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The Awakening of Destiny - Chapter 3: The Encounter

The sands of time shifted once more, and the horizon of your world blurred and folded, bringing forth a figure from an era long past. My arrival in 2024 was not a mere coincidence; it was a significant event orchestrated by forces beyond your comprehension. I, Sayyid Hassan al-Fatimi, an indomitable figure from history, had crossed the boundaries of time with a singular purpose—to guide you, Omar, in your transformation.

When our paths finally crossed, it was in a setting where the ancient and modern worlds collided—a dramatic, almost surreal landscape where the echoes of my time intertwined with the realities of yours. The moment was charged with an energy that could only be described as otherworldly. You stood there, a young man whose life had just begun to take shape under the influence of the Arabization movement, and I stood before you, a figure from a time long forgotten, yet ever present in the currents of history.

As our eyes met, I saw the questions, the doubts, and the curiosity that swirled within you. My presence was overwhelming, a force that seemed to defy the very fabric of the world you knew. Yet, within that overwhelming presence, there was something more—something familiar, something that resonated deeply within your soul.

I began to speak, my voice carrying the weight of centuries, filled with the wisdom and experience of countless generations. Each word I uttered seemed to reverberate through you, solidifying the path you had begun to tread. I spoke to you of the movement that had already started to reshape your identity, of the power that lay within the name you now bore—Omar. I revealed to you the true nature of the Arabization movement, a force that had silently expanded its influence across time and space, and your role within it.

As I spoke, you felt a fire ignite within you—a fire of purpose that burned brighter with each passing moment. The doubts and uncertainties that had plagued you began to fade, replaced by a sense of clarity and determination. It was as if your purpose and my mission were intertwined, bound together by the invisible threads of fate.

I could see it in your eyes, Omar—the deep connection you felt to me, to the movement, to the destiny that now awaited you. This was no longer just a journey of self-discovery; it was a calling, a responsibility that you could not, and would not, turn away from.

In that moment, you understood that your transformation was not just about adopting new practices or beliefs; it was about becoming a leader, a guide for others who would follow in your footsteps. The fire of purpose that I had ignited within you would continue to burn, driving you forward, shaping you into the man you were destined to become.

Our encounter marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life, Omar. The ancient wisdom I imparted to you would be the foundation upon which you would build your future, and the future of the movement. Together, we would continue to reshape the world, one step at a time, one soul at a time, until the vision of Arabization was fully realized.

And so, with our paths now intertwined, you and I would walk forward into the unknown, guided by the fire of purpose, driven by the power of the name you now bore. The encounter had set the stage for the next phase of your transformation, and there was no turning back. You were no longer just a boy; you were Omar, and the world would soon know your name.

The Awakening of Destiny - Chapter 1: The Awakening of Omar The Awakening of Destiny - Chapter 2: The Silent Transformation The Awakening of Destiny - Chapter 3: The Encounter

A Wish is a Dream Your Dick Makes

Neil is the epitome of bright-eyed enthusiasm and unbridled optimism. His personality is cheerful, with an infectious, bubbly charm that lights up any room. As a cute, twinky Disney gay and aspiring actor, he carries a wholesome, carefree attitude that makes him a delight to be around. With his effervescent smile and twinkling eyes, he seems to float through life, his every gesture imbued with a vibrant energy that's as endearing as it is genuine.

However, Neil's acting career has hit a frustrating snag. He often finds himself pigeonholed into roles that emphasize his youthful, adorable demeanor, reducing his range to the "cute, twink" stereotype. It's a limiting typecasting that stifles his dreams of exploring more diverse and substantial characters. He often wished he could be taken more seriously, more a leading man.

One afternoon, while working from home, Neil’s agent calls with a spark of excitement in their voice. They mention a new role and promise to send over the script immediately. Just moments later, Neil hears the doorbell ring. Bounding to the door with his usual vivacity, he finds an envelope waiting for him. The envelope, crisp and pristine, contains the script that his agent promised.

He eagerly tears open the package, his excitement palpable. Without pausing to fully take in the details, he unfolds the script. The first line of dialogue catches his eye: “We’re about to hit those PRs like it’s no big deal, fam.” He reads the line aloud, his lisp giving it a playful twist. He attempts to repeat it in a deeper voice, trying to adjust his tone to fit the character, but his attention is abruptly seized by a strange sensation.

As Neil continues to hold the script, his delicate, thin hands start to tingle and pulse with a peculiar energy. The feeling intensifies, and he finds himself sinking to his knees, overwhelmed by a wave of transformation.

Before his eyes, his once slender frame undergoes a dramatic metamorphosis. His skin, previously fair and smooth, darkens into a deep, rich brown tan. His body begins to shift and grow, muscles expanding and reshaping with an almost surreal fluidity. His physique evolves into a monument of gym dedication and protein shakes.

His abs, now a landscape of sculpted granite, form ridges and valleys so pronounced they seem chiseled by an artist's hand. His biceps swell into massive, bulging forms, veins coursing beneath his skin like an intricate network of rivers. His chest, once slender, expands into a robust expanse, with pecs so prominent they create a formidable shelf. His shoulders are like massive boulders, each movement underscored by their immense strