Conservative TFs

You need to be remolded into a patriotic, red-blooded MAGA man.

Embrace MAGA, embrace toxic masculinity, embrace traditional values, embrace it all.

Thank you @dumlibtard29 for the great images!

Poor, dirty, uneducated. Derogatory jokes were a part of their religion, along with working a blue collar job and having at least three kids by the time you turned 30. Hickville, USA, as Markus called it. An embarrassing part of the country in every measure. Even more so because a good chunk of Markus's extended family lived there. 

Markus had always grown up separated from this side of America. He had been raised in a sprawling metropolis, exposed to different cultures and perspectives as early as preschool. He had graduated early from high school and been accepted to many prestigious universities in days. Now, in the summer before his final year, Markus was drawing closer and closer to freedom, one that included never having to interact with his relatives again. 

Ironically though, before he could cut ties, he had to recreate them. Markus desperately needed money, and no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, working at the family farm was the best way to make a quick buck. Markus would be housed, fed, and would apparently gain “valuable life lessons,” whatever that meant. The situation sucked but it was the best possible option. Spending the summer on the farm would guarantee his prosperous dreams.

His rental car glided down the familiar dirt driveway, the rusty rambler slowly appearing in the distance. It had grown more weathered in recent years, its age accentuated by the bright red American-made truck parked in front of it. Its size was nearly twice that of Markus’s rental car, its owner the same to Markus.

“There he is!” Ethan lumbered over. Blond mullet, worn-out tank top–the man was certainly a country local. Although Ethan was only a few years older than Markus, the cousins had never really connected. Markus knew Ethan had dropped out of high school, but obviously his cousin had slid down the degenerate pipeline faster than he had anticipated. There was a “Make America Great Again” hat, av cross necklace, and a matching stars-and-bars shirt and belt. Did Ethan know that their state had not existed during the Civil War?

Ethan leaned in for a hug, but Markus immediately pushed him back.

“Don’t, please.” Markus tried to be polite, but the body odor coming off his cousin was disgusting.

“Oh of course, bro. No homo,”  Ethan chuckled, misinterpreting the situation. Something inside of Markus squeaked, fearing how Ethan would respond if he found out his cousin was gay. “So uh, let me show you to your room.”

The house was what Markus had expected, and yet somehow also worse. Every piece of furniture smelled, was stained, and was at least thirty years old. The walls were scratched, the ceiling a little grody. “Bachelor pad” was not far enough: this was a man who desperately needed to maintain himself. Or someone to do it for him. Markus made a mental note not to become the latter.

“Your room.” Ethan’s meaty hand swung out into the closet-sized space. The air was thick and musty. A tear formed inside Markus’s eye. “I’ve got some stuff to do but I’ll be back in a few. Dinner tonight is meat and potatoes. And beer, always beer.”

Ethan laughed at his own joke, Markus did not reply. Ethan then left, his massive footfalls echoing throughout the small house. 

“What have I done to myself?” Markus cried, feeling his world collapse around him. With a sob, he fell down onto his new bed, too distressed to care that the sheets reeked of sweat and cum.

—

The work was simple, but difficult. Markus was to follow all of Ethan’s instructions, that was basically it. If Ethan told him to tend to the fields, he would tend. If Ethan asked him to mow the lawn, he would mow. “Feed the animals,” “Fill up the tractor.” If Markus did not know how to complete the task, Ethan would teach him. Up at dawn, down at dusk. Meat and potatoes were served at every meal, and Markus was allowed to have all the beer he wanted (even if he did not like it). 

The cycle was draining. In the first few days, Markus was not sure he was going to make it. His body was sore, exhausted and reeking in ways it never had before. Ethan assured him it was all natural, masculine even. “About time you went through puberty, manning up!” Markus had not known how to respond at the time, and soon realized it was easier not to. Staying quiet kept him focused, and often it was easier to just listen to Ethan than to converse with him. 

“You probably know all the issues facing this country the best, bro, being in college and all,” Ethan said. The two were currently doing an oil change on the truck. The amount of grime on Markus’s body bothered him slightly, but not as much as he thought it would have. “I mean the borders were a mess before Trump took charge. We had the weakest military ever seen. Not to mention all the stupid vaccine requirements. Those libtards absolutely…”

Markus mentally tuned out, continuing his task. Another glob of oil fell onto his shirt, another permanent stain.

“Don’t you agree, bro?” Ethan asked, taking Markus out of his haze.

“Uh…yeah,” Markus numbly nodded, not knowing what he was agreeing to. Ethan smirked, continuing on.

The rest of the day was the same. And so was the day after, and the day after that. By the time a month had passed, Markus found himself feeling a little odd leaving the farm, even if it was only for a day trip. He had decided to return the rental car as he had rarely used it after learning how to drive the truck. Ethan had called him a natural, “As if you’ve been driving it your whole life!” For some reason, Markus felt like he had been.

With the rental car removed from his possession, Markus had a few hours until Ethan would come to pick him up. To pass the time, he had gotten in contact with one of his college buddies who lived nearby. His friend’s apartment was small and clean, something Markus previously would have been attracted to. In fact, he assumed he would have been jealous of his friend’s situation, getting to live comfortably on his own. But instead, Markus felt claustrophobic, anxious in the miniature space and the big city.

“Can you believe what Trump said about Latinos, again?” His friend had been complaining about politics nonstop. “I mean, I don’t know why I’m still surprised anymore, but seriously someone has to stop this bigot.”

Markus felt something twitch inside of him.

“How many more countries does he have to pick a war with?” his friend continued. “How many more until America is truly ‘first’?”

“America is first.” The words slipped out of Markus’s mouth before he realized it. His friend, taken back, paused his monologue.

“Sorry?”

The answer came out automatically, as if it had been a programmed response. “America is the best country on Earth.”

His friend blinked. “Markus, what are you talking about?”

“Trump and the Republican Party are restoring this nation to its former glory.” 

“But-”

“The liberals are trying to brainwash men into becoming weak, scrawny, and stupid. Socialism and progressive ideas aren’t going to Make America Great Again. Strong men are.”

Markus’s friend, stunned, shook his head before storming out of the room to take a breath. Left alone, Markus began to process the interaction they had just had, the words that had been exchanged. He felt like a sponge, releasing verbiage that he had somehow absorbed and only now had learned how to expel. 

Turning around, Markus found himself facing a full-length mirror, his reflection portrayed before him a bit unfamiliar. Longer hair, a dirty sweatshirt, and jeans stained by grass and dirt. At first, the reflection made Markus uncomfortable, but soon he found himself growing more fond of it. Beaten up white tank, a thick belt with a buckle displaying confidence and authority. A mullet underneath a bright red hat. The scene portrayed a different Markus, an emerging Markus.

It reminded him of-

“I think it would be best if you’d leave.” Markus’s friend had reentered the room. A buzz in Markus’s pocket seconded this notion.

“Ok.” Markus, again to his friend’s amazement, left without another word. He crop dusted on his way out, smirking as he made his way to Ethan and the truck.

—

The rest of the summer unexpectedly flew by. Markus barely noticed the time, or the changes that came along the way. A second growth spurt had erupted across his body. One day Markus woke up a few inches taller, and the next he found himself at eye level with his cousin. Lean muscle bloomed across his body after that and so did hair. Speaking of hair, it was like Markus’s scalp went into overdrive, pushing out thick waves in the back that fit perfectly underneath the cap Ethan had begun loaning him.

Markus should have been worried about these rapid developments. He should have been alarmed by the fact he no longer felt the need to wash his clothes, or himself for that matter. Ethan had a way of rationalizing everything though, and it had become so much easier for Markus to not only listen to his cousin, but agree with him too.

“Real men take up space. They dominate.” 

“Smarts aren’t important. What matters are sports, beers, and Making America Great Again.”

Ethan was so confident, so self-assured, that it was intoxicating to Markus. He wanted to be that confident too. He wanted guys to be obsessed with him, be infatuated by his presence.

“Those libtards are nothing but disgusting perverts. Chicks not dicks, amirite bro?”

Markus nodded lazily, swigging his cheap beer. He wanted other men to respect him, be intimidated by his presence. Markus thanked God he was not some faggot and was raised on strong, Conservative values.

“I still can’t believe it’s already your last day,” Ethan remarked. The two were sitting out on the porch, enjoying the sunset. “I’m gonna miss your companionship–it’s nice having a like-minded guy around the farm.”

“I can’t believe it either, bro.” Markus’s voice had dropped a register since he had begun drinking Ethan’s beer daily. It had lost a lot of its former color too. “Wish I could just stay here with you. I don’t want to go back to all those prissy crying liberals and the blue-haired ideologies they’ll try to push on me.”

Ethan held a cocky smile, as if Markus had just given some secret signal. “Why don’t you stay here then? You won’t learn anything there that you can’t learn with your hands and cousin here.”

From somewhere deep in the recesses of Markus’s mind, something screamed out. It begged for him to not take this offer, to reject this new life he had somehow been absorbed into. But Markus ignored the plea, instead dreaming of the potential in Ethan’s offer. Just two bros working every day, drinking every night, and banging chicks every weekend. What more could a straight, MAGA, alpha redneck like him want?

“Fuck yeah!” Markus shouted, and the men both cheered to their new future together. No homo, of course.

