#twunkification

Jack stood outside the building of ChangeMotors. At 50 years old, he very rightfully felt out of place against the modern, minimalist design of the pristine car dealership.

He hesitated at the door before stepping inside. The showroom floor very well lit with chrome accents catching his eye. Rows of luxury cars lined the space, each one as polished as the other. The smell of leather and new paint filled his senses as he became a bit overwhelmed by the whole environment surrounding him.

At the far end of the showroom, a man stood waiting. Tall and commanding, the CEO was dressed in a sharp black suit, exuding authority but friendliness at the same time, he appeared to be very young to own such a place, barely above 30.

Jack approached, looking at the CEO up and down, his eyes catching on the very obscene bulge almost breaking through his chinos.

 ”Welcome, Jack" Sterling, the CEO, said smoothly, gesturing toward his office. “Have a seat.”

Jack sat, looking at sterling leaning back in his chair. “So, you’re looking for a job here?”

“Yes, sir,” Jack replied, his voice steady but very obviously uncertain. “I’ve worked in sales before. I’m sure I could—”

Sterling interrupted with a faint smile. “Jack, this is a high-performing dealership. We demand excellence—sharp minds, energetic bodies, and… the right image. Let’s see if you fit, alright ?”

Before Jack could respond, sterlings voice dropped into a smooth, rhythmic cadence. “Let’s make sure you’re exactly what this dealership needs, shall we?”

“We need someone young, vibrant,” Sterling murmured. “Start with your feet, Jack. Strong, quick, and… appealing.”

Jack gasped confusingly as a tingling sensation washed over his feet. He looked down to see his shoes tightening. His feet shrank slightly, the toes becoming narrower and more defined. The clean, soft smell completely faded, leaving room for a strong, unpleasant young foot funk. His once-calloused soles smoothed out, the skin aged taking on a youthful look.

Jack felt confused, but his thoughts were so clouded and interrupted that he barely questioned the first change.

“Good,” Sterling continued, his voice hypnotic and slow, almost dull. “An employee should be tall and also presentable. Stand up straight for me, jack.”

A sudden warmth spread through Jack’s legs, starting from his thighs and working downward. His once-thick legs, shaped by years of inactivity, began to slim, and while the excess fat melted away, lean and wiry muscle began to form, while his thighs became slim yet strong, perfectly proportional and skinny.

“Of course, confidence starts in the butt” Sterling said with a sly grin.

The warmth in Jack’s spine surged downward, drooling in his hips and ass. His once-flat backside pushed outward, rounding into two perfectly proportioned little globes, full, noticeable and very soft. His slacks stretched tight against his newly sculpted butt, accentuating the curve.

Sterling’s eyes blinked mischievously. “Oh, and i believe you should stay concentrated and not have anything distracting you. After all, we can’t have anything pulling your focus away from your work, can we?”

The confident weight he had grown accustomed to just moments ago started to fade. Slowly but surely, his dick began to retract. The tight bulge that had once filled his slacks diminished, leaving the fabric smooth and far less pronounced. His once above-average size now dwindled to below average, settling at a modest 3.9 inches when erect and barely noticeable otherwise. His balls also shrunk and scrunched up, making his new, small package complete.

Sterling nodded approvingly. “Good, good. Now, let’s work on that core.”

A tightening sensation spread across Jack’s torso. His bloated belly flattened as if years of poor eating habits were being undone in an instant. His chest, once sagging and soft, firmed up—but instead of bulky muscle, his pecs took on a slim, athletic shape. His arms followed suit, slimming down but revealing lean muscle, with just enough definition to suggest strength without bulk.

The warmth spread to Jack’s face. He reached up instinctively, feeling his sagging jowls tighten. The wrinkles around his mouth and eyes smoothed out, replaced by youthful skin. His jawline sharpened, becoming more angular and defined. His cheekbones rose slightly, giving him a handsome but approachable look.

Even his hair transformed. The graying strands darkened, thickened, and styled themselves into a neat, trendy cut that looked effortless but carefully maintained.

The final wave of warmth swept over Jack’s head. His thoughts grew lighter, less burdened by years of experience. The weight of his responsibilities and the wisdom of his age evaporated, replaced by a playful, carefree outlook.

He smiled, a flirty glint in his eye as his personality adjusted to match his body. He felt energetic, eager to please, and just a little careless—a young man with nothing to worry about but his next task.

Sterling’s voice took on a commanding tone. “Forget insecurity, forget hesitation. You are bold. You are the kind of man who walks into a room and owns it. Confidence is your default setting.”

Jack’s shoulders straightened as the words sank in. He felt a surge of unearned self-assurance coursing through him. The man who had walked in, nervous and uncertain, faded away. His grin widened, cocky and self-satisfied.

