Bad Guys Win

Part 2 of Hassan v.s Jake

After the debate Hassan went radio silent and his fans went crazy, they couldn't believe how easily Jake won. How he couldn't even begin to argue and completely agreed with maga by the end. They left confused and worried comments on his videos, thinking he threw the debate for views, money, a prank or anything. While some also found themselves drifting to the Right just like their favorite streamer.

Jake's fans on the other hand, acted smug and didn't waste the chance to revel in the aftermath. Flooding social media with posts about Hassan finally admitting he was wrong, reposting the clip of him putting on the red hat and mocking all his fans that were still hoping it wasn't true.

"That's what happens when you go against a real Alpha LMAO"

"looks like the left lost there Rogan 😎🤣" and similar drowned out most other comments on his videos.

But after a week, Hassan finally started posting again. He posted a volg of his work outs with his new best bro Jake Paul, he had been hitting the gym and erasing the woke mind virus from his mind. MAGA hat on in every video, yelling about his old weak lib way of thinking. He was acting like a total alpha male gym bro.

"Here ya go bro, great work, that was amazing!" Hassan said, handing Jake a bottle of water after spotting his set

"FUCK yeah! Thanks bro, see I told ya this gym is better. No one complains about our hats, it's just like minded Patriots here." Jake said, wiping sweat and flexing proudly before taking the water.

"Right on, that old gym was filled with libtard pussies. So glad you got me outta there."

"Of course, that's what ya Alpha bro Jake is for! I knew you'd be a great part of MAGA" He said with a confident laugh

"What can I say? You were right bro, Trump was right about everything. Now let's get back to my place, the new stuff for the room should be here today. We can finally show the new and improved me!" Hassan said with smug confidence

When Hassan finally had his first stream since the debate, he had over 60,000 viewers. Old fans hoping to see him back to normal, Jake's fans ready to cheer on the new member of the Right Wing Pipeline. Many people joined out of morbid curiosity to see what had become of the Leftist powerhouse.

"Yo welcome back bros, yeah my set up looks a little different then some of you are used too" He said, waving his hand around the room at the new trump themed wall decor.

"Ya mean way better" Jake chimes in with a chuckle

"Yeah dude it's way better. I had to burn all that old woke commie shit...woah! Looks like we got some beta libs in the chat" Hassan looked at the comments, and saw people claiming to be his fans begging to know what has happened to him.

"this can't be real?!?😱😱"

"Yo this is a joke right"

"No f******* way!"

"...so you just gonna abandon your morals😭"

"Fuck yeah it's real! My bro, and new co-host Jake helped me FIND my morals and embrace the Maga Alpha man I was always meant to be!" He said, and flexed for the camera

"Haha he lost the debate Dumocrats! Real men admit when they wrong, and accept the truth" Jake said, drinking from a bottle of liberal tears as his fans began to flame them in chat

"GET REKT LIBTARDS"

"Bow to King Trump losers!!😈🖕🏻😈"

"Another bro sees the light 🥳"

"Welcome to the Right Hassan! Let's hear a MAGA 🇺🇸"

The masterful @c0rruptedz brings all the ideas to the table.

The apartment was tidy, the windows were welcoming in a gentle breeze, and the space smelled of lavender, just the way I liked it. I had always been a clean-cut kind of guy–it was one of the first things that my boyfriend and I had bonded over. “Cluttered space, cluttered mind” is what they always said, and boy was it true. Having the floor swept and the bed made kept me in check.

From my phone, I heard a soft ping.

“Babe,” I called out. “Maycee’s on her way!”

“Maycee who?”

“Maycee from Psych. We have our final coming up on Friday so we're gonna do some prep work together.”

Hayden strolled out of our shared bedroom. He was twunkish; as a swimmer his build had always been sculpted and shaven. Hayden was a perfect counter to my slimmer frame, which I topped off with a meticulously-styled head of luscious chestnut hair. The amount of money and time I spent on looking sharp was embarrassing.

“I’m so sorry, when did you tell me this?” Hayden knew that he was in the wrong. I was always on top of everything. 

“Hmmm…last week?” I coyly replied. “Don’t worry, Maycee and I won’t get too rambunctious.”

Hayden had been studying for his own finals, although he liked to do so in silence. “Do I know at least know this Maycee?”

“Um, maybe?” I thought for a moment. “Medium height, long brown hair, kinda loud but still nice. We have had a few classes together.”

“Wait, Maycee Evans?” Hayden’s face flopped into a frown. “Dec, I can’t stand her!”

“Really?”

“She’s siblings with Trent, one of the guys on the team,” Hayden explained. “She shows up at like every party and gets super messy. I don’t care if you want to have fun but then she always comes over to me and bitches and moans about her life. And you know why, because she LOVES gay guys. I’m talking obsessed.”

“Have you asked her to stop?” I asked.

“Yeah, and it went horribly,” Hayden sighed. “I explained that it was getting to be a bit much and she blew up on me. Full psycho. Heck, there’s probably a diagnosis for her in your textbook.”

I frowned. “I had no idea, I’m sorry. She’s already on her way though.”

Glumly, Hayden surrendered. “No, don’t worry about it. You had no idea. I’m just going to hide in the bedroom until she’s gone.”

“Ok.” A text popped up on my screen, announcing Maycee’s arrival. “I’m really sorry again.”

“You're fine,” Hayden replied, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

“I’ll bring you snacks every hour!” I shouted. Hearing Hayden chuckle behind the closed door brought a smile to my face.

— 

“Holy smokes! I had no idea your apartment was so gorgeous, Declan.”

“I had no idea anyone still said ‘Holy smokes’,” I replied, closing the door behind us.

“Seriously, I’m so jealous. This place is so nice.” Maycee strolled around the main living space, taking in every piece of furniture. The white couch Hayden and I had spent hours cleaning after purchasing it online. The perfectly aligned gallery wall filled with pictures of our friends. Even the coffee table books had a particular order to which they were laid out.

“Well, should we get to this then?” I eventually said. “I don’t know about you but I’m definitely feeling worried about this final.”

“Whatever,” Maycee scoffed, approaching the dining table. “You’re one of the smartest guys I know. And the cutest.”

Maycee ended her remark with a wink. I smiled awkwardly before taking my seat, Hayden’s prior statement flashing through my head.

