#personality tf

[misctf]

The Game Show

You can think of a few reasons why you found yourself in the audience that night. Well, really one. When you heard "Are You Smarter Than A Himbo" was putting on a show in your neighborhood, you couldn't resist. Sure, it was kind of stupid. You'd seen the clips online. They'd bring some braindead jock up on stage to flex, laugh, crack jokes, and answer basic trivia wrong. The poor idiot would laugh along as the audience laughed at him. You'd always figured the dunce was too dumb to realize they were laughing at him. But fuck, those guys were hot. So if anything, you'd get to ogle at some hot guy flexing all night and maybe get a few laughs out of it too.

"Do you think Zak's pecs are real?"

"Jason is like totally the hottest."

"I think Ryan isn't as dumb as he lets on."

"Did you know Mike is single? I can't…"

You roll your eyes at the fanfare all around you. These people were seriously into it. And then it starts.

"Welcome everyone!" You watch as a lanky man struts on stage with his hair slicked back and a wide grin on his face, "Are you ready!?" The crowd- mostly women and a few guys cheered in response, "I said: are you ready!?" You roll your eyes as the host worked the crowd, "Alright, alright… welcome." The host smiles wider, "Put your hands together for our main man!"

The host gestures toward the side of the stage and Zak strolls out with a slow, confident walk, his arms flexed as if expecting applause. He’s got thick curls falling over his forehead, and his chest is packed with muscle, tight under his white tank top. The crowd goes wild as he steps onto the platform.

“Y’all ready?” Zak shouts, raising both arms above his head. “Let’s go!” He pulls off his shirt in one smooth motion, and your eyes widen as you take in his massive pecs and perfect abs. The crowd similarly goes wild. Zak grins, flashing a perfect set of teeth, "I'm so fuckin' pumped to be here tonight! I fuckin' love you guys!"

"But Zak, I think you have something to say to everyone. Right?" The host interjects, patting the massive jock on the back.

"Yo dude yeah, for real." Zak nods, "Like, this is gonna be my last show, ya know? With the whole modeling thing blowin' up and all." The audience groans, "I know, it sucks majorly, trust me!" Zak frowns, "But like, you'll get to see plenty more of me. Trust me brahs." He winks and the crowd cheers.

The host claps, "That’s what I like to hear! Alright, let’s get started!"

You lean forward in your seat as the first audience member is brought up. It only takes a few questions for her to utterly humiliate Zak, who just laughs and flexes like the dumb himbo that he is. As the contestant returns to her seat, the host's eyes scan the crowd, zeroing in on you.

"What about you there in the blue shirt? He looks smart, right Zak? Let's get you up here!"

Initially you're shocked. You? The host gestures for you to make your way up to the stage. You can feel your heart pounding as you climb the stairs, palms feeling a little sweaty. The bright lights, all eyes on you. And as you step onto the stage, you get an up close look of Zak. His biceps bulge impressively, glistening with a light sheen of sweat. But god he smells like a wet gym sock.

"Sup bro, nice to meetcha!" Zak grins and throws a muscular arm around you, "Dude, you ready for this?"

"Aw do I sense a budding bromance?" The host grins and the crowd cheers. After settling them down, he turns to you. "You know how this works by now. Do you think you're smarter than a himbo?"

"Yeah, I think I am." You reply.

"Heh we'll see about that, bro!" Zak guffaws, "I was just goin' easy on that last chick."

"The confidence!" The host laughs, "Let's put it to the test. Your first question: Which is the only sea without any coastlines?"

You ponder for a moment. A sea without a coastline? That's... god what was that? You feel your cheeks flushing red, as you realize you don't know the answer to that. But if you don't know the answer, Zak would definitely not know either. Speaking of Zak, he's bouncing his pecs like the oversized gym bro he is.

"Is it the Caspian Sea?" You shrug, eyes still locked on his massive pecs. Of course the host shakes his head with exaggerated sadness.

"Ah, seems Mr. Smartypants here was a bit too distracted admiring the view to ace that question!" He winks at the audience, while Zak flexes.

"No shame in that, brah!"

You feel your face flush red with embarrassment as the laughter from the audience washes over you. Great, now they all think you're just another hormone-addled fool who can't string two thoughts together because of a pretty face.

"Alright Zak, a question for you now buddy!" You figure Zak is about to bomb this question anyway- round will end in a tie and you can walk away with some dignity, "What color are bananas?"

Zak scratches his head, "Dude… tricky." He chuckles, low and dumb, "So, I want to say yellow, but also green when they're not ripe. Oh but brown too if they go for too long!"

"Fantastic answer Zak! Well thought out!" The host grins as the crowd cheers, "Uh oh, looks like Zak has pulled ahead!"

The fuck kind of question was that? You look at the host and then Zak, who is doing a victory dance. The color of bananas? Of course Zak would know that- he's a fucking ape. You smirk at your own joke.

"Okay okay, let's try another one! Mr. Smartypants, are you ready to redeem yourself?" You're ready, more than ready. You're not..., "What pigments are responsible for the red color of leaves?"

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. You don't have an answer for that. Maybe you did know it, but between the flexing stud and the stage fright, you couldn't find the information.

"Chlorophyll."

"What a shame! That is not correct." He smiles at the audience, "It seems Zak may have a chance to widen his lead! Hey big guy, what day of the month is Christmas celebrated on?" It takes Zak maybe a minute or two to answer that one correctly, "Look at that folks, Zak is now up by two!" He turns to you with a grin, "Seems our guest is not much of a smartypants after all!"

Again, your face flush reds, "No worries, little dude." Zak ruffles your hair, "I uh, I got some smarts, ya know." He looks out towards the audience, "Last show brahs but first win!"

The crowd cheers and it dawns on you that you might be the first person to actually lose this stupid game. Frustration bubbles up inside you as the host and crowd continue to mock you. You're better than this, smarter than being made a fool of. Screw it, you're going to show them all up.

"I could answer every single one of those easy-ass questions he's getting," you mutter under your breath, but the mic picks it up anyway. The host's eyes light up.

"Oh ho, is that so?" He raises an eyebrow, a smirk gracing his features. "Well then, why don't you prove it, hot shot? Let's see if you can handle something a little more…your speed. Here we go bud - how does the body cool down during intense exercise like a heavy workout session?"

You chuckle. Really? This was the question? You clear your voice, "Sweating. That's how it keeps from overheating."

"Correct!"

"Woah bro, nice one!"

Yeah... that was a nice one. Finally got a question right... finally... You wince as a warmth fills your upper arms. At first it's just a gentle tingling, a warm buzzing beneath your skin. But quickly it builds to a throbbing, insistent pressure.

"What the…?"

The sensation intensifies, an intensifying heat pulsing through your upper arms. Your skin prickles and tightens as your biceps and triceps stretch against the sleeve of your shirt. It feels like the most intense pump after a grueling workout, but magnified tenfold. Your arms throbbing, aching. You feel aware of just how much more space they're taking up. And the twitching- it's incessant. Unconsciously, your arms start to rise, muscles tensing, flexing…

"Whoa…" you mutter, marveling at the sheer size and density of your upper arms, "How…?"

The host clears his throat pointedly, breaking you out of your awestruck reverie. "Ahem, moving on! Thanks for that… demonstration." He shoots you a knowing wink, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Let's see if we can't challenge that big ol' brain of yours with another question, shall we? What does the acronym SBD stand for in powerlifting?"

"Oh brah, way too easy." Zak chides, crossing his massive arms over his muscular chest, "Even I know that one."

But your head is swimming. The powerful feeling in your arms send pleasurable waves of warmth through your body. But your mind. You're reviewing the question. Thinking it through. SBD? In powerlifting?

"SBD... SBD..." You rub your chin, unconsciously flexing your now massive bicep, "Huh... like... That's uh..."

You look over at Zak and he's making some kind of motion. A goofy grin on his face as he squats. Squats. Squats!

"Bro!" You grin, "Squats, dude! Yeah, that's what the S stands for." You grin, but the host shakes his head, "C'mon what?" You pout.

"You're still forgetting the rest." The host smiles, "And the timer is counting down."

You shuffle anxiously on your feet. You know this, right? But why would you? You're not into powerlifting. But like, it should be easy. If S stands for squats then like, wouldn't B and D also be something to do with working out? Yeah? Totally, that makes sense. But like, what else is there? What other... huh... shirt is getting kinda tight too. And fuck, you can't help but notice how warm your chest feels. Nice and warm, pressing more and more against the fabric of your shirt. Stretching it out against your big, meaty...

"Bench press, brah! B stands for bench press!" You say with a grin as your shirt starts to tear away, revealing a set of massive pecs and a chiseled torso, "Huh where'd my shirt go?" The audience cheers and you grin, staring down as you bounce your pecs.

"Excellent job, but unfortunately, you didn't finish. You missed D, you big dunce."

The host laughs, and you laugh along with him and the audience. Big dunce. Yeah that's... that's you? You pause for a second and start to feel that same embarrassment from earlier. They're laughing... not with you, but...

"Dude, can't win em all!" Zak slaps you on your increasingly wider back and you turn to him- now at eye-level, "But like, brah, you've got this next one!"

"Y-y-you th-think so.... brah?" Your tongue feels heavy, the words feel sluggish. You notice your voice sounds deeper to your ears, "I..."

"You have to focus there, smartypants!" The host interrupts, "Two more questions. Are you ready?" You nod slowly, "In a deadlift, how high are you supposed to lift the barbell before lowering it?"

"Deadlift..." Your eyes light up suddenly, "Wait, bro! The D! That's what D stands for, brah!" You say excitedly.

The whole audience laughs, as does the host. You look at him, feeling a strange sense of confusion bubbling up. Why were they laughing? What was so funny?

"Good job there, but that was the last question. We've moved on, big guy."

"Oh..." You chuckle, a grin forming on your lips as you let out a deep, dumb laugh, "Huhuhuh that was pretty stupid of me." The audience and the host laugh even louder, and you find yourself joining in, "Alright, gotta lock in, gotta... brah what was the question?"

"Dead lifts..."

"Oh fuck yeah! I fuckin' love deadlifts."

The host grins, "Yes, exactly! So tell us, when doing a deadlift, how high do you lift the barbell before lowering it?"

"Yeah... uh..." You bite your lip, thinking hard. Your fingers drum against your swollen bicep as you try to concentrate and with a sigh, lift your hands behind your head, "Oh nice..."

Your eyes lock on to your bulging bis and tris and you're momentarily distracted. But the sharp tang of your own musk drifts up from your armpits, momentarily derailing your train of thought. Fuck, you smell good. Really fucking good. But since when did you...?

