Sans titre

Oliver had been even quieter than usual for the past ten minutes. Which wasn’t unusual per se, but this silence felt different than usual. He looked between his friends. 

Noah looked like a Barbarian king with how he sat draped across his chair like it was a throne. Ethan lounged against him, basically hanging off of the ginger hunk’s bulging muscles, his hand sometimes even finding its way towards the overwhelmingly large outline of his cock. And Marcus? Marcus resembled a seven-foot holy knight straight out of a stained-glass artwork.

Oliver adjusted the sleeves of his oversized sweater nervously.

“You guys seriously don’t think tonight feels… weird?”

Three pairs of eyes turned toward him.

Noah blinked slowly.

“Weird how?”

Oliver opened his mouth.

Paused.

Because the problem was impossible to explain.

According to every memory in his head, Noah had always been enormous. Ethan had always looked like an elven thirst trap. Marcus had always been built like a cathedral guardian with the personality of an overfriendly saint.

And yet, some small part of Oliver’s brain insisted that the room hadn’t looked like this before. That Noah hadn’t always accidentally crushed door handles and chuckled dumbly about it. That Ethan hadn’t always spent so much time caressing the Barbarian’s muscle chest while talking. That Marcus hadn’t always looked like he could just throw someone over his shoulder and carry them through a battlefield.

Adrian watched from behind his DM screen. Every time he wove magic, the last person to transform would always notice something subconsciously. There was always some resistance to incomplete narratives.

“Probably just sensory overload.”, Marcus offered as a solution. 

“Yeah, the musk from those two must have you feeling light-headed again.”, Ethan added, one of his delicate hands tracing circles around Noah’s nipple. Noah just nodded, his hand slipping towards Ethan’s ass, his fuckbuddy leaning closer towards him immediately.

Oliver frowned. Sure, the two of them were always incredibly flirtatious with one another, but tonight felt even worse than usual.

Adrian just smiled. “You turn, Ollie.”

Oliver flinched, hating it when people called him that.

“I’m gonna play a Bard.” 

Adrian just smiled, definitely agreeing that a charming Bard would round out their group nicely. “Okay, then roll for Strength first.”

Oliver nodded and rolled the die.

12

There was no dramatic change like what happened to the other three. Some muscle was added to his frame, but in contrast with the muscular powerhouses that were Noah and Marcus, his body stayed leaner and more toned. 

Oliver relaxed in his seat. The sense of tenseness that had been hanging around him finally eased, now that the magic was directly affecting him. He didn’t mind people looking at his body all that much, not feeling the need to hide it away any longer. Not that he thought he ever had.

“Dexterity.”, Adrian said, nodding at his friend’s body language.

16

The transformation flowed through Oliver beautifully, reshaping his body with artistic precision.

His waist tightened slightly, while his muscles leaned out with athletic definition. He still didn’t have the bulky size of his two friends, but he also wasn’t as small and lithe as Ethan. His body somehow found the perfect balance between looking invitingly soft and masculine.

Oliver had become a twunk, a picture book definition of one even. His legs had lengthened slightly, his height now sitting a comfortable 6’1. Not so tall that it was intimidating, but tall enough to show he wasn’t a pushover. His movements now carried a certain fluidity, grace and sense of control with them, just enough to subtly draw the eye of anyone watching.

Noah leaned a little closer to inspect him, in a way that made Ethan look slightly jealous.

“Are you seriously checking out Ollie’s ass again when I’m right next to you?”, the twinky elf complained, Noah leaning back and shrugging his shoulders apologetically in response.

Oliver didn’t recoil at the nickname quite as much this time. And Noah did have a point in checking out his butt. While not quite as large or bouncy as Ethan’s bubble butt, his own ass was pert, perfectly harmonizing with his graceful movements. It was the kind of ass that looked both breedable and like it could throw some serious force behind a pounding.

Adrian looked amused at the situation, already liking the new group dynamic before the changes even fully finalized.

“Constitution.”, he said softly and watched the die bounce on the hardwood.

18

The change hit him like a freight train. Oliver always had had an unimpressive dick, but that was a thing of the past now.

While the transformation also made him look like he was brimming with vitality, his skin seeming warmer and less pale, his posture looser and his body language more confident and downright tempting, the real change was happening between his lean legs.

He didn’t quite have the size of Noah and Marcus, having rolled slightly lower, but there was no denying that the monstercock growing on the Bard was one of the biggest around, only half an inch shorter than Marcus’ and slightly thinner than Noah’s. Undeniably huge, but somehow seeming more manageable next to the two of them.

And not only that. The transformation had also given him an infamous libido. While Marcus fucked anyone who asked and Noah mostly stuck to plowing Ethan’s experienced ass, Oliver had become something of the man whore of the group. While still being pretty shy overall, his perfect build and incredible cock and ass never failed to secure the versatile lover a date for the night.

Adrian just smiled behind his screen. He hadn’t planned for this, but definitely welcomed his friend coming out of his shell to secure some experience. Especially with his character sheet only half finished. “Intelligence.”

