Sans titre

“Duuuude,” he said.

I had just returned from the past. This douche ran into me on the street and had the audacity to say it was my fault. So I made sure he went to football camp instead of business school.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

He smiled dumbly. “Nah, man,” he chuckled. His eyes flitted down to my crotch.

[This Quick and Dirty story was written by a human (me) based on a prompt that was previously sent to generative AI. I wrote it in one uninterrupted stream-of-consciousness flow with a hard time limit of 20 minutes. It is not perfect. No edits have been made, except to correct typos.

Also, I realized I can get to the good stuff even quicker if I don’t have to describe the main characters in detail at the beginning of the story. So I used the first few seconds of my time to pull the kickoff image from the stash on my hard drive.

Also, this story (obviously) contains gay-to-straight themes. Read my ethos on G2S stories here.]

Hi, I’m Brad (right). I don’t know if this is a specifically Spanish thing or not, but my boyfriend Javier (left) is so prudish when it comes to me burping in front of him that I do like to make fun of him for how posh and European it is. Making fun of him, alas, does not always make up for my discomfort in trying to keep any gas down when he is in the room.

Thankfully, he has just left our beach blanket to go to the bathroom. I know he’ll be spending a good 15 minutes hovering around the toilet not trying to touch anything gross (good luck), so I breathe a sigh of relief. Really, I burp a sigh of relief. That soda I had earlier has been acting up, and I’ve been holding it in all day.

I feel a bit better now, so I look back at the blanket to our right, hoping to catch a glimpse of that sexy twunk who’s been tanning there all morning. But I guess he left, or something. There’s a new guy there now. A real conservative-looking businessman guy with a tight slickback who’s typing furiously on his phone. Why’d he even come to the beach, if he was just going to work the whole time?

I pop in my earbuds and cue up my Kim Petras playlist before picking back up with my people-watching. I spy two men splashing each other playfully in the surf. They’re both skinny, white, and a bit sunburned. One has long hair that reaches all the way to his ass, while the other has a bleach blond buzz cut. They share a kiss, and I feel my insides go all gooey. Aww, I love love.

No, wait. The gooey feeling inside me is another burp struggling to break free. I make sure Javier isn’t around and let one rip, then turn back to the couple in the surf. Something has changed since I first looked away, though.

The buzz cut guy is still there, but he’s standing next to some frat guy with dark black hair that swoops over his forehead. He has bulging biceps and a Delta Lambda tattoo on his thick quad. They don’t seem to know each other. They’re just standing around. The frat guy whistles at a lady in a bikini who is emerging from the surf, while the buzzcut guy seems to be trying to stop himself from checking out his guns. He doesn’t seem worried about where his boyfriend went. Well, then I guess I shouldn’t be, either.

It isn’t until my third burp that I notice what’s happening. It comes in quick succession after the second, so I know that Javier couldn’t possibly be nearby, and I just let it go while watching the pair of strangers in the surf.

But as soon as my burp explodes from my mouth, reality seems to… ripple, somehow. The buzz cut guy clutches his head. His hair darkens from blond to chestnut brown, growing rapidly and seeming to bounce as it rises into the air, forming a stiff, gelled quiff. Muscles explode across his frame, tearing his shirt off. The fabric falls, seeming to catch on his short shorts and extend them somehow, transforming them into blue and green board shorts. A Delta Lamba tattoo quickly etches itself across his newly mountainous pec, and all of a sudden, he pulls a NERF football out of nowhere. He and the black-haired guy toss it back and forth, guffawing like they’re best friends.

What the fuck just happened? What should I do? Should I… call a doctor? They don’t seem to be in pain. But a guy just transformed!

I yelp as Javier’s hand descends on my shoulder in greeting. I wasn’t expecting him, and I let out an involuntary burp in my surprise. His grip on my shoulder tightens and I turn to face him. His face is screwed up, but then it relaxes. His long hair has fallen over his face, but it begins to retract. Only at the front. The sun-bleached overtones of his hair fade to a neutral brown as his bangs recede into a short, conservative cut. All business. Unlike the party that’s now in the back.

Curly chest hair sprays out from around his nipples and in the center of his pecs, eradicating the waxed look I am used to him sporting. His speedo transforms into a pair of American flag board shorts, and he turns to me, grinning. “Thanks for inviting me to the beach, Brad. So many hot chicas out today. Would you mind if I took one of them home with me? Sorry, I know it’s not proper couch-crashing etiquette, but… damn!”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Javier?” I ask.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Mr. Fancypants. The name is Jake. Has been since we met in college, pal. Whatcha talking about with this foreign nonsense?”

He scratches his ass, lets out a burp, and plops onto the towel next to me, scrupulously leaving a foot or so between us while lowering his sunglasses to check out a pair of women who are walking by.

I’m about to say something else, but what comes out instead is another burp. I feel the pressure in my gut finally loosen. Actually, my entire gut loosens. My abs are eaten up by a beer belly that has emerged from my formerly flat abdomen. My pecs deflate slightly and settle on top of it, as dark blond hair rushes across my entire torso. I can feel it fluffing up in my armpits and rushing down my legs, too. It tickles my face as a full beard sprouts, standing out against my otherwise bald head.

“So whaddya say, Bubba? Do we take some ladies home at our earliest convenience?” asks Jake.

I think about that for a second. I was definitely just worrying about something, but it seems to have slipped my mind. No use trying to figure out what it was. Life’s a breeze if you let go of the stupid shit.

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

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

"Jason is like totally the hottest."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No shame in that, brah!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Chlorophyll."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Correct!"

"Woah bro, nice one!"

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

"What the…?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dead lifts..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The answer is hips, bro."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

Fuckkkk me, this is what you wanted? Some 18 year old hung twink? Ungh... god my body's so sensitive now. Fuck I feel so needy, I just want to ram my cock into your tight little bussy. Mmmmfuccckkk I'm still changing. My dick keeps getting longer, how fucking big do you want it whore? Holy shit these abs. Wow you're a fucking cunt, you have no idea what you're doing to me... unnngh holy fuck my feet are huge. Fuck let me fuck you please my dick can't take it anymore. I need to full you up, i need to cum in you.

"Dude, I'm screwed," Marcus groaned, tapping his head against the desk. "Coach is gonna bench me if I don't show I'm worth during next game, but I don't have time to train or do anything because of this shit ass exam. I fucking hate organic chemistry. I wish I had full sports scholarship so I wouldn't have to worry about this stuff"

Devin looked up from his desk. "You're being dramatic. You did well on all exams this semester. And you are a good player. You'll do well. I believe in you" he said trying to be a bit more supportive towards his friend.