"Brah, c'mon you got this." Zak says, watching you closely.

You shake your head and run a hand through your perfectly gelled, styled hair, before pausing- fuck your aesthetic is probably cooked. You awkwardly pat at your hair.

"Worry about your hair later, you've got a question to answer." The host says.

"Fuck, sorry..." You let out an awkward chuckle, "Just gotta..."

Your body moves instinctively into the proper deadlift position—back straight, knees slightly bent, hips pushed back—as if you've done this 1000s of times before. As you demonstrate the form flawlessly, a new awareness floods your lower body. Your glutes feel… alive. Heavy. Round. Perfect. You grin as you squeeze them unconsciously, feeling the dense muscle fibers contract.

"The answer is hips, bro."

"Let's fuckin' go, brah!" Zak cheers and slaps you on the ass, sending a wave of intense pleasure reverberating through your meaty glutes.

As the crowd cheers, your eyes lock on Zak. The pleasure from him slapping your ass still making you shudder. You drink him in, fixated on the prominent bulge straining against his gym shorts.

"Fuck..." You mumble- he's packing serious heat there.

Your mouth waters involuntarily as fantasies flood your mind- Zak pinning you down, those huge hands squeezing your meaty ass while he drives his massive cock deep inside you. The image of you riding his thick cock sends shivers down your growing frame, and you imagine running your tongue over every inch of his sweat-slick skin. You lick your lips and grin at the thought.

When your eyes meet again, Zak doesn't look away. Instead, his smirk widens as he catches you staring, and the few brain cells he has recognize exactly what you’re thinking. He flexes for the audience, but he turns to give you a quick wink, letting you know all that flexing was just for you... because he wants you to know he wants you too. After all, you know there's not way he could resist you either. With your... bulging pecs? Massive arms? Thick glutes?

"Wait..." You mumble. You can feel the rusting gears in your increasingly empty head turn ever so slightly, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth.

Your head was spinning, brain trying to make sense of all of it.

Something’s off, right? Like... this ain’t how it used to be. You know that. You weren’t… this. But then... what were you then, dude? Cause, like, look at you. Seriously... just look. You’re absolutely shredded. I mean, c’mon, those arms? That chest? You don’t just wake up lookin’ this jacked without bein’… well, this guy. So how could you not be you if you straight-up look like you? Right?

A dumb chuckle escapes your lips as all that thinking overwhelms and shuts down whatever last remaining brain cells you have.

The host snaps his fingers in front of your face, breaking you out of your haze. "Earth to bro, we still got one question."

"Huh? Wha-" You blink slowly, your expression vacant and slack. Drool slips down your chin as you stare blankly ahead.

"Are you smarter than a himbo?" The host grins.

"Nawww, bro, 'course not!" You reply with a big, dumb grin spreading across your face, "Can't be smarter than a himbo cuz… I AM the fuckin' himbo, bro!"

The host laughs, shaking his head, "Well folks, I guess that settles it! Looks like we've got ourselves a new resident himbo to take Zak's place. Give it up for… COLT!"

The audience erupts into cheers and applause as you beam proudly, basking in the spotlight. You feel Zak sling a muscular arm around your broad shoulders, squeezing you close.

"Dude, so fuckin' glad you're joinin' the fam, bro!" Zak enthuses, his hand drifting lower to grope your ass possessively, "Trust me bro, you're gonna love it."

Zak's strong grip on your juicy ass makes you shudder and you can tell by that grin that he's thinking exactly what you're thinking.

The host clears his throat loudly, snapping you out of your lustful stupor. "Don't forget to wave to the crowd, champ!" He gestures encouragingly towards the audience.

With a dopey grin, you raise a hand in greeting, relishing the adoration pouring in from all sides.

"Thanks y'all, this is gonna be fuckin' sick!" You call out enthusiastically, grinning like an idiot.

And as Zak digs his fingers into your massive ass, you lick your lips hungrily. The only thought in your empty head was that once this show was over, you'd be giving him a private encore performance that neither of you would forget…

[twistedtfs]

Marcus was really regretting his wish. All he wanted to do was spend time with the hot guys in the Frat House down the street, but he never meant that he wanted to spend time with them as a brother of the house. He wanted to be sucking on their cocks, sniffing their hot swampy armpits, not trapped inside a meaty sweat covered body without any ability to control it. He hated the version of himself he was now, his big thick hand scratching at his ass crack and pits, sniffing his rank stench. He felt so gross and stupid, lounging around in sweat pants, laughing at the dumb misogynistic jokes, flexing when given the cue.

He kept waiting for something fun and gay to happen, for all the hot guys to start kissing, or for someone to play pop music to relax to, but the best he got was kisses on the cheek and bros slapping his cock with a callused palm, muttering “no homo, brah!” Rap music was blaring, causing him to scream inside his head, but the vessel he was inside just nodded along and tapped his big stinky foot. “This shit is tight,” he drawled, at the same time his hand pawed at his fat package.

One of the frat boys he had the biggest crush on came and sat beside him, throwing a muscled arm over his shoulder, his slick armpit hairs touching his skin. His thick cock remained deflated, up until the bro shoved his cheap scratched up phone in his face, laughing. “Fuckkk Mark, look at these mommy milkers,” he said, showing off a GIF of some big boobed porn star squeezing her fleshy tits together. Instantly, Mark as he was now affectionately called, could feel all the blood rushing to his cock, a low groan leaving his open mouth, the stank of morning breath blowing out, but his bro didn’t care. He reached his big meaty hand into his sweats, at the same time his bro was doing the same thing. “Fuck brah, let me pull us up something good,” the dude said, using his sweaty pube covered fingers to quickly bring up a porn video, lesbians scissoring to be exact.

Their slick pussies sliding against each other, their titties bouncing. Mark couldn’t help it, even if a tiny gay voice was screaming in his head, begging him to remember that he was a gay boy who wanted to be fucked by frat boys, not be one. Mark was only hyper focused on the swaying tits and squirting pussies on the phone screen, he didn’t even glance over at his bro jacking his cock because that would be gay. No one in this frat was a queer. Least of all him.

Once he busted his load to the moaning MILFs, he didn’t even clean up, he just shoved his thick cock into his sweats and stretched out, shoving his bro away as he squeezed out a hot protein fart. Everyone laughed, breathing in the hot fetid stench, loving the sense of brotherhood in the house.

[dante2045]

The Himbo Outbreak

I could tell something was wrong the minute Professor Daniels stormed into the room. I’d always known him to have a calm regulated demeanour, so it was clear he was bothered that morning. His graying hair was unkempt and wild while his face was flushed bright red with anger. He muttered something under his breath, shaking his head in disgust.

“You okay, Professor?” I asked timidly, not sure if I wanted the answer. We were in the small cluttered office we shared at the University. I’d been working as Professor Daniels’ assistant since finishing my Master’s the previous year; I was halfway through marking term papers when Daniels made his dramatic entrance.

“I’ve got some bad news, Preston,” Daniels sighed, his tone somber. I could tell where this conversation was going - I was out of a job. “They’re slashing the department’s budget AGAIN. I was running numbers all last night, but I just don’t think there’s a way to keep you on.”

The news shouldn’t have been surprising, but it still hit like a gut punch. I was barely keeping my head above water with this job; I had no savings and lived paycheck to paycheck with just enough to cover the basic necessities. I really needed this job and was fucked without it.

“Shoot. We’ll, that’s too bad,” I tried to keep my voice even, hiding my internal despair. I was sure Daniels already felt horrible about the situation that was out of his control - there was no need to make him feel even worse.

“I am really sorry, Preston. You’ve been great to work with and I wish I could keep you on. I know how much you need this job,” Daniels said as he sat down in his chair on the opposite side of the small desk we had shared. Professor Daniels was well aware of my financial situation - he’d actually helped with the scholarship application that allowed me to finish my Master’s Degree. I was pretty sure I’d only been hired on as his assistant because he pitied me; he had been managing just fine on his own.

“It’s not your fault, Professor,” I told him reassuringly, forcing a smile. “I’m sure I’ll find something.” The job prospects for a Masters in Microbiology were nonexistent. If I didn’t find something in the next few days I’d have no choice but to move back in with my dad; I dreaded the thought.

“I may be able to help in that regard. I made some calls, and I have got you a job interview at a lab with an old associate of mine - if you’re interested.” Daniels grabbed a pen and scribbled something down on a pad of paper before tearing the page off and handing it over to me.

“Wow, that’s great, Professor Daniels. Thank you.” I glanced down at the piece of paper, surprised to see the interview was scheduled a few hours from now. Guess that meant I was terminated effective immediately, then. I didn’t recognize the address.

“Wesker and I studied together way back in the day. He’s a good scientist and a good man, but I do have to warn you - I don’t always agree with his ethics. His studies tend to focus on molecular enhancement and DNA modification - he likes pushing the boundaries of what science can do. His lab is in the middle of nowhere, and he likes it that way - private and remote.” I could tell Daniels was trying to caution me, but his warnings fell on deaf ears. There was nothing he could say to convince me not to go for this job interview; I would sell my soul to the devil if that’s what it took.

---

Daniels hadn’t been lying about the location - it took me the better part of two hours to reach the lab. A few kilometers away from the lab my phone lost its signal, causing the GPS system to shut down. Luckily I just had to keep driving on the same road until I saw the lab - it was the first building I’d passed in over half an hour. I was surprised to see that the entrance was blocked by a security gate - whatever this lab was working on, it must have been pretty secretive.

The guard house looked empty as I drove up to the gate and I saw no sign of an intercom buzzer. I checked the time - the drive had taken me longer than expected and I was cutting it close to the scheduled interview time. After a minute had passed, I tapped on my car horn to let out a short honk, hoping it would catch somebody’s attention. Sure enough, I saw movement in the guard house and a minute later a man emerged.

The man was dressed in a security uniform, but he looked more like a model. Tall and broad with a muscular, athletic build, he had bright blonde hair in a styled fringe and warm, welcoming blue eyes. He flashed me a smile as he approached the car, showing off his perfect teeth. I glanced down at the name tag on the right breast of his security vest which read ‘Will’.

“Hey man,” Will greeted happily, still smiling. He rested one of his thick muscular arms on the car as he leaned over to speak with me. “How ya going?”

The man was a total stud, and I found myself momentarily speechless as I stared into his eyes. I’d always been liable to become a bumbling idiot around hot guys, and Will was one of the most gorgeous men I’d ever seen. The fact that I hadn’t gotten laid in months probably made him seem even more attractive. After a long moment of staring at him in a daze, I finally regained my composure and answered him. “I’m doing well, how are you?”