Oliver grabbed the die quickly, eager to get his friends to stop staring at his now obvious bulge, even though his 10 incher was the second smallest of the player group.

14

The transformation settled behind the Bard’s eyes instantly.

He wasn’t hyper-intellectual like a wizard would be. Or strategically brilliant like Marcus. But he became a quick thinker, incredibly articulate. And definitely more creative. His room back home changed, several half finished songs and poems appearing. His quick wit also gave him sharper humour.

And he almost instinctively got better at reading people. Understanding emotional nuance felt easier now. Like he always knew at a glance what people needed. How to handle a conversation better. With his new intelligence and humour, the Bard became almost socially magnetic, despite his unchanged charisma.

Something that became very obvious when Noah, who had been rather focussed on Ethan before, started looking at Oliver more, causing the shy Bard to blush and get flustered, the attention of the overwhelmingly manly Barbarian still a bit much for him.

But that’s what the last two stats would be there for.

“Wisdom.”, Adrian prompted from behind his DM screen, watching as his changing friend rolled the die.

13

The change was subtle.

Unlike Noah or Marcus, Oliver’s sense of self remained strong. His emotional awareness sharpened further rather than collapsing. He became more perceptive of moods, tension, attraction, discomfort.

More emotionally intelligent.

And significantly more aware of what effect he had on others.

Oliver looked around the table slowly. At Ethan practically sprawled across Noah. At Noah’s huge hand still resting possessively against Ethan’s thigh. At Marcus unconsciously smiling whenever anyone else looked happy. Then at Adrian calmly observing all of them.

Oliver tilted his head slightly. “…You know,” he murmured, “the vibe at this table has gotten extremely charged.”

Ethan immediately lost it laughing. Noah grinned. Marcus looked confused for about two seconds before understanding abruptly dawned on him.

“Oh.”

His ears turned red.

Oliver smirked as reality settled around them. He had always been great at reading the vibe of a room. And right now the tension in the air was basically palpable.

And now only the decisive stat of his class remained. “Charisma!”, Adrian announced sharply, with unusual drama in his voice, the magic user urging his already gorgeous friend on to finalise the changes made to the group.

In a fittingly long slow circle the die spun across the table before settling.

20

“Critical success!”, Oliver cheered as the atmosphere in the room changed.

The world seemed to hold its breath as Ollie’s face became as gorgeous as his body, ass and cock. High cheekbones, strong but graceful brows, a strong but pretty nose, thick kissable lips. He didn’t have the ethereal look of Ethan the Elf or the overpowering rugged masculinity of Noah. He somehow sat in the perfect middle spot. Like someone had looked up masculine beauty and decided to crank the definition up to 11. 

And it wasn’t just his face that changed. Everything about him seemed flirtatious and welcoming. His sparkling white smile, that was more than the smile of every boy next door from every teen rom-com. His voice that became rich and musical at the same time, masculine and melodious without sounding artificial. Even the eye-contact with his expressive brown eyes now oozed with warmth and playful awareness, a single glance enough to make people feel desired, seen and interesting.

His every gesture became charged with intentionality. Not in a teasingly flirtatious way like Ethan, but rather in a way that felt awfully magnetic and almost impossible to resist. His every laugh made people feel like their best self.

And the memories of Ollie and his friends reflected that. Ollie was the undisputed heartthrob on campus, even the straightest of jocks falling for him constantly. It was just impossible not to. 

The Bard would constantly disappear from parties with strangers, take guys and gals home whenever he went to a bar and leave only well deserved legends and rumours behind. He wasn’t a fuck machine like Noah or a power bottom like Ethan. He was like the Kamasutra had decided to become human and evolve new tricks.

The mix of his absurd Constitution and perfect Charisma had fused in the best way possible. Ollie always gave people exactly what they needed, even if they didn’t know it themselves. Helping a girl get over her toxic ex-boyfriend with the most enthusiastic romantic fuck of her life? Helping a homophobic jock come out of the closet by giving him the best ass he’d ever have? Or helping a shy nerd come out of his shell by feeling desired and popping his cherry in the most loving way? All of those were now stories that were absolutely true about the extraordinarily skilled, endlessly versatile lover that was Ollie. 

And the best part about it was that the Bard didn’t leave a trail of broken hearts. People genuinely liked him and treated him more like a treasure that they wouldn’t dare to keep for themselves, genuinely happy with the experience they had with the urban legend sex magician.

And while everyone else found themselves lost in those memories, Marcus found himself trying and failing not to stare. His own terrible Wisdom role had left him absolutely vulnerable to Ollie’s incredible Charisma. Something the Bard was very much aware of.

Not in a predatory way. Marcus was the one person that Ollie allowed himself to tease … a lot. And since the paladin found himself agreeing to basically anything if asked nicely enough, the two of them had had their fair share of nights together in the past, something even the group’s gigolo found himself enjoying endlessly.

Oliver winked at the blushing paladin and smiled. Maybe tonight would be another one of those nights where he’d end up with Marcus. But who could really tell.