"Yeah, but that's all thanks to you and your tutoring. Seriously, thanks dude. I don't know what would I do without you " Marcus said, grabbing his own bicep. "Look at this. I'm 6'2 and weigh, what, 175 soaking wet? I get bodied every time I drive the lane. I need to put on some weight."

"You could just… eat more?" Devin suggested ignorantly.

"Bro, I eat. It doesn't stick. If only it was that easy" Marcus sighed. "If I was like 185, maybe I could actually hold my own down low. Get some rebounds. Be a little more physical."

Devin pulled out his phone, half-listening. He'd downloaded some weird app his old roommate sent him. He was given a free trial to test it out. Supposedly you could type things and they'd happen. Probably bullshit, but whatever. He just wanted to test it and this seemed like a good time for it.

Marcus weighs 185 pounds.

Marcus was still talking, but something was different. Looking at him, his shoulders looked broader under his tank top. His arms, usually wiry, now had visible definition. Not huge, but… solid.

"-and then I could actually finish through contact, you know? Like if I was 195, man. That's the dream. Just ten more pounds of muscle and I'd be unstoppable on the field."

"Wait," Devin blinked. "You said you just wanted to be 185."

"185?" Marcus laughed. "Nah, I hit 185 few months ago, your math is wrong. Keep up, man." He stretched a bit , his shirt definitely a lot tigher than it used to be "Been stuck at 185 for months though. Plateau is real. But I don't think I could get that big and continue playing basketball. These babies would just be too big" he added flexing his biceps that was now definitely more noticable.

Devin looked down at his phone. Then back at Marcus. Then at the phone.

Marcus weighs 195 pounds.

"That's why I switched to football, honestly. Able to get a lot bigger"

Devin's head snapped up. "Football? But didn't you play basketball"

Marcus was bigger now. Noticeably bigger. His tank top was straining. His neck had thickened, his chest pushing the fabric outward. He cracked his neck and kept going like nothing had changed.

"Yeah, played. Past tense dude. Back in highschool. You are supposed to be the smart one here" he laughed, his voice deeper "But I could never get this big and stay at basketball" Marcus leaned forward, and Devin could see the way his pecs bunched together. The tank top seams were working overtime. "I've been playing football since freshman year of college. You literally came to the homecoming game. Sat in the front row."

Devin had no memory of this. But it felt real. It felt true. Shaking his head after acquiring a new memory, Devin focused on more pressing matters... "You want to get even bigger?" He asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Bigger?" Marcus stood up and stretched. The tank top rode up, revealing a tight stomach with the outline of his abs. "I mean… yeah. Honestly? If I could hit 220, I'd be a monster on the field. Tight ends are getting bigger every year. The guys I'm blocking are like 240, 250. I feel small half the time."

"Small." Devin's voice was flat. "You feel small."

"Bro, you don't get it because you don't play." Marcus turned as he heard a small rip. Looking at his tank top, he paused, frowning. "Fuck. I could swear this fit better the other day. I keep outgrowing my clothes lately." He said like it's the most normal thing that kept happening to him. Still, he quickly went back to the original topic... "220 is the goal. But 230?" His eyes got a little dreamy. "At 230 I could play defensive end. Always wanted to rush the passer. Just destroy quarterbacks."

Devin was already typing. He noticed the pattern so he was already a step ahead of Marcus. There was no way anyone would be disatisfied with 250.

Marcus weighs 250 pounds.

And Devin marveled at the change. Marcus's shoulders flared outward, his lats pushing his arms away from his body as the tank top gave up completely. His quads thickened, forcing his stance a little wider as his sweatpants almost tore apart. His chest expended every time he inhaled, but it didn't seem to get smaller when he exhaled. No... Instead it kept on getting bigger. His massive pecs forming a shelf that casted a shadow ober his abs. His jaw looked sharper, more defined. Everything about him was just… more. Was he taller? Perhaps the app changed his size a bit to make room for more muscle...

"Yeah," Marcus said, his voice dropping just slightly, like it had gained some bass. "Honestly being 250 is great. Defensive end is where it's at. The quarterback never sees me coming. Last game I had three sacks. The Coach said some scouts are already asking about me. NFL here I come" He grinned, and even his smile looked more confident.

Devin meanwhile stared at the man in front of him...the broad chest, the thick arms, the way he seemed to fill the room just by standing in it. He'd started this conversation with a lanky basketball player. Now there was a defensive end standing in his dorm room, talking about the NFL like it was inevitable. He couldn't help himself as his thumb hovered over the screen. Marcus was already massive. A 250 pounds of muscle packed into a torn tank top, looking like he could bulldoze through a brick wall. That was enough... at least for now. But Devin's mind started to wonder. What else could this app do?

Marcus caught him staring. "What are you looking at, bro?" He said putting on a new shirt since the last tank top gave up, casually flexing his bicep as it grew to the size of a football. "You've been on your phone all night. Texting some girl?"

"Something like that," Devin muttered. Looking at this muscle hunk he had just created, Devin got a little greedy. Marcus was looking so good, he had to adda few more things-

Marcus has a massive bulge. He's extremely well endowed. He's not shy about it.

"You know what's funny," Marcus said, shifting his weight and spreading his legs a little wider as he sat down, not seemingly not wearing any shorts. He was done with studying for tonight. "Playing D-end, you get a lot of attention. Girls love the big guys." He gestured down at himself and smirked.

Devin's eyes involuntarily dropped. The underwear that Marcus was wearing were suddenly… full. Very full. There was a prominent, thick outline of his bulge running down his thigh that definitely hadn't been there a minute ago. Devin felt his face get hot.

"Dude, my eyes are up here," Marcus laughed, but he didn't sound offended. If anything, he sounded proud. He leaned back on his hands, which only made the situation more obvious. "Not my fault I got blessed, you know? Genetics, man. Some guys get this or that. But I got it all. Muscle, height, dick. What more could man ask for" The man simply smirked

"Right," Devin choked out. "Genetics."

"I mean, you've seen it in the showers. You know what I'm working with." Marcus said it so casually, like it was common knowledge, as he stood up, moving to the bed behind them and the poor chair made a sound in relief. And suddenly... There was another memory in Devin's head. His brain supplied the picture. He had seen it. Marcus was famous for it on the team. Guys joked that he had to tape it down before games. A third leg. That's what they called him.