The university was legendary for its football games. Win or lose, attendance alone could boost your grades. That was why Simon showed up every Saturday, even though he had zero interest in the sport-or the team. Especially the team. A squad full of white, straight, MAGA jocks who made his life miserable when they noticed him.

Halfway to his usual seat, Blake grabbed his arm and yanked him into a shadowed alcove beneath the bleachers. Blake was everything Simon quietly resented: tall, broad-shouldered, cocky, and unapologetically MAGA. Yet Simon had always played nice with him. It helped the bullying.

“Blake? What the hell? Shouldn’t you be on the field?” Blake’s eyes were wild, sweat already beading on his forehead. “Bro… you don’t understand. I need you to take my spot tonight.” Simon laughed nervously. “I don’t even know the rules. And look at me—”Before he could finish, Blake slammed his own helmet onto Simon’s head and ran off, saying “This should be enough for now, the team will do the rest after the game.”

The world tilted. A heavy fog rolled through Simon’s mind, thick and syrupy. Thoughts slowed to a crawl. His body, however, did not. Muscle surged beneath his skin, shoulders widening, chest barreling outward. Arms thickened with power. Legs lengthened and hardened, calves and quads cutting sharp definition. Abs etched themselves into a solid six-pack. His jaw squared, features sharpening into something unmistakably masculine. His clothes rippled, reforming into full football gear that fit his new, powerful frame perfectly.

Through the thickening haze, new instincts pushed forward:

Win the game.

Make the team proud.

You’re good at this.

You’ve always been good at this.

The old Simon flickered, distant and fading. Jack strode out of the tunnel and onto the field, only knowing to be the best during the game.

In the locker room after the team won, Jack sat on the bench, helmet still on, staring at the floor. His mind felt underwater. His goal was complete, and he couldn’t think of what to do after. He could sense something important slipping away, memories just out of reach. He reached for them, grasping- A hand lifted the helmet away. Before the fog could clear, a bright red “MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN” cap dropped onto his head. His thoughts immediately became clear again.

Jack blinked, then grinned. Memories realigned, sharper and stronger than before. He’d always been MAGA. Always known Trump was right. Always understood that ICE was necessary, that borders mattered, that the country belonged to the people who built it. Libtards were delusional—weak, wrong, and destructive. Real men were strong, straight, and unapologetic. White men especially had a duty to stay that way. He stood up, stripped off the pads, and changed into gym clothes that hugged his new physique. Before leaving the locker room, he snapped a quick selfie in the mirror, cap tilted just right, smirk confident. Jack flexed once, satisfied, and headed out into the night. Game days were the best.

Uncle Joey was like an ultra maga bro, just like my dad just a little younger and a lot louder... I hate him the most out of my family because he would always argue with me at family gatherings and try to make me feel stupid. And now my dad is making me do this stupid fishing trip with him, this is my only week home from college and I have to spend it 'family bonding'! Sitting in my uncle's truck I try my best to block out the awful radio blasting some new country rock

"Don't worry little dude, this is gonna be great!" He said as he nodded along to the music

"Yeah I'm sure, and stop calling me that! I'm over 20." I was already getting frustrated, I couldn't wait to get back to college and out of this hick town

"I know kid, that's why I brought a bunch of beer. This new stuff I got online, heh... I bet you'll love it" The last part of what he said felt strange, almost condescending.

"Beer online? Are you buying from those Redpill scam sites again..."

"No man! This stuff is great, it'll definitely make a man outta you" He lets out a small laugh as we arrive at the fishing spot and unload the gear

As we started the first cast, Joey was rambling about some new Alpha Bro podcast or something. If I have to endure this then at least I can do it drunk

"Fine I'll take one of those beers"

"Awesome dude! And drink up, I've got plenty" As he tossed me a can from the cooler he continued his rant. "Anyway these Bros really help people, they wake up libs like you and put them on the Right. They are actually who sells this beer"

Oh brother..this better be at least safe to drink..sip...hmm not bad, it actually tastes pretty good.

"Lots of libtards try to come on and yell at em but by the end they always are Trump supporters too" He keeps going as I take a bigger drink

Siiiiiiiiip "Look.. I know you don't like I went to a more 'woke' college and you or dad never liked that I'm gay..."

"Hey! We want you to be a MAN! That's it! We want you to not get brainwashed with all that stupid Left anti American nonsense" He yelled, getting emotional but I wouldn't call it angry. It felt like he was being honest

"I'm sorry Uncle..I don't wanna argue.." I looked down and found myself gulping down the beer, damn it did taste really good. Maybe they put sweeteners or something in it?

"It's ok, I know we haven't gotten along. We are hoping this trip can help fix that. I see your liking the beer, I told ya it's the good stuff"

I chuckle a little before I respond, trying to ease the mood again

"I suppose it's not that bad." Chugging the rest I find it surprisingly easy to keep myself from gagging like I normally would when I tried this kinda stuff before.

"Let me get you another little man!"

After more than a few cans later, the sun had begun to set and my body felt heavier....larger...and my head felt like it was swimming. We had been talking politics the whole time between reeling in the occasional fish and getting fresh drinks. Not argue...but just talk, when I stopped yelling over him he really started to make sense...

"...And these loser libs are letting groomers use YOUR community as a cover. They think you are stupid, MAGA is about fixing that, it's all about letting strong men like us keep it on track!" My Uncle said waving his hand around passionately.

"Yea I'll admit I see your point Unc..GULP...and my woke classmates sometimes make me cringe like they just wanna tell us what to do..GULP... they just want me to be this weak little fag! Like just cuz I'm gay I have to be a total fairy!" I say, taking large swigs of beer in-between breaths

"Heh ya know your starting a lot like us big man, I think this bonding trip went great don't you? Let's pack up and get back home."

As we drove back home I realized I was nodding my head to the music, this music rocked when you're drunk I guess...

I decided not to go back to college... After that fishing trip I realized the left had been trying to corrupt me. Those weak betas at the school thought they could fuck with my head, my dad was over joyed when I told him, we even busted out more of those awesome beers to celebrate. I've been working out and listening to that podcast and with each episode I feel more confident and powerful.... like how I should be. I texted my boyfriend that he can get used to the new me, he's definitely the bottom now and that he should move his ass down here to fulfill his duties... After seeing my new pic all he said back was

"I'm packing now :3"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four Weeks Later

After a number of gym sessions that Dr Reeder used to reinforce the damage to the ex-fags minds, it was game night. He invited himself to their home to watch, and to check his handy work, he likes to make sure not a trace of the new Maga bros's old life remains.

When he arrived, he was greeted with a large Trump Won flag proudly hanging off the porch. Markus opened the door still in his red maga hat

"hey bro! Good to see ya man, ready for the game? I heard Trump is gonna be there, I can't wait bro!"

"Yep! Ready to lose when my team wins? Nice flag by the way heh"

As he walked in he could see spots on the wall where framed photos had been removed, snacks and beer cans covered the table. A straight Pride flag was hanging above a garbage can filled with the old photos of them holding hands and on dates together. He couldn't help the smile as he looked around and said

"I'm so happy to see just two bros living together, you boys are really coming along great"

"Thanks again for getting that Woke Mind Virus out of our heads bro, now let's crack open the beers already"

The evening passed on as they enjoyed the game, cheering so loud the neighbors could hear on every touchdown and even louder when their President was on screen. When it came time to leave Dr Reeder stopped at the door and looked back to say

"Oh, by the way we still on for the gym tomorrow, I got a couple of chicks I think you two would love to meet. They were some old patients of mine just like you"

They chuckled and fist bumped each other, getting hard at just the thought of fucking some bitches together. The next day at the gym they worked hard to build up a sweat, excited to impress their Bro Reeder and to get ready for the ladies on their way.

Ethan and Markus had come far in just about a month, Brad couldn't be happier with their progress. When they saw two women in pink maga hats arrive, they flexed and yelled out

"Over here babes!"

"Hi, I'm Katie and this is Tina. Dr Reeder told us so much about you!"

The blonde woman in the gray shirt said with a bright smile. Markus stared lustfully over their bodies, as Ethan walked over and said.

"Yeah, our bro Brad helped us just like how Trump is helping this country"

"Definitely bro, and damn he wasn't lying, you both look hot, so who gets which bro?"

Markus asked, looking over to Ethan already thinking about planned to do to either one of the chicks.

"We can swap back for a bit, see who's the best Heh"

The girls just giggle, perfectly agreeable, their great doctor had long since removed the word No from their vocabulary. Katie and Tina were girlfriends that he ran into during some stupid Pride festival, Katie tried to argue about his hat. So he flashed his phone and after enough conditioning they finally broke down into beautiful, MAGA supporting, soon to be Trad Wives. He had been using them both fairly regularly but was more than happy to gift them to his new Bros.

About Six Months Later

"Great job, you've saved four more souls from sin and into the Lord's light."

The priest said, getting ready for the wedding ceremony. Last week was Ethan and Tina, now it's Markus and Katie's turn.

"Thank you, it's truly God's work, but it would be a lie to say I don't enjoy getting to help these folks"

Brad says with a small cold laugh, he watched the old couples now paired the correct way, as nature intended. Smug satisfaction, clear as day on his face he turned to Ethan and asked

"So whatcha naming the kid?"