“Can’t complain, bro. Sorry about the wait - I must have dozed off for a minute!” Will chuckled. It seemed weird for a security guard to admit to a total stranger he was sleeping on the job, but I let the comment pass. Will’s work ethic was none of my concern, so long as he let me in for my interview.

“No problem - sorry I had to wake you,” I replied with a smirk of my own, which elicited another laugh from Will. “I’m here for a job interview with Dr. Wesker.”

“Right on, man! That’s awesome. He’s the big boss of this whole operation,” Will said enthusiastically. I waited for him to continue, but he just looked at me with that sexy grin.

“So do you need to check my ID or cross my name off a list or something before you open the gate?” I prompted, raising my eyebrows. Something seemed off about Will - he didn’t seem to know how to do his job very well. But maybe he was also new? I shouldn’t judge him too harshly.

Will looked at me appraisingly for another moment before shrugging his shoulders. “Nah, you seem like the good sort. I’ll let you on through!” He started walking back to the guard house, pausing halfway to look back at me. “Good luck with the interview - it would be nice if we got to work together!” He called out with a wink.

I was self aware enough to know that he was just being friendly and not flirting with me. I was average looking at best, and that was before I’d recently put on a few extra pounds. If Will was gay - and that was a pretty big if in itself - he was miles out of my league. There was no harm in a little wishful thinking, though.

Through the guardhouse window, I could see Will staring down at the control panel with a frown. His look of confusion gave the impression he’d never had to open the gate before - he must have been new. It seemed like he eventually figured it out, as the gate in front of me swung open. Will waved as I drove through the now open gate down the short drive leading to the lab. The small parking lot was mostly empty, with only a handful of cars strewn about. It wasn’t a large facility so it was easy to find the entrance leading to reception.

The interior was modern and minimalistic, with a small waiting area and a front desk. A set of double doors heading into the rest of the building, presumably the actual lab area of the facility. A man sat behind the desk, slumped over and chuckling at something on his phone. I approached and cleared my throat to get his attention; he looked up from his phone at me and I let out a startled gasp.

The man was the spitting image of Will, the security guard I’d seen just moments earlier. He had the same handsome features and muscular build, though he was wearing a polo and jeans instead of the security uniform Will had been sporting. He had the same friendly but slightly dopey smile as he looked up at me from behind the desk; I noted that his nametag read ‘Adam’.

“What’s up, bro?” Adam asked, setting his phone down. He shook the mouse on his computer to turn back on the monitor’s screen, which had gone dark from inactivity.

I was a little taken aback by Adam’s appearance, but I smiled back and tried to hide my discomfort. “Hello, I’m Preston Harris - I think Dr. Wesker is expecting me?”

Adam looked something up at on his computer, then nodded. “Yeppers - I see you’re in his calendar!” I waited for him to continue, but he was looking up at me expectantly.

“Should I just wait here, then?” I asked, gesturing towards the seating area.

“Oh, I should probably tell him you’re here!” Adam chuckled, shaking his head at his own foolishness. He grabbed the office phone from his desk and dialed one of the extensions, pressing the receiver up to his ear. “Hey, doc. That dude is here for your interview.” I could hear a muffled response over the phone, but couldn’t make out what Wesker was saying. “Sure, I’ll let him know.” Adam hung the phone up and turned his attention back to me, still grinning ear to ear. “He’ll be right out. Feel free to take a seat.”

“Thanks. By the way - are you and Will related, by any chance?” The question felt pretty invasive for someone I’d just met, but my curiosity got the best of me. The more I looked at Adam, I was convinced he and Will had to be identical twins. They had the same chiseled jaw, the same sharp pointed nose, the same luscious, juicy lips…fuck, I was getting horny being surrounded by all these hot men.

“Huh?” Adam looked at me with genuine confusion, his brows furrowed. “You mean Will from security?”

“Uh…yeah,” I nodded, staring down at the ground in embarrassment. I suddenly felt very dumb for asking the question - it was obviously none of my business and it was an unprofessional first impression to make.

“No, man. I mean, we’re bros but not like…actually bros, you know?” Adam shook his head. He seemed genuinely surprised by the question.

“Ah, okay,” I was sure I had turned bright red with embarrassment at this point. “I was just asking because you sort of look alike.”

“Huh…” Adam stared off into the distance, considering my remark. “I’ve never heard that before. Will’s like 20 years older than me - are you saying I look like an old man?”

“Uh…I didn’t mean…” I stuttered, flabbergasted. This was not going well at all.

“Relax, buddy, I’m just teasing,” Adam laughed, reaching across the desk to give me a playful punch in the arm. I breathed a sigh of relief that I hadn’t actually offended him. “He’s a handsome fella, so I take it as a complement.”

I hadn’t really spent that much time with Will, and I had been so distracted by his muscles that I probably hadn’t actually gotten a good look at his face. And as my friends loved to point out, I wasn’t the most observant guy when it came to the finer details. More likely than not, I had seen two hot blonde guys in short succession and thought they looked more similar in my head than they actually did. I was feeling pretty silly, and this was not where my headspace should have been before an important interview. I needed this job badly; it was time to focus.

One of the doors behind Adam swung open as a man in a white lab coat entered the room. “Hey, pal. You must be Preston. I’m Dr. Wesker,” the man introduced himself, reaching out his hand as he approached.

At this point I was starting to think I was seeing things. Professor Daniels was in his late 50s, and so I had assumed that Wesker would have been a similar age. Instead, Wesker was another muscular blonde hunk who looked ridiculously out of place in the lab coat he was wearing. I did a double take between Adam and Wesker - the two men looked identical except for their outfits. I had already thought that Will and Adam had looked similar, but seeing Wesker and Adam at the same time made me feel like something really weird was going on. I’m sure I had a dumb confused look on my face as I shook Wesker’s hand. I kept looking between Wesker and Adam, expecting one of them to address the elephant in the room, but both men seemed completely oblivious.

“Are…are you guys twins?” I asked. I hoped I wasn’t hallucinating.

Wesker frowned, exchanging a concerned look with Adam. “I don’t know what’s going on with him bro,” Adam whispered, though loud enough for me to overhear. “He also thought that me and Will were brothers or something.”

“Are you feeling okay, Preston?” Wesker asked gently. His condescending tone would have pissed me off if I wasn’t so concerned that I was losing my mind. Adam and Wesker were doppelgangers of each other, but neither of them seemed to be aware of their similarities. Adam had also been taken by surprise when I said he looked like Will, so either I was imagining it all or they were clueless. If I was having a mental break, it was at a super inopportune time; no way was Wesker going to hire me after I caused a ruckus before the interview even started. I could figure out what was going on later, but I needed to try and save face if I wanted any chance of landing this job.

“Yeah, sorry,” I laughed nervously, trying to seem casual. “I guess I’m just tired after the drive and my eyes are playing tricks on me.”

Adam and Wesker exchanged another worried glance. “If you’re not feeling so hot, we don’t need to do this interview right now,” Wesker offered. He was obviously trying to get rid of me, and I could hardly blame him.

“No, I am fine, really,” I insisted. “I promise there won’t be any more outbursts. I am really excited for this opportunity and would love to discuss it with you.”

Wesker looked at me for a long moment appraisingly before coming to a decision, nodding his head. “Sure, bro. Let’s do it.” He pushed open the double doors, holding them open for me to follow him. Adam gave me an encouraging thumbs up and smile as I followed Wesker into the office area. It was a narrow hallway, with one side a large glass wall showing off the laboratory area. I could see two men through the glass, both men wearing lab coats and chatting animatedly. Like every other man I’d seen since arriving, they had the same appearance of being tall, muscular blonde jocks. “Keep it together, Preston,” I whispered to myself under my breath. Everyone else was acting normally, so it must be something in my psychosis causing me to see things. I’d get myself checked out at a clinic as soon as I got through the interview.

“So, you and Professor Daniels were in school together?” I asked Wesker as I followed him down the hallway. He turned into the last door on the opposite side from the lab, a modest boardroom.

“Huh? Oh yeah, we were study buddies. That was, like, almost thirty years ago. Wild,” Wesker answered as he sat down at the boardroom table. That timeline didn’t make sense, seeing as Wesker looked like he was in his midthirties if not younger. Wesker’s dialect seemed a bit off, too; not all scientists spoke the same, but he was conducting himself more like a dumb frat dude. I’d noticed similar mannerisms in Will and Adam, but it stood out more in Wesker given his position.

“Oh shoot! Can you give me five? I just realized I don’t have my notes.” Wesker jumped up from the table and walked back to the door.

“Yeah, no problem,” I nodded. Truth be told, I was happy to have a minute to try and regain my composure with some solitude.

“Thanks man!” Wesker called before heading out into the hallway. I sunk my head down into my hands, running my fingers along my temples and letting out a loud groan. What the fuck was wrong with me? I wondered if I was experiencing face blindness, but as far as I knew people with that condition didn’t typically see everyone as the same hot jock. Maybe I actually was just tired and needed a good long sleep.

I jumped at the sound of the boardroom door slamming shut. Looking up from the table, a man stood before me with a panicked expression. He was breathing heavily, casting a frantic look over his shoulder. At first I thought it was Wesker returning, but the man’s attire was different; instead of a lab coat he was in a black muscle shirt and navy blue exercise shorts.

“Dude, we’ve got to get out of here!” The man cried out. I stood up from my chair and took a cautious step away from the man; I didn’t like the unhinged vibes he was giving off.

“Who are you?” I asked warily. My eyes darted towards the exit, but the man was in my direct path and unless I wanted to throw myself across the table there wouldn’t be an easy way out.

“Chill, bro, I’m not here to hurt you,” The man raised his hands in surrender, taking a step back. “We just need to leave now, while we still can.”

I had had it up to here with this day. First I got fired, then I started seeing things, and now a strange man was shouting cryptic warnings at me? I needed a job, but this was starting to become too much even for me. “What are you talking about?”

“You must have noticed that every dude in this place looks like me, right?” The man was still panting heavily. I froze; whoever this man was, he was seeing the same thing as me. Maybe it wasn’t in my mind after all. That would have normally been a relief, but that actually led to bigger questions. “I thought I was going crazy. Everyone else is acting completely normal, oblivious to the fact they all look the same!”

The man nodded. “I’m Trevor Harris, by the way.”

“Preston,” I replied brusquely; this was not the time to make introductions. “Can you tell me what the hell is going on, Trevor?”