“So, tell me,” Maycee started as she flipped open a textbook. “Are you currently seeing anyone?”

I shook my head. “I had no idea your procrastination tactics were so impressive.”

“Hey! I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“And I thought we were here to study.”

Maycee laughed, “Can't we do both?”

“I’ll tell you what, we can earn it,” I countered. “Let’s at least do a little work before we digress. Is that fair?”

Maycee pouted before softening into a smile. “Ok…”

We studied together for an hour, absorbing as much information as we could. Sometimes we asked each other a question or two, other times we read in silence. Every now and then, I could feel Maycee’s eyes on me. If I had had any hair on my body, it would have sprung up in these instances. But I ignored her glances and continued my work. Eventually, Maycee announced that she had to go to the bathroom.

“BRB!” 

The bathroom door locked behind her and within the same revolution the bedroom opened up. Hayden stepped out and made his way into the kitchen. 

“Just gonna grab a few things,” Hayden said in passing.

“You know, you could just come out whenever you wanted,” I teased. “This is our apartment after all.”

“Yours,” Hayden corrected, as I did in fact willingly pay a larger portion of the rent. “And no, I don’t want to interact with her.”

In less than a minute, Hayden had snatched his snacks and refilled his water bottle. He almost made it back to the bedroom unnoticed.

“You HAVE to tell me where you got this soap!” Maycee swung open the door, revealing Hayden mid-scurry. “It’s so-”

The pair locked eyes. The tension in the room grew thick.

Hayden was the one who spoke first. “Maycee…It’s uh, good to see you.”

Maycee raised an eyebrow. “Why, because I’m sober?”

“Wow, that was fast,” I said. “Look uh, Maycee, why don’t we just get back to studying.”

“Hold up, are you two…” 

Hayden and I watched as the puzzle was pieced together in her mind. Not that it was a big puzzle, but enough to momentarily silence her.

“Oh, this is just too good,” Maycee finally said. There was a darker undertone to her voice.

“Maycee, I-”

“Shut up, Hayden.”

With a flick of the wrist in his direction, Hayden’s lips snapped shut. Immediately, I knew something was off.

“Maycee, is everything alright?”

“Perfectly, Declan,” Maycee grinned. “But I think I’ll close you up for now too.”

She wove a hand towards me and my mouth instantly closed. I tried to say something in response, make any noise, but I was silenced. Hayden and I made eye contact, both stunned by this shared development.

“I’ve been meaning to get back at you for the things you said, Hayden.” Maycee’s voice had grown icy. “Because of you, I’m no longer invited to any campus parties. Trent said it ‘wasn’t healthy for me’.”

Maycee had Hayden drop what he was holding and move into the living room. It was at this point I realized I could not move.

“I honestly don’t know what Declan sees in you,” Maycee continued. “He’s one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met. Is that why you like him?”

Maycee allowed Hayden’s mouth to open so that he could reply. “Yes! I-”

“Stop.” 

Hayden’s mouth slammed shut once more. I shifted my gaze between Hayden and Maycee, unaware of what was to happen next.

“Tell me, Hayden,” Maycee’s grin returned, crueler than before. “What else do you like about Declan?”

Hayden’s face was freed, but before he could speak, Maycee specified her question.

“Let’s start physically.”

“He’s my type!”

The words came out rushed, as if the truth was being ripped from Hayden’s brain.

“And what’s your type?”

“Skinny, on the shorter side-”

Maycee cut him off and then turned her head to face me. The three of us sat in silence again for a moment–two of us forced to–as we waited for something to happen. Suddenly, I felt a strange ache blossoming through my system. Although I could not contort my frozen face much, I was able to close my eyes. When I reopened them, I was surprised to find that the room had shifted. Before, I had been just below eye-level with Maycee and had had to tilt my head to meet Hayden.

Speaking of Hayden, his eyes had dramatically widened, but I had no idea why. To be fair though, I was probably just seeing things. Being well above six feet did that to a guy, everything seemed a bit out of proportion when compared to what the average human being saw. And I was anything but average. I was not one to brag but one should recognize the hard work they had put into their body. Spending night after night in the gym for over half a decade could really create results.

Satisfied by something–I was not sure what–Maycee asked her question again. “What else?”

This time, I noticed Hayden trying to keep his mouth shut. He failed: “Twinkish-!”

I had been that way for the longest time. While all the other boys had hit puberty, I missed the cutoff. For some reason, the bus decided to pass my stop.

Until it arrived a couple of years later of course. And it made up for lost time! The other boys used to joke that I was some kind of bear thanks to the pelt of hair I had. Furry legs, furry arms, a full rug up my chest and down some of my back. I had to shave my body every day for Hayden, even if it annoyed me. But by nightfall I would already have a stubble. The hair was just too dense-

“-and odorless!”

And it brought a funk with it too! No matter how much deodorant I put on, how much body wash I lathered in, how long we kept the diffusers running, there was always a bit of my natural musk hanging around. It was on the heavier side, more footy than sweaty. Hayden and I sometimes argued over it, I tried to explain that I could not block out that locker room cloud no matter how hard I tried. But I still did, for him.

“Let’s go over some mental qualities next,” Maycee said. “What makes Declan’s personality so attractive to you, Hayden?”

“He’s clean and coordinated-”

“Is he?” Mayce taunted. Had I been able to, I would have defended myself. Was the apartment not enough evidence? Did my general attitude not prove itself? If she wanted, I could have walked over to the bedroom and grabbed the stacks of planners that I kept handy.

Well, had kept handy. I had thrown them all out because they proved to be useless. I just went with the flow, wherever the wind took me. Why would I need to be so anal about everything? Money, politics, even my hair, which was just one simple scoop of product to swoop the dull brown up into something manageable for the day.

The apartment set the scene too: dishes piled up in the sink, dirty laundry scattered across the floor. I was sure Maycee had spotted the yellow stains around the toilet bowl, and the floor. Who cared about all this crap? It was just too difficult to freak out about it all when there were more fun things in life, like drinking and working out and having sex. Hayden did not agree with me, except for that last part sometimes.

“What else?”

“-he’s thoughtful!”