"I'm going with Bradly, named after the man who helped all of us find our true place in the world. Thank you Bro, truly"

He responded, smile wide and raising his beer while holding his pregnant wife close

"We can't wait to move into the new house and truly start our family"

After the ceremony ended and the newly weds walked to join the group, Markus pulled Katie close and whispered

"I cant wait to put another baby in you... Me and Bro Ethan got a bet to see who can have more kids before the next presidential election"

The End...For Now

Arthur was a huge nerd and also a gay liberal. This was a slight problem, as he was roomed with a dumb maga jock named Brad. Every time they interacted, he always had to spit out slurs at him. One day though Brad said that their friendship shouldn’t be a problem soon enough. Later, he gave Arthur a cup of water, which Arthur found a little odd. When he drank it he realized he swallowed a pill. He screamed at his roommate asking him what it was. All Brad was saying was, “This red pill will stop our problems dude” with a huge grin on his face. Then Arthur collapsed and became unconscious.

Later, Brad couldn’t help but take a picture of his straight maga jock brother, Dom, in the locker room.

Both men woke up the next morning dealing with a different version of the same high. Jack was wondering if or when Theory would see his promo and he’d be allowed to take the next step away from his current life that was doing nothing more than weighing him down. Alan on the other hand felt the power that he gained without raising his voice. He had recruited two men to the AWO brand. They looked at him with admiration and a little bit of awe. It felt good and had been so easy for Alan to get them to see it his way.

Alan was getting ready and looking at himself in the mirror, he could already see the changes take hold. His hair was neater, slicked back and he made sure that the clothes that he was wearing were a better fit. They weren’t in bright colors any more but dark and serious. He smiled and felt how easily he was able to slip right into that practiced insincere smile that so many salespeople had. At one time he would have hated being so fake, but now he felt it was perfect.

Jack on the other hand was trying not to send off a nasty e-mail to Annie and work telling them all go fuck off and that he was done with their shit and the deadend job. He was waiting for better things and he could almost see the results of what the AWO had done to him. His phone went off and the text message was from Linda:

Can we meet today so we can get this over with?

That was another loose end that Jack needed to tie up. He just wanted it done too and it was a perfect day to do so. He grabbed his phone and replied.

Yeah. 2 PM at your lawyers. Bring the papers. Let’s finish this.

The morning past for Jack in a blur to be honest. He didn’t notice that people in the office were actively avoiding him. Annie glanced over when he walked into the office and shook her head in concern. Mabel avoided him entirely and his co-workers tried to avoid eye contact with him. But if he had realized what was going on, it was perfectly fine to him. They were all just part of his own life that was about to be cut away to be replaced with something fucking better.

Alan came into work and immediately Mabel and Annie approached him with looks of concern on their faces. He put on his now patented smile and said, “Good morning. What’s up?”

Annie looked at Mabel and then at Alan. “What is going on?” she asked. “I thought you were going to talk some sense into Jack. Get him to come off this… whatever the hell kick he’s on.”

“Jack is trying to find himself,” Alan said. “You’ve heard of guys going through mid-life criseses right? Well, Jack is Exhibit Number One to that.”

“But…” Mabel said, “He is kind of scary now you know? Like… I was in the break room the other day and he walked in. I looked at him and it was like… he was going to throw me through the wall.”

“There’s a lot of things going on in his life,” Alan said convincingly. “Both of us honestly. Jack’s divorce is finally almost done and he’s decided to stretch his legs and see what he’s capable of.”

“Stretch his muscles, you mean,” Mabel replied. Alan noticed that both of them had started to calm down about the storm that was Jack.

“I noticed you’ve been doing a few things yourself,” Annie replied as the two of them focused their attention back on Alan. “New cologne? New clothes. What’s going on with you?”

“Stretching my legs in a different way you might say,” Alan replied. “Sometimes you need to have somebody point out what you’ve been hiding from yourself all along.”

“Oh no,” Mabel said with a chuckle. “You didn’t find some Youtube Manosphere guru that showed you the way.”

“No,” Alan replied. “Just somebody talked to me and showed me what I could be, that's all.”

Mabel looked at Annie and said, “Well, maybe we need to get them in here and have a motivational conversation with some of the people around here.”

“No argument here,” Annie said looking at Alan. “You both have a good day all right? And Alan? Please keep doing whatever you’re doing all right?”

Alan smiled and nodded. “No worries,” he said as he looked at Mabel who turned away quickly as though she might have been blushing.

As he walked to his desk, Alan realized that things were changing in ways he didn’t think possible. Once he would have been happy with Mabel and Annie just talking to him and making small talk. Now, through a look and a change in clothes, he was able to make them look at him and make decisions based on what he was saying. It was manipulation but in a good way. They were coming around to see things his way and that’s the way he wanted it.

After lunch, Jack packed up his stuff and walked over to Alan’s desk. “Bro,” he said. “I’m leaving to finish something that’s been out there for a while.”

Alan nodded. “Good,” he replied. Don’t leave any loose ends.”

Jack left the office thinking about how Alan’s comment made him feel good inside. Alan’s AWO personality changes were starting to show. It might have not been abrupt or as powerful as Jack’s had been but it was happening in its own way.

The office where Linda’s lawyer resided was a few blocks away and Jack walked there with purpose. He was tired of having his ex-wife dangle around his neck or like a ball and chain at his ankle. It was time to cut her away and not worry about how she felt or what was going on with her ever again.

He walked into the lobby of the office and inwardly sighed as he saw Linda stand up and walk over to him. Standing there she looked almost frail, almost insignificant and Jack wondered why in the fucking world he had married somebody like her in the first place.

“Hi Jack,” Linda said smiling.

“Let’s get this over with,” Jack said his face stony.

“You look different,” Linda said as she smiled to the secretary who had a look on her face that showed that she had no clue how to deal with somebody like Jack.

“I am different,” Jack said. “Better too.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Linda said as she walked into a conference room where there was a stack of papers on the table.

A minute later, Linda’s lawyer walked in and nodded to the both of them. “I’m sure that both of you will be glad to put this all behind you,” he said.

“I’m sorry that it had to come to this,” Linda said as she looked at Jack. “We could have stuck it out and tried to make it work…”

Jack looked at the lawyer and said, “Where’s the pen and where do I sign?”

The next few minutes had Jack signing page after page. He didn’t really care what the pages said. He just wanted the entire situation over and done with. Linda sat looking at Jack and he could tell that she was trying to figure out what in the world happened to him.

“You’re not the man who I fell in love with,” Linda said after a moment.

“Good,” Jack replied as he looked for the next line to sign on.

“Jack… I don’t know what you think this is, but this isn’t good for you,” she said. “You need to get some help or at least find yourself again.”

Jack ignored her and signed the last line. “That’s it?” Jack asked. Once the lawyer nodded, Jack got up and looked at Linda. “Now. You wanted this. You pushed me to sign these papers. You got what you wanted. It’s over. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t try and find the ‘old me’. Just like this marriage and relationship, he’s dead.”

Jack walked out of the office and out into the street. He stopped for a moment and took a deep breath and felt lighter. There was no pain, no sadness over the end of a chapter of his life. No, the ankle lock had been removed and he was able to move freely now. And it felt so fucking damn good.

His phone buzzed as if on cue and it was from AWO:

Emotional Severance Detected

Old-life attachment reduced

Genetic freak integration strengthened

Continue forward. Do not look back.

Back at the office, Alan was receiving his own AWO message:

Spotlight Influence Detected

Social redirection successful

Conversion potential increasing

Do not comfort. Command.

Alan read the message and a part of his brain, the part that was being subsumed by the new Alan, felt a chill for a moment. At the same time that part didn’t understand how the AWO could know what was going on outside of the store.  But the new Alan, the one who was more confident and enjoyed the spotlight, just smiled and finished out his workday.

That evening, Jack and Alan headed back to the AWO store as though they had both become addicted to the place. When Jack walked into the store, he immediately noticed a new poster hanging on one of the walls that was of him flexing and kissing his bicep with the words GENETIC FREAK at the bottom. He grinned and nudged Alan and said, “Bro… fucking yes.”

Terry grinned as he saw the two of them walk in and he first looked at Alan. “Looking good brother,” he said. “First time I saw you walk in here and people were looking at you and not the Genetic Freak here.”

“Thanks,” Alan said with that patented smile. He finally wasn’t a tag-a-long of Jack’s. He was his own individual and he was being noticed like he should have been all along.

Cindy walked over to the three of them and said, “Good. Glad to see you both here. I need to verify a few things with each of you.”

A few moments later, the four of them found themselves in the original room that Jack and Alan had come into before they had started their journey as members of the AWO.

Cindy started with Jack with a screen on the wall showing the following data points:

Aggression stabilized

Old-life attachment reduced

Public impact rising

Promo submission received

Performance suitability improving

Alan’s analysis was similar in nature:

Attention response rising.

Humor deflection decreasing

Social redirection successful

Conversion potential rising

Influence pathway expanding

After a moment, Cindy nodded. “Good,” she said. “Your metrics are within expected parameters at this point. Usually there is some… downgrading that occurs but both of you show signs of progress beyond the norm.”

That part of the brain that was still worried for Alan spoke up and without thinking, Alan asked, “How do you know what’s happening outside to us? You have drones or something?”

“Nothing to be concerned with,” Terry replied.

“Of course,” Alan said. “Sorry I asked.”