“Right. So, like, I see this ad online asking for participants in some scientific study. The only requirement is that they need to be fit and attractive, so naturally I apply,” Trevor started. I would usually have found this kind of cockiness off putting, but I couldn’t really fault Trevor’s logic; if I looked like him, I’d be confident in my looks too. I gestured for him to continue. “Anyways, I get to this lab, and Dr. Wesker is trying to explain the point of the study to me, but he’s using lots of big words and talking real fast and I dropped science in high school. He’s saying something about making my DNA more dominant so he can transfer my traits, like my muscles, on to other people. The whole thing sounds pretty far- fetched, but what do I know?”

Daniels had mentioned something about Wesker being obsessed with molecular modification, so Trevor’s story seemed plausible so far. As I listened to Trevor’s story, I was starting to sweat; it suddenly felt very warm in the board room. I unbuttoned the top few buttons of my dress shirts to let my skin breathe, wiping away the sweat forming on my brow. Trevor really was a good looking guy, especially in his current outfit; the muscle shirt showed off his boulder-like shoulders and the shorts exposed his defined muscular calves. I told myself to focus on Trevor’s story, but it was increasingly distracting the longer I stared at him.

“So he asks if he can give me some kind of injection, promising that it’s totally safe. I’m not a fan of needles, but they’re paying me for this study and I need the money, so I say sure. And then he gives me the shot, and things go total bonkers.”

“Bonkers how?” I asked, encouraging him to continue. Wesker had been out for several minutes now and was likely to return shortly. My growing lust for Trevor was starting to turn me on; I could feel blood rushing towards my crotch. I hoped it wasn’t obvious I was getting a stiffy as he told me his harrowing tale.

“Everyone was super horny all of a sudden. Like, jerking their dicks off horny. I don’t know what caused it, but all of the scientists, Wesker included, started tugging themselves like there was no tomorrow. And then one of them came, and he started to change. He was an old fat dude, but he was becoming young and fit. Suddenly it was like looking in a mirror - the guy looked just like me! The others started to jizz too, and they all started to change until they all had my body.”

It sounded like a wild story, but I didn’t have a rational alternative to explain what was going on. Alarm bells were ringing in the back of my mind - wasn’t I feeling super horny all of a sudden? Would I change, too?

“And as crazy as that was, it wasn’t the weirdest part. After they had all changed, the guys just went back to work as if things were completely normal. It was like they were completely clueless that they now looked different. And they were acting differently, too. They weren’t using big words anymore. They were talking more like me, a little…” Trevor trailed off, struggling for the right word to use.

“Dumber?” I supplied. Trevor shot me an offended look, but then nodded that it was appropriate.

“I ran out to the front desk for help, but that guy started wanking off, too. And when I ran out to the security guard at the gatehouse, the same thing happened to him. I was scared, so I found an empty office and hid inside. That was like, hours ago. Man, I’m so hungry and I need to take a piss…anyways, I could hear your voice while I was hiding and I realized that there was someone at the lab who hadn’t changed! And I knew I had to warn you. So now let’s get out of here before they find us,” Trevor grabbed me by the arm, pulling me towards the door.

It was way too hot - I felt like I was burning up. I unbuttoned my shirt all the way and flung it off, then slid my pants down and off as well. My skin was drenched in sweat and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I could faintly hear Trevor shouting something at me, but it sounded distant and muffled even though he was standing right beside me. I could feel the throbbing of my hard dick just aching for release; maybe if I relieved myself I’d be able to focus again. The logical side of my brain was trying to tell me that it was a bad idea, especially after what Trevor had told me happened in the lab. Something had been done to Trevor that was making me feel like this and I needed to get away from him as fast as I could. The urge was so overwhelming, though…I couldn’t even think clearly.

My hands pulled down my boxers, exposing my erection. Trevor was still protesting, telling me to stop and that we needed to get out of here, but his words were falling on deaf ears. Even though I knew it was wrong, I took my dick in my grip and started pumping it. As I stroked my member, the pressure that had been building in me immediately started to subside, my vision and hearing returning to normal. All I had to do was get off and I’d be able to think clearly again.

“Dude, come on, stop!” Trevor pleaded helplessly, watching as I jerked it. I just grunted in response - I was too focused to talk to him right now, my only goal in that moment being to cum as quickly as I could. Trevor was too stupid to even realize he was the one causing this - something about being in his proximity had sparked this reaction in me.

My cock felt unfamiliar in my hands, thicker and heavier than usual. I glanced down and sure enough, my dick was a good two inches longer and had almost doubled in girth. My balls also looked different, hairy and swollen. The hairs surrounding my genitals spread upwards, coating my belly and chest in a dusting of light blonde hair. I should have panicked at these changes, but it felt right as my body shifted - as if this was the way I was always supposed to be.

Trevor ran for the exit; he’d clearly realized I was beyond help. He pulled the door open, glancing over his shoulder at me. “I’m sorry, bro - I tried to help you!” With that, he disappeared out into the hallway. I was so focused on my own pleasure that I barely noticed his departure.

The pace of my strokes accelerated as I grew closer to climax. My entire torso had changed by this stage, not that I cared. My thin slender arms had erupted with muscle, thick veiny biceps and triceps forming as my shoulders widened. My small round belly had receded, replaced with tight chiseled abs, and my flat chest pushed outwards to form thick round pecs. My lower body quickly followed suit, my limbs elongating and stretching as I grew taller. My skinny quads and calves were now thick branches of muscle and definition, completing my new muscular build.

“Fuck, man!” I cried out as my cock started to spurt out jizz. My face was tingling gently as it restructured, my average looks being replaced with Trevor’s handsome features. My frizzy brown hair lightened to blonde, growing straight and styled. The thick glasses I’d been wearing dematerialized; I wouldn’t need them anymore with my perfect vision. I continued to pump my cock - every shot of cum brought more clarity as I felt lighter and happier than ever before.

“Whoops,” I chuckled to myself, looking around at the mess that I made.

Wesker re-entered the room, carrying a briefcase in one of his hands. He paused in the doorway, noticing that I was naked and my jizz was all over the room. “Looks like you’ve been keeping yourself entertained, bro,” he laughed. He seemed to have no problem with my current state, acting like cumming during the interview process was completely normal. I didn’t feel any embarrassment or shame; I was horny, so I got myself off. Besides, with a body this hot it was almost a crime to keep it hidden beneath clothes.

“Sorry,” I giggled with a shrug, not really meaning it. I grabbed my boxers off the floor, using them as a cum rag before slipping them back on.

“Nah, man, that’s what we’re all about around here. It’s about feeling good and doing what you want - jerk when you want, suck when you want, fuck when you want. I can tell you’ll fit in great. In fact…” Wesker tossed the briefcase aside, crossing the room to extend his hand. “Welcome to the team, Preston.”

This dude was gonna be the best boss ever, I could already tell. This was totally the best day ever.

---

Trevor sprinted down the hallways and out of the building, running to his car. This was so messed up. All he had wanted was to make a quick buck on the side to help pay for rent, and now everyone was looking and acting just like him? He needed to get the hell out of here. He felt bad about leaving that other dude behind - what had his name been, Prescott or something? - but he had tried to help him.

He accelerated his car up to the security gate leading out of the facility. He didn’t even bother to slow down, he just revved his engine and drove right through the blockade. He caught a quick glimpse of the security guard that now looked just like him, the man’s jaw dropped in surprise. He swerved out onto the road, heading back to the city.

This was so wild. What should he do now? Call the cops? Would they even believe him? What if whatever caused the changes continued to spread? He thought of his boyfriend Wes and prayed that he was okay. He didn’t have time to deal with the police and their skepticism; he would get back to his apartment, grab Wes, and then they would get out of the city before things got crazy.

Everything would be okay if he could just stay ahead of it.

[next-gen-men]

🎆 January 1st 🎇 - Merge Transformation - Ethan

Curious about what's happened to Ethan and what's coming next? Check out the master post here!

-------------------------

The clock strikes twelve, and people shout with glee, What could be better than dancing, you see? This life is now your new reality— Jump and join the roaring New Year party! Body on body, the sweat starts to build. No fancy thoughts, just a hole to be filled. These are your people, the vibes are your guild. Flash those hefty pecs and show off your build!

When his boyfriend dragged him out for the night to celebrate the new year, Ethan had dutifully followed along. Marcus had been planning a surprise trip for them to go out with their friends for some time, as a night to enjoy a New Year's party at the club. Most people were already out, jumping away to the deep bass of the music. There was supposed to be a big headliner tonight at the club, a DJ by the name of BoyLux. Apparently, it was rare for him to make an appearance, but the club had put out numerous promotions and paid a good amount of money for the DJ to come out and perform on New Year's. Everyone was thrumming with anticipation and excitement, eager to catch a glimpse of the world-renowned artist.

While his friends searched for a spot to stand amidst the crowd, Ethan felt the soft chime of a notification on his phone. With one hand in his boyfriend’s as he was led around, the young man pulled his device out with the other to read it carefully. Opening up the strange Advent calendar app, he watched as the main screen morphed into a single button, with a gift-wrapped present bobbing for him to tap on.

Congratulations on completing the calendar!  (And all related additional tasks) As promised, you will receive your reward for the task! We hope you enjoyed this app. Please leave us a rating and review in the App Store! Until next time! Enjoy the new year, Ethan!

There was an eerie wave of uncanniness that washed over him as he read his name in the app’s message once more. It wasn’t the first time they had done so, and likely pulled his name from the account. But there was something so plain and straightforward about seeing his name there, as if it were a message explicitly directed to him. But before he could think about the strange message any longer, there was a sharp, staticky shock that jolted his fingers. Ethan yelped as he clung to his phone, not wanting to drop it in the busy club. However, the pain left him shaking at his hand in surprise at the stinging sensation. Glancing back at his phone, he saw that the app had already uninstalled itself, as if there was no more reason for him to keep it around.

Frowning a bit at his phone, he glanced up to see his boyfriend’s inquisitive face staring back at him. “It’s nothing,” Ethan clarified with a small, awkward chuckle as he tried to reassure Marcus amidst the loud music. Just beyond them, he could see a couple of his friends, including Angelo and Devon, waving them over. Gently tapping Marcus on the back of his hand, Ethan tilted his head towards the bathrooms. “I’m just gonna use the bathroom for sec! I’ll come find y’all after!”

The music was overpowering, but Ethan got his message across. Marcus nodded as he let his hand go, and the young man was weaving his way through the crowd towards the side of the club, where the bathrooms were. And he bobbed and weaved through them. There was a strange feeling in his stomach, like he really had to relieve himself or something. Ethan’s footsteps began to hurry up as that feeling worsened, and the young man was all but running over to deal with his issue.