Hayden’s eyes were tearing up. No matter how rocky the current situation and our relationship at large were, I still felt for him. I was worried about him. I wanted to know why he was in pain, why he was so worried. I wanted to know-

…I wanted to know why he was being such a bitch. I wanted to know how much longer this stupid magical interrogation was going to take. I was getting sick of Maycee and even more sick of my pathetic situationship. Yeah, we were both gay and yeah, we sometimes fucked, but it was not like serious or anything. A hole should not have feelings attached, you know? I have more important things to care about: my wants and needs.

As if having witnessed some horrible event, silent streams began to flow down Hayden’s frozen face. God he was such a fucking loser.

“Hayden, don’t cry,” Maycee frowned. “It makes you look so messy.”

Hayden’s eyes grew red.

“Our boy Declan here is almost finished, but I think there’s just one more thing we’re missing.”

Hayden's tears stopped, the floodgates closed.

“This is kind of a leading question but, Hayden, in regards to sexuality, would you say that Declan is your type?”

“-yEs!” Hayden choked out.

“And why’s that?”

Hayden’s red face grew purple. Whatever he was about to say, he did not want it to escape. 

“--because…he’s...gAY!”

Hayden gasped for breath, finally freed from Maycee’s power. I however remained frozen, forced to continue watching the scene before me. Hayden’s muscular frame was covered in sweat, his body begging for someone’s aid. Someone to tell him everything was alright. Someone to tell him he was loved.

Obviously though, that was not going to be me. It was not my fault the faggot was, well, whatever the way he was. Plus, why was I supposed to give a fuck about him when I instead could stare at the juicy breasts pushing out the front of Maycee's shirt. How had I never noticed the size of those knockers before? Despite being frozen, my thick schlong began throbbing against the seams of my smelly gym shorts.

“I hope you’ve learned something from this, Hayden,” Maycee said. Suddenly, I felt a certain looseness to my body. I had finally been freed of whatever had been holding me in place. The first thing I did was let out a juicy fart, adding to the wet, masculine blanket of stench that suffocated the room. Then, after giving my hungry pouch a hard squeeze, I shifted over to Maycee, placing an invisible line between us and the homo.

“Baby, you done yet?” I asked impatiently, slapping one of my mitts onto her soft ass and giving it a squeeze. “I wanna dump a load, pronto.”

Maycee smiled, “I think we are, Derek.” She said my name like there was some kind of double meaning behind it. “Hayden was just about to leave. After all, it's probably too messy here for him.”

I blinked, bored and too horny to play into whatever she was getting at. “Yeah, uh, sure.”

Not bothering to wait for the stranger’s departure, I picked my girl up and brought her to the bedroom. The walls were covered in miscellaneous trophies and jerseys, like the one I was wearing. Within moments, I had her on the bed with my fat cock driving deep into her, ready to unload. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the faggot watching us from the doorframe, but I did not mind giving him a free show. Not like he was ever going to get a piece of this anyway.

Baker Mayfield, QB, Tampa Bay Buccaneers

After his lunch, Jack landed back in the office at his cubicle. He put the AWO bag under his desk out of the way so that nobody could see it. He felt like he had been scammed and that he opened himself up to a bunch of phone calls and text messages talking about the latest greatest supplement that will make him a man after four easy payments of 49.95.

“Hey, how did the walk go?” Alan said about twenty minutes later as he stopped behind Jack’s desk with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Hmm? Fine I guess,” Jack replied. For a moment, he was both annoyed at Alan interrupting him and that Alan was concerned about him.

Jack looked at Alan and the smile on his face. “What the hell are you smiling about?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Alan said. “I never thought you would go shopping on your lunch break. What did you get Mister ‘I don’t spend money on anything’?”

“Very funny,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. He thought he had hid the bag so that nobody would notice it. “Just a shirt I saw in a window. Probably won’t wear it. And just for the record I do spend money on things.”

“Things that you need to survive on,” Alan countered. “But spending money on yourself? That’s never happened as long as I knew you.”

“Very funny,” Jack said as he saw Annie walk up to the cubicle to join them. “Hey Annie. What can I do for you? Here to complain about how cheap I am?”

“Excuse me?” Annie said. “No, just wondering if the walk helped clear your head a bit. I know you’ve been under a bit of pressure lately.”

“It did honestly,” Jack replied. “Now if I could get people to stop sending me e-mails with problems they know how to fix things would be so much better.”

Annie frowned slightly and looked at Alan. “I didn’t know people were doing that,” she said. “They’re supposed to be sending that to the help desk. I’ll send an e-mail out to tell people to stop that.”

“No,” Jack replied. “I got it. I need to start standing up for myself anyway around here.”

“Just try to be nice about it all right?” Annie said as she nodded to Alan and Jack.

“What has gotten into you?” Alan asked. “That walk really did something didn’t it?”

“What?” Jack asked. “No. It was just a walk. Just got tired of all these e-mails that’s all. I’ve got my own work to deal with.”

“I’ll leave you to those e-mails, killer,” Alan said as he walked away with a chuckle.

“Thanks,” Jack responded as he turned back to his computer and composed a polite e-mail telling everybody that if they had any questions about anything to e-mail the help desk. He was glad to help people with difficult situations and the like but that was his tolerance level.

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a blur. Jack was able to get some work done as the help e-mails dried up pretty quickly. Every time his foot would go up against the AWO back, he sighed and realized that he needed to get rid of it when he got home. Everything about that store felt wrong, like it was a dream. No.. more like a nightmare.

Right before it was quitting time, an e-mail from one of his co-workers came in and Jack, without thinking about it, slammed his fist on his desk. “Goddamn it,” he muttered under his breath. “Doesn’t anybody fucking read e-mails any more?”

He started to write a nasty response to the person but took a deep breath and stopped himself. Instead, he deleted it and responded back simply that going forward all help requests that were not complicated needed to go to the help desk so it could free up time for him to do things that needed to get done.

Jack grabbed the AWO bag and headed home. As he sat on the subway, his cell phone went off and he sighed. If it was another stupid e-mail from work, he was going to blow his stack. But this time, it was not.

It was an e-mail confirming his appointment at the AWO store:

Jack:

This e-mail is to confirm your Stage 2 session.

You have chosen the Genetic Freak archetype.

Wear the shirt when you arrive. Be ready.

This is not a costume.

This is the new you.

