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Yeah bro! A lot of guys have this dream. You have to turn your kink into a lifestyle. Which isn't that hard to do. We can start easy! Alright lesssgo. 1. Body First – Build the Frame - Build the Discipline Aim to go to the gym 3 times a week. If you are new to the gym, do full body strength training exercises. Rely on machines to teach, and train you new form. There will be days where your tired and don't want to go, but those are the days you have to push yourself and go anyways. Make it a habit. Soon, you will be craving the gym because it's an escape from reality. 2. Listen to Hypnosis / Subliminal There are some great Dumb Jock files out there. I really like Ex Body's subliminal, which you can loop while you sleep. (You don't need to wear headphones, and you can't hear any of the affirmations) Check the comments out, there is a lot of people who say they've seen major changes. Here are some good SoundCloud Hypnos:

GRANDPA LOUIS' MUSCLE GRAND THEFT ADVENTURE PART 1

Authors Note: The images are AI generated but the story is completely from me. None of this story was AI generated.

Grandpa Louis may not have been a great man in stature or build, but he was a great man to whoever knew him. He helped dozens of young men throughout his life. In addition to raising his own family, he had taken in young men from broken homes, given them life skills as a foster parent and helped them to get placed into adoption. He did this with his wife until she died of cancer some ten years prior. He had helped so many men reach their potential but now his own life was crumbling.

He had to put the house into a reverse mortgage in order to pay his medical bills. He didn't tell any of his former foster kids about his financial problems because he saw them as his own problems, but...the debts were piling up. His Social Security didn't cover all his expenses. And then there was his grandson, Jackson. Jackson was once a good boy but he had moved in with Grandpa Louis because his parents were fed up with his behavior and they were having their own financial problems caused by lost investments. Everyone was suffering financially but it didn't seem to phase Jackson, who wanted to become a professional gambler like his idols in the manosphere. He worshiped the videos of Dan Bilzerian and Andrew Tate. He would casually explain how women were just sex objects and alpha gods among men like himself were meant to conquer them and make them submissive. Grandpa Louis had calmly tried to explain how to treat women but Jackson had only pretended to listen so he could get free room and board.

Jackson had income because he dominated gay faggots online and they gave him their savings just for a chance to talk to him. Jackson didn't tell his Grandpa everything but Louis knew he had an income to buy expensive shoes and clothing, supplements and he had enough money to take girls out and to keep his nice ride in good condition. He heard through Jackson's bedroom door what he was doing and while disgusted, promised himself that Jackson would come around some day.

Grandpa Louis decided to go through some of his family's antiques to see what he could sell. After all, they had sentimental value but what good was that when you are barely able to pay your food bills? He wished Jackson could be less selfish. What could possibly give the younger man some humility?

Digging through an old chest, he found something unexpected. His great uncle had been an archaeologist in the early 20th century. Finding tablets with cuneiform, an ancient amulet covered with old writing thousands of years old, he realized he had something that might be very valuable! Surely they wouldn't ever let an archaeologist take this home with him. His great uncle must have sneaked these items out of the Middle East. Maybe they would sell on the black market. Maybe Jackson could tell him about someone in the underworld who could sell them. He thought bitterly to himself how he just expected his grandson would be able to do something immoral and that he could connect his grandfather with the sort that would do anything for money, but...he was getting desperate.

The glow came just as unexpectedly, filling Grandpa Louie's head with knowledge.

The ancient ones who had preserved its power had received it from a warrior king who received it from some kind of immortal deity that used it to suck the strength of his enemies into his own body! He suddenly could read the writing that just looked like gobbledegook just moments before!

He rushed downstairs, or rather slowly made his way downstairs since he couldn't rush anywhere. The glow of the amulet. The thoughts rushing through his head. Visions of god kings with thousands of men bowing at their feet walking through ancient cities filled with wonders. Magical energy erupted from the amulet just as Jackson walked through the door to scream "Grandpa, what the fuck are you doing??"

Jackson, for his part, didn't want to lose a cash cow. He knew Grandpa Louis needed someone to look out for anything weird happening to his body or some asshole trying to sell him some faggy solar panel scam or some shit like that. He promised his parents as such. The light was nearly blinding. He shielded his eyes.

"I...I don't know...I can't stop it! Please help me!" Grandpa Louis begged, his hands frozen on the tablet.

Jackson made his way forward and felt like he was going to vomit. What the hell was happening!?