Barreling into the bathroom, he barely noticed the man whom he accidentally bumped into. Ethan stammered out a weak apology as he bolted towards the bathroom stall, quickly finding his way over towards the toilet to see if something would come out of him. His stomach felt like it was on fire at this point, and Ethan wondered if he had contracted food poisoning from something he had eaten.

Unfortunately, the young man forgot, in his hurry, to lock the stall behind him, and the man he bumped into before came charging in with a look of fury in his eyes. “What the hell was that? Dude, you should be more careful where you walk. You almost took me out, you fucker. And if you’re going to run into someone, then apologize for it! Or look where you’re going!” The older man was more skimpily dressed, all dolled up as if he were about to head out on stage to perform. But the moment he saw Ethan sprawled out over the toilet bowl, looking about as green as a frog, the stranger loosened up on his reprimands.

“Aw shit man, are you feeling okay or something? You look green as fuck. Yo, lemme go get some help or something for you. I’ve got some guys out there that can get you somewhere more private,” the stranger offered, reaching out to pat Ethan’s shoulder reassuringly. “I can get some water or something too if you need it, bro.”

Ethan only groaned as his head lolled about, brushing against the other’s warm arm when he felt a firm hand clasping at his shoulders. “...H-Help… Please… help me up…” he whimpered, the younger man clutching at his stomach as the fiery feeling grew stronger the more contact he had with the other man. Thankfully, the other man didn’t seem to be put off by his discomfort, and the stranger helped pull Ethan upright so they could move over to the sinks instead.

“Here, get some water on your face or something, man. You look like you’re really sick. Or dehydrated or something. Did you take anything before you came here?” the stranger continued as he guided Ethan’s arms over to the sink. But the young man could only groan in response, his brows knit together as he struggled through the uncomfortable feeling. As Ethan splashed some cool water on his face, the only thing he could make out from the other man’s words was “come here.” His head felt so dizzy and foggy, and his eyes were all but fluttering shut as Ethan did his best to focus on something. But his body naturally moved forward, stumbling away from the sink and collapsing halfway onto the other man.

“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, okay, look, man, you gotta get off. I can get you help, but you gotta stand up,” the stranger stammered as his arms reached out to catch Ethan. There was a sudden weight to the young man that he didn’t feel before, like the young man had gained fifty pounds or so from the walk over to the toilet. Whatever was happening was starting to affect the other man, too, and he grunted while struggling to push Ethan off of him.

But to his horror, when he raised his arms, he could see the young man’s body starting to sink into him. It was slow and deliberate, as if Ethan were melting into quicksand. But such a thing was humanly impossible, and it made him start to panic. “Dude! Dude, something’s wrong! You gotta wake up! We have to get help, man! Fuck, I gotta get on stage in a few minutes. No, no, no,...”

Ethan stirred slowly from his delirious state, only staring back into the handsome visage of the older man. He whimpered as he tried to push himself off the other’s thick and meaty pecs, but gasped as the wriggling made him sink in deeper. Ethan’s eyes widened in surprise and shock as he took stock of his current situation, which involved him being elbow-deep inside the other man’s forearms. “W-What… what the—?”

The merging of their bodies was slow and lethargic, almost moving at a snail’s pace as Ethan sank into the other man’s bodies. Their cries for help and their pleas for this to stop were quickly muffled as Ethan’s mouth found the other’s. Their eyes widened as their lips pressed against each other into a long kiss. But instead of breaking for air, the two of them continued to push against each other until their heads started to meld together. And as the last bits of Ethan’s body slipped into the other man, both of them wondered if these were the last moments that they had alive.

There was a darkness that seemed to envelop them, their consciousness and minds hovering in a space as two separate entities. And then, like the gravitational force of a black hole, they felt the last bits of themselves that they could call their own being crammed into each other. Memories of being a son in a family with three brothers and a father merged with memories of being a successful and mysterious musical artist. Ethan could feel his consciousness enveloping the stranger’s, gaining access to all his past life. He found himself recalling a past life where his name was Ryan, and how he had spent his time making sure he was the hottest, sexiest DJ around the world. He felt himself gaining years, no longer a graduate student but someone older and more established in his career.

Ethan’s eyes shot open from the darkness as he gasped, the frayed edges of his mind still closing the open gaps from the two bodies merging. He scrambled up to his feet, staring at himself as he took in the new features of himself. What was impressive was the way his body seemed to swell and bulk up with all this extra mass. While Ryan had been strong and a prominent gym goer from before, even he hadn’t managed to achieve this level of bulk. Ethan let one of his hands reach up carefully to squeeze and grope at his pecs, only grunting as a jolt of pleasure shot through his body. All that extra mass from their two bodies had joined to make the beefiest, muscular man possible. There was so much definition and heft to his body, and as he leaned against the bathroom counter, he could feel the absolute weight in his steps.

Moaning as he continued to explore himself, Ethan tilted his head to the side to examine the more aged features of his face. He had a nice dusting of facial hair, something that he hadn’t managed before genetically. But now, he had a defined moustache and some dusting of a goatee or beard, depending on how much he wished to shave. The shadow and stubble made him excited for all the possibilities that he never had before, and Ethan couldn’t stop running his fingers over the prickly, stubbly feeling.

He shuddered as his cock twitched once more from the lack of attention inside his pants, and Ethan carefully peeled back his pants to eye the newly lengthened and fattened monster stuffed into his tight briefs. Reaching down with trembling hands, he fished out the hefty length and let it fall onto the countertop with a resounding smack. Groaning at the cold sensation of the marble underneath his cock, he began rolling and rutting his hips against the smooth surface. With one hand on top of the cock, he watched as the length started to stiffen and fill with blood, until it was a hardened club that would be swaying between his thick thighs like a third leg, if he hadn’t propped it up to play with.

“H–Hah… Ngh… Oh fuck… Fuck yeah…” Ethan groaned as he pumped at his cock, loving the way his defined abs tensed and flexed as he pleasured himself. He loved the way his biceps popped and flexed as his hands provided just the right amount of friction for his cock as he rubbed it against the counter. His breathing became more ragged and heavy as he touched himself, only lifting his eyes to stare at himself in the mirror. Ethan’s lips curled up into a cocky smirk as he took in the sexually explicit display he was putting on, with his big, bare ass on display as he tugged the rest of his pants down.

“F-Fuck… Oh fuck, I’m gonna… I’m so fuckin’ close–” Ethan moaned, the merged man loving the slick feeling of precum spurting out from his cock slit. The damp, sticky feeling was providing some nice lubricant as he rubbed and touched himself. Ethan’s free hand slid over his torso, groping and squeezing at all the beefy muscles he could touch as he felt his thrusting begin to quicken. He was nearing that ever-so-pleasurable climax, and he didn’t plan on holding back anymore. Not when he looked as hot as he did now.

“Hahh… Hngh…. Oh, shit! Shit, shit! Fuckin’ hell, I’m gonna— Ngh–!”

The only sounds in the bathroom for the next few moments were the thick, heavy spurts of cum splattering all over the mirror and Ethan’s heavy, deep moans of arousal as he rode out his orgasm. The experience was extremely erotic for him, and the orgasm lasted longer than it ever had for him before. Panting and heaving as he slowly regained some clarity in his mind, Ethan glanced up with a smirk at the mirror, absolutely dripping in his seed. He chuckled at the rather explosive load of his, only reaching down to scoop up some seed still dripping off his cock head. Bringing his finger up, the beefy man licked his fingertips clean of his new seed and mewled lewdly with satisfaction at his taste.

“Fuck yeah… I’m so fuckin’ hot, man…”

Cumming so quickly and explosively after his merge with Ryan had forced the last bits of their combined bodies to fuse. There was no life before or life after for Ethan now. This was just all his. Memories that were of his or Ryan’s were soon all his, and the world shifted around the changed dynamic to accommodate the being of one new person. He groaned as he rolled back his lats and shoulders, feeling the pop and crack of his bones as he began pulling up his pants. Ethan grinned as he tucked away his still-chubbed cock into his tight briefs. He played with the underside of his sensitive cock through the tight fabric, only shuddering at the sensual feelings running through him like electricity. “Oh, shit… Hah, I better behave, or I’ll never make it on stage, and my manager will kill me if I miss the show.”

Buttoning up his pants, Ethan grabbed his shirt and decided to sling it over his shoulder instead. There was no need for him to put a shirt on, not when it was New Year’s Eve, and he was performing at a club full of gays who would thirst after his beefy, hot body. With a new personality and memories in place, the confident DJ stepped out of the bathroom, strolling past the throngs of people to make his way up to the stage to give his performance.

On his journey towards the backstage area, Ethan caught a glimpse of Jabari and Devon, who were flexing their muscles and talking with Junseo. The trio was likely comparing their workout routines, the types of lifts they were doing, and the nutritional plans they were following. It was almost comical seeing the three beefy muscle men flex and pose inside the gay club, given how they had all said that they would never consider doing anything with another guy. But given the way the three of them were sizing each other up, groping at their pecs, and squeezing their biceps, Ethan wouldn’t have been surprised if he saw them making out together at a later point, if there were enough drinks in them.

Memories of the three of them working out and lifting with Ethan began to fill in his mind, as he often found them together at the gym at the same time as him. It was helpful to have a group of bros that he could rely on whenever he needed someone to spot him if he wanted to go heavy or if he needed someone to help film his posture. Their text group thread, called ‘Gym Rats 4 Gym Brats,’ had been buzzing Ethan’s phone earlier today, with the three of them expressing just how excited they were to see him perform and put on a show for New Year's. Ethan had made sure to set aside some extra free entrance tickets for his gym bros.

Passing by another group of people, he caught a glimpse of Ricky, Samir, and Victor engaging in a rather salacious and scandalous threesome. While Ricky and Victor were family, the two young men were always eager to have some fun with each other, so long as they could find a willing third. Ethan remembered sitting them both down and having the important talk about being safe and respectful of their partners when they first started showing interest. He didn’t mind having that conversation with them, given how, as the oldest son in the family, he felt responsible for making sure that his youngest brother and younger cousin knew what they were getting themselves into.

As for Samir, the big, beefy daddy was always looking for some fun with people whenever he got the chance. Ethan had hooked up with him plenty of times in the past, as the two of them often found the warm embrace of each other in their beefy bodies whenever they were in town. But tonight, since Ethan would be busy performing on stage, Samir had satiated his lustful need of fucking and being fucked by being the third with Ricky and Victor. Ethan’s younger cousin had the hairy daddy’s legs spread wide as he plunged his thick cock deep inside of him, while Samir’s own fat length was ramming repeatedly into Victor’s jiggling bubble butt. The three of them moved in perfect rhythm, an orgasmic viewing of three bodies melting and merging as one harmonious unit.