Sterling smirked. “There we go. Confidence. Now you believe every woman wants you, every man envies you. It’s who you are.”

Jack—no, Ayden—laughed. “Yeah, that’s me, boss. No question about it.” His voice had gained a playful arrogance, his posture brimming with swagger.

Sterling’s eyes gleamed. “A man like you should have no confusion about who you are or what you want. You’re as straight as they come, fully focused on women. That’s all you think about now. All you need.”

Ayden’s mind buzzed as the suggestion took hold. Any lingering thoughts or flexibility in his preferences dissolved, replaced by a single-minded attraction to women. His gaze grew more flirtatious, his thoughts simpler and entirely physical.

He smirked. “Yeah, women are the only thing worth thinking about, huh? I mean, who wouldn’t want me?”

Sterling nodded approvingly. “Exactly. Keep that focus. You’ve got no time for anything else.”

The CEO’s tone shifted again, low and entrancing. “A sharp mind isn’t necessary for your new role. You don’t need to overthink or complicate things. You’re young, carefree, and simple—just go with the flow. You’ll have fewer worries, fewer thoughts weighing you down.”

Ayden’s face dulled for a moment before smoothing out. The previous issues of his adult life—the anxieties, the knowledge vanished like smoke. His thoughts became lighter, simpler, and significantly dumber.

“Yeah, thinking too much sucks anyway,” Ayden said, laughing. “Just tell me what to do, boss. I’m ready for anything.”

Sterling leaned back, satisfied. “Perfect. You’re confident, focused, and free of anything unnecessary. Just the way I like my interns.”

As Jack—now Ayden—basked in his newfound confidence, Sterling’s smile turned sly. “But you’re not quite done yet. Let’s add a little extra"

Ayden frowned slightly, confused. A tingling warmth spread over his skin, starting from his arms and chest, and his features sharpened slightly, taking on a more distinctly Mexican aesthetic, his mind flooding with the time he spent in Mexico when he was younger"

Sterling sniffed the air, chuckling softly. “Ah, there it is. That spice. That’s your new signature"

Jack’s armpits tingled as the change swept through them. The subtle clean scent of an older man was replaced by a sharper smell, one that carried a faint hint of Mexican spices, heat, and sweat. It wasn’t overpowering, but it lingered in the air—an unmistakable signature of a 20 year old boy who wasn’t overly concerned with deodorant or showering for thzt matter.

Ayden caught the faint aroma wafting around him. It was spicier now, heavier, like a mix of sweat and something almost smoky. His cheeks flushed, but the scent didn’t bother him—it felt natural, right.

Jack blinked as his stomach churned unexpectedly. A warmth bubbled deep within his gut, spreading outward. At first, it felt like indigestion, but it quickly intensified into a constant, almost pleasant pressure. He doubled over slightly, confused.

“Don’t worry,” Sterling said with a smirk. “This is all part of the process. Let me explain.”

A low rumble escaped Jack’s abdomen, followed by a sharp burst of air. The sound echoed awkwardly in the small office, and the smell hit seconds later—a pungent, almost eye-watering combination of sulfur and spice. Jack’s eyes widened in horror, but Sterling only laughed.

“That,” Sterling said, “is your new weapon.”

Jack couldn’t believe it, but the gurgling in his stomach continued. His body felt lighter, freer, but the pressure wouldn’t go away. Another loud burst escaped him, this one even worse than the first. The smell was overwhelming, like scorched peppers and raw onions left to rot in the sun, but Auden strangely began to like the sensation of the steaming hot foul air escaping his hairy, smelly anus, each smelly burst resulting in a masculine moan.

Sterling leaned forward, his grin widening. “This isn’t just some embarrassing side effect. This is power. Those farts? They’re all urs now. It’s constant, uncontrollable, and unforgettable. The smell alone will dominate anyone in the room. It’s raw, primal, and impossible to ignore.”

Jack tried to protest, but another burst erupted, filling the room with an even thicker haze. The spicy, steamy scent seemed to cling to the air, and Sterling waved his hand through it with a satisfied smirk.

“Women won’t stand a chance,” Sterling continued. “That scent? It’ll overwhelm them, distract them, leave them dazed. It’s not just gas—it’s influence. Confidence. Dominance."

Jack—no, Ayden—felt the pressure in his gut settle into a constant churn. He could feel the gas building, ready to escape at any moment. It was embarrassing, humiliating even, but at the same time, he felt an odd sense of power. The scent, the sound—it commanded attention, demanded respect.

Sterling’s voice softened, almost playful. “And don’t worry about control. Let it out. Let it all out. It’s who you are now—a bold, gassy, confident young man with the power to dominate any room.”

"Welcome to ChangeMotors, Ayden".