"Grandpa! I don't feel good," he slurred the words, slowly as if he was in a dream where time was moving differently. Suddenly, there was no sound. Before there was a pulsing that grew louder and louder and now there was nothing. The amulet was floating in midair. Jackson looked over at Grandpa. Time was flowing between the two of them. Jackson understood what it was without understanding how it was happening. Something was changing in his body. His bodily functions were progressing somehow. He felt a return to the timestream and then there was sound. Horrible horrible sound.

It nearly shattered him. He felt his grandfather's astral body gliding over to his and he resisted it. He took on only the worst aspects of his body. His skin sagged and jutted out, became fleshy and doughy and then puffy. His gut began growing. A little at first. No, not my abs! No! NOOOOO! He screamed internally. He couldn't move now. He felt like falling down but he was in a constant feeling of freefall. He looked up at his grandfather, who was now thin by comparison. Grandpa was having a different reaction.

He felt his son's astral power glide inside his own, merging with it. His body lost all its illnesses. His Parkinson's disease, the thyroid disorder, the arthritis all flowed away from him and into his grandson. His body became filled with a virility he had never experienced. It flowed into him, Flowed like a mighty river of masculinity that filled up his body with muscle. His legs at first felt it, tensing up and then in an orgiastic level of pleasure, his penis came to life and became hard as a rock, which hadn't happened in quite a while. His body retracted and then grew, even his bones felt themselves growing thicker and healthier. The healthy aroma of sweat and pheromonal orgasms, a lifetime of working out, all flowed into Louis. He knew all about athletics now. He knew about exercise and nutrition to a degree he had never known before.

A presence examined them, laughing at them.

"You should have been a better grandson," it growled in Jackson's ear. "I will give the old man all of your strength!" It laughed at him cruelly.

Grandpa Louis felt his pecs and shoulders burst upwards, lifting up his shirt. His arms began to double and then triple in size, mutating muscle like he was some kind of Marvel cartoon character. His shirt ripped and he couldn't unbutton it so he began to shred apart from his sheer size as well as the energy burning his flesh in the best way possible, remolding it into youthful vitality and muscular stature. His back was next; it felt like they were ballooning with cement. He had never felt this way in his life.

His grandson now looked unrecognizable. A fat blimp stood before him, tears streaking his fat face, miserable and his youth all lost now. His body filled with disease and stress, obese and disgusting looking. He still had his young face but it looked slightly older from the sheer stress now placed on his body.

Something fell on the floor with a thud and a crash like a vase shattering. The energy dissipated.

"No! No! This can't be happening! I can't be a lardass! Grandpa, help me! Give it back, you have to!"

"I don't know how," Grandpa Louis said, his words sounding a lot more masculine now. His voice had dropped several octaves. He sounded much better, he thought. He tested his new muscular legs. It felt great to walk around now! I bet I can even go running, he thought. I haven't been able to do that in ages!

"Grandpaaaaa!" Jackson jiggled his giant gut now, rolling like a waterbed. "Nooooooo! No please God I'll be good just make this dream stop. This has to be a dream! This has to be a nightmare!"

But the nightmare was just beginning for Jackson. For Louis, it was an incredible day of relief. He wasn't bombarded with pain. He had the body of a muscular god. Every muscle he had now was brimming with power, control, and yearned for the release of exercise.

"I think we need a change of clothing," he finally said. Of course, most of his clothes were much more snug now as his muscles bulged, well, everywhere. Jackson couldn't fit into anything he owned except for a pair of sweatpants and even those were strained. He found his fat feet could fit into sandals more easily than shoes, which hurt to wear now. He found an old shirt of Grandpa's that was stretched out enough to wear.

Continued from a short story here.

By the time Owen opened the app again, he had stopped thinking of himself as the guy he used to be.

At forty-two, with the shorter receding hair, the salt-and-pepper beard, and the thick body hair he’d wanted badly enough to make for himself by spoiling Hair Tonic, he finally looked the way he’d always imagined a real daddy should look. His profile picture showed exactly that: shirtless on a hiking trail, backpack straps in both hands, chest hair visible, expression calm and solid.

David messaged him within the hour. A rendezvous was planned for the next day.

David was twenty-six, lean and smooth-skinned, with a compact athletic body and a face that still carried the softness of youth. When he arrived at Owen’s place, he couldn’t stop looking at the older man. It wasn’t just that Owen was handsome. It was that he looked settled. Rugged. Finished. Like a man who had grown fully into himself. David did not know what Owen had used the Hair Tonic to do to himself - he didn't know that inside Owen's masculine exterior was a man a few years younger than himself with the visage of a self-assured daddy.