Jack frowns and immediately moves the e-mail to the trash on his phone. No, he was not going to go down that fucking rabbit hole again. There was no reason for him to even think about it. Honestly, the whole thing felt like it was something that he was going to automatically be signed up for and after six months of payments be told that he couldn’t unsubscribe without going through several nearly impossible hoops.

 When Jack finally got back to the apartment that he and his soon to be ex-wife shared, he sighed as he looked around and noticed the big gaping holes where his wife had taken things. The living room was a mess and the bathroom wasn’t much better with a massive pile of laundry that was about to start moving if Jack didn't take care of it sooner or later. He didn’t even notice that he had put the AWO back down and that it had tipped over on its side causing the AWO shirt he had bought to fall out onto the floor.

He grabbed something out of the fridge to quickly make for dinner and sighed again as he looked at the dining room table and saw the divorce papers lying on them waiting for him to sign them. His wife had asked him a couple of times before to sign them so that she could move on with her life. He didn’t want to close that chapter of his life, Jack thought to himself. Besides, signing those papers made him feel more like a transaction, something for his ex-wife to move on from so she could find somebody else.

Walking into the living room, Jack sat down and realized the AWO bag had fallen over and the shirt he had bought was lying on the table. He grabbed it and chuckled as he lifted him up. “What a fucking douchebag falling for this shit,” he said to nobody in particular. Besides the shirt, there was an AWO armband in the bag along with a Stage 2 appointment card.

Jack put the shirt down and grabbed his food and started to eat it. Every few minutes as he watched television and trying to forget about everything on, his eyes went back to the shirt just sitting there. Finally, he said to himself that he was going to try it on once and then it was going to get thrown into the garbage like the rest of his former life.

He took off his work shirt and put the AWO shirt on and immediately frowned. He had always worn a size large shirt no matter if it was a T-shirt or a work shirt but the AWO shirt actually felt tight on him. It wasn’t uncomfortably tight, just tight. He walked into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror and tried not to laugh.

Shirts like the one he was wearing were for guys who actually had a body that would impress women or depending on their point of view, other men. For Jack, the shirt showed exactly what was wrong with him physically and that was basically everything. He was slightly overweight, didn’t fill out the sleeves with his muscles and the logo across the front just felt wrong.

As he stood there, Jack instinctively raised his right bicep and flexed. He laughed and stopped flexing and put his arm down. Genetic freak indeed. But he looked at himself in the mirror again and thought back to the image that he saw in the AWO store. He adjusted his stance, the look in his eyes and even a bit of a smirk trying to recapture the image that he saw.

“What the fuck are you doing Jack?” he said as he immediately reverted back to his normal ‘non-asshole’ self. He took off the shirt immediately and walked into the bedroom and put it on the bed. Walking back into the living room, he grabbed the shirt that he had been wearing and put it back on and tried somehow to relax.

But relaxing was not in the cards tonight. Jack kept on thinking back to the store and the Genetic Freak. Grabbing his laptop, Jack started going through Youtube clips finding the wrestler that the archetype had been based upon. Even though he didn’t know wrestling that well, Jack knew that the New World Order had been one of the greatest heel factions of all time that shook up wrestling when they were active.

Watching old clips, Jack noticed the guy known as Scott Steiner and the image in the mirror hit him like a ton of bricks. Here was a guy that wasn’t afraid to take up space and didn’t apologize for anything. He even wore chainmail on his head during entrances and sunglasses. He looked like a roided freak and Jack immediately laughed at the videos but noticed the women that surrounded him and the massive ego and confidence that the wrestler had. Everything that Jack didn’t have.

The next few days, Jack tried to keep his brain on the right track and off whatever rabbit hole he was going down with the Genetic Freak issue. He had struggled to sleep with dreams or just half dreams where he was walking through a hall of mirrors, each mirror showing him transforming into the Genetic Freak with the last one him laughing at the reflection of two women in bikinis standing next to him holding on what was turning out to be massive biceps.

Work was just being work but even more annoying than usual. He had to catch himself a few times not to write an e-mail that would have gotten a strong reprimand from Annie or somebody else up in the company. The problem was that the people he worked with seemingly couldn’t get through their thick heads with basic concepts.

One afternoon, Alan stopped by and saw Jack looking at his computer as though he was about to throw it through a window. 

“You all right man?” Alan asked.

Jack sighed and nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Just co-workers being stupid as per usual.”

“Stupid?” Alan said. “Really? You get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning or something?”

“Huh?” Jack said. “Sorry. Just having trouble sleeping and trying to get a few things in order personally.”

“Is your divorce finally going through?” Alan asked.

“I’m signing the papers when I get home tonight,” Jack replied.

“And then you’re going to celebrate?” Alan said.

“Why the fuck would I celebrate my wife and I divorcing jackass?” Jack said. “Just like everything else, my marriage is a fucking failure.”

Alan took a step back as Jack’s voice had been raised and other people noticed. “Dude,” Alan said. “Relax. I meant that as a joke.”

“Bad fucking joke,” Jack replied as he turned back to his computer. “Just leave me alone all right?”

“All right… all right. Jeez… take a fucking chill pill dude,” Alan said he walked away leaving Jack to carry on with his work.

Jack immediately wanted to send or message Alan an apology. He didn’t know what came over him and he needed to lighten up a bit. The problem was that Jack always seemingly took jokes like that and laughed it off. It was the first time in a while that he had stood up for himself and say how he really felt about the situation. And a part of him felt good even though he knew that what happened was wrong.

The next couple of days at work had Jack seemingly isolated from everybody. Alan had landed up going out of town for a business trip and Annie was dealing with family issues. So as per usual Jack stared at his computer screen and just went about his business.

A week from the day he went to the AWO shop in the first place, Jack got a reminder about his appointment for Stage 2 that was set for 6:30 PM. He finished work at 5 and there was no way in hell he was going to wait around for 90 minutes for an appointment that there was no point in going to.

When work was over, Jack walked out of the office building making sure that he didn’t land up going anywhere near that street with the AWO store on it. He walked down another street and down into the subway to catch the train home to his apartment so that he could finish up the divorce paperwork and have a beer. He shouldn’t have snapped at Alan like that. That whole conversation a few days still pissed Jack off.