"Anyway" Marcus continued, adjusting himself without a hint of shame, "Coach wants me to move to offensive line. Says at my size I could be a hell of a left tackle. Protect the quarterback's blind side." He cracked his knuckles. "But I don't know. D-end is more fun. You get to be aggressive."

Devin was only half-listening. His eyes kept drifting down to Marcus's lap, where the thick outline seemed to pulse slightly every time the big man shifted his weight. It was hypnotic. It was also giving Devin ideas.

Marcus is extremely horny all the time. He talks about it openly.

"-and the thing about offensive line is the stance," Marcus was saying, then paused. He let out a low groan and adjusted himself again, more forcefully this time. "Sorry bro. I've been so damn worked up lately. It's annoying."

"Yeah?" Devin's voice came out squeakier than he intended.

"Dude, it's constant. I wake up ready to go. Practice is brutal because I'm chafing in my cup half the time. Showers after? Forget about it. I have to wait till everyone leaves or I'll poke someone's eye out." He laughed, but there was smugness in his expression. "Coach says it's all the testosterone. Guy at my size, lifting as heavy as I do, eating as much as I do… it simply natural"

"So you just… walk around like that?" He said pointing at the hard on he was having at the moment.

"Pretty much." Marcus didn't look embarrassed. If anything, he looked proud of it, like it was just another muscle he'd built. "Girlfriends love it at first. Then they get tired. I had one tell me I was 'too much to handle.'" He made air quotes with his thick fingers, before starting to casually stroke himself. Loking back at Devin, as if he wasn't just pleasuring himself, Marcus smirked again "You've got that look on your face."

"What look?" Devin asked, quickly shaking his head as he looked up from Marcus obvious bulge that was being stroked by those rough and collosal hands. He could see the thick outline of his new dick and the raging libido that came with it. It was... Mesmerizing. But he couldn't just stare at it-!

"The one where you're thinking too hard about something." Marcus studied him with those dark eyes... had they always been that deep brown? "You always do that. It's kind of cute, actually."

"Cute?" Devin's voice cracked. Did his straight roommate call him cute? He could feel it... The blood flowing through him and making his face fed.

"Yeah. That's the word." Marcus said it with a shrug. "You get all flustered. Your ears turn red. It's endearing." He leaned forward, hands still in his underwear . "Any girl would be lucky to have you."

'I'm not into girls' Devin thought as he looked as his phone, already with an idea on how to solve this situation. His thumb hesitated over the screen. Then he typed.

Marcus is bisexual. He prefers men. Specifically, he is deeply attracted to Devin.

A strange look crossed Marcus's face. He blinked slowly, as if seeing something or someone for the very first time. His gaze traveled from Devin's face down and back up again. The casual energy in the room shifted, grew charged.

"You know what?" Marcus said, his voice dropping into a lower register, "Scratch that. Any girl is the wrong thing to say." He stopped stroking himself as he stood up from the bed, all 6'5" of him, packed with 250 pounds of muscle, and crossed the small distance between them. "What I meant to say is... I've been thinking about you differently lately, Devin."

"You have?" Devin's voice was barely a whisper as he couldn't believe what was happening. He saw what the app could do, but this... This was on another level... Was he being too greedy with these changes? It startered out of joke, then goodwill but at the end was only fuffling his fantasies...

"Mm." Marcus was very close now, his face inches away from Devin's "I have. You're always here for me. You're smart. You're funny. And honestly..." He reached out and gently took the phone from Devin's nervous fingers, setting it aside on the desk without even glancing at it. "I find you incredibly attractive. I was just afraid to say it before. But this feels like the right moment, doesn't it? It feels... right." His hand came up, warm and solid, to cup Devin's "Tell me if I'm reading this wrong. Tell me you don't feel it too, and I'll back off. We'll go back to just being friends. No weirdness."

Devin's mind was racing through everything that had changed in the last fifteen minutes. The size, the height, the whole impossible wave of transformations. But looking up into those dark... And huge pecs, he found it hard to care about consequences. "You're not reading it wrong," he said quietly.

"Great." Marcus smiled "Because I was hoping that's what this meant" he said jokingly pointing out small bulge in Devin's pants and the smaller boy immediately blushed even harder. Taking him to bed, Marcus simply smiled "Since you are on board... I've got some ideas about what we should do tonight. And none of them involve studying."

Mystery car trouble incites Claude to figure out his way home. He can think of five options. No matter which option he chooses, the resulting changes are sure dull his mind into a younger man he'd dread to have in his lectures.

Five more short TFs, each following one man's rough ride home! All include some degree of musk, muscle, and a regression back to his own college days with far less brain weighing him down Hope you enjoy! -Occam

Claude was barely able to steer his car off into the shoulder as it started spewing smoke. Idling forward into a nearby parking lot to try and figure out his next steps, the young professor is beyond pissed at his stroke of bad luck.

After taking his time to recover and go over his best options to get home he finds himself of five minds. Six if you count just steering it back into traffic without looking both ways, but he’s not actually humoring that. Leaving him with this peanut galley of ideas:

He’s got a tool kit, he can give it a go. (Latino Twunk)

Get it towed to a shop and drive a rental. (Brainless Influencer)

He’s got the money for it, might as well uber. (OF Jock)

He does get free bus fare. (Football Bro)

Fuck it he can walk. (Horny Slob)

Federal Containment Authority
File: AE-1292
Nickname: “The Campus”
Status: Under Investigation

Acquisition Log:

AE-1292 refers to an ongoing anomaly centered around a private university campus located in Atlanta, Georgia. The institution has come under FCA suspicion following multiple reports [REDACTED] over extended enrollment periods.

Patterns observed include [REDACTED]. Reports suggest these changes occur gradually, often going unnoticed until advanced stages.

Due to the slow nature of the anomaly, direct observation has proven difficult. As such, the FCA has initiated a controlled long-term monitoring process under the guise of a documentary study.

Subject Daiki Nakamura, a 19-year-old incoming student from Japan, has agreed to participate in a series of recorded interviews. The subject has been informed that the interviews are part of a documentary about the international students in the university and has no knowledge of FCA’s involvement or existence.

The subject will be interviewed at three intervals over a six-month period. A photograph will be taken at each session for comparative analysis. All interview questions will remain consistent across sessions to any track cognitive, behavioral and identity-based changes.

—————————————————————————-

Scientist [REDACTED] Moore’s Note:

Let’s not pretend we don’t already know what this place does. Everyone here has read the reports from [REDACTED] and read his family member’s testimonies.

What we don’t have is something clean. Something we can point to and say, there it is. This is it happening.