The sex was dynamic. Owen leaned into his new role as daddy with a youthful enthusiasm - if not the experience. David enjoyed the feeling of being kissed, worshiped, and filled by the entirety of Owen - longing for attention from older more confident-seeming men.

Later, after their night together had faded into sweat, dim light, and tangled sheets, Owen fell asleep fast, heavy and satisfied.

David stayed awake. He padded into Owen’s bathroom in his boxers, still thinking about the body he’d just had his hands on - the dense chest hair, the roughness of Owen’s beard, the masculine weight of him. Then he noticed the brown bottle on the counter. HAIR TONIC. Old-fashioned label. Plain lettering. He picked it up and turned it in his hands. The name sounded harmless, almost quaint. He smiled to himself. He was familiar with the product, but had never gotten his hands on a bottle. He wasn't interested in becoming Owen, not exactly. He just wanted a little help looking more his age. More scruff. Some chest hair. Less boyishness in the mirror. So he uncapped it.

The tonic smelled sharp and strange, old and herbal with something bitter underneath. David rubbed a little over his cheeks and jawline, then across his upper lip. He poured more into his palm and worked it over his chest, down the center of his stomach, over his shoulders, even along his arms. His skin prickled instantly, then flushed with spreading heat. He frowned at his reflection, waiting for the sensation to fade. Instead, the faint shadow on his jaw began to darken. The nearly invisible hair on his chest sharpened, filling enough for him to notice - and then some.

He ran his fingertips over the new texture, half-thrilled and half-nervous. By the time he climbed back into bed, the scruff at his mouth had thickened into a short, rough mustache and the hair across his pecs had become real enough to cast a shadow. His heart beat faster, but he convinced himself it was just stronger than he’d expected - it would pass - it was just hair.

David fell asleep telling himself he’d overdone it a little. He woke with a start the next morning. Everything felt wrong at first—heavier, rougher, denser. The sheets dragged differently across his body. His chest felt warm beneath a thick layer of hair. When he pushed himself upright and looked at his hands, he froze.

The backs of them were hairier than they had been the night before, the knuckles broader, the skin less smooth. He brought them to his face and felt not light overnight scruff but a full, coarse mustache and short beard framing a jaw that seemed more substantial than it had been before. He stumbled to the bathroom mirror, Owen just starting to stir in the bedroom behind him, and stopped cold.

He did not look twenty-six anymore. The man staring back at him looked closer to forty. His face was still unmistakably his own, but matured - broader through the jaw, heavier through the neck and shoulders, with stronger lines around the eyes and mouth. His hair was shorter-looking somehow, neater, his features more rugged and settled. A thick mustache and trimmed beard had come in dark and full, giving him a stern, masculine look he’d only ever imagined on older men. Across his chest, the hair had spread into a dense mat that continued down his stomach in a dark trail, with more thickening along his arms and thighs. He looked stockier too, more substantial, more like a man who’d spent years growing into that body instead of a single reckless night.

“Owen...” he said, voice rougher than before. “Owen!”

Owen came into the room half-awake, then stopped dead in the doorway - mouth agape.

For one long second, neither of them spoke. Then Owen’s eyes dropped to David’s chest, his beard, his hands, and finally flicked toward the bathroom counter.

“You used my special Hair Tonic?!” he yelled.

David’s face tightened. “I thought it was just normal Hair Tonic - I ….”

“It is not just Hair Tonic!" Owen’s voice sharpened with real anger now, cutting David off mid-sentence. “I left that out in the sun to spoil on purpose. I changed myself on purpose. You had no idea what that was and you still used it?”

“You changed yourself? You mean you did this to yourself on purpose?!” David snapped back, then looked away, shaken by the sound of his own gruffer voice. “I just wanted…” He swallowed and rubbed a hand over his chest, feeling the thickness there. “I just wanted a little more. A beard. Some body hair. I didn’t think it was going to do this!” David gestured to his older body.

Owen’s anger faltered, replaced by a grim, complicated sympathy. He knew that impulse too well. The wanting. The private pull toward a rougher, older, hairier version of manhood. David let the bathroom and sat back down on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands again like they might belong to someone else. He looked upset, genuinely upset - but not devastated. Not all the way. Because every few seconds his fingers drifted over the new growth on his chest, or up to the heavier shape of the beard at his jaw, as though he couldn’t stop checking that it was real.