As he stood there waiting for his train, Jack kept on trying to get that fucking store of his mind. But then he thought about all of the times he had not taken a risk, not taken the first step and instead played it safe. Here was an opportunity to see what could come of a choice that he consciously made but instead he was running away back to his safe spot.

Taking a deep breath, Jack shook his head. Not this time. He had walked away from opportunity before but not this time. He got out of line for the subway and actually pushed a couple people out of the way so that he could get to where he needed to go. He ignored the protests that he heard as people weren’t happy with Jack’s attitude towards them.

He walked into the subway bathroom and took off his work shirt. Without even realizing that he had put it on this morning, the AWO shirt was there and it still had that comfortable tight fight that Jack had expected. He stood there looking in the smudged mirror and smiled. If he was going to do this, he needed to fucking do it.

Standing outside the AWO store, seeing it again, Jack smiled and walked in. Unlike the first time where the entire store felt staged, over the top and honestly off putting, this time Jack noticed that it was efficient and powerful. Austin Theory was on the screens showing off his muscles and Jack smiled to himself at the arrogance and self-assuredness that Theory was showing.

The staff member, or at least Jack thought it was the same guy, walked over and smiled. “I knew you would be back,” he said.

Jack looked at him and immediately his defenses came up. “Just wanting to see what Stage 2 feels like,” he said. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

The staff chuckled and shook his head. “Brother, that’s what everybody says before they stop lying to themselves,” he said. “Shirt looks good on you by the way. Better than you thought it would probably.”

Jack nodded and was about to say something but the staff smiled and said, “Don’t have to answer that brother. Time to get you settled.”

Jack was led back into one of the back rooms of the store. There was a raised platform in the center of it with a number of screens on the walls filled with data points. On one of the screens was his personal information along with a personality assessment. On another screen there was the Genetic Freak archetype that he had chosen with both physical and personal traits listed that were as far from where Jack was as humanly possible.

A door opened that Jack didn’t realize existed in one wall and a young woman dressed in an AWO shirt and jeans walked in with a clipboard in her hand. She smiled as she looked at Jack and then at the staff member at the door.

“You must be Jack,” she said, walking over and shaking his hand. “My name is Cindy and I’ll be starting Stage 2 for you today. First off, I need you to take everything off except your underwear and stand on the platform in the center of the room.”

“You are wearing underwear brother right?” the staff member said with a smile.

Jack looked at him and rolled his eyes as he proceeded to strip down until he was just standing in his underwear.  “Boxer briefs,” Cindy said. “Hmm. That’ll definitely change as you change. Now, let’s get you on the platform and see what we’re working with all right.”

The next ten minutes was filled with Jack being poked and prodded by Cindy, measuring basic things like height and weight but also body composition, grip strength, overall posture and resting heart rate. It was like Jack was going for his annual checkup at his primary care doctor. The other thing that he was assumed with was that the staff member was standing there watching him with a smirk on his face.

“Something funny?” Jack said as Cindy walked over to a terminal and punched some data in.

“Funny?” the response came. “No. You’ve got potential brother. You’re not starting from nothing. You need to just stop denying that you can be better.”

Cindy finally finished with whatever she was doing and the Genetic Freak profile that Jack had chosen a week ago came up on the screen. The words Mass. Loyalty. Mouth. Presence. Dominance were listed next to the screen and Cindy looked at Jack and nodded.

“Interesting choice,” she said. “The most obvious trait is muscle gain. But besides that, the Genetic Freak is meant to take up space, to dominate those around him and making sure he doesn’t apologize for anything. His ego is king and everybody around him knows that. You are embarrassed right now by standing there like a slab of meat. I can see it on your face. That starts to change today.”

Jack laughed nervously and Cindy and the staff member both looked at him as though he did something wrong. “What did I do?” Jack asked.

“That laugh,” Cindy said. “First thing we’re getting rid of.”

Cindy motioned Jack over to the wall and a reflection of how he looked at the moment stared back. He flinched at what he was seeing. Cindy looked over the staff member and said, “Terry get over here and show Jack here how it’s done.”

“Yes ma’am,” Terry said with a grin. He walked over to where Jack was standing and immediately pointed out things that needed to change. His feet were too close together, he slouched slightly instead of standing up straight. He needed to look straight into the mirror with confidence instead of wondering if he was doing things good enough.

“Brother,” Terry said as he moved Jack’s body into a particular position. “Don’t fucking apologize for who you are. You aren’t a weak man. Stand there like you deserve to be the center of attention.”

After a minute of Jack getting his body to cooperate, Terry nodded. “Getting better,” he said. “Give me a smirk for good measure will you.”

Jack attempted a smirk but immediately laughed and he shook his head. “I look like a fucking idiot,” he said.

“No,” Cindy replied from where she was standing. “You’re not an idiot. You’re starting to belong and be who you are supposed to be. Different things entirely.”

“Now what?” Jack said as he looked at himself in the mirror. “Do I hop up and down on one leg while you take pictures to post to Instagram showing yet another idiot being taken to the cleaners?”

“First,” Terry said. “Stop that. You came in here looking to change yourself for the better. And that’s what is happening. Fucking knock it off.”

“Second,” Cindy said. “I need you to repeat after me. This is not a costume. This is not fake. This is the new me.”

Jack turned and looked at Cindy and frowned. At first he shook his head because he felt that what he was doing was entirely fake. He looked at Terry and then back at the mirror. Nobody said anything for a minute but then Jack repeated what he had been told to repeat.

“This is not a costume. This is not fake. This is the new me,” he said softly.

“Say it like you mean it brother,” Terry said. “You know you want to. Stop worrying about what everybody thinks and focus on you for a second.”

“Again,” Cindy said.

This time Jack said it with more confidence but not enough confidence it seemed. He had to repeat it two more times before Jack accepted the fact that this was going to be his new identity.

“This is not a costume. This is not fake. This is the new me,” he said forcibly and he noticed there was a hint of arrogance in his voice as well.

Cindy and Terry nod almost in unison. “Good,” Cindy said. “Now we’re going to take you through what we call focus training. Just look at the screen, breathe, listen and try to focus on the fact of the person you are becoming and what you are leaving behind.”

The lighting in the room slowly began to become more focused but quieter as Jack looked at the screen in front of him. He heard a soft beating in the background, rhythmic in nature that allowed his mind to focus on it, breathing in and out with the beats and all of the stress and uncertainty he had previously felt started to dissipate.