Daiki Nakamura is here to give us that.

Call it observation if you want.

Realistically, he’s a guinea pig.

Or more like a sacrificial lamb.

—————————————————————————-

Interview Log – AE-1292

Subject: Daiki Nakamura
Interview #: 1 (Baseline)
Date: [REDACTED]
Location: On-campus media room, Atlanta, Georgia

Image of Daiki Nakamura (1 month):

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

Interviewer: Alright, we’re recording. Whenever you’re ready, just answer naturally. First question—state your name, your age, and where you’re from.

Daiki:
Uh—okay. Um. My name is Daiki Nakamura. I’m nineteen years old, and I’m from Yokohama, Japan.

Sorry, my English is… not so fast yet. I’ll try my best.

Interviewer: You’re doing fine. What made you move to this university?

Daiki:
Ah—yeah. So… I always wanted to study abroad. My parents also, um… encouraged it. They said it would be good for my future, especially for work.

This university had a strong computer science program, and also… it looked very, um… American.

I know that sounds strange, but… I wanted that experience. Like in movies. Campus life, clubs, people talking freely… that kind of thing.

Interviewer: That makes sense. What are your hobbies?

Daiki:
Hobbies… um…

I like programming. Mostly small things—games, tools, nothing big. I also play a lot of video games. Strategy games, mostly. I love Pokémon. And I read manga… sometimes light novels.

Ah—and I like learning languages too. English, obviously, but I also studied a little Korean before. Not very good though.

I’m not very… uh… athletic.

Interviewer: That’s fine. What are you hoping to get out of your time here?

Daiki:
I think… confidence.

In Japan, I was always… how do you say… quiet? Not very noticeable. I had friends, but I was not the kind of person who speaks first.

Here, I want to try to be different. Maybe talk more. Maybe not be so nervous all the time.

Also… better English. Definitely that.

Interviewer: Have you made any friends yet?

Daiki:
Uh… not really.

I mean, I talk to people in class. They are nice. But it’s still… surface level, I think.

Sometimes I don’t understand jokes, or I respond too slowly, and then the conversation moves on.

It’s okay though. It’s only been a few weeks.

Interviewer: What do you think of American students so far?

Daiki:
They’re very… confident.

Not in a bad way. Just… they speak very directly. They don’t hesitate. Even if they are wrong, they still say things.

In Japan, I think people are more careful. We think before we speak.

Here, it feels like… speaking is thinking.

It’s interesting. But also… a little intimidating.

Interviewer: Is there anything about the culture here that surprised you?

Daiki:
Um… yes.

People are very open. About everything. Opinions, feelings… even personal things.

Also… the way people dress. It’s more casual. In Japan, at university, people still try to look… put together, I think.

Here, it feels more… relaxed.

Interviewer: Last question—do you feel like you fit in here?

Daiki:

Not yet.

I think… I’m still observing. Watching how people act, how they talk.

Sometimes I feel like I’m… outside of it. Like I’m studying it instead of being part of it.

But… I hope that changes.

I don’t want to always feel like a visitor.

I want to belong here, eventually.

[END TRANSCRIPT]

Observer Note:
Subject presents as expected baseline: polite, reserved, culturally intact. Strong awareness of self as “outsider.”

No observable anomalous influence at this stage.

Recommendation: Proceed with scheduled follow-up.

—————————————————————————

Interview #: 2
Date: [REDACTED] (Approx. 3 months after initial intake)
Location: On-campus media room, Atlanta, Georgia

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

Interviewer: Alright, same as before. State your name, your age, and where you’re from.

Daiki:
Yeah—uh, DeAnr- uh. Hold on, um. De- DeDaiki Northmura. Twenty-one. From Atoranta, Japan.

Interviewer: What made you move to this university?

DeDaiki:
Uh…

I mean—yeah, like, study abroad. Same as I said before. My parents wanted me to, and I thought it’d be good, you know?

It’s a good school too. For…

For computers. I think? Yeah—like computer stuff. Programming.

I don’t know, it’s kinda all blending together now.

Interviewer: What are your hobbies these days?

DeDaiki:
Honestly, it’s changed a bit.

I still play games, but not really the strategy ones anymore. They feel kinda… boring? I don’t know, bruh.

I’ve been playing a lot of NBA games lately. Like, 2K and stuff. My friends got me into it.

I’m not even that good, but it’s fun. Way more chill.

Oh—and I’ve been working out.

Not seriously at first, but my brothers dragged me to the gym, and now I go pretty regularly. It’s… kinda addicting.

Interviewer: You mentioned your “brothers”—have you made friends here?

DeDaiki:
Yeah, yeah.

There’s a group from my dorm. Dwayne, Wendell, a couple others. They kinda took me under their wing.

Like, first few weeks I didn’t really talk much, but they kept including me. Inviting me to stuff, gym, games, just hanging out.

They say I’m like… “their one Asian guy.”

I think they mean it in a good way. Like—it’s different, I guess.

Interviewer: How so?

DeDaiki:
I don’t know, they joke about it sometimes. Like how I talk, or how I act.

But it’s not mean. It’s just…

That’s how they are.

They’ve been helping me loosen up, I think.

Interviewer: What are you hoping to get out of your time here now?

DeDaiki:
Honestly? Just… living it.

Like, before I was stressing about everything—grades, future, all that. Now it’s more like… just experience stuff, you know? Meet people, have fun.

I’ll figure the rest out.

Interviewer: Do you still spend time programming or studying?

DeDaiki:
Uh… yeah.

I mean—some. Not like before though.

I think I still have classes for it.

Actually… yeah, I do. I just—

I don’t know, it’s not really what I think about anymore.

Interviewer: What do you think of American students now, compared to before?

DeDaiki:
They’re cool.

Like, before I thought they were intimidating, but they’re not really. They just… say what they think.

It’s kinda better, honestly. Less pressure.

You don’t gotta overthink everything.

Interviewer: Has anything about you changed since you got here?

DeDaiki:
Uh…

I guess.

Not as… try hard as before.

People say I look different, but like—I don’t really see it.

Interviewer: Final question—do you feel like you fit in here?

DeDaiki:
Yeah.

I mean—I’m not like, fully there, but…

I got people. I know how things work now.

I’m not just watching anymore.

I’m kinda part of it.

[END TRANSCRIPT]

Observer Note:
Subject displays increased social integration and confidence. Noticeable physical changes (increased muscle mass) and behavioral shifts linked to peer group influence. Noticeable scratching of armpits and groin. Subject emits odour.