“This is my fault,” Owen said finally. “I shouldn’t have left the tonic out for you to find. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re… probably stuck like this.”

David let out a shaky breath. “Great.”

Silence settled between them. Morning light spilled across the room. David’s reflection lingered in the mirror opposite the bed: older, hairier, undeniably changed. He looked at himself again, this time longer. At the thicker chest. The rough mustache. The stronger, more mature face. It wasn’t what he had meant to ask for. It was too much. Too fast. Too permanent.

And yet some quieter part of him - deeper than panic, harder to admit - recognized the shape of his own wish inside it.

“What am I going to do? No one will recognize me! I hate that this happened - I have to get out of here!” he said in a panic while trying to stuff his thicker frame into his jeans - sucking his gut to fully zip them, and throwing his shirt quickly over his shoulders.

Owen folded his arms. “Do you hate this?” he said looking at David. "The way you've been looking at yourself in the mirror reminds me of myself when I first woke up after using the tonic."

David stopped dressing took a deep breath and looked down at himself, then back at the mirror. He had to admit he was attractive like this - more like the men he pursued - and enjoyed being pursued by. He noticed a twitch in his boxers as his dick started to grow - panic subsiding and being replaced with lust. Lust both for Owen, who had filled him just the prior evening to the brink with his daddy seed - and also for the half-dressed man he saw reflected in the mirror.

Owen walked over to the sofa in the corner of the room and sat down with his head in his hands for a moment while Owen waited.

“No. I don’t hate all of it” he admitted with a grin at Owen as he unbuttoned his pants - his thick hairy pecs pushing against his half-open shirt. His eyes smoldering at the sight of Owen’s shirtless torso and beautiful face.

Owen stared at him for a moment, then gave a short, disbelieving exhale that was almost a laugh. “I see … you’re a bit older than my usual type now, but I think this might work...” he said with a grin as he approached the older version of the perky 26 year-old he had fucked the night before.

Owen dropped to his knees in front of David and helped him slide off his now-too-tight jeans and underwear, freeing David’s thick semi-erect daddy cock nestled in a thick bush of pubes - “Guess a trip to the mall is in order” he said with a grin as he took David’s dick in his mouth - feeling it continue to stiffen.

David let out a little moan and replied, half joking, “Yeah, I guess I put on a little extra weight somewhere in my 30s.”

After a couple of minutes receiving head, David pushed Owen onto the couch and pulled down Owen’s sweatpants, revealing the same uncut daddy dick that he had deep inside him last night - which might as well have been an eternity ago. “Things are going to be different today, son” he stated irrefutably - Owen looking up to him with soft bedroom eyes. “It’s your fault I’m close to my father’s age, and stuck like this - so now I’m going to be the daddy and you’re going to be the piece of meat I please myself with. Understood?”

Owen simply nodded and replied with a soft “yes, sir.”

“Good, now roll over for daddy so he can see your ass.”

Owen complied, moving onto all fours and presenting his hairy asshole to David - who gave it a quick look before sticking his head between his cheeks and eating it out in preparation.

Owen remembered the feeling of being prepared from before his change - from the countless older men he let enter his tight frat boy hole. He knew what was coming - and despite his recent shift to daddy himself he couldn’t help but anticipate how bottoming would feel in his new body.

After prepping Owen, David rose to one foot, with the other propped against the couch. He spit on his dick and lined it up with Owen’s ass and thrust in hard. Owen gave a quick yelp and tightened around David’s dick - but he didn’t care. It was Owen’s fault he was stuck like this and he was going to exact as much pleasure from the situation as possible.

After a few hard thrusts, Owen started to gently moan as David settled into a more steady rhythm. David reached forward grabbing Owen’s thinning hair pulling his head back and whispered in his ear, “You like this don’t you?”

Owen nodded between soft moans.

David continued, “No matter what you look like on the outside, you’re still just a bottom bitch frat boy.” He reached around and grabbed Owen’s dick and began jerking it while pumping into his ass.

“You made yourself older, you gave yourself a beard, a hairy chest, you got the look - you played the role last night as well - but deep down we both know you’ll always crave this. Crave a stronger man controlling you and filling you with his daddy cock.”

David released Owen’s hair and picked up his pace. As he approached climax he thought about the man he saw in the reflection - hairy, mustached, confident - maybe this new version of him wouldn’t be so bad. He snapped back into attention as he felt Owen jolting underneath - coming onto the sofa with a hand wrapped around his own dick. "Daddy didn't say you could come yet, son."