A moment passed and then the screen changed to Austin Theory. Jack immediately sat forward like an eager puppy waiting to hear that he was a good boy from his master. Alan tensed up slightly because he wasn’t in the mood to be put down yet again.

“Good,” Theory said. “You did a good promo Jack. Not the best. You’re rough. You’re loud. You’re ugly in the right way. People would watch just to see how long you could be pushed before you bodyslammed somebody. That aggression is needed. But one promo doesn’t make you ready. I need to see you with my own eyes and then we’ll decide.”

Theory looked at Alan. Here it came. “Two recruits after one conversation,” Theory said. “That’s not charm. That’s discipline and conversion.”

“You’re starting to understand what The Spotlight is all about,” Theory continued. “It’s not being liked. It’s getting people to understand that your way is the right way.”

Theory signed off and the screen changed and said:

Genetic Freak confirmed.

Prepare for live heat.

Conversion metrics confirmed.

Prepare for Stage 4 integration.

“Theory saw us,” Jack said after a moment his voice tinged with excitement. Everybody in the room could see that he was about ready to scream for joy.

“He saw me,” Alan said as he realized that he was no longer behind Jack.

“Good. About time you caught up,” Jack said with a slight smile and edge in his voice.

“Maybe I’m not the one catching up,” Alan replied.

For a moment there was nothing but silence in the room but Alan noticed the glance that Terry and Cindy shared. It was like they knew what was happening and they had planned for it from the beginning of this journey.

Leaving the store, Jack and Alan stopped and looked at themselves in the AWO window. Jack stood there now a muscled freak ready for the ring and his new life. Alan stood there cleaner, sharper, dressed in an AWO vest as thought it had always been there. He was smiling a knowing smile like he knew a joke that nobody else did.

Jack woke up not giving a flying fuck about anything that was going on in his life. He remembered that Annie had threatened him with a suspension, Linda was on his case about the divorce and work was nothing more than something that paid the bills.

No, today Jack woke up and thought about Austin Theory. The man himself, the guy who was the spokesman for the AWO and all that it represented. Theory had noticed him. He had said that he had potential and that if he kept pushing forward, he could have a spot in the ring alongside Theory.

Fuck, what a goddamn great day to be alive!

Jack got up and immediately walked over to his bedroom mirror and flexed his massive python biceps. Without a care in the world, he kissed one of them looking at himself in the mirror at the same moment and loving every fucking moment of it. 

“Bro,” Jack said under his breath. “You fucking look amazing dude. No wonder people are so fucking scared of you when you walk into the office. They see this mass of fucking muscle and they want to worship the ground you walk on. But they can’t accept the fact that you’re fucking better than them.”

After getting ready, Jack ran over the scene in his head from the previous night and didn’t recognize what was going on with his friend Alan. It was hard for Jack to think of Alan as a friend any more. Alan was more like a rival now, somebody who saw Jack in all of his glory and was trying to figure out a way to knock Jack out of the limelight. Well that was fucking not going to happen.

While Jack was reveling in Theory’s light, Alan was waking up in a totally different mindset. Alan remembered the meeting with Theory for a totally different reason. Theory saw right through him. There was no praise from Theory, no ‘good job’ or ‘keep up the good work’. Instead, just like every other time in his life, Alan got told that he wasn’t good enough yet. That he was still seeking permission to enjoy being watched and being praised.

Of course, Jack was the one who got noticed first. It wasn’t Alan who was building his charisma so that he would get noticed. No, just like in high school and on the sports field, the guy with the roided muscles and the dumbass look on his face was the one who got applauded first. Brawn won over charisma and brains all the time in society. The smart guys did all the fucking hard work while the dumbass jocks got all the women and praise.

Where Jack was flexing and posing and being the alpha jock, Alan started getting ready for the calmly. He looked at himself in the mirror, making sure that he looked physically good. He wasn’t trying to flex and trying to scream at anybody but he was working on his presence and his smile. Every time he smiled, he tried not to sigh because of how fake it looked. 

Looking where he dropped the AWO vest that he had been wearing last night, Alan grabbed it and put it on. Grabbing a pair of sunglasses, he put those on as well and turned and looked at himself in the mirror.

“Holy fuck,” he said. “You look like a fucking cosplay wannabe C list star.”

Thirty minutes later, Jack arrived at work and realized immediately how small the office was. He was understanding the fact that he was meant for greater things and that he had outgrown his job. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mabel and Annie both looking at him and then started talking to each other. He knew that they were afraid of him, afraid of what he had become and that was fucking perfectly fine with him.  When he got to his desk, he sat down at it and proceeded to do the bare minimum required to keep his job.  He had bigger things on his mind than deadlines.

Alan walked in a few minutes later and saw Annie looking at him. “Morning Annie,” he said, “How are you doing on this fine Tuesday morning?”

Annie chuckled. “And when are Tuesdays ever fine?” she said. Walking over to him, she smiled and said, “Question. I know Jack seems to be on a tear lately and dousing himself in steroids. But you… you look more put together later, more confident. Mind telling me what your secret is?”

Alan smiled and looked at Annie. “No secret, just good living these past few weeks,” Alan replied. He noticed Annie looking at him again as though she was checking him out. He felt guilty that she even felt that way but then again, it was good to be looked at wasn’t it.

“Somebody else notices the change in you,” Annie said as Alan looked and saw that Mabel was staring at him. As soon as he smiled, he could have sworn Mabel blushing slightly before quickly turning her head and making it look like she was busy.

“Anything else?” Alan asked as Annie chuckled.

“No, nothing else,” Annie replied. “Just be careful. It looks like you’re becoming part of the office pool to see who hooks up with you first.”

“Not a bad pool to be a part of,” Alan said as he headed towards his desk. He saw Jack at his desk trying to look busy but was really doing a bad job of it. Alan thought that Jack looked small in the cubicle for the first time which was a frightening thing to think about honestly.

A couple of hours later, both men’s phones went off almost simultaneously. Jack, being bored out of his mind with the tediousness that was work, grabbed his phone and grinned when he saw the latest message from the AWO:

Performance Development Trial: Pending

Candidate: Genetic Freak

Requirement: Generate Heat

Make Them React. Make Them Remember.

Promo evaluation required.

The grin on Jack’s face said it all. He didn’t look at the message and the challenge as a test. It was his destiny to be somebody bigger. Somebody more than just an office worker.

Alan’s message was disturbing in its own way:

Stage 3: Spotlight Transformation Available

Requirement: Stop asking to be seen. Take the room.

Charm is not kindness. Charm is control.

Arrive ready to admit what you want.

Instead of pumping Alan’s own ego up, the message seemingly pointed out his greatest weakness. And every time that weakness was pointed out, Alan sighed and grumbled to himself. Jack had his own weaknesses to deal with but instead of dealing with them, Jack just ran through them not caring who he hurt or damaged as long as he got the thrill he was craving.

When he first went to the AWO store, Alan told himself that he was trying to figure out how to save Jack. But that wasn’t really the case now was it. Jack had been changed into something far more threatening, far more powerful. As he sat there looking at the message, Alan told himself that he was going back to the AWO store not to help Jack but to figure out what the fuck was going on with himself.

After lunch, Jack cornered Alan in the men’s bathrooms and showed him the text message that he had received from the AWO. “Look at this,” Jack said as he basically shoved the phone in Alan’s face.

Alan looked over the message and smiled slightly. He looked at Jack and said, “Nice. So what’s next big shot?”

“Theory wants proof. I’m giving him proof,” Jack said as he instinctively looked at his arm. Alan tried not to roll his eyes because it looked like Jack wanted to kiss his bicep.

“You hear yourself right? You sound like you’re begging for approval,” Alan replied. “The only way your ego can get satiated is if somebody tells you you’re good enough.”

“No bro,” Jack replied, shaking his head. “I’m earning this praise. I’m not begging for it.”

“You’re getting it from a screen?” Alan asked. “Shit. AI is so good right now that you might be deepfaked without realizing what was going on.”

“Fuck no,” Jack said. “I’m finally being noticed by somebody who sees who I’m actually becoming and encouraging it.”

After a moment, Jack saw the look on Alan’s face and laughed. “Holy fucking shit bro,” he said. “You're jealous. You’re jealous because he noticed me first.”

“Fuck no,” Alan lied way too fast to be believable.

Jack’s phone went off again and Alan could see there was a message from Linda, Jack’s ex-wife which immediately got deleted by Jack without him even reading it.

“Could have been important,” Alan said.

“I don’t need anything from that fucking bitch any longer,” Jack replied.

The afternoon for both of them went by in different ways. Jack sat at his desk and everybody who walked by felt a storm brewing with him. What nobody realized was that the storm that was brewing was exactly what Jack wanted. He didn’t give a shit about what anybody else thought as long as he could continue feeling that energy and power that he was being fed through his newfound lifestyle.

Alan on the other hand kept getting people looking at him and a few people made compliments about his appearance or how he was handling himself lately. The confidence that he was showing was starting to pay off with his co-workers and Alan realized that he could keep their attention on him without any issues if he wanted it. He was beginning to realize that yeah he wanted to be the center of attention.

At the end of the workday, the two of them went into the bathroom and changed out of their work clothes into street clothes. Jack changed into his AWO tanktop that by now was barely covering his growing muscles. While Alan changed into a black shirt and his AWO vest, Jack was looking at himself in the mirror and flexing and loving every minute of it. The more he looked in the mirror, the more he realized he never wanted this feeling to go away.