Emerging linguistic drift observed, including early adoption of localized slang.

Subject shows mild disorientation when recalling academic focus and prior routines.

Recommendation: Continue monitoring. Identity destabilization progressing as expected.

Image of Daiki Nakamura (3 months):

—————————————————————————-

Interview #: 3
Date: [REDACTED] (Approx. 6 months after initial intake)
Location: On-campus media room, Atlanta, Georgia

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

Interviewer: Alright, same as before. State your name, your age, and where you’re from.

DeDaiki:
Aight, bet—uh…

Man, name’s DeAndre but folks be callin’ me D, fr. Ain’t nobody really sayin’ all that other shit no more.

I’m twenty-three—yeah, twenty three, fasho.

From where?

Man, I’m from out here. Like… Atlanta side. Been out here wit it.

Interviewer: What made you move to this university?

D:
Move?

Nah, you trippin’, I ain’t “move” nowhere. I been locked in here. This my spot.

Like, I been tapped in wit the campus, classes, allat. Ain’t no other place fr.

Interviewer: What are you studying?

D:
Sports science, yeah.

Tryna get my body right, you feel me? Learn how muscles work n’ shit, recovery, all that.

Coach be sayin’ I got good build for it too.

Interviewer: What are your hobbies?

D:
Man, shi—

Hoopin’ mostly. We be runnin’ games late, like 2AM runs, real ones know.

Then we slide back, hop on 2K, run squads—Dwayne always sellin’, swear to God.

Be chillin’, scrollin’, watchin’ clips, music loud as hell.

Lowkey been tryna get my followers up too—postin’ lil vids, gym shit, game clips, whatever hit.

Just vibin’, fr. Ain’t tryna do too much.

Interviewer: Do you remember what you used to study?

D:
Used to?

Man, nah. This what I’m on.

Sports, body, allat. Ain’t nothin’ else really stickin’.

Interviewer: How have you been settling in socially?

D:
Man, I’m straight.

Got my circle—Dwayne, Wendell, couple other dudes. We locked in.

They had to look out for me too, ‘cause like—

Bruh, I woke up one day, none of my shit fit no more. Like at all.

Shirts tight, pants done. Whole closet dead.

So yeah, they slid me some clothes—hoodies, shorts, allat.

We be matchin’ sometimes, no cap.

Interviewer: Can you describe any changes you’ve noticed in yourself?

D:
Changes?

Nah, I’m just chillin’.

Been like this.

Interviewer: Is there a reason you keep pawing at your groin, sir?

D:

When you got a babymaker like this between your legs, it be takin’ up ALL kinda space, on God.

It stay leakin’ and drippin’ and actin’ up and shit, bruh, I swear.

I’m just sittin’ there like… man what even IS this.

I guess my body just be tellin’ me loud and clear like, ‘yo… you ready to be a dad frfr.’”

Interviewer: Do you still speak Japanese?

D:
Japanese?

Man, what is you talkin’ ‘bout?

Nah, I don’t be on that.

Interviewer: Final question—do you feel like you fit in here?

D:
Fit in?

Man, I ain’t tryna “fit in,” I am this.

Like… this regular. This how it be.

Ain’t no other way fr.

[END TRANSCRIPT]

Observer Note:
Subject exhibits full linguistic, behavioral, and identity assimilation. Speech patterns now entirely localized, with heavy slang usage and reduced clarity.

No recognition of prior identity, nationality, or language.

Cognitive function appears further degraded compared to Interview 2.

Subject no longer presents as Daiki Nakamura, but as ‘DeAndre North’

Image of Daiki Nakamura DeAndre North (6 months):

—————————————————————————-

Closing Analysis Note – AE-1292

Earlier this year, a federal diversity initiative was mandated across state universities. This particular institution was among the most openly resistant, citing its already majority black demographic composition and questioning the necessity of enforced demographic balancing measures for caucasian and other ethnicities.

Internal FCA correspondence has raised concern that, in response, the university may have implemented a forced homogenisation effect on incoming diversity initiative students, effectively overwriting their DNA and memories to keep the school entirely African American.

While this remains unconfirmed, current longitudinal data from Subject Nakamura strongly supports the presence of a structured, environment-driven assimilation process occurring at the campus level.

FCA will be deploying two field investigators to the university tomorrow for direct observation and informal inquiry. Both operatives are black males, selected specifically to reduce the risk of our white personnel having their identities rewritten into horny black male college students.

Moritz Hau

thanks

"Dad, I need you for something."

David sighed, "I'm a bit busy right now, I can..."

"Dad, c'mon it's real important." Noah whined.

The older man frowned. Usually when Noah was whining like this, it had something to do about his TikTok views or some stupid new trend.

"Let me guess, you saw something on TikTok..."

"Well yeah, but..."

"Wouldn't you rather be doing something else? Like going to the gym or getting involved in sports?" The lack of approval was evident in his voice, "I mean, all you do is scroll that stupid app. Hell, did you even shower today?" Noah sniffed his pits and grimaced.

"Seriously, you gotta chill." Noah grinned, "Please dad. C'mon, you're always complaining we don't hang."

"Alright, alright."

David relented- if this was how he would maintain a relationship with his son, then so be it. After all, being a single dad was tough. He didn't get to spend all too much time with his kid- he was mostly focused on working to ensure Noah had a good life. A life that seemed more and more consumed by that stupid app.

"Hear me out. I’m recording you." David already look skeptical, "Words will appear on screen, and if you use them right, you’re goated."

"Goated?"

Noah rolled his eyes, "Dad, just say ‘yeah’ and don’t overthink it, please- I’m begging."

"Okay…" David shrugged, giving in to his son's request. He stared at the camera, feeling awkward as Noah recorded. The words "Rizz", "No cap", and "Sus" appeared on the screen one by one.

David stumbled through the challenge, clearly uncomfortable. His delivery was stilted and self-conscious. The words used incorrectly. But he got through it, using each word to the best of his ability.

"That... that was painful." David laughed weakly.

"You're telling me." Noah cringed and paused the recording, "Percent Gen Z: 12%." Noah smiled, "Whoa, Dad! Pretty solid for your first try, no cap!" He winked.

David looked dubious, running a hand through his graying hair. "Not bad? That's awful. I feel ridiculous."

"No way, gotta lock in!" Noah encouraged, already hitting record again.

"Fine, fine. But this is the last one." David relented. For a split second, as he reached for the phone, he noticed his hands looked… different. His skin more youthful, a bit tanned actually. But before he could process it, the words appeared on screen.