Own just whimpered as David picked up his pace and intensity, quickly following suit coming deep into Owen - then collapsing on his back in a pile of sweat and chest hair.

Bradley had just returned home alone after having a few drinks out with some friends, on a whim and still being a little drunk, he decided to peruse the profiles on a hookup apps. To his surprise, he received a message from one of those faceless muscle profiles. 

“jacked_muscle4nerd: hey handsome”

“HardcoverLover86: Hello.”

“jacked_muscle4nerd: you look like you would be so hot!! you wanna meet up?”

“HardcoverLover86: I’m a little surprised, as I didn’t think I would be your type.”

“jacked_muscle4nerd: nah bro! you are exactly what i lookin for. So can come over and fuck your brains out?”

It was time for the annual Super Bowl Concert party. Bradley, Trevor, and Patrick had zero interest in the game, but they lived for the halftime show. They were just waiting on Charlie, the punctual one of the group, who was surprisingly late.

"Recovery Calories" #2 (2025–2026)

Random Transformation 4

🇮🇹 "Scambio di ruoli"

Bodyswap 2

🇮🇹 "Se sei un twink a caccia di giochi erotici, attento a non farti ipnotizzare dal primo daddy affascinante che capita. Rischieresti di farti rubare l'identità e di perdere ogni ricordo del tuo passato. E indovina un po'? Ora sei tu quel daddy affamato di twink."

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.

I knew I'd struck gold when I met my boyfriend Aaron.

I had a habit of falling for straight acting masculine guys. Those deeply closeted "bros" who think hitting the gym somehow makes them less queer.

Aaron was very far removed from my usual type. He wasn't effeminate, but he wasn't aggressively macho or constantly posturing either. He was always quick with a smile, a hug, a kiss... and I loved it.

But after a while, I realized there was still one thing I was missing.

See, the reason I kept ending up with those big buff jerks is because... I just love muscular guys.

At one point, I'd been at my wit's end trying to get an ex to stop treating me like shit all the time, and I'd downloaded this whole bunch of hypnotism stuff. I made him a few files with some simple suggestions... problem was, he thought it was "too gay" to listen to something like that.

I'm not sure what I thought would happen, but on a whim, I made some files for Aaron too. I made sure to keep his personality intact - because, after all, I love him - but I threw in some suggestions to eat healthy, start going to the gym, and focus on prioritising fitness.

A couple of months in, and my sweet boy had packed on 20 odd pounds of muscle. He'd started picking me up, and on one very memorable occasion he actually pinned me to the bed before showering me with kisses.

I was planning to stop there. Even that little change made him my perfect guy. But then Aaron said something that changed my mind.

Aaron told me it made him feel closer to me, having my voice in his ear while he was at the gym, that he felt so safe drifting off listening to me.

I knew I should probably come clean and tell him that I'd been using them to hypnotise him, but... well, first of all, it sounds ridiculous, and second... I was scared of how he'd react.

So instead of doing the right thing and telling him the truth, I made him a new set of files. I really liked how he'd started being more confident, so I gave him some boosters for that. I also made him focus more on lifting and on bulking up, telling him he enjoyed getting bigger for me, that he loved feeling like my big buff protector.

And look, maybe I overdid it. Aaron took to the new instructions like a fish to water, and within a couple months he'd already outgrown his wardrobe. Again.

But I couldn't stop. I was enamoured with this enormous guy he'd grown into, so sweet and gentle with me and so imposing and burly otherwise.

Eventually, I reached a breaking point, and I told him the truth. But... look, I couldn't risk him getting scared and ending things, okay? So just in case, I put in a small suggestion in the files, telling him that maybe he liked being hypnotised, and maybe he got aroused by the thought of me moulding his body.

So when my sweet Aaron told me he'd scored some back alley supplements from a guy at the gym, gave me his best puppy dog eyes - despite the hulking bod and scruffy beard - and asked me to make him a new set of files and help him get HUGE... I couldn't say no.

We've just celebrated our anniversary, and the mountain of muscle that throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing and lumbers around from how wide his thighs have gotten is nothing like the cute boy I fell for. You'd be forgiven for thinking he's one of those closeted guys who pump themselves up with mass since they're scared of looking queer.

Except underneath all the excess bulk, body hair, and testosterone, it's still Aaron underneath it all. Just as lovely and as sweet as he was back when he was nearly 200 pounds lighter.