Ethan took the offered bottle from one of his staff members, only half listening to them as they explained the setup of his set. His eyes were still trained on the crowd, watching them as they ground and frotted away to the heavy beats of the club music. It wouldn’t be long until his show went on, and Ethan would have them all rolling around in one big New Year’s orgy. He spied the sexy coffee shop owners in the back, with Amir and Aditya trapping the cute sub daddy in Ethan’s apartment. Trevor was busy mouthing away and kissing both of them with a greedy need, his eyes fluttering shut as the two owners took care of him.

If he looked closely enough, Ethan could have sworn he caught a glimpse of something slick and goopy slipping into Trevor’s mouth, causing the hairy daddy to buckle over and gag a few times. But both Amir and Aditya helped him through his coughing fit, and Trevor was soon standing back up with a lustful gaze in his eyes. The three of them resumed their makeout session, eagerly leaving slick trails of saliva as their shirtless, sweaty bodies rubbed against each other. When Trevor pulled out his phone to type out a quick message, Ethan was sure he was texting his husband to come over and join him in all this fun.

Speaking of Trevor’s husband, Ethan spied Leo in the back, enjoying the comforts of another couple, his second youngest brother, Henry, and his boyfriend, Noel. The two of them had their noses pressed up against Leo’s beefy pecs and his sweaty pits, with the large daddy trapping the two of them underneath his firm flexes. From what he could see in the dim lighting, Ethan could make out some rather pleased and satisfied faces with both Noel and Henry, so he figured they were having as much fun as they could have wanted.

Leo’s expression clearly indicated how satisfied he was with having two sets of mouths worship his hairy, muscular body, and with the three of them stripping down to very minimal bits of clothes, Ethan could count the moments it would take before all three of them engaged in some hardcore hook-ups together. Trevor’s texts for his husband to join him with his own fun would undoubtedly have to wait, as it seemed to Ethan that Leo had more pressing issues at hand to handle.

Making it onto the main stage, the introduction and the grand reveal of Ethan as DJ BoyLux had a reception unlike any other. It was all routine for him at this point, given that he had spent his whole life refining his musical craft as an artist. But performing on stage, dancing at gay festivals, and putting on such massive raves and absolute bangers for people to vibe and have sex at? Now, that was just the added cream on top. Even tonight, with his family coming out to support him and see what he could do, Ethan couldn’t help but want to put on a show for them, making sure that they could see just how passionate and successful he was at this.

With smoke billowing behind him, his shirt cast aside, and the LED lights and lasers doing an absolute show all around him, Ethan grabbed his microphone and yelled out into the club for the partygoers to respond to.

“Let’s fuckin’ goooo! Live it up, bitches! This year is our year! Let’s lift, fuck, and live our best lives, you sluts! Happy fuckin’ New Year!”

Roaring into the mic, the crowd erupted into cheers as the chiming sound of the clock striking midnight rang throughout the place. Ethan turned his attention back to his table, turning and twisting his knobs for the next song to transition in. It was a deep and heavy bass, enough to make everyone start bopping and grinding the night away.

He watched as his father, Lucas, was busy gifting some club patrons his leftover flowers from the holidays. Even if Lucas wasn’t exactly one to come out clubbing or raving, Ethan still appreciated the way his father would always show him his support. And if he wanted to expand his own business with the people who attended Ethan’s concerts and shows, then who was he to stop him? He watched as Lucas offered up some potted poinsettias to his friend Chayut and the celebrity Rafael, the two of them awkwardly accepting the gift as his father tried to explain how to best care for the vibrantly red flowers.

And perhaps it was just a trick of his eye, or the dim lighting from all the laser beams, but Ethan could have sworn that the flowers in their hands shifted and moved just a bit, as if they had sentience. His father had always teased Ethan about his plants having magical and mystical properties, but given that it was the new year, the DJ couldn’t help but grin as he imagined that to be true. After all, in the new year, everyone could use a bit more luck and magic on their side.

Moving on to his next set of songs, Ethan managed to glance up at the balcony to see how packed the club was that night. In one of the more VIP boxes, he caught a glimpse of a rather beefy man with a slimmer man standing by his side. The two of them were still dressed in some more festive, Christmas attire, although their main focus was fixated on the chubby man perched on top of the first man’s lap. Their hands roamed over the fat and muscles in the other’s frame, and Ethan could barely make out the backside of someone who looked quite similar to his childhood friend, Kyle.

The two figures noticed Ethan staring at them, and his eyes widened in recollection of the two magical, mythical beings of Santa and his elf Joko grinning back at him. Santa offered the DJ a sly smirk and a juicy pec of his right pec, before turning his attention back to rubbing and squeezing at Kyle’s bulging stomach. The three of them seemed somewhat fixated on seeing how much Kyle could eat and drink at the club, and Ethan wondered if the next time he heard from Kyle, it would be from him being stranded out at the North Pole from a mysterious one-night stand.

The club had provided some dancers and strippers to perform at some small, isolated poles and separate spaces away from the main stage. Ethan was able to pinpoint the somewhat familiar Benito, a regular dancer at the club, whom he had gotten to know quite well after performing here a couple of times. The dancer was known for his sensual and seductive approaches. If it weren’t for DJ BoyLux performing tonight, Ethan was certain that Benito would have throngs of men all crowding around for him to pay them even the slightest attention.

He watched as Benito pulled up two men from the crowd, only humming in amusement as he recognized the familiar faces of his friends Isaiah and Rome. It seemed as though Benito was pulling out his signature move of bringing on two lucky patrons to grind up on and give a lap dance to. But both of the other men seemed quite willing to join in the fun, also stripping down and partying along with Benito. Isaiah was clad in a rather skimpy, skin-tight outfit that clung to his hairy body, while Rome wore his signature, sweaty jockstrap that was filled with his musk. The party was far from over, and they had the rest of the night to live it up until the sun came up and the club closed for the day.

No one seemed to be having as much fun as Ethan’s younger brother, Danny, though, the jock eagerly dancing around and making out with as many people as he could. The beefy jock was thrilled to have the time of his life, enjoying the full moon in its fullest as he mashed his lips against a small, twinkish man. Danny only pulled away after a long moment, some strands of saliva dripping from their lips as they turned to seek out someone else from the crowd. The dazed twink only stumbled backwards against one of the cement poles, resting his back there as his eyes glazed over. Ethan tapped his chin in thought, snapping his fingers in recognition of the familiar, cute face. Felipe; that was his name.

Danny was an unrelenting force, though, as he spotted the celebrity Ronen trying to make his way over to Rafael. The jock, stopping the man from interrupting Rafael’s conversation with his father, Lucas, decided that the best way to distract him was to kiss him hard and firmly on the lips. And so, Ethan was granted the beautiful view of his younger brother making out with one of the most sought-after celebrities by the gays, chuckling as he rolled his eyes at the sight. Danny always found a way to get the things that he wanted, and after swapping spit with the confused Ronen, pranced away into the depths of the crowds to seek out another victim.

Soon, Ethan’s allotted time for his performance was up, and the DJ was strolling off the stage with a sheen of sweat coating his bouncing pecs as he stepped backstage. The club was still thumping and thriving with plenty of people who didn’t want the night to end just yet, and the owners of the club were more than happy to keep up the vibes. But Ethan’s contract was fulfilled, and he wanted to enjoy the New Year’s celebrations himself. He was greeted by the sight of his loving boyfriends, Marcus and Angelo, the three of them having made it an official throuple a few months ago. The two of them eagerly awaited him, holding out a towel and a bottle of water for him to clean himself up and hydrate with.

“You were spectacular, babe! Always know how to put on a banger,” Marcus hummed as he leaned in to kiss Ethan gently on the lips.

“Everyone out there was going absolutely feral, especially when you came on shirtless. I know your stylist was picky about the clothes, but I think that was such a delicious decision you made. Especially since I know I’m one of the lucky people who really gets to enjoy you being shirtless in private,” Angelo teased as he leaned in as well, letting their sweaty pecs rub up against each other. “Where was this sexy beast all along? I can’t wait to see what you’re like in bed later tonight.”

Marcus hummed as he tilted Angelo’s head to the side, kissing him firmly on the lips to stop him from talking. “Easy, tiger. Let’s let him get dressed and freshened up, yeah? I bet he wants to enjoy the night too, before we start ripping our clothes off each other. C’mon, we’ll be waiting outside. We left some clothes out for you to dress yourself,” he mused, pressing a small kiss to Ethan’s temple as he left the room with Angelo in tow.

“Bye, babe! See you in a bit!”

Ethan sighed as he sat down in one of the chairs, using his towel to wipe at his sweaty torso. The DJ was pleased with yet another successful show, and he was glad to have a New Year's celebration with all his friends and family around. He let his eyes close for just a moment, savoring the way things were and how great his life was now. This was right. This felt good. And it was all his to enjoy.

Opening his eyes, Ethan moved over to the dressing stand and began pulling on the clothes that his boyfriends picked out for him. It was fitted with some particularly skimpy underwear, some skin-tight clothes, and some party sunglasses that gave him a sci-fi retro vibe. Grinning as he looked himself over in the mirror, Ethan raised his arms to flex cockily. He was hot and sexy and successful, and there was nothing better than this.

“New year, new me,” he muttered softly under his breath, before he flashed a cocky wink at himself and left the room to enjoy the night’s festivities.

...and this marks the finale for the Advent calendar series! i hope people enjoyed the stories! i'll do a follow-up ooc post to answer questions + talk about what's next, but for now, i'll be taking a nice and long rested break after completing this! ^^ hope everyone enjoyed, and have a happy new year! (as for all the links in the post, tumblr has a stupid rule of only allowing 30 images in a post, but i didn't want to detract from all the nice images i found for ethan and ryan. so i left them in as links, while leaving behind images of everyone who was a part of ethan's journey in this finale!)

[multiplicationdivision]

Jackin In

You know in hindsight, it probably would’ve been more unique if he hadn’t chosen the most popular bodysuit available from the ordering service. He couldn’t say he regretted it after the fact though.

Jack Woods came with the skin suit and an outfit, just as modelled. Even unworn the suit felt firm, subtly muscular. His clothes southern, just like the suit’s accent

“I’m your everyman” Jack had said on the website, modelling himself. Flexing his left arm and smirking as he looked down to it. “Also a bit of a narcissist, not goin’ to lie”

The reviews sounded the same, as if written by the character himself.