"Bet", "Drip", "Bussin'".

David cleared his throat, "What does that even mean? Bussin'?" He chuckled awkwardly, "You're not going to post this, right?"

"Dad, focus!"

So David tried again- using each of the words. And as they left his mouth, David couldn't help but feel slightly more comfortable with them. Less awkward. When the percentage appeared, it was higher than before:

"Percent Gen Z: 28%." David whispered.

"AYOOO now we’re talking look at you—actually crushin' it!" Noah grinned.

"Yeah… I guess…" David felt weird, like something was very, very wrong, "I don't feel too good." Did he eat something that wasn't agreeing with him?

"You okay, pops?"

David placed a hand to his stomach and froze. His stomach, once soft and padded with middle-age spread, now felt firmer beneath his shirt. And there was a strange, ticklish, scratchy sensation across his chest, back, and stomach. Like he had just shaved. As if his once wiry body hair had vanished, replaced by the smooth, unblemished skin of a younger man. The shirt he wore suddenly felt scratchy and constrictive against his newly bare flesh.

David shook his head, shifting uncomfortably. "Alright, I should... I've got work to do…" His voice trailed off uncertainly.

Noah's grin widened, "C'mon, you're lowkey getting the hang of this. Please dad, this is fun."

David smiled slightly. He couldn't remember the last time Noah said anything with him was fun.

"Alright." He sighed, "Last one, no cap." Noah's eyes widened and he laughed, "What?"

"Nothing, dad."

David nodded and took a deep breath as the new words appeared on the screen: "Glow up", "Vibe check", "Ate".

He repeated the terms slowly, carefully enunciating each word. Again, each flowed seemingly more natural to him. Like he had heard and used these words before in an unironic way. The percentage popped up at a respectable 70%.

Noah whooped with joy. "Look at that, dad! Big W, you ate that!"

"Haha, yeah…" David's lips formed into a small grin, "I feel funny thought." His head tingled strangely and his tongue felt heavier in his mouth, "Like uh..."

"Come on, let's do one more! You're so close!" Noah urged.

"No, for real. I need to get back to…" David paused, frowning as he realized he couldn't remember what he needed to get back to. Work? Homework?

"What's that?" Noah asked curiously.

"I dunno, fam." David shrugged. He ran a hand over his clean-shaven chin and frowned, "This is sus because I definitely did not shave today." He frowned and sniffed at the air. "Noah, for real, you gotta shower, no cap. Your BO is rank, bruh."

Noah laughed, "Yo dad chill, that ain't my BO– that's yours, bro!"

David stared at his son in confusion, bringing his arm up to take a whiff of his own pit. He noticed the musky, thick pit fur creeping out from beneath his sleeve. Since when…? He recoiled at the powerful aroma wafting up.

"Bro, you good?" Noah smirked.

"I'm just…" David shook his head. His thoughts were a jumbled mess. Some felt like his, others felt foreign. Images flashed behind his eyes - scenes of him scrolling through TikTok for hours, obsessing over likes and comments. Doing stupid dances. Gooning for hours.

"Wanna give it one more shot, one last go? Promise this is the final round."

David nodded absentmindedly, "Sure thing, fam. Whatever you say."

Noah grinned and hit record. The words "Mood", "Snatched", "Locked In" appeared on the screen.

David stared blankly at the camera, his expression vacant. Then, almost mechanically, he began to speak. And as he spoke, his body began to shift and contort. The fat from years of stress, work, and age melted away, revealing the musculature underneath. David had once loved the gym- had really built himself a body he could be proud of in his 20s. But the muscles he was sporting now? Not the defined, chiseled physique of someone who worked out regularly, but the loose, undefined musculature of a lazy bro who occasionally hit the gym.

"Ahhhh fuckkkkkk..." David groaned.

He ran a hand through his hair, pausing mid-motion at the sensation of thickening, curlier hair. And it continued to change- his once salt-and-pepper locks shifted to become a thick curtain of blonde curls, falling messy and unkempt around his face.

"Bro, what's happenin' to me?" David's gruff voice took on a youthful, carefree tilt as he forced the words out.

"Don't worry about it, bro." Noah smiled, "You said you wanted to hang more, right? Bet- now we really about to, bro"

"Noah... not like..."

David moaned as his lower half stirred with a life of its own. An intense wave of arousal washed over him, his blood rushing southwards. David's breath increased, eyes glazing over as his pants tented obscenely- his body surging with hormones. Pre-cum leaked through the fabric, staining it.

"Almost there!" Noah sounded giddy, "Knew I should've hopped on this trend way earlier."

But David didn't hear him in the midst of his mind falling apart. His thoughts, once grounded in responsibility and parenthood, became consumed by a singular obsession: himself. What angle would make for the best selfie? Which dance move would impress his viewers? How could he make his videos go viral? Should he start an OnlyFans? Before long, there wasn't a single remnant of the middle-aged father remaining- just another 19-year old, basking in social media validation and more importantly, himself.

“Lowkey fire, bro,” he murmured, yanking off his shirt.

Blond hair fell into his eyes; he pushed it back with a lazy swipe, cocky grin spreading across his face. He stared at his phone, adjusting angles, changing filters.

"Finally, we can chill like bros.” Noah said, grinning.

David didn’t look up. “Nah, bro. Can’t..."

"What?"

"Can't waste this, bro. Gotta blow up, you feel?"

Noah froze, chest tightening. “Wait…so you’re not even…?”

David smirked, “Bro, I’m living my best life. Chill.” He continued to stare at his phone, not even glancing up at his son.

"Dad?" Noah knew about this trend- knew that this would be the end result. Yet seeing his father like this- seeing the consequences in person- made him second guess all of it, "For real, dad..."

"Who you calling dad, fam?" David glanced up, taking stock of Noah's horrified expression, "Lowkey relax, bro. I'll send you some free merch when I blow up, no cap."

Federal Containment Authority

Project Casanova Division

File: AE-2319

Nickname: “Blonde Boy GIF”

Status: Secured

Acquisition Log:

AE-2319 was identified after multiple reports of adult males found in prolonged states of trance, typically seated or reclined, holding mobile devices at close range. In all cases, subjects were watching the same looping GIF and failed to respond to verbal or physical stimuli.

Recovered individuals presented with identical characteristics: full physical reformation accompanied by complete loss of prior identity, marked neglect in hygiene (persistent body odor, oily skin, unwashed clothing), and severely diminished cognitive function. Notably, each individual had regressed to a standardized late teenage (18-19 years of age) physiology, with concurrent alteration of their [REDACTED] to [REDACTED].