He watched as a series of images flashed before him, one after another of the Genetic Freak posing in different ways followed by words like Arrogance, Power, Determination, Attitude flashed across the screen. At some point, Jack realized his lips were moving with the words. He did not remember deciding to read them. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the screen turned off and the light in the room went back to normal. Cindy was working at a console probably resetting it back to normal. Terry walked over to where Jack was standing and asked, “Brother, how do you feel?”

“I’m not sure how I feel honestly,” Jack said as he looked at Cindy. “How did I do?”

“Within expected parameters,” Cindy replied. “I suggest getting your clothes on and then I need you to do one more thing for me.”

Jack stepped off the platform and had to catch himself as a wave of dizziness came over him. Terry took a step towards him but Jack shook his head. He took a deep breath and grabbed his clothes and put them back on. First though he held the AWO shirt in his hands and for the first time he smiled and didn’t feel like a loser for putting it on.

“Now, one final question,” Cindy said. “Look at the screen and give us your honest answer.”

Jack walked over to the screen and the words appeared:

Stage 2 Progression requires active confirmation.

Do you confirm your continued ascent?

Starting at the screen and thinking back over where Jack was in his life: the deadend job, people walking all over him, his ex-wife about to enjoy her freedom while he felt like he was stuck in neutral. All of that came rushing back to him in an instant. He looked down at the shirt he was wearing and then at Terry.

He nodded and smiled. “Yes,” he said. “I want to continue.”

After the screen went blank, Jack stood there and actually looked at himself in the mirror. The shirt, instead of some sort of cosplay, now felt that it belonged. There was an intensity that Jack hadn’t felt in a long time. It was strange but it felt like his body was coming alive.

“There he is,” Terry said with a grin.

“There who is?” Jack said not even noticing that Cindy had left the room.

“The one who you came in here looking for brother,” Terry replied as he led Jack out of the back room and then out the door into the street.

Jack stood there for a moment, looking at everything around him and he realized it felt a bit smaller. The noise of the city wasn’t nearly as chaotic and overwhelming. Everything felt better. Jack looked at himself in the glass of the store and smiled at what he saw. He didn’t look away quickly this time.

For the first time in months, Jack did not feel tired.

He felt unfinished. He felt that he taken the first step to something greater.

And above else, he wanted to know what came next.

Jack sat at his office cubicle and sighed for what had to have been the fifth time in the last hour. He was getting bombarded by e-mails from people in his department asking him questions about things that they should have known to begin with. He had his own projects and issues to deal with so he didn’t have time to deal with everybody else’s problems.

“Dude?” somebody said from behind him. “Everything all right?”

Jack turned back and saw his co-worker Alan standing there with a cup of coffee in his hand and a look of concern on his face. Alan had been with the company a couple more months than Jack had been and he was actually in an entirely different department now. But when Jack started working there, Alan was the guy who sat in the cubicle next to him.

“Everything is fucking perfect,” Jack replied. “Sorry. Just a long morning with people asking me about things… yeah… never mind.”

Alan took a sip of his coffee and nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “You know Mabel? She went on vacation last week and locked herself out of all of her stuff. She’s been dealing with IT all morning.”

“Oh god,” Jack said chuckling. “How has that gone?”

“Let’s just say that I’ve heard words come out of Mabel’s mouth that I didn’t think were possible,” Alan said. “But seriously. You look like you need a break. Go out and take a walk. Grab some food. Do something besides staring at that stupid screen hating yourself.”

Jack closed his eyes. “I really need to finish working on these files for Starkist,” he said. He looked at Alan whose look had changed to the ‘you better get your ass out of here’ look that could kill.

“Fine fine,” Jack replied as he got up from the chair. “I get it. Yes Dad.”

“Good,” Alan replied. “Oh and by the way. Jack. Take out the garbage when you get home. Last week you forgot and I had to do it.”

Jack laughed and mock saluted. “Yes sir!” he said as he walked away from his desk for a while.

A walk would do him good for sure. As he walked towards the stairs, he looked as his supervisor Annie and said, “Hey. I need to take a walk and get some fresh air. I’ll be back in a bit okay?”

Annie smiled and nodded. “Good. If Alan didn’t get you to get out of here, I’d have done it for him,” she said.

He stopped at that. “Oh, I see… it’s a conspiracy. You sent Alan to do your dirty work,” Jack said arching an eyebrow.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that statement,” Annie said. “Get out of here. Take an hour lunch. Go to the park. Take a nap… do something besides work.”

Jack nodded and walked out of the office and out into the fresh air. He wasn’t one to actually land up taking lunches and he sure didn’t take hour lunches unless he absolutely had to. But today he was going to try his damnedest to actually listen to what other people were telling him and take a full lunch.

Without really thinking about it, Jack started to walk and let his mind wander. With everything that was going on in his personal life and work life, it was hard to keep everything straight. His wife of five years had asked for a divorce because she no longer loved him. The company he had worked for had gone through two mergers since he had started working there and rumors were that layoffs were on the horizon because profits weren’t good enough.

But for now, Jack needed to talk and forget about things. About ten minutes in, he turned the corner onto a sidestreet and came across a store that he didn’t remember being there before. There had been a gym boutique there the last time Jack had walked this way but that must have been a few months ago because things had obviously changed.

“What the hell?” Jack muttered as he saw the sign above the door saying ALPHA WORLD ORDER: THIS IS NOT A COSTUME.

Jack looked both ways to see if anybody was coming down the street and shrugged. Might as well take a look through the window and see what the hell was going on. What Jack saw was something strange. There were racks of merchandise for something called the Alpha World Order. Red accent lighting with screens on which a guy who Jack thought he recognized was talking about something that he couldn’t make out. There was a small gym area in one corner with a guy standing there with his arms crossed. Another guy was standing behind the counter and everything looked… polished… aggressive and honestly a bit off putting.

Standing out there for a minute Jack was totally lost as to what the hell he was looking at. Was it some sort of wrestling cosplay store? A gym? Some influencer brand store? Oh fuck… if it was that then it was probabiy a scam.

But Jack didn’t care and if it allowed him to forget about his job and home life for a few minutes, so much the fucking better.