[email protected] The handsome devil is right, we’re fucking hot.

[email protected] Slipped myself on to fix a broken pipe and I can’t stop working on my other pipe. Anyone want to help a guy out?

[email protected] Been Jack for eight months by now and can you imagine I used to be a programmer. Moving back to my hometown, Illinois, where Jack belongs. Hope to see one of you there!

Jack came with a ID, a phone and a pair of boots. All scuffed and lightly dusted with wear. Jack worked on a ranch in his backstory, had the scars and build to prove it.

The inside of the suit was soft and velvety, as he slowly pulled it on. Felt his hand fit like a glove inside the much more sturdy arm of Jack. Shrugged on Jack’s legs like pants and crammed his toes into Jack’s much more sizable set. He had felt unbalanced before he pulled the Jack’s face over his head.

Then it all snapped into focus. The confidence and smug charm injecting instantly into his brain, like a shot of whiskey. His mouth tasted it, the beer and cigars Jack would share with his mates. The slight dust in his hair and the memory of a relaxing day of work managing his homestead.

Jack looked fondly into the full mirror to study himself. Push the top layer of the bodysuiot around until it settled nicely, zipped up the portion of skin on his chest that was the sole entry and exit for his comfortable new skin. He was already sweaty beneath it, the sweat like glue sticking Jack’s personable self onto his old body.

God he was hot, whispered the layer of Jack programmed neurons directly resting on his actual body’s short sweaty hair. There was a friction to that connection between him and the suit, between him and Jack. It itched in a good way, feeling himself just below his new set of skin.

Jack had winked into the mirror as he always did before taking a piss. His dick a sizable upgrade that seemed to rather be rock hard than let him piss. A frustrating problem Jack knew all too well.

Jack had showered, removing that fresh Styrofoam smell from his skin. His soap and hair products no longer feeling as adequate as they’d been moments ago. Jack was a proper Illinois born and bred, but he still knew how to take care of himself.

He’d half a mind staring at his cock on how exactly he’d take care of himself tonight until a better idea came to him.

Jack shrugged on his provided set of clothes. They hadn’t provided underwear, but Jack had never liked briefs or boxers. He was a sturdy man and a bit of jean on sensitive cock was something he could take. The jeans were well lived in either way, softly smelling of dirt and barn. The boots were the same, worn to perfection and well loved. He remembered receiving them as a gift, re-healing them himself. They were the same leather as the belt lying beside them, easily looped and secured by muscle memory. His dress shirt one in a million in his fresh new old memories, the style Jack had inherited from his father and had stuck to.

He felt like a million bucks in the mirror now, three layers against his body. Every step cushioned by his strong new muscled feet and the heels of the boots clacking against the linoleum.

Jack was bound for the Friday night bar, where he’d inevitably pick up some guy or girl. Maybe pick up some pals to shoot the shit with and team up with a few to charm the crowd. It was force of habit to the layer of Jack snared around his head, where his old brain was happy to step back. Those old cells were boring and insecure. Jack was incredible.

Jack had picked up the bar based on vibe, driving in the small car he was unfortunately stuck with. A far cry from the trucks he could remember his father training him on young. The pathetic Toyota did its job, although he’d surely need to fix it up later. He simply hadn’t known how unloved it had been before, although a certain intent of his new brain was leading him to the idea of just selling it.

The bouncer had looked at him confused for a moment, before ultimately shrugging, not even bothering to look at his ID.

It had been a perfect setting for Jack. Line dancing, good whiskey, good talk. He spent far too much in the short time than his part-timing could handle, but Jack was more than competent enough to get a real job in the trades now.

His idle dreaming through Jack-colored glasses was interrupted though by his suddent need to piss. He hadn’t been a drinker much previously, didn’t have that acquired taste. Honestly whilst the blanket of Jack on top of that body could handle his drink easily, the body underneath had long since been wasted with just a little burbon.

Jack felt heavy inside himself, but not badly. It felt like a separation between himself with his internal mind nearly absent. His proper brain had burdens and Jack simply did not. Jack was fucking happy with himself, unzipping his jeans to piss out all the excess alcohol his real body simply could not take. Taking note of the similar style of the guy beside him and enjoying the feeling of that, in this little space in the city that seemed built for a guy like Jack.

He looked down and even their boots were eerily identical.

The undone belt as well.

The face, staring back at him.

“Fuck” One of them said, although whether it be these two Jacks or the third who’d just walked in the door, none could say.

His carbon copies, seemingly just fresh out of the box like he was judging by the subtle zipper he could peak out just below their collars.

Jack was a popular fellow and relatively cheap, although the dominantly Jack part of his brain would argue against it. He was a popular bodysuit clearly, reviews by the hundreds for himself. It was dually disappointing to be a dime a dozen and a gift, he realized.

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’ Jack” he heard himself say, in the cadence from their home town. The others had his smirk and that same whiskey tobacco wafting from them.

“Triplets could do a killin’ out tonight” the other said, eyeing his duplicate selves with pride.

“Damn skippy” he said, adapting his plans beyond tonight. He could see his counterparts slot into their new dynamic easily, their handsome selves blushing in handsome alcohol enhanced camaraderie. Brothers for the night. Hopefully longer.

Jack wondered who his new brothers were prior to this moment, but he was sure it hardly mattered. Not when they were just like him in their shiny old boots and wearing the watch their collective father had given to them. It was all fiction obviously, but they hardly cared.

One of his new twins wrestled him and sloppily kissed his forehead. Jack almost didn’t notice, their identical body temperatures so similar its like they merged with contact. Jack pulled in the other to do the same and it took an iron will for the single moment of sudden excitement to be tempted down. All of them wanted nothing more than rip off their identical clothes and see how much their bodysuits could make them identical. He wanted himself.

“Hold boy” He said, when one of him tried to reach for his cock. The other him looked disappointed before smirking. \

“Ah yes, Triplet act” he said rolling his eyes, rebuttoning the top of his shirt.

“You know its better if you gotta wait” the other Jack said, giving their excitable self a quick kiss to shut up any complaints. Jack was whiney, they all knew.

“Need to blow one of these city slicker’s brains out anyways” He said, checking his phone. It had a picture of Jack and his older brother, another of the many bodysuits available. Jack half wondered if he’d stumble upon a variation of the guy someday, given he stayed Jack.

“Hope we find another of us” one of his clones stated, and its was very odd hope, but one they all had. The website hadn’t been kidding about Jacks love for himself but just one taste and it was practically all any of them could think about. He was just so much handsomer as a 3D object and not a distant reflection.

“We spend enough time around here and I bet half of the guys here will upgrade” the other said, and man wouldn’t that be the dream.

“Ya’ll are makin’ me too hard boys” Jack pleaded and the others smiled.

“We’re cuter when we’re all flustered” One of them said with a wink, and Jack was hardly going to be able to flirt at this point. He shoved the Jack slowly creeping towards him back just so they wouldn’t get lost in their Jack fueled narcissism.

They had to get to work of course. They were just going to snag some lucky guy or girl and then the rest of the night would be pure instinctual fun.

The hidden away parts of his old brain could continue to take a back seat, now and maybe forever. If the world was steadily filled with guys just like he was now, he couldn’t complain.

Jack was an everyman kind of guy. He was ready to share.

[luticono]

Guys follow me on Instagram for more posts

@james_hall23003.

[masterwolftfs]

The bass from Club Pandemonium was a thrumming wave of pressure that vibrated the sidewalk under Julian’s expensive loafers. A queue of people snaked around the block, a kaleidoscope of desperate glamour and calculated cool. Julian surveyed it with the detached contempt of a predator scanning a watering hole. At twenty-eight, he was a rising star at his father's corporate company, his custom-made suit a deeper black than the night, his Rolex catching the neon light like a wink. He smelled of perfume, and cold-pressed espresso. Tonight’s path led past the bouncers – necessary obstacles, like toll booths on the highway to pleasure.

The bouncer wasn’t a man; he was a landmark. Six-foot-five of scarred, dense muscle packed into a stretched-black security shirt. His shaved head gleamed under the club’s pulsing lights, a topographical map of old violence etched into the scalp. His flint-grey eyes scanned the crowd with bored lethality. His neck was a tree trunk merging seamlessly with shoulders like battering rams. Hands like smoked hams hung loose at his sides, knuckles a constellation of faded white scars. He smelled… dominant. An aggressive signature cut through the perfume, sweat, and street food fumes: the acrid tang of cheap cigar smoke clinging to his leather gloves, and beneath it all, the deep, sweaty, primal musk of adrenaline and pure, unadulterated testosterone. It was the smell of controlled violence, of barriers enforced, of pure strength.

Julian, three vodka-sodas deep and buzzing with entitled impatience, watched Rex effortlessly deny entry to a group of overly enthusiastic frat boys. A sneer curled Julian’s lip. Dumb muscle. All brawn, no brain. Probably peaked slamming heads together in some backwater high school gym.

"Move it, pal," Rex’s gravelly voice cut through the din as he shifted his bulk, blocking Julian’s attempt to sidestep the queue. The voice was like rocks tumbling in a cement mixer. Julian’s carefully curated cool snapped. He shoved hard against Rex’s immovable chest. It was like pushing a brick wall. "Do you know who funds this dump?" Julian spat, his voice tight with privilege and vodka. "I could buy your pathetic existence ten times over before breakfast. Dumb muscle. Bet you peaked tossing hay bales before you graduated, you walking steroid ad!"

The air crackled. The club’s pulse seemed to skip a beat. Rex didn’t flinch. The bored lethality in his eyes ignited into something colder, sharper. A slow, terrifying smile spread across his face, revealing a chipped front tooth. It wasn’t amusement; it was the grin of a shark scenting blood in the water. "Peaked, huh?" Rex rumbled, the sound vibrating deep in his massive chest. "Let's test that theory, suit." Before Julian could react, Rex’s hand, smelling strongly of smoke and sweat, clamped onto the front of his Tom Ford shirt. Fabric ripped like cheap paper. With terrifying ease, Rex lifted Julian clean off his feet and hurled him sideways into the dank, garbage-strewn mouth of the alley beside the club.

Julian slammed into a graffiti-stained brick wall, the breath exploding from his lungs in a pained wheeze. Stars exploded behind his eyes. Before he could slide down, Rex was on him. The bouncer’s massive forearm, corded muscle like braided steel cable beneath sweat-slicked skin, slammed across Julian’s collarbone, pinning him brutally against the cold, rough brick. Rex leaned in, his immense weight crushing, his face inches from Julian’s. The sensory overload hit Julian like a physical blow, a suffocating, intoxicating wave. He could only smell that deep musky scent emanating from Rex, worming its way into his nostrils and taking ahold of his mind.

