ads, magazine and follow the voices instructions. Pushing open the large matte gray doors you find yourself in a warm room, sparsely furnished. The walls are a simple tan color with pictures of vintage cars and abstract tribal art. You notice the large window that lets in natural light, behind a red toned wood desk. A simple green leather chair is placed in front obviously for you to sit in. The man behind the desk made the room look small around his large frame barely contained in a suit that looked hastily put on and uncomfortable. He smiles at you warmly, his trimmed beard crinkling slightly at the motion.
“Ryan right, pleasure to meet you.” He extends his hand and you grab it in a firm shake.
“You’ve a strong grip,” he remarked “must have an excellent work out routine”
You sit down, slightly confused. You rarely went to the gym. As you puzzle over this you don’t notice as your biceps puff outwards and your lats expand. Your slight belly stretches thin over rock solid Abs matching your new lean pecs. The fabric of your dress pants grows tight as your thighs grow to massive proportions and your calves grow to support your new frame. Your brain is filled with gym exercises and protein packed meals, as you realize how ridiculous it would be if you didn’t go to the gym, it’s how you keep this body in shape after all.
“Thank you sir, I’m rarely not at the gym,” you shrug. “Eating healthy helps too.”
He smiles, “wonderful we like our models to be big and strong”
You frown “wait. . . I’m an actor not a model. .”
“This was clearly advertised as a modeling position,” he says. “You have the perfect body for it”
As he says this you remember applying to model after one of your friends had told you about this opportunity. Your feet grow in your shoes, straining them until you have nice size 11 stompers. you feel your spine and legs lengthen, shifting painlessly as you suddenly find yourself eye level with the other man. Now a casual 6’0” your suit barely fits, a fact your interviewer takes notice of.
“That suit looks horribly uncomfortable,” he remarks “between you and me I find clothing quite annoying. Your a model anyway why would you ever need to where one”
You mull over his words wondering why indeed you chose to wear a suit, you were a model and a damn fine one at that. You had nothing to be shamed for. In fact you loved showing off your body.
“Can I. . Just,” you ask, gesturing to your horrible clothing.
“By all means, please do,” he smiles suggestively at you. “Need to inspect the wares anyhow.”
You waste no time, ripping off your suit jacket and undershirt revealing muscles you don’t even recall having. After kicking off your shoes, you stand up and strip down to the black speedo that your boxers shift into. You turn in a circle and give your tight ass a slap for him.
“How’s this boss man”
“You're coming along beautifully” he says to you” but . . Tsk. . Your attitude needs some work, you might look like an alpha male with your chiseled face and days old stubble. But you and I both know you're a perfectly obedient employee. All our models must be submissive, you know.”
You bow your head shamefully, “sorry sir.” and why shouldn’t you be sorry after all this man was your boss(hopefully) and deserved the utmost respect, you thought as stubble filled your shaping jawline. Your hair slicked back into a perfect styled look.
“Now what makes you unique from all our other candidates, Ry,” your boss addressed you.
You think hard. “I don’t know sir”
“Hm I’ll tell you boy,” he said commandingly “it could be your can do attitude, maybe your obligation to this company or maybe that interesting tattoo, we do like our models to have some interest. After all those are the reasons your one of our best models in the company”
You blink, sure you misheard. You glanced to your side admiring your tattoos you got as soon as you could. Your slow brain trying to wrap itself around the complainant boss just gave you.
“Thank you sir” you stare blankly at your obvious superior “why I here again, sir”
He laughs “Ry, just wanted to give you first dibs on the gigs for our new cars, need a strapping model like you to really sell them”
You nod vicariously, eager to please him. “Where at”
He nods at a door to the side. Heading through you find yourself in a tropical garage, a Karv modified car parked in the light. One of the many photographers gestures for you to lean on the hood of the car. You do, placing your hands on your hips and spreading your legs wider. Flashes go off as you look blankly at a camera, not remembering or caring of your old life. Just a happy obedient model, courtesy of Karv industries.
(Tried writing in a different style pov, hope it turned out. We might see more from Karv industries, who knows. . . ?)