He opened the door and immediately felt a cool and fresh breeze. The guy on the screen he recognized as one of the better known professional wrestlers Austin Theory. Although Jack wasn’t a huge wrestling fan and he hadn’t kept up with all of the stuff going on, he would watch a show here and there just to escape from things. The music was low and pulsing, almost throbbing. It didn’t give Jack a headache like most music did. It felt… relaxing.

The walls were black, the shirts organized and everything was clean and orderly. He felt a bit almost uncomfortable by the entire situation but Jack didn’t want to be a wimp and run out the door as soon as he walked inside.

He walked over to one of the racks and it was filled with AWO merchandise. There were black compression shirts as well as regular T-Shirts. On another rack nearby were shorts for gym use and every day wear all with the AWO branding and everything looked clean and solid.

He heard bootsteps behind him and saw a man walking towards him. He was wearing a tight AWO shirt, black jeans. He had a mustache that reminded Jack of an old school wrestler along with a bandana. The confidence that was coming off the guy was shocking to say the least. Jack involuntarily took a step back and almost hit the rack behind him.

“Brother,” the man said. “You all right? Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Sorry,” Jack replied as he composed himself quickly. “Just browsing.”

The man shook his head as he looked at Jack. “You didn’t come in to just browse,” he said. “There’s something more right?”

Jack frowned at the forwardness of the salesperson. “Great way to do a sales pitch,” he said. “Call a person a liar.”

“No,” the man said. “I didn’t do that. But you came in here for a reason didn’t you? What was it?”

“Fuck,” Jack said. “I honestly have no clue. I just needed a break from things you know? And… well…”

“Well what?” the man asked.

“Something here I kind of like,” Jack replied after a moment.

“The Alpha World Order is for everybody,” the man said. “We’re not here for cosplay or to become a fanboy. We’re here to offer the opportunity to unlock the version of yourself that you were always afraid to claim.”

“So you are a cult… or a scam…” Jack said as he shook his head and headed towards the door. “Pyramid scheme or whatever. Work on somebody who isn’t as smart as me.”

“Cult? Scam? Brother, if that helps you feel smarter, use whatever word you want. But you’re still standing here.” 

Jack sighed and shook his head. Honestly, anything would be better than what he was dealing with right now in his personal and professional life.

“Fine,” Jack said as he closed the door. “Let me look some more.”

“We’ve got a fine number of options to choose from,” the man said as Jack closed the door. “Go back to the Gallery. Take a look at what we have to offer you.”

The man pointed to a corner of the store where there was touchscreens. Jack chuckled and nodded and headed over to the Gallery and started looking and touching.

Immediately, Jack was watching a number of what were called Alpha Archetypes showed on the screen. Each archetype had characteristics, personality traits, physical attributes and the like. It was like playing a video game where the player was figuring out character generation.

Going through them he saw some like The Pretty Boy Idol, The Influencer, The Enforcer, The Champion, The Alpha Muse and others. The screens seemingly went on and on and Jack began to get more and more interested. What the fuck was going on here? Whatever it was it sure got him intrigued.

Ten minutes later, Jack was flipping through the archetypes again. Each of them called to him a different way but none of them fit perfectly. Finally, he found an archetype that was labelled The Genetic Freak. The description below it was straightforward to say the least: Unapologetic mass. Unfiltered mouth. Unchecked dominance. Become the man they cannot look away from.

Jack chuckled and sighed. Wow… talk about everything he was not. For a moment, he didn’t do anything but then saw that button at the bottom and he pushed it. Immediately, a screen to his left on the wall lit up and began to go through a list of traits for the Genetic Freak.

Finally, the screen projected Jack not as he was at that moment, but what he could have been. This version of Jack had broader shoulders, biceps to die for. He was wearing a tight black compression AWO tank top and an AWO armband that barely fit around his bicep. His pants were black and he was wearing black shoes. In the image, his hair was blond and cut short and he was wearing sunglasses that made him look dominant and like a douchebag.

But without thinking about it, Jack flexed and the image flexed back. A part of him was fucking embarssed to say the least but at the same time, something inside of him felt excited by the proposition. What the hell was he thinking? He needed to get fucking out of the store and back to reality.

He turned to walk out of the Gallery and the man from the front desk walked up to him. “Looks like you found it,” he said.

“If I want to look like a musclebound douchebag who doesn’t have a brain cell,” Jack said as he chuckled.

“And what’s wrong with that?” the man asked. “What’s wrong with opening yourself to the possibility of changing for the better?”

“And that’s what you did I take it?” Jack countered with.

“I did,” the man replied. “Three months ago I was in the same place you were. I took a chance and this is where I am today. And let me tell you brother, I am so much happier now than back then.”

“So…” Jack said after a minute trying to think of a way to stop this entire thing. “How much would this cost me?”

The man shook his head. “Stage 1 is about choosing. No payment, no obligation,” he replied. “You’ll need to answer a few questions and in a week’s time, you’ll come back for the next stage. But if it doesn’t feel real… or its a scam, then you can walk away and never come back.”

Jack sighed and looked around the store. He knew that he needed to get out of there. He knew that this was all a scam and that he needed to stop. But deep down, beneath the doubts, he needed to be something more. Maybe going on lunch was the world’s way of bringing him to this point so that he could take a chance.

“Fine,” Jack said. “Let’s do this.”

The man smiled and said, “Brother you won’t regret this. Let’s get you started.”

A few moments later, Jack was led into a smaller room that was quieter than the main floor. The walls were black. There was an AWO banner behind a desk on which there was a laptop. Jack sat down in the chair and looked at the laptop and saw The Genetic Freak profile staring back at him.

The salesman sat down on the other side of the desk and said, “I’m going to need to ask you a few questions to better align our program with your choices. If you don’t feel comfortable at any time, you can stop. All right?”

“Ask away,” Jack said.

The questions were general at first. Age, full name, marital status at first. It felt more like he was applying for a credit card than whatever he was in fact dealing with.

But then the questions became more personal.

“What do you hate about being yourself?”

“When do you feel smallest?”

“Who do you envy?”

“What kind of man makes you angry just by existing?” 

“What do you want others to see first when they look at you?”

“Do you want to be respected, feared, envied or lusted after?”

After all the questions were answered, Jack frowned as the man typed a couple of final things into the laptop before nodded.