"Peaked?" Rex growled, his hot, beer-and-tobacco breath washing over Julian’s face. Julian gagged, struggling weakly, his expensive cologne utterly obliterated by the scent. Rex ground his forearm harder, the rough texture of his security shirt scraping Julian’s cheek. "You think this is peaked, pretty boy?" Rex chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. "Let me show you what my peak really feels like. Let’s see how long you last."

Rex pressed his sweat-slicked armpit directly against Julian’s mouth and nose, a brutal, intimate suffocation. Julian’s eyes bulged in terror. He had no choice but to breathe. He inhaled deeply, desperately, sucking in the toxic, hypnotic cocktail of Rex’s essence. The complex equations of hedge funds, the social maneuvering, the carefully curated image - it all dissolved in the face of this brutal, overwhelming sensory reality. A terrifying, paradoxical euphoria began to bloom in Julian’s core, cold and heavy as a lead weight. A low, resonant hum started deep in his chest, syncing with the phantom thump of the club’s bass and Rex’s own powerful heartbeat vibrating through the crushing forearm.

A sickening, wet CRUNCH echoed in the alley as Julian’s spine, perpetually held in a posture of arrogant ease, violently reformed. Vertebrae thickened, fused, snapped ramrod straight, punching his shoulders back with brutal force. Clavicles flared wide, shoulder blades slammed together like armored plates. His rib cage expanded with a series of sharp pops, lungs forcing in deep, ragged breaths that tasted of Rex’s sweat and brick dust. He was pinned, yet he was growing, filling the space Rex crushed him into. The Tom Ford shirt tore further, seams screaming. A guttural groan, more pleasure than pain, escaped Julian’s constricted throat - the sound of structure imposed.

Blinding, blissful heat erupted within Julian. It wasn't fire; it was liquid power, molten iron pouring into his limbs. Across his back, trapezius muscles swelled into dense, mountainous slabs, bunching and knotting under skin rapidly thickening like hide. Deltoids erupted into cannonball curves, stretching the remnants of his shirt into useless ribbons. His biceps inflated, veins rising like blue highways beneath rapidly toughening skin. Forearms thickened into corded pillars of sinew and bone, the delicate tendons of a financier’s hand vanishing under burgeoning power. His pectorals bulged, pressing hard against Rex’s forearm. The sheer mass was incredible - dense, hard, functional power forged for impact, not aesthetics. He strained against Rex’s pin, not to escape, but to feel the incredible strength surging within him. Sweat - his sweat now, hot, salty, potent – burst from his pores, mingling with Rex’s on his skin, creating a new, shared musk.

Prickling heat ignited across Julian’s scalp. His meticulously styled hair darkened, coarsened, then vanished entirely as a brutal, gleaming buzz cut erupted, identical to Rex’s, rasping against the brick. Then the sensation became a wildfire, raging downwards, as thick, dark stubble exploded across his jawline and chin, coarse and untamed, framing a mouth forced into a hard, challenging line. His neck thickened visibly, tendons standing out like steel cables, merging with his broadening shoulders. A faint white line, a perfect match to Rex’s eyebrow scar, burned across his left brow.

A dense pelt of dark, wiry hair carpeted his swelling chest and exploded across his entire back, thickest between the shoulder blades. His forearms became furred, the hair thickest around wrists and elbows already looking capable of snapping bones. Scars bloomed: A jagged white line seared across his ribs (knife fight, 2015). A cluster of small, circular burns dotted his right forearm (cigarette ends, 2018). The knuckles of his enlarging hands cracked and thickened, old scar tissue forming instantly over the swelling knobs – a perfect match to Rex’s constellation of violence. He scratched his massively hairy chest, the coarse hair rasping gloriously under his thickening fingers. A deep, rumbling growl vibrated in his barrel chest – pure satisfaction. Intelligence felt like a foreign language. Think? Why think? Threat. Contain. Remove. His scent deepened: the potent, hormonal musk of a man radiating physical threat, layered over the primal, aggressive base note of Rex’s legacy. It mingled fiercely, indistinguishable now.

Pressure, relentless and crushing, remolded Julian’s refined features beneath the emerging beard and stubble. His defined cheekbones flattened into broad, weathered slabs. His nose thickened slightly at the bridge, nostrils flaring wide like Rex’s, constantly scenting for challenge. His lips thinned, permanently set in that hard, disdainful line or the challenging smirk Rex wore. Behind the newly scarred brow, Julian’s intelligent, calculating eyes hardened. The color deepened to flint-grey, losing their anxious dart, gaining Rex’s cold, assessing, perpetually bored-yet-dangerous stare. Permanently narrowed. Radiating impatience and latent aggression. He tried to scream, to beg, but his vocal cords thickened, coarsened. What emerged was a guttural grunt, deep and resonant, vibrating in his thickened throat. "Gnnngh!" It felt right. Solid. He forced air through the new pipes. "Off… me…" The words were clumsy, stripped of nuance, mirroring Rex’s gravelly bark. His vocabulary collapsed: Line. ID. Out. Trouble. Move. Complex thoughts dissolved into tactical imperatives. Julian Thorne? Vortex Capital? Portfolio? Meaningless static drowned by the phantom roar of a crowd being controlled.

As the physical transformation locked into place - his frame now identically massive to Rex’s, straining the materializing black security shirt, thick neck identical, scars perfectly mirrored, buzz cut gleaming under the alley’s single bulb – the mental rewrite detonated. Julian Thorne wasn't just forgotten; he was annihilated. Vivid, concrete memories, raw and visceral, flooded the blissful blankness, absolute and unquestionable. They weren't implanted; they were recovered. His memories: The satisfying weight of a gun under his arm - his weapon. Balanced. Familiar. Always. The smell of gun oil a comfort. The feel of his meaty fists gripping a squirming drunk’s collar before tossing him into the alley. The rasp of fabric, the jerk of resistance. The specific, comforting reek of "The Grind" - the pre-shift dive bar: stale beer, fried grease, cigar smoke, liniment, and the potent, mingled musk of the Malone twins and the other door guys. His bar. His crew. The taste of cheap whiskey, neat, burning a familiar path. The scar on his ribs? A flickering memory - the alley behind the bar, 2015. The glint of the shiv, the hot burn as it slid in, his own roar of fury, the satisfying crunch of the fucker’s nose under his elbow. Shoulda broken his neck. The cigarette burns, a haze of smoke, laughter, some idiot rookie thinking he was tough, pressing the lit end to his forearm. The searing pain, the roar, the table flipping, the satisfying thud of the rookie hitting the wall. Lesson learned. His busted knuckles. A bottle swung at his head. A drunk spitting on his boots. Some Wall Street prick shoving him… this prick… The crunch of cartilage, the spray of blood, the heavy weight of a body slumping. Just another night. Rex? Not his tormentor. His twin brother. His partner. His blood. The only person who truly understood the sacred code of the rope. The shared memories of countless battles, shared victories, shared pain. The unshakeable bond forged in spilled beer and spilled blood. The name surfaced: Rex Malone. It vibrated in his chest, solid. Real. His name. The suit? Not him. The enemy. Soft. Weak. Ugly. Intelligence wasn’t lost; it was a useless burden discarded. Dumb was clarity. Dumb was strength. The intricate calculations of Julian were not just gone; they were an alien, pathetic joke. Hedge fund? Hit the fund manager. Harder. Euphoria, pure and primal, surged through him. This wasn’t a change; it was remembering who he always was.

"Rex," he rumbled, the name a perfect fit, his voice now identical to Rex’s gravel. "Yeah. Rex." He grinned, the chipped front tooth a perfect match. It felt right. He was Rex Malone. The Bar’s enforcer. Rex’s twin. Simple. Strong. Unburdened.

Rex felt the change complete. He saw the understanding, the recognition, in the eyes that were now mirrors of his own. He slowly, deliberately, released the crushing forearm and stepped back. His new twin didn’t slump. He rolled his massive shoulders, the seams of his manifested security shirt groaning. He stretched his thick neck, the pop-pop-pop echoing Rex’s habitual crack perfectly. He looked down at his hands – massive, hairy, scarred knuckles mirroring his brother’s. Power hummed in every dense muscle fiber. He flexed, feeling the glorious, unthinking strength.

He looked at Rex, a slow, arrogant smirk spreading across his bearded face. It wasn’t Julian’s sneer; it was Rex's signature expression of contempt for the soft and the weak. His gaze dropped to the pile of shredded Tom Ford silk and the cracked platinum Rolex lying in a puddle of alley filth near his heavy, scuffed combat boots. A perfect match to Rex’s.

"Pathetic suit," he rumbled, his voice Rex’s twin. He nudged the ruined blazer with his boot. "Wanna bounce him, partner?"

Rex’s terrifying smile returned, wider this time, flashing his own chipped tooth. He pulled a cheap cigar from his breast pocket, bit off the end, and spat it onto the Rolex. He lit it with a battered Zippo, the flame reflecting in both pairs of identical flint-grey eyes. The smoke wreathed their matching shaved heads, their mirrored scars, their identical expressions of brutal satisfaction.

"Nah, Bro," Rex exhaled a plume of acrid smoke, clapping a massive hand on his twin brother’s equally massive shoulder. The scent of violence, cigar smoke, liniment, and their combined, aggressive sweat filled the alley – the signature of the Malone twins. "Looks like he already bounced himself. Welcome back, brother."

He grinned, the expression chillingly identical. "Feels good to be home, Rex." He cracked his knuckles, the sound like snapping twigs, perfectly synced with Rex doing the same beside him. They turned as one, two immovable mountains in black, and walked back towards the thrumming chaos of the club’s entrance. The velvet rope parted before them like the Red Sea. The line shrank back, instinctively sensing the doubled, unthinking, musky power radiating from the Twin Titans of the Rope. Julian Thorne was gone, erased by the scent of violence and the sweat of the man he’d mocked. In his place stood Rex Malone, perfect, loyal, blissfully dumb mirror of the original, ready to enforce the code. Together. Forever. The alley held only the fading echo of their synchronized knuckle-cracks and the potent, lingering musk of absolute, cloned authority.

This story was voted for by my discord members! Join below to take part in polls to determine what I write! Like my content? Support me on Ko-Fi! Join my discord! https://discord.gg/Hxsx2skf6b