Anybody left in the office gave Jack a wide berth as he almost stormed out of the office. Alan was a few steps behind and a few of the women smiled at him. He returned the smile and kept on walking knowing that somehow he would still be in their minds after he left the office.

The AWO store was still there and Jack walked in now as though he owned the place. Alan wasn’t intimidated or fearful of what was inside any more. Where Jack felt like he deserved to be there, Alan was learning that despite all of his fears, the AWO store had unlocked something inside of him that he truly finally respected and enjoyed being.

Terry walked over to Jack and fistbumped him. “Bro, you fucking look amazing. The Freak wants to step in the ring,” he said. Looking at Alan, he smiled and said, “There. That’s the Spotlight who wants the room looking at him.”

“I didn’t say that,” Alan replied defensively. Even now, he was starting not to believe the lie he had just said.

“Not yet,” Terry replied. “But all of us know better don’t we?”

After a moment, Cindy walked out from one of the backrooms and Terry looked at her. “Look at what we’ve got here,” Terry said, pointing to Alan and Jack.

“Good,” Cindy said as she looked at Alan first and then Jack. “We’re ready for both of you.”

The four of them walked into a back room and Alan noticed that it was different than the other rooms that they had been in. The walls here were black and the lighting was red accent lights. There were several cameras in the room. There was a corner ring post from a wrestling ring in the center. Behind it, there was an AWO banner. On one of the monitors Alan saw “Performance Development Trial” while on another monitor were shots from the different cameras in the room.

“Time to show him what you’re made of Jack,” Terry said with a grin.

Jack moved to the ring post and started posing like a maniac. Alan didn’t want to laugh at the sight of his friend but it was hard not to. Thinking about where both of them had been a few weeks ago, the transformation from office workers into a roided dumbass and a cocky man was almost too much.

After a few minutes, Terry shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Dude,” he said to Jack. Will you stop?”

Jack stopped posing and looked at Terry. “But this is what he wants right?” Jack asked.

“Don’t show him what he wants,” Terry replied. “Show him what you are. Don’t play games. Don’t play for the camera. Be who you are.”

Jack took a deep breath and looked at the camera. This time, his voice seemingly changed, got serious and the power just flooded from him. It was such a change in attitude that it shocked Alan for a moment.

“Once, I was small. Once, I was ignored by everybody around me. I was just another guy in a suit going to work and sitting in my cubicle like a good little drone,” Jack said. “But look at me now. Look at what the AWO has given me. I’m the fucking Genetic Freak and I’m fucking glad. I don’t fucking shrink. I don’t fucking care what other people think. If they get in my way, I’m fucking going to take care of them.”

Jack flexed and he smiled. “Look at what I fucking have achieved through the AWO. You think I’m going to sit down again and be a good boy? Fuck no. I’m ready to step up and take the next fucking step. It’s time for the world to fucking see what the Genetic Freak is truly capable of.”

While Jack was cutting his promo, Alan was watching it and his brain tried to comprehend what he was watching. At first, it was embarrassing to watch. That embarrassment turned into horror as Alan began to realize Jack was enjoying himself and he meant what he was saying. He believed every word of it and he was reveling in the power and words that he was saying. 

And then the realization hit Alan. For the first time, Jack looked and felt truly alive. He wasn’t pretending, he wasn’t ashamed and he wasn’t worried about what anybody else thought. He was confident, powerful and he had been given permission to be the man that he had wanted to be all along.

Jack finished his promo with a double bicep flex and then the room went silent. He was breathing hard as though he was just coming off a massive drug high. Alan looked at Terry and the grin on his face said it all. Terry was proud of what Jack had just done and it fed Jack’s ego even more.

Cindy who had been quiet the entire time confirmed it.

Promo recorded.

Performance Review Pending.

Submission prepared for Theory review.

Jack looked at Cindy and grinned. “You’re going to send it to him?” he asked overly enthused.

“Confirmed,” Cindy replied as Terry said, “He asked for proof. You gave it to him brother.”

“Your turn,” Cindy said as she turned and looked at Alan.

“I’m not fucking doing that,” Alan protested. 

“No,” Terry replied from where he was standing with a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “That was Jack’s path. Yours is different.”

Alan walked over and said, “What? Now I smile and do my best Johnny Cage until the cult accepts me?”

For the first time in a long time, there was silence that greeted his joke. Terry, Cindy and Jack all looked at him as though he had said something about their cat dying.

“Come on,” Alan said. “That was fucking funny right?”

“No jokes,” Cindy replied. “Not this time.”

After a moment, Terry looked at Alan and said, “What do you want?”

“I want to know what’s going on,” Alan replied immediately and defensively.

“Wrong answer,” Cindy replied. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to help Jack,” Alan said his voice weakening slightly in his defiance.

“Wrong answer number 2,” Terry said. “We can do this all night Alan. What do you want?”

Alan looked at Jack who was still glowing from his promo, the grin on his face telling Alan all he needed to know.  Jack was the proof that Alan needed to see. Surrendering to what they were offering was going to feel like a victory no matter what the consequences were.

The screen on one of the monitors flashed.

Humor Deflection: Active

Desire Suppression: High

Spotlight Response: Pending

Looking at those words, Alan realized what he wanted. What he truly wanted. He was angry at himself for not accepting it before.

“I want…” he said slowly at first. “I want them to look at me.”

“Who?” Cindy asked. “Who do you want to see you?”

“I want to be seen by everybody,” Alan said a bit more confidence in his voice. “Jack has the muscles. I want the fucking charisma.”

“Good,” Cindy replied. “Let’s get to work.”

For the next twenty minutes, Terry and Cindy did just that. They got to work. First, Alan worked on how he looked around the room. Then they moved onto his posture which was hard because Alan had a tendency to shrink slightly when he was in a large crowd. Here, he was forced to stand up straight and tall. They trained his voice to be more confident, more assured of himself. They took him through exercises on how to handle and walk through a crowd.

The hardest part of the training was the acceptance that his growing vanity was a good thing and the attention that he was going to receive because of it needed to be accepted without guilt. This is what he wanted and he had to accept the fact that in order to be The Spotlight, he wanted those people to stare at him.

Jack meanwhile stood next to Terry as the two of them watched Alan change before their eyes. Jack was proud of what was happening to his friend. Alan was standing there wearing the AWO vest and Jack looked at him like a brother-in-arms. Jack was the one that brought Alan here. He had seen Alan crack and now Alan was becoming useful, visible and worthy.

Alan continued his work for a few minutes and he heard somebody under their breath say, “There he is.” Alan looked at the smile and pride coming from Jack and for a moment he wasn’t sure if he should feel betrayed because Jack had led him to this point and Alan jumped over the edge without thinking. The other side of the coin was that Alan felt validated, that he deserved to be just like Jack but in a different way entirely.

“There we go,” Cindy said as she nodded to Terry. “That’s enough for this evening. You did good today. Both of you.”

“That’s high praise coming from her,” Terry said. “Brothers, I haven’t seen two AWO members change as quickly and look as good as the two of you are right now.”

The door opened and one of the other AWO staff members poked his head through the door. “Sorry to disturb you,” the young man said. “I’ve got a couple of guys out here looking to talk to somebody about what we can do for them. Terry you got a second?”

Terry smiled and looked at Alan. “You’re up brother,” he said. “Make it count.”

Alan swallowed once and told himself that this is what he wanted. Now it was time to put up or shut up as people would say.

He walked out and the young AWO man pointed over to where there were a couple of college guys standing looking at a rack of shirts and shorts. Jack, Terry and Cindy stayed behind to watch what transpired.

Immediately, Alan noticed that the two young men looked at him with a hint of awe and inspiration. He smiled and started to talk to them about what the AWO was and how it could help anybody achieve their potential. From where the three of them were standing, they could see that the two men saw Alan as a role model and that his words were drawing them in just like Terry’s words drew Jack in a while back.

Finally, after talking to the two men for ten minutes, Alan turned and walked back to the three who were still standing there. Alan had a grin on his face and for the first time in a long time he felt truly alive and energized. For a moment, Alan realized that he had done to those two young men the same thing that Terry had done to Jack. Then the rush hit him and he didn’t fucking care.

He looked at Terry and said, “You’re got two new members Terry,” he said. “It was so… easy. Holy fuck.”

Terry and Jack grinned at Alan’s response and Alan watched as Terry walked over to the two young men who were eager to sign up and be transformed just like Alan and Jack had been.

A few minutes later, as Alan and Jack walked out of the store together, Alan said to Jack, “You’re not going to be the only one who Theory notices.”

A moment passed and there was a slight tension in the air between them before Jack grinned and said, “Good to fucking hear. Then keep the fuck up.”

As the two of them walked down the street, Alan kept looking in store windows and parked cars. Every time he did, he grinned and noticed something else that had changed about him. It felt so good to be able to walk down the street with the confidence that he had buried for so long. Next to him, Jack was feeding him in a different way. It was a shared hunger, a corruption that both had accepted with their eyes wide opened.

Jack had led Alan to the store. Alan originally thought that he was going to save Jack. But instead, he walked up to the cliff and saw Jack at the bottom smiling and transformed. And Alan, finally accepting that he wanted to be like Theory and Jack, he jumped.