Subjects who were previously employed, educated, or socially active were described post-exposure as “vacant,” “lazy,” and “dumber.” Conversation centers on simple, repetitive topics, like school, homework, and girls, closely mirroring that of adolescent males. And culturally, the subjects [REDACTED].

FCA has restricted contact with family members to minimize distress and reduce dysphoria caused by exposure to individuals connected to the subject’s former life.

Digital tracing confirmed a single file shared across multiple platforms, often embedded in casual messages or reposted without context.

When discovered, subjects were engaged in the act of [REDACTED], locked in a near-trance state, eyes fixed on the GIF. Saliva was observed drooling down the corners of the mouth, eyes rolled back, while subjects [REDACTED].

Observation Notes:

AE-2319 is a short looping GIF (approx. 2–3 seconds in duration) depicting a blonde, college-aged male with a muscular body. The subject is wearing a USA-patterned speedo and performs a simple, repetitive motion, loosely shifting his shoulders from one side to the other in a relaxed, rhythmic sway.

The motion is continuous and seamless, with no clear beginning or end point. The subject’s expression is vacant but content, maintaining a vacant look throughout the loop. Body posture is loose, lacking tension or precision, giving the movement an effortless, almost careless quality.

Prolonged exposure results in full behavioral and physiological shift into a consistent baseline state.

—————————————————————————-

Case File – Subject A-3 (FKA: Miguel Hernandez):

Miguel had been at his family’s house all evening for Día de los Muertos, traveling back from Mexico City to his small hometown of [REDACTED], Mexico.

He was 29 now, working a big job in the city. His family was proud. It was better than taking over the family business, as they had once expected. He had built a life for himself: an apartment, a car, even a boyfriend. Though, his parents didn’t know about that last part.

Still, being back felt strange. He rarely visited unless it was Día de los Muertos or one of his abuelos had passed. He didn’t miss it here.

Outside, he leaned against the railing, smoking as the party roared inside. Music, laughter, and the constant bustle of relatives drifted through the open windows. Miguel didn’t resent it; he just wanted to disappear upstairs, away from the chaos.

By 11:45 PM, he decided to bow out with a smile. “Estoy cansado. Debe de ser por el vuelo,” he muttered, slipping away from the living room. He climbed the narrow stairs to his old bedroom—the one with pale blue walls, shelves crowded with trophies and dusty history books. He closed the door behind him, muffling the noise of the party, and sank onto the mattress.

The familiar smell of his teenage room hit him: a mix of old books, lingering incense, and faint dust. His parents had never changed it much. Miguel always assumed they still saw him as the boy he once was, a subtle invitation to move back in, even now.

He sank into the mattress, a wave of horniness washing over him. Pulling out his phone, he opened alt Twitter and scrolled through the usual images and videos of men in various sexual positions and acts —until he saw it: a small, unassuming GIF of a young male performing a smooth, looping motion. Something about it drew him in, though he couldn’t say why. He tapped it open.

At first, it was just a simple loop, mesmerizing in its rhythm. The figure moved easily, without effort, completely confident. Miguel leaned back, eyes narrowing. The sounds of the party faded—the music, the chatter, the footsteps—all dulled to a quiet hum.

Time lost meaning. Minutes, hours, years—he couldn’t tell. The loop consumed him. His shoulders slumped, jaw slackened, and his fingers curled loosely around the phone. He started to blank, not being able to think of anything else.

The gif felt like it was transporting from his phone into his eyes, shooting into his brain, causing him his eyes to shoot back and his body thump back like an invisible shot, as drool starts to pool in his mouth and leak.

Miguel tries to snap out of the trance like state but he feels like a puppet held in place by strings. He tries to think about something else. Anything else. His family! His family in Texas. No… Mexico? Wait. He wasn’t sure. Why can’t he remember? He knows something’s not right. But he can’t remember what. Why does his upbringing in Texas feel so… wrong.

What about his boyfriend… boyfriend… why can’t he remember his boyfriend’s name. And why would he have a boyfriend… if he liked girls… or did he. He couldn’t remember.

He knew he’d never been with a girl. He tells the bros he has, he would be humiliated if they knew he was lying. He was always too nervous. Anytime he tried to approach a girl after class, he’d chicken out, end up cycling home and beating his meat in bed to some pornstar’s big mommy milkers.

If only he had a car, so he could drive home. It would be so much faster. But he can’t even drive. Never got a license.

What about his business. He tried to think about his business in Mexico City. Where he sold… um… he… he had business? A business, like the ones he learns about in class. Yes, business class. He had homework to do? Fuck, he forgot. Mr. Iadanza is gonna be on his ass again. Telling him he’d make a better farm animal than a student.

It wasn’t just business Michael struggled with. He was a consistent C grade student. He just wasn’t naturally good at many of these things. Math, history, English. But he tried. The only subject he didn’t try at was his worst subject. The one he didn’t care about. Never paid attention to in class: Spanish. No matter how hard he tries to pay attention. It just doesn’t go in. It also didn’t help that his teacher had the biggest most distracting ass in school. Everyone talks about it. While Michael’s buddies were all out getting laid, he has busted many loads thinking about his Spanish teacher’s fat ass. God, he was such a loser.

Michael felt a drop of drool fall onto his pecs. He felt relaxed. He felt… normal. Chill. His cock standing painfully firm as he stroked it up and down. He couldn’t stop. Just imagining getting with his Spanish teacher and getting her pregnant. He couldn’t stop thinking about her… MOMMY TITS- “FUCKKKKKKKKK” he impregnated his sheets, his Latino heritage nothing more than a wet stain on his bed.

His phone shuts off.

Michael snapped out of it, absentmindedly brushing his hand through his blonde hair. “Fuck I’m lowkenuinely pathetic, bro” He wiped the drool from his pecs and shook his head as he looked around the room. “What the hell, bro. Where the hell am I?” Michael’s pits stained the bedsheets.

“¡Dios mío! ¿Dónde está Miguel? ¿Quién eres tú? ¡Juan!! ¡Ayuda!”

Michael looked up to a shrill woman screaming as she stood in the doorway staring at the big oversized white man in her son’s bed. Michael opened his eyes lazily, lounging like he owns the place.

The woman screams as she shuts the door, Michael hearing her footsteps running down the stairs.

Michael tried to open his phone, but his Face ID didn’t work “Fuck, I wonder if MommyPornXXX has posted anything new? And why is my phone in Spanish?”