Ayden grinned, exuding cocky charm. He was now exactly what Sterling wanted—a confident, straight, carefree young man ready to take on the world with little more than swagger and good looks, while flexing inside the dealerships brand new cars and spreading his foul farts inside of them.

You find yourself in front of your local Spanish-language association. You thought that taking a few classes in Spanish would help you recover some of the long forgotten classes you took in high school… though in all honesty, it won’t likely do much. You’re quite old, now, so it means that your brain cannot learn new languages as easily as it used to...

As you enter, you see the Mexican flag front and center, along with flags of many other Latin American countries, as well as that of Spain. You walk up to the receptionist, and she tells you, directly in Spanish :

“¡Bienvenidos! ¿Cuál es el motivo de usted venida? (Welcome ! What is the reason you came here ?) - Er…” You try to conjure some of the very old memories, and only manage a “Hola !” Before going back to English. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know Spanish… I’m here to take classes, in fact.”

The receptionist nods, and thinks a bit before taking out a timetable.

“Okay, well, you see, I have a... beginner’s course of Spanish in a few hours… It’s not perfect because they already started in January, but I think you can still catch up if you work hard enough.” She says, with a perfect American accent. She is visibly bilingual. - Oh, in a few hours ?”

You are quite interested, considering that you did want some beginner-level courses, but in a few hours… That’s too short to just go back home and come back later, but that’s also too long to just stay here and wait without getting bored !

The receptionist notices your embarrassment.

“You know, we are also a place where Spanish learners and native speakers can hang out. If you want, you can go to the hangout room while waiting ?” She offers sympathetically. - Well yeah, I could do that.” You nod. It may be geared towards more hard-core learners, but you can always try to immerse yourself…

You go to the room she waves you to. It isn’t loud, but there’s quite a lot of people in it, all speaking Spanish. You go and find somewhere to sit, when, on your way, someone hails you.

“¡Hola! ¿Cómo te llamas? (Hello ! (...) ?)”

Your long-buried memories start churning, as you recognize the second sentence as meaning something like “What’s your name ?”. You think a while, and then, flash of brilliance.

“Me llamo Charlie.” You answer, giving out your name in the most American of accents.

Your conversation partner smiles, and speaks quite slowly to let you understand what he means.

“¿Cuántos años tiene?” You understand the sentence to mean ‘How old are you ?’ - Er… Soy… cuarenta y dos… años ?” You try, but he shakes his head. - No, ¡es ‘Tengo ventidós’ o ‘Tengo ventidós años’!”

You blush of embarrassment as he corrects you. Yes, you now remember that to mean “I am x years old” you say “Tengo x (años)”… you even remember the worksheets from way back when… Huh, it seems like it was less far of a memory than you thought.

“Lo siento…” You excuse yourself with sentence that came back strangely fast. - ¡Jajaja!” He laughs. “¡No te preocupes! ¡Hablar español es difícil! (Don’t worry ! Speaking Spanish is difficult !)”

You are surprised how easy it is to understand him. Visibly, you had more memories than you expected ! Then, that guy continues.

“¿De dónde es? (Where are you from ?) - Soy de… Mexico… Nuevo Mexico. (I’m from… Mexico… New Mexico.)”

You almost stumbled on yourself. There seems to be something wrong with that statement. You know you’re American, but something seems wrong…

“Ah, de... ¿Nuevo México? Pero tu acento no suena asi… (Ah, from… New Mexico ? But your accent doesn’t seem like it comes from there...) - Si, es verdad… (Yes, it’s true...)” You’re about to tell him that it’s because you’re American, but then you say : “La gente dice que tengo un acento de la Ciudad de Mexico. Sabes, Mexihco Hueyaltepetl. (People say that I have an accent from Mexico City. You know, Mexihco Hueyaltepetl (?).)”

Wait, why do people say that ? You never went to Mexico City ! Okay, yes, you did go there for the holidays, after all, your father lives there… Wait, your parents aren’t separated !

You get more and more confused as multiple versions of your history start competing with each other.

“¡Ah, tenía razón! Puedo verlo en tu cara que eres… eh… ¿mexiqueño? (Ah, I was right ! I can see by your face that you are… er… from Mexico City ?) - ¡Jajaja!” You laugh. “¡No se dice ‘mexiqueño’! ¡Se dice capitalino, o chilango si estás familiarizado! (You don’t say “Mexiqueño” ! You say “Capitalino”, or “Chilango” if you’re familiar !)” You don’t quite know where this knowledge comes from. It seems like something only locals would know… - Perdón, soy chileno, no lo sabía… (Sorry, I’m Chilean, I didn’t know...)”

You smile at him. Of course, he couldn’t know that, you’re familiar with these terms because you’re a Chilango through and through ! Born in the city, lived in the city ! Yet you furrow your brows, as something still feels off.