Author's Note: Last of the original parts of the story. New parts will be posted but slower than originally done. Thanks for following, reading etc.

The next morning, Alan woke up totally confused after the events of last night. He laid there in bed thinking back to the woman who smiled at him and the feeling that he actually enjoyed the attention he was getting. It was so vain, so self-indulgent, that a part of Alan was horrified by what was happening but a part of him actually enjoyed it.

Getting up out of bed, Alan got ready for work. He went through his normal routine but almost by instinct, he looked at himself in the mirror and nodded. There were days he had looked in the mirror and hated what he had seen. Today, for the first time, he looked like he was finally becoming who he was meant to be.

The whole situation was insane. AWO was just beyond the pale in manipulating people like Jack to buy into what they were selling. Alan could see that Jack was on the road to ruin and if somebody didn’t stand up to Terry and Cindy, the man that Alan knew as Jack would be gone forever. The problem was that Alan hated the simple fact that the insanity that the AWO represented was starting to make sense to Alan. But that was a road Alan refused to go down because he saw what it was doing to Jack and he couldn’t do that.

Work that morning was different to say the least. When Alan walked into the office, it seemed like everybody looked at him as though he was somebody entirely new. A couple of people asked him if he had done something different with his hair or started to work out. It felt amazing as Alan sat down at his desk and started to get to work wondering what Jack was going to unleash that day.

Five minutes later, Jack walked in and headed towards his desk. From where Alan was sitting, he could see other people in the office glance at him and started to talk softly to one another. To Alan, the tension in the office went up a couple of points as soon as Jack walked into the room. From Jack’s perspective, Alan knew, what everybody was doing was a sign of respect for his growing physical presence. The problem was that Alan was reading it as discomfort.

Jack sat down at his desk and within a minute, Annie walked over and said, “We need to talk. Now.”

Jack looked at her and frowned. “Here or privately?” he asked like he was talking to somebody that was beneath him.

“Privately,” Annie said as she walked towards an unused conference room.

Once the two of them were inside, Annie closed the door and looked at Jack. “I don’t know what got into you yesterday Jack,” she said, “But what happened yesterday can’t happen again.”

“What happened?” Jack asked. “I got my work done.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Annie said. “I don’t know who you were talking to yesterday on the phone in the break room but people complained.”

“So, I spoke a little bit loud?” Jack said. “That’s all. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” Annie countered with. “Jack, I don’t know what has gotten into you the last few weeks but it’s got to stop right now. We’re a team in this office and we need to work together. Nobody and I mean nobody is higher up on the food chain than another all right?”

Jack just looked at her and said nothing. He was becoming something that she couldn’t control and put inside of a box like the rest of her office minions and that scared her. It was obvious to Jack that Annie didn’t know what to do with him now that he was standing up for himself and not worrying about what everybody else thought.

“Fine,” Jack said dismissing Annie. “Anything else boss?”

Annie looked at him and frowned. “If I get any more complaints from anybody or if I hear you not being respectful to people around here again,” she said, “I’ve got a suspension all ready to go. And if you take it too far Jack, nobody is vital to this company do you understand me?”

Jack looked at her and didn’t even nod. “Got it,” he said with very little emotion in his voice. “Can I get back to work now?”

Annie shook her head and motioned to the door. “Get out of here,” she said knowing that things would just escalate from there.

Once Jack left the conference room, Alan saw Annie standing alone and decided to figure out what the hell was going on and to see if it was possible to deescalate the situation between her and Jack.

“What’s up Annie?” Alan said as he stood at the conference room door. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is not okay,” Annie replied. “Your friend Jack is starting to become a menace around here. What the hell has gotten into him lately?”

“He’s going through some stuff personally,” Alan said with a smile trying to calm her down. “Linda’s been pushing for a divorce and he got tired of where he was so he’s changing everything in his life.”

“He’s not old enough to have a mid-life crisis,” Annie replied. “The problem is that his change is causing havoc around here with everybody else.”

“I know,” Alan said. “I’m going to talk to Jack to see if I can get him to calm down and lay off everything for a while. You know him. When he decides to do something, it’s all or nothing. The problem is that he has a tendency to move way too fast. Remember the time he went vegan for a month?”

“Oh god,” Annie replied with a chuckle. “Please don’t. I remember him pointing out when I was eating a ham sandwich that there were studies that eating ham lowered my life expectancy by .04 years on average.”

“Exactly,” Alan said. “I’ll talk to Jack and get him to back off okay? It’ll be fine.”

“You better,” Annie replied. “This can’t continue on like this.”

As Annie left the room, Alan stood there for a moment and realized what had just happened. For the first time in a long time, Alan didn’t feel like he was helping Annie. He knew exactly what to say to handle her. He sighed and realized how easily it was to manipulate her to get some heat off of Jack.

Lunchtime rolled around and Jack found Alan in the breakroom. He was proud of his friend and the attention that he was starting to get around the office. The smiles, the comments about looking stronger and more tanned.

“See,” Jack said as he sat down across from Alan. “Told you they’d find you.”

Alan looked at Jack and frowned. “I’m not like you,” he said.

“You’re not supposed to be like me,” Jack replied. “You don’t have to smash the room, bro. You just need to walk in and make everybody look at you. Different way of handling things.”

Almost at the same exact moment, both of their phones lit up with a message from AWO. Jack’s message was the following:

Stage Three Integration Review Required.

Archetype: The Genetic Freak

Impact Observed. Visibility confirmed.

Performance Suitability under review.

Alan’s message was similar:

Stage Two Integration Review Available.

Archetype: The Spotlight

Initial attention response detected.

Do not deflect. Do not disappear.

Jack smiled and looked at Alan after reading his message. He saw the concern on Alan’s face and asked, “What the hell is wrong with you bro? This is a good thing.”

Alan looked at his phone again. “Good?” he asked. “How the hell are they monitoring us outside of the store? This is fucking creepy.”

“They can do whatever the hell they want,” Jack replied. “We’re getting exactly what we deserve right? So it doesn’t matter.”

The rest of the afternoon actually went by uneventfully. Jack and Alan headed to the AWO store and as soon as the two of them walked in, Alan felt a change in the air. Next to him, Jack immediately changed his stance and even more physical presence seemed to come off of him. It was like he had become a sergeant within the AWO army and he was walking into headquarters waiting for a promotion or new orders.

“Dude,” Terry said as he walked over to the two of them. “There’s my fucking Genetic Freak. My god man… you look fucking amazing!”

Jack flexed his bicep for Terry and grinned. “Brother,” he said. “I haven’t felt this good in fucking years.”

“I know right?” Terry said as he looked at Alan and just nodded to him as though he was nothing more than a sidekick.

Alan watched as the two of them talked about things and that left Alan feeling a bit out of the loop. For the first time, he was envious of the attention Jack was getting. Alan was supposed to be the man in the spotlight but instead it was Jack who looked like a freaking bodybuilder that was getting all of the attention.

“So,” Terry finally said. “You two for your interviews? Cindy is ready for you.”

Alan tried to smile but he felt like he was nothing more than a third wheel in this entire situation. He followed Jack and Terry into the back rooms of the AWO store and Cindy was sitting behind a desk looking at a monitor. She nodded and motioned for them both to sit down.

After a minute, she said, “Nice to see the both of you again. Jack, Stage Three is progressing nicely. Physical growth is ahead of schedule. You’re learning to express yourself aggressively which fits the Genetic Freak’s archetype perfectly. Good work.”

Alan leaned forward and asked, “How do you know what’s happening beyond these four walls. What’s going on at work, what’s going on in our personal lives is off limits right?”

Cindy looked at Alan and said, “Confirmation of archetype integration must be shown outside of AWO facilities. Surveillance is required in order to verify progress and opportunities for improvement.”

“As for you Alan,” Cindy replied. “There has been some vanity resistance. Your posture is improving however and your control of others is improving. You need to start focusing on yourself more. You are still trying to deflect when in social gatherings.”

“Obviously,” Terry said, “We’ve got work to do with you Alan. But you’ll come around eventually. Jack’s heat is growing by the day.”

“What the hell?” Alan asked as he looked at Terry. “What the fuck is heat?”

“Heat is something that members gain as they progress,” Cindy said. “People are reacting to him. Discomfort is still attention. Fear is still impact. That impact is measurable.”

“So wait…” Alan said, confused. “Jack could lose his job, lose his friends and watch his life crumble around him and that’s a good thing?”

Instead of responding, a new screen image popped up and Alan was looking at an evaluation of himself.

Spotlight Integration: Early Stage

Attention Response: Positive

Humor Deflection: Persistent

Self-Prioritization: Underdeveloped.

Desire Suppression: High.

Terry looked at him and smiled. “You still want to be wanted but don’t admit that you want it,” he said.

“That’s doubletalk and you know it,” Alan snapped at Terry with.

“There it is again,” Terry said.

Alan looked at Terry and sighed. He knew what Terry meant. He was dropping a joke or a witty remark and people were beginning to see through it for what it really was.

“Oh,” Cindy said. “We forgot to mention something. Jack, somebody wants to talk to you.”

The wall of the room changed and Austin Theory appeared dressed in a sleeveless AWO shirt and trunks. He looked as though he had just finished a workout from the pump that his muscles were showing.