“Just verify everything is right,” the man said. “I’ll be right back.”

Jack was left around and he stared at the screen and the information stared back at him:

Primary Archetype: The Genetic Freak

Primary Traits: Mass, arrogance, dominance, verbal aggression, physical intimidation, loyalty

Projected Path: Four step transformation.

Under the information was his information that he had given and the screen asked him if he accepted what he saw. Jack frowned and realized that he was fucking nervous. What the hell was he doing? How the hell did he land up here?

He shook his head and pushed the button to confirm his choices. The screen thanked him for his choices and the door opened and the salesperson walked back in with a bag in his hand.

“Here,” he said as he handed the bag to Jack. “You’ll get an e-mail about your next appointment next week. When you come back, wear that. Not because it’ll change you but because you have already chosen.”

In a mental haze, Jack walked out of the store and looked around trying to figure out what honestly had happened. It was just cosplay, just a weird fantasy. It was like an adult sex shop where you walked in, looked around, felt bad and walked out and would never go back.

Jack walked down the street and back to his job when he caught himself looking in a window. He looks a little bit wider and he raises his chin slightly. A smirk appeared on Jack’s face and then it disappeared just as quickly.

He fished in the bag and pulled out an appointment card: Stage 2: Beginnings. Jack knew that he could walk away any time and go back to his boring life.

He knew he had time to decide.

But the appointment card knew better.

Jonathan was a very activistic student, joining every liberal protest that would take place in his city or anywhere closeby. The kind of protest he was most passionate about was that against ICE. He saw them as a power tripping conservative cult which needed to be shut down. His anger against it went so far that he even made his own sign, showing his strong opinions on it. As an agent approached him, he went on the offensive:

"How dare you even show your face at a protest like this... you should be ashamed! What does your family even think of you coming home after beating up peaceful protesters... I don't care that I'm weaker than you, at least I have some morality left!"

The agent frowned, half amused, half annoyed by the protester taunting him. He responded:

"Morality you say huh... so you let thousands of illegals roam the streets and commit crimes? You should count yourself lucky, I could easily overpower you... but I have something better for you.

The agent produced a cigar and put it on, blowing the smoke directly into Jonathan's face.

Jonathan had to breathe in the smoke, and confusion took over his brain.

"I... feel... weak... what are you doing..."

The agent, seeing the smoke start to take effect, started to smile through his cigar. He had done this many times, but every time a lib started to fight the woke media's brainwashing was as satisfying as the very first. As Jonathan slowly dropped his SHUT DOWN ICE sign, the agent whispered in his ear:

"Soon you won't be weak anymore... can you feel it? Can you feel the power that's now coursing through you? Feed it, let it take over"

The smoke was not just converting Jonathan's psyche: his hair had started to fall out, until a bald scalp was left. On the outside, Jonathan's clothes turned from colorful to deep black. Completely entranced by the smoke that was constantly entering his system, his eyes rolled backwards.

"No... I have to fight it... but it feels so powerful... no Jonathan... be emphatic... be generous... help the weak..."

Every morsel of Jonathan's brain was trying the brainwashing that was entering his system, but it was all futile. The agent blew another fresh load of smoke into his lungs, accelerating his transformation even more. A beard formed on his lower face, even longer than that of the agent. The face itself became more ragged, his age increasing from the mid-twenties to the late forties.

A new voice arose in Jonathan's mind, and his struggles became more and more apparent in the words he managed to stammer:

"I gotta... resist... resist the liberal media... wait, no! Don't let them win... don't... don't... thread on me... oh god no... god... God bless the United States of America..."

Jonathan's new personality was now settling in his mind, his old memories slowly fading. A small student room was replaced by a suburban home, his activist friends were replaced by the jocks that got him into the Republican party and referred him to his new employer.

"The power... I feel it coursing through me... it's intoxicating... I need more"

The final remnants of Jonathan's old personality were wiped, as his clothes morphed into ICE tactical gear, with a black MAGA hat to top it off. In his place stood Jack, a seasoned ICE agent, who was ready to make sure all Americans would come to love traditional family values.

"Thank you brother... we are well on our way to Making America Great Again! Got a smoke for me? Make sure all of there libs see the light as well yaknow..."

The agent who just transformed Jack shared a smoke with him, the two brothers ready to put down the protest as soon as possible.

POV: At first, you panic. You wake with a weight across your chest that isn’t yours, a scratch of gray beard at your jaw, and the dense, unfamiliar heaviness of a body that seems built out of red hats, red meat, and red football jerseys on Saturdays. Your hands are broader - more calloused. Your legs are thicker. When you sit up, your stomach presses against the waistband of shorts you don’t remember buying. In the mirror, a silver-haired man stares back at you with calm, narrowed eyes and you feel the lingering taste of tobacco in your mouth. You touch the beard. You touch the chest hair curling out of the red Georgia polo. You say your own name, but it comes out in his voice.

Later, the woman on the porch swing calls you “honey,” and for one terrifying second you almost correct her. Then something in you answers before your fear can. A soft warmth rises in your chest at the sight of her bare knees crossed beside yours, her easy smile, the way her hand rests on your thigh like it has belonged there for years. You know her coffee order. You know the sound of her laugh after two glasses of wine. The feeling of your new dick deep inside her.

The first few days, you fight it. You hold the cigar awkwardly. You grimace at the bourbon. You flinch when your new friends slap you on the shoulder and start talking about church barbecues, SEC football, and how the country has been saved by the Republican Party and its dear leader. But the body has its own habits, and the mind inside it has left tracks deep enough for you to follow. You find yourself leaning back on the porch swing after dinner, smoke curling from your lips, nodding along to stories you somehow remember. His politics sit in you like old furniture: uncomfortable at first, then familiar, then disturbingly easy to settle into.

What shocks you most is not that you become him all at once. It’s that you don’t. You remain somewhere inside, watching the edges blur. Your old life becomes less urgent. The city bars, the apps, your boyfriend, the restless hunger for reinvention - they fade like country music from another room. In their place come simpler cravings: the smell of cut grass, a cigar after sunset, your wife’s head against your shoulder before you grab her and lead her to the bedroom, the deep pride of a Saturday Georgia win, the stubborn pleasure of being a man other people think they understand.