—-------------------------------

Epilogue

Adrian quietly sat back behind the DM screen, watching the final party dynamic settle perfectly into place.

The barbarian and elf draped across each other openly now.

The gigantic gullible paladin blushing whenever the bard smiled at him.

And the bard himself sitting confidently at the center of the emotional gravity well he’d become.

Four completed archetypes. Four very changed men. Four people still passionate about Dungeons and Dragons, now more than ever since they had somehow ended up incidentally creating characters that were basically themselves.

One rewritten reality.

And only Adrian remembered how ordinary they had all been a few hours ago. How unhappy they had been with their lives. 

Noah, who had been relentlessly bullied by the football team just this morning had become bigger than all of them. No more getting shoved into lockers when your shoulders are wider than three of those combined.

The often turned down Ethan finding himself next to someone who actually liked his flirting, revelling in the feeling of being the target of it even. And surely people wouldn’t dare mess with the enormous Barbarian’s quasi-boyfriend.

Marcus, who had been plagued by complexes for the majority of his life, would never hear a word of complaint about his incredible body any more. And maybe people would finally respect his hulking mass and brilliant mind now.

And the shy and easily hurt Oliver? He was now way too busy showing people the absolute heights of sexual delight to care whether people talked shit about his art online. The praise he got for it after showing it off to one of his lovers being the most important feedback he could ask for.

Four friends debate the latest gay dating app to hit the market. Four friends inevitably become walking advertisements for the very same app. Remember, What’s Good for the Gandr is Good for You!

Here's one for all you droney himbo fans! Average gay friend group into four Adonises literally molded to be the perfect men for Gandr’s supernaturally expanding user base. Hope you enjoy! -Occam

(L to R) Sven - Blaine - Clint - Guy

“It’s called Gandr! I’ve heard nothing but good things! Besides, I’ve been obsessed with the founder since he guest judged on Drag Race!” Clint held out his phone showing an ad for the newest dating app to hit the mobile store. “And it’s not even just for dating! It’s for the lifestyle!”

His friends are nonplussed. Swirling a drink in his hands, Blaine rolls his eyes. “Have you heard anything about it that wasn’t from an ad? I mean- Girl. Obviously it’s not made with guys like us in mind? Like, fuck look at those guy, they wouldn’t seven give Sven a second look unless it was to laugh at him!”

Clad in his usual deep v-neck and squinting at the screen, Sven shrugs in agreement before speaking up himself. “Dunno about this one Clint, something about it feels off? But you know me, I’m not really about apps and shit.”

Huddled around the phone in their favorite haunt, a lowkey gay bar-cum-brunch spot, the group continues bickering about their interest in reality star Chad Gleeson’s latest venture. Taking little part in the chatter, while his cohort debates whether or not this is a cash grab or a genuine attempt to build community online, Guy is simply staring blankly at the disembodied oiled up torsos still scrolling past on Clint’s phone. 

Jun’ichiro Sekino, 1914-1988 "Lovesick Cat"

│ NAME: "Student Bus"

│ CODE: STR-793

│ STATUS: [Active] — in containment, location [DATA EXPUNGED]

│ HAZARD CLASS: Safe

│ EFFECT TYPE: Object and personality transformation.

1. DESCRIPTION

The object is a 2008 Blue Bird school bus, school yellow, with 72 passenger seats. Externally, it is indistinguishable from a regular bus. License plate: [DATA EXPUNGED]. The windows, including the windshield, are tinted. The interior is visible only from the inside. The presence of a driver is unknown; the bus moves independently using [DATA EXPUNGED] and [DATA EXPUNGED].

Trigger: entry through the front door. It does not matter whether the engine is running. The victim can enter voluntarily or be carried in by an unauthorized person. The effect does not trigger if the victim is carried in unconscious. It was discovered and described in 20■■ in the city of [DATA EXPUNGED]. The object traveled along regular routes, picking up unsuspecting students and passersby.

1. PROPERTIES / ANOMALOUS CHARACTERISTICS

Upon activation, the victim experiences a sharp tingling sensation throughout the body. The transformation takes up to 7 minutes. Observers see a flickering yellow light through tinted windows.

Stages:

1. Musculoskeletal restructuring (1-3 minutes) – height change to a range of 180-195 cm.

2. Adipose and muscular correction (3-5 minutes), as well as changes to the skin and personal markings – tattoos, piercings, and scars disappear. Teeth straighten. Minor visual defects disappear.

3. Identity formation (5-7 minutes) – high PSI influence. Further research is required in the PSI Threat Department.

4. All stages are accompanied by physical changes to clothing, footwear, and personal belongings.

Final form: a physically perfect member of a college football team, aged 18-22. The victim's gender changes to male with a 98% probability (regardless of their original gender). In 2% of cases, the victim becomes a female cheerleader. Victims are fully aware of who they were before the transformation, remembering their name, family, and profession. However, the skills [DATA EXPUNGED] are "added" to their brain.

Reversibility: Not recorded.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

“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.