“Hey Jack,” Theory said. “Got word from Cindy and Terry that you’re progressing nicely. Got to say you’ve even impressed me. Your presence is impressive and your visual impact is solid to say the least. Your intensity is growing and pretty marketable at this point. Got to say you’re definitely becoming a Genetic Freak and a poster boy for the AWO brand and what we offer to people.”

Alan could see Jack becoming more and more sure of himself as Theory continued on.

“You’re outgrowing your old life,” Theory said. “And that’s a good thing. You know why? Because you’re leaving everything behind that you don’t need any more.”

Theory looks at Alan and finally says, “So you’re the Spotlight.”

Alan nods and says, “Trying to be.”

“You’re not even close. Right now, you’re still waiting for permission to actually enjoy being watched. When you stop looking for permission and start just being you then we’ll talk more. Until then you’ve got work to do.”

Instinctively, Alan slouched in the chair and glanced at Jack. That was the problem that would be there forever. The guy with the muscles and lack of a brain cell would always get ahead in life while the charismatic guy would always live in the shadows. Alan realized that had to stop somehow.

“So,” Theory said as he turned his attention back to Jack. “I’ve got a challenge for you. I know you’ve got potential. Fuck, I think you have a chance to land up in the ring like me showing everybody in the crowd what the AWO stands for. But you’ve got to prove to me that you got what it takes to step into the ring. Muscle is one thing. Presence is another. Show me you’ve got both and we’ll talk.”

With that the screen switched off and Jack said, “Holy fuck. Austin Theory…”

“He doesn’t talk to everybody who walks in those doors,” Terry replied. “We’ve got something special in you Jack. Just need to continue pushing forward.”

Looking at Jack, Alan’s mind darkened. Once, Alan told himself that he was supposed to be disgusted by what Jack had become. Now, after seeing Theory gush over Jack’s potential and progress, it made Alan jealous. He was supposed to be the Spotlight. And somehow, the musclebound freak got noticed first.

Cindy looked at Jack and Terry and said, “I need to talk to Alan for a second. Can you give us some privacy?”

“Sure,” Terry said as Jack got up from the chair. “We’ve got some new gear in that our freak here will enjoy.”

Once the two of them left, Cindy looked at Alan and there was silence in the room. Finally, Cindy said, “So?”

“So what?” Alan replied with.

“That must have pissed you off what just happened,” Cindy said.

“What? That the muscle freak gets noticed by Theory and I get told to work harder?” Alan asked. “Fucking story of my goddamn life.”

“Then do something about it,” Cindy replied. “You need to be as visible as he is. You’ve been fighting this from the beginning. And honestly I don’t know what your story is as to why you agreed in the first place. But now you need to decide something. Is this really what you want or are you just going to walk away?”

Alan looked at Cindy and frowned. That was the crux of the situation honestly. He had walked into the store the first time trying to protect Jack from himself and AWO. But now, after seeing everything that had transpired, Alan realized that he didn’t want to be Jack’s protector and to save Jack. He wanted to stand on equal footing as Jack.

“This is what I want,” Alan said after a moment. “I want to be… fuck… I need to be The Spotlight. Jack can have his muscles and his aggression. I need to be the center of attention.”

“Good,” Cindy said with a smile. “That’s what I wanted to hear. We’ll talk about Stage Three integration soon. For now, get out there and get to work Alan.”

Alan got up and walked out of the room and found Jack and Terry flexing in one of the mirrors trying to figure out who had the biggest bicep. It was like walking into a bodybuilding convention with a couple of gym bros.

“Did you see that?” Jack said as the two of them walked out of the store. “Theory saw it. He saw me and my potential.”

“Yeah. He saw you,” Alan said as he forced a smile.

Jack had been noticed.

Alan had been challenged.

And somehow, the second one felt worse.

Ethan and Markus had been going through a rough patch and decided to go to therapy. Neither wanted to give up their relationship, they had been dating for nearly 3 years and managed to find a seemingly pro LGBT therapist who would see them for really cheap. They sent an email asking when is the soonest he could see them and to their surprise he responded very quickly and said tomorrow.

When they arrived to the appointment, a kind looking man with a large beard greeted them, introducing himself as Dr. Reeder

"Heya! You must be Markus and Ethan. It's good to meet you both I can't wait to help you boys." The man in the suit said in a deep voice as he shook their hands and motioned for them to take a seat.

"thank you so so much, we really need the help. We need to fix this but lately we just haven't seen eye to eye on anything.." Markus trailed off as he scratched his beard and looked down

"You're right, and accepting that is the first step. First things first I want you both to watch something and then the real work can start" Dr. Reeder flashed a big smile and seemed to almost laugh as if he said an inside joke. He took out his phone and pressed play, handing the device over to the couple who watched the screen as a red spiral began to flash and almost pull them in. Unable to find themselves capable of looking away, they fell deeper and deeper as the man across them began to chuckle with just a hint of malice.

"Wha-what is this- I uhm- it's so-duuuh" Ethan said as he and his partner bathed in the bright red glow

Dr Reeder slid on a red maga hat as he watched them go silent and still, knowing it was clearing their minds, leaving room for him to make any changes he may wish

"Oh I'ma FIX you alright, stupid fags. You walked right into my clutches. Don't worry you paid for the full hour so we can take our time straightening you two out hehe"

He chuckles with a smug grin as he begins to whisper in their ears, about the importance of Conservative values, how liberals have destroyed the country. Eventually he turned to erasing their old relationship. It's easier to change a strong bond rather than break it so he drilled a love for Brotherhood into their weak and moldable minds.

"Repeat after me! MAGA is the greatest movement in history!"

"MAGA...is... greatest" The couple says in unison, blank mindless expressions on their faces.

"Good. The Right is always Right"

"Right..is...Right"

"Woke is Wrong!"

"Woke... Wrong"

"Real Men love chicks not dicks!"

"Men..love... chicks..not dicks.." they say as they begin to drool

"And they hate Fags! Fags are disgusting perverts!"

"Fags....are.... perverts!" They seem to try to fight but as their eyes go glassy they continue the mantra

"Great job! HaHA alright the hour is almost up so I think it's time to put these on" He says as he takes two more Maga hats out of his desk

Without even thinking they put them both on as the video finally ends. As the hat goes on it feels like something clicks, like the fog cleared, but all the thoughts had changed. Ethan looked down and then over to his boyfriend Bro Markus

"Woah dude what happened? Why were we here? Oh yeah, Dr Reeder do you think you can be our personal trainer at the gym?"

"Of course I will, you betas got a little muscle but need some help bulking up. And please bros can just call me Brad. Now I got one last question, who's the best president we've ever had?"

Both Ethan and Markus let out a deep low laugh as they flex and both shout

"TRUMP!!"

"Perfect, another relationship fixed right up heh" Brad says under his breath and jots down a note in his journal

Sebastian had never looked better.

The Pride parade glittered around him like a moving carnival of pleasure, and he was its centerpiece: cropped mesh tee clinging to his lean chest, glitter tracing his sharp cheekbones, shorts so tiny they were barely legal. His thighs were smooth, polished, skin shining under sunscreen, smelling faintly of coconut and vanilla.

He was the kind of boy you photographed, then lusted over in bed later. A tight, shaved, pink-cocked twink who knew his worth, mouth dripping with practiced sarcasm, sipping from an overpriced iced matcha with a metal straw.

And then she showed up.

Blocking the sidewalk, muttering psalms, fanning herself with her palm like she could brush the queerness off the streets with sheer disgust. Floral dress, Bible tucked under one arm like a purse, cheap gold cross hanging on her wrinkled chest. Damp, angry, lost.

Sebastian couldn’t resist.

“Oh, honey,” he drawled, stepping in front of her, hand on his cocked hip. “Didn’t you hear? God doesn’t do RSVP anymore. He’s too busy ghosting your church.”

Her eyes snapped to him, pure Christian rage, centuries of sermons packed into that pinched glare.

“You boys flaunt your sins. But pride cometh before destruction.”

Sebastian laughed, flipping his bleach-blond fringe. “Destruction? Bitch, I am destruction. Have you seen my ass?”

That’s when she said it. Quiet, almost like she was saying it to someone else:

“Then let your pride be your curse.”

The heat hit first.

Not hot like summer.

Hot like infection.

His stomach cramped, sharp and sudden, sloshing the matcha inside him like sour milk. Sweat prickled at the small of his back, dampening the elastic waistband of his cute little shorts. His first instinct was to gasp—but the noise that came out was wrong. Too low. Gravel under silk.

He staggered backward, trying to keep balance on his delicate Converse, but something was off with his weight. He felt heavier. Meatier. The mesh stretched across his chest—no longer delicately showing his ribs, but pushing against something… dense.

“Fuck… the hell’s goin’ on…” The slur in his voice wasn’t his usual camp. It was lazy. Like someone who couldn’t be bothered to speak clearly.

His armpits—once fresh, sweet, carefully scrubbed this morning—were wet. And not twink sweat. Man sweat. Sharp. Acrid. The smell hit him like a punch. Like the time he’d accidentally walked into the men’s wrestling locker room at his old high school.

“Ughh—” he gagged, raising an arm, seeing—no, smelling—thick, curling black hair spreading under there like invasive weeds. Sweat beads clung to it, trickling down his smooth torso, leaving salt trails.

A group of lesbians on the curb gave him a look. Pity. Confusion. And worst of all: disgust.