Somehow, you’re convinced that you’re American, even though it seems to be a more and more distant fact. Well, when you look down and see those tan arms, you know that you aren’t, like, a total gringo, you’re at least part Latino…

“¿Cómo es la vida allá? (How is life there ?)” The Chilean guy asks you, a torrent of memories coming back (?) to you. - ¡Es complicado de describir! Pero México es muy dinámico, ¡entonces siempre es interesante! (It’s difficult to describe ! But Mexico is very dynamic, so it’s always interesting !)” You think back to how frantic life is over there… and how much you love that. “Especialmente comparado con aquí, parece que esta citudad está muerta… ¡En México siempre hay un xochitzin con el que te puedes topar! (Especially when compared to here, this city seems dead… In Mexico, there’s always an xochitzin (?) you can run into !)”

As the Chilean nods, you keep getting quite confused. You know you’re from Mexico City, you know you’re American, yet somehow there is like… a piece of the puzzle missing. You keep on thinking strange words like “Mexihco Hueyaltepetl” or “ihni”, and you know it’s not Spanish, nor English – not that you would know too much of that language.

You continue thinking as your body starts feeling strange, as you feel it shifting. You put your hand on your forehead and sense your wrinkles relaxing. You feel quite queasy…

“¿Estás bien? (Are you alright ?) - Me siento un poco mareada… (I feel a bit dizzy…) - Sólo tienes que ir al baño. ¿Quieres que te ayude? (Just go to the toilets. You want me to help ?) - No, estará bien. Tlazohcamati. (No, it’s gonna be alright. (???)) - Okay… eh... ¿Eres indígenas? (Okay… er… Are you a Native American ?)”

You don’t answer the Chilean, only giving him a small wave to thank him. You find your way to the toilets, still queasy, and look at yourself.

You’ve got your usual short black hair, your nascent beard that doesn’t want to come along, your brownish tint, as well as your light muscles. Nothing looks out of place, yet something seems wrong.

Is it the fact that you are so youthful ? You know you’re quite twinky. Is it the fact that your skin looks weird ? You know that it’s clearer than the other’s because your mother is gringo.

You feel even more queasy, as you feel your entire body tensing. Memories come back of your time in the gym, but also of the time with all your xochitzmeh (bros)… Yes, you now remember how you’re the son of an American linguist and a Nahua man. How you grew up speaking Nahuatl along with the other kids from around Mexico City. How you started going to the gym to prove that gays aren’t cuiltemeh (sissies/fags). How you now cringe to that line of thought, yet continue doing it to attract guys.

As the pieces of your life go back together, your queasiness dissipates, and you feel better. You drink a bit of water, and then you go back to the hangout room. As you go in there, the Chilean hails you once again.

“¡Charlie! ¿Esta mejor? (Charlie ! Doing better ?)”

Laughable, “Charlie” is only the nickname your grandparents use when you’re at their house… Why does that guy even know it ?

“¡Mi nombre no es Charlie, es Carlos! ¡Carlos Zopiyactle! (My name isn’t Charlie, it’s Carlos ! Carlos Zopiyactle !)” You say in a very matter-of-fact fashion. - Lo siento, pensé que te llamabas Charlie… (Sorry, I thought that you were named Charlie...) - No es nada. (It’s nothing.)” You answer with a very Mexican accent, aspirating your ‘s’. “Pero, tengo que irme ahora. ¡Adiós! (However, I need to go now. Goodbye !) - ¡Adiós, Carlos! (Goodbye, Carlos !)”

You leave the room, go past the receptionist who smiles at you a bit weirdly, and make your way back to your grandparent’s home. You don’t really like going there, because you’re not very good in English, but eh. Pleasing your mom is a good enough reason.

Suddenly, you hear a very familiar-sounding sound from your phone. You open it, seeing a notification, smile, and answer it before calling your mother.

“¡Cualli teotlaltzintli! ¡Amo niyaz tlacualpan! (Good evening ! I’m not going to be there for dinner !) - Pff… ¡Aic timotlamahzehua nanmonahuac! (Pff… You never come eat with us !) - Nomati, pero tengo cosas que hacer. (I know, but I have things to do.)” You say, switching back a bit to Spanish. - ¿Zannima tihual mocuepaz? (You will come back soon ?) - Quema. Nantli, nimitz nequi. (Yes. Mom, I love you.) - Ohuihqui nimitz nequi. (I love you too.)”

You finish the call and smile. She doesn’t have to know that you’re missing the family dinners to be pounded. Those jocks on Grindr don’t know what your pseudonym “Moiztactlaca” means, but it sounds foreign, and they love it.

Soon, you’re going back home to Mexico City, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t take advantage of all the hot guys here in the meantime !