—————————————————————————-

Observed Transformation – AE-2319 Exposure

Subjects exposed to AE-2319 consistently undergo a rapid cognitive and physiological regression to a stereotypical American high school male archetype, regardless of their original nationality. Cases have included individuals from Mexico, Sweden, India, and Japan, all of whom emerged post-exposure with the characteristics of 18 and 19-year-old American students as interpreted through mainstream media depictions.

The transformation includes:

Physical and Behavioral Regression: Subjects appear younger, slouched, unkempt, and physically underdeveloped relative to their prior adult form, with a compulsive habit of watching pornography. Personal hygiene declines sharply, including persistent body odor and unwashed clothing. Cognitive function is severely reduced, with subjects exhibiting limited social reasoning and impaired executive function.

Racial Changes: AE-2319 induces a complete genetic restructuring in affected subjects, rewriting their DNA to align with a single standardized template matching the male figure depicted in the GIF. This results in uniform physical transformation across all cases: subjects develop a muscular youthful build, simplified facial features, loss of body hair and consistent traits such as lighter hair (commonly blonde), regardless of original ethnicity or nationality. Subjects of other races are rewritten to become Caucasian, having no memory of their previous selves. Neurological changes occur simultaneously, with measurable reduction in higher cognitive function, including diminished reasoning, attention span, and overall intelligence. The rewrite extends beyond appearance, erasing genetic markers tied to ancestry and replacing them with those consistent with the imposed identity, effectively altering both biological origin and perceived nationality. This process is uniform and non-adaptive, forcing all subjects into the same predefined physical and cognitive state rather than modifying them individually. Observer [REDACTED] has noted that some subjects have sexual preferences for women of their original nationality, with originally Japanese subject [REDACTED], now white, but showing extreme attraction towards Japanese women.

Linguistic changes: Linguistic changes are immediate and absolute. Subjects become fluent in English while losing all prior language ability. In one recorded case, a subject from India with no prior English proficiency became fully Caucasian and fluent in English post-exposure and demonstrated no recognition of Hindi as a language, expressing confusion when it was referenced, stating that he thought they spoke “Indian” in India.

Social and Sexual Reorientation: Exposed individuals demonstrate a sexual orientation aligned with perceived high school norms. Notably, a previously homosexual subject showed attraction exclusively to women post-exposure. Social interactions are awkward; subjects lack confidence in communication, particularly with women, displaying heightened embarrassment and nervous behaviors. In several cases, they engage in watching pornography —compulsive, ritualized behaviors hypothesized to release shame or tension. Subjects do not engage in sex, despite having mommy and breeding fetishes, as their addictions to masturbation and pornography keep them away from it. These behaviors appear to be implanted by the anomaly rather than learned.

Cultural Assimilation: Language, mannerisms, and cultural identity are completely overwritten following exposure. Subjects display no memory of their original nationality or upbringing and instead express strong identification with the United States, often speaking about it with misplaced pride and familiarity. All subjects insist they were “born in the mid-2000s,” and behave accordingly. Speech patterns shift to contemporary American Gen Z slang, with frequent use of phrases such as “67,” “goon-brained,” “lowkey,” and “bro.”

Reintegration Protocol – AE-2319

Five subjects have been successfully placed with FCA-approved host families within the United States to resolve residual identity instability. Placement has resulted in near-total behavioral normalization. Subjects demonstrate immediate comfort within suburban environments, integrating into routines of school attendance, casual sports participation, social media use, and extended periods of passive inactivity. No subject has questioned their identity, location, or circumstances.

Each subject has been enrolled in a local high school. Academic performance is consistently low but within acceptable range; teachers report disengagement, distraction, and minimal effort. Socially, subjects attempt to conform but exhibit noticeable awkwardness, particularly in interactions with female peers. Repeated embarrassment responses have been observed, followed by withdrawal and engagement in pornography. These cycles appear self-reinforcing and contribute to overall behavioral stability.

Host families report subjects as “normal,” if somewhat disappointing. Common observations include poor hygiene, cluttered living spaces, excessive phone dependence, and lack of long-term goals. These traits align precisely with the imposed identity profile and are therefore not considered anomalies.

All environments are under continuous FCA surveillance. Personal devices are monitored, conversations recorded, and movement subtly restricted. Subjects are provided with curated

Notably, subjects express consistent satisfaction with their current state. One subject from Mexico, when prompted with archival footage of his previous life, responded: “Who is this NPC? He looks kinda sus, bro.”

Image of Miguel Hernandez (29-years-old) before exposure:

Miguel Hernandez after exposure (now, Michael Hudson; 19-years-old):

Source Status – AE-2319

The original source file of AE-2319 has been located and traced to an upload originating from the imageboard site 4chan. The thread and associated accounts have since been deleted, with no recoverable user data or archive records remaining. The identity and intent of the original poster are unknown.

Preliminary speculation suggests the GIF may have been a deliberate experiment—potentially a failed attempt by an individual or entity within the United States to culturally homogenize populations, enforce American teenage archetypes globally, or suppress reproductive potential by reducing social skills with women and promoting compulsive solo sexual behaviors.

All known copies of the GIF have been systematically removed from public networks. At present, it is believed the only surviving instance exists within FCA containment. Investigation continues, and efforts are underway to identify and interrogate the original poster to determine purpose and origin.

That very night I didn’t sleep at all. In between my tossing and turning I was forced to dig my hand into my pits for a heavy scratch session… all throughout the night. When I woke up I saw some mild irritation. I went about my day with the occasional itch but what bothered me the most were all these visuals of armpit hair that kept pushing their way to the forefront of my mind. It’s such a random thing to think about…

That night at the gym I saw Sean again. He joked about having to lend me some of his deodorant again but I told him I didn’t need it. He pressed again, “You still didn’t buy any yet?” I was reluctant to answer and he took the opportunity to hold his out again. I took and used it to be polite even though I was sure it was irritating me. During my entire workout I kept staring at armpits, and I was wondering if people were seeing me itch mine also. It was such a thrill to think about having hairy pits. “What is going on with me?” I thought. 

More scratching that night… and in the morning I was greeted with a fairly bushy patch of dark brown hairs poking out in all directions from my armpits. “NO!” I felt it with my fingers and it seemed very thick and long.

My calm didn’t come for a while… and when it came I was unsure how to proceed… My brain was thinking of ways to hide it but my dick twitched whenever I thought about showing it off… and again it itched. Am I supposed to scratch in front of people like some animal now?