“N-no, I—I don’t—” His voice cracked downward again. Meaty. Dumb. Someone else’s dad’s voice emerging out of his pretty-boy throat.

And then it happened.

BRRRRRAPPPPP.

The fart burst out of him like a wet cough, long, bubbling, hot. It clung to his thighs, greasy and rancid, curling upward into his nose.

And worse—he liked it.

The shame hit next. His cheeks burned. His body felt like it belonged at a sports bar now, not a Pride parade. The kind of man who sat on the porch shirtless scratching his gut and yelling at CNN.

A tremble ran down his arms, and he saw it—hair. Curling along his forearms, spreading like a plague, darkening as his toned twink arms bulked, flesh puffing up under his skin.

And the thoughts started trickling in.

Fuckin’ fruits everywhere…

“No! No, I don’t— I’m gay, I’m fucking—” he whimpered, voice cracking under panic, but already it sounded like a straight bro’s whine about having to mow the lawn.

The church lady just watched.

And smiled.

“Oh, honey. You wanted to mouth off. Now you’ll know what it’s like when a man speaks.”

Sebastian clutched his chest—but it wasn’t delicate anymore. It was swollen. Thick pecs pushing the mesh outward, nipples stiff beneath the fabric. It wasn’t a gay chest anymore—it was a dad chest. And the nipples weren’t cute—they were the kind of big, hairy ones you’d see poking out of beer-stained undershirts at county fairs.

He could smell himself stronger now. Like meat. Like a lawnmower left in the sun. The scent of his own armpits mixing with the sharp, sour male crotch scent rising from his shorts.

His free hand absently scratched at his belly, the lazy, gross gesture of a man who didn’t care who saw his gut, because he knew he was the boss of the backyard.

“Whole city’s gone queer…” he mumbled under his breath, farting again, hotter this time, cheeks flaring with shame—but another part of him, the growing, ugly, man part, didn’t even flinch. Just let it rip.

The last glitter on his face mixed with the new sweat, running in streaks like a washed-up birthday clown.

Somewhere, deep in the back of his fogging mind, Sebastian tried to cry out. To scream for help.

But the next words out of his own betraying lips were:

“Shoulda been home drinkin’ a fuckin’ Bud. Can’t even walk downtown without steppin’ in this gay shit.”

His pink-painted nails cracked, flaked, and yellowed like rotting petals, replaced with blunt, thick fingernails, dirt under the edges. Dad nails.

And still, the heat climbed.

Still, the smell got worse.

And still, he farted. Lazy. Wet. Like he didn’t even care.

The church lady just smiled softly, murmuring, “It’s only just beginning.”

It was spreading faster now.

Sebastian staggered into the middle of the street, clutching his chest, feeling it bubble. Not soft anymore—not cute. His pecs were growing, thick slabs of muscle pushing the mesh outward like a sausage casing about to burst. The nipples beneath were big, wide, swollen, ringed with dark hair curling outward like spider legs around bottlecaps.

It wasn’t cute.

It was masculine. Ugly.

Alpha.

He reached up—instinctive, panicked—but instead of batting at his sweaty bangs, he felt coarse, thick sideburns growing downward along his jawline, bristling and greasy. His chin jutted outward, jaw squaring into a heavy, meathead block.

“No, no, no, I’m—I’m gay, I’m—”

The thought tried to rise, but got smothered by something filthier, louder:

“Fuckin’ gay shit everywhere. Buncha fairy boys prancin’ around like they ain’t gonna burn.”

He grunted, loud, full-bodied, dumb, as his neck widened, traps climbing up toward his ears. That delicate little Adam’s apple of his was now a thick knot of muscle and testosterone.

His forearms continued to explode outward, veins crawling up through layers of new bulk, wrist thickening, palms rough like sandpaper. Hair sprouted down his knuckles, curling black, greasy with sweat and street grime.

His mesh crop ripped straight up the middle, exposing a thick, sweat-slicked power gut, packed muscle under the layer of BBQ softness. His belly swelled with each greasy, bubbling fart that vibrated out of his shorts.

No longer a lean twink.

Now: a power-belly meathead.

“Shit… shit… fuckin’ can’t… fuckin’…”

His voice was gone. Completely. What was left was pure meathead jock: slurred, stupid, thick with muscle and beer. Like every word had to fight through inches of sweaty muscle before it left his throat.

The worst part? He liked it. The panic was shrinking, drowning under pure, chemical, testosterone-fueled pleasure. He grunted, absently scratching his gut, letting another BRRRAAAP rip against his sagging boxer briefs like a badge of honor.

And that’s when the tits started.

The images poured into his head like rotten milk over cereal. Bimbos. Trashy. Fucking huge, silicone, plastic-surgery disasters, wobbling and bouncing. Lip filler lips choking, gagging on his cock. In his new mind, the only purpose for women was to get bred and swallow cum.

“F-fuckkk… imagine those fuckin’ melons… face-fuck that bitch till she’s gaggin’ on it, knock her up nice n’ fat, give ‘er a real Christian fuckin’ family...”

Another fart. Another scratch at his sweaty, hairy gut.

His thighs were massive now—football-thick, veined, black hairs stuck to wet skin. His boxers could barely contain the lump swinging between his legs: not cute, not aesthetic, just fat, sweaty, dad meat, reeking of old cum, old sweat, and cheap aftershave.

People passing by stared—not with attraction now, but horror. Wrinkled noses. Gagging. Whispers.

But he didn’t care. Not anymore. He grinned, yellowed teeth on full display, sweat running into his thickening beard stubble, smelling like cheap chili dogs and backyard grills.

And then the last piece clicked into place:

“I gotta get home… Wife prob’ly needin’ me… Got work tomorrow, gotta take the boys to church after I bust a load into that fat fuckin’ pussy.”

Wife. Kids. Church. It was all there now, as real to him as anything had ever been.

“God gave us tits for a reason,” he muttered, like quoting a favorite verse.

Behind his eyes, the parade blurred into nonsense. Gay shit. Waste of taxpayer money. Drag queens? Disgusting. Faggots prancin’ around in dresses? Should be arrested.

All that mattered now was God. America. Breeding.

The church lady nodded. “A strong father. That’s what the Lord makes of prideful boys.”

BRRRRPPPTT.

The final fart echoed off the surrounding buildings, loud, bubbling, stinking of hot dog water, wet socks, and cum. His boxers clung to his hairy ass, damp with sweat and flatulence.

And then he saw her again. The woman.

And—God help him—he knew her.

Not just knew her.

Recognized her.

Memories erupted behind his eyes, slamming into his brain like sledgehammers.

Sunday school picnics. The pastor’s office. Wedding vows. Kids. Kids screaming for more juice boxes. Buying lumber at Home Depot. Standing in church with this woman on his arm. Wearing a sweat-stained baseball cap backward like a real man.

“I—I fuckin’—you’re my wife…” he gasped, horrified, but also— excited. His cock twitched, fat, ugly, dad meat pressed against his overstuffed boxers, a wet sweat stain forming under the outline of his swelling, half-hard junk.

“Bradley,” she said gently. “Kiss your wife.”

He tried to resist.

His face lunged forward.

He grabbed her, meaty hands wrapping around her waist, feeling the soft fabric of her dress bunched up under his cracked fingers. And then kissed her—wet, sloppy, greasy—smashing his lips against hers like a drunken trucker coming home from a fishing trip.

She didn’t fight it. Welcomed it. Tongue sliding against his, tasting the tang of old chili dogs and last night’s beer farts on his breath.

He pulled back, panting, belching softly, sweat pouring down his sides, stomach pushing against her like a fat dog desperate for a rub.

“F-fuck, I missed these lips,” he slurred, like the memory had always been there, just buried under Pride flags and TikTok dances. “Wife always got the nicest knockers too…”

His eyes darted down to her chest, the matronly swell of fabric over old-fashioned brassiere. In his head now: a flood of thoughts.

Bimbos. Huge fake tits. Choking. Gagging. Breeding. Belly round with his cum. Fucking pregnant, like God wanted.

He grunted, loud, crude, gripping her hips possessively. “Fuck, babe, I’m gonna knock you up again. Give us another little Republican. Name ‘im after my dad.”

RRRRTTBBPPPTT.

Another wet, lazy fart buzzed through the overstretched crotch of his boxers. Didn’t even flinch. Didn’t even care. Just scratched his hairy belly, letting the stink leak upward, curling around both of them like a curtain of pure man.

His cock pulsed, stiff, throbbing, eager for bimbos, for cheap motel rooms, for knocking up dumb sluts with full lips and empty heads.

“Fuckin’—fuck, I’m so horny, babe… Gotta dump a fat fuckin’ load somewhere soon… Maybe after church, yeah?”

The glitter on his cheeks was just streaks of sweat now, dripping into his scruffy beard, stubble thickening into a lazy conservative chin-strap, crusted with drool from that sloppy kiss.

The crowd backed away, faces twisted in revulsion.

Sebastian was gone.

Bradley, 39, Christian father, MAGA voter, fart machine, tits-obsessed, proudly ignorant, heterosexual, dumb, sweaty, horny, married, and ready to fuck.

He grinned, cock throbbing against the stinking fabric of his wet boxers, fist resting against his gut like a proud lion surveying his territory.

“God, beer, tits, and family. That’s all a man needs. C’mon, babe. Let’s go home an’ make another Republican.”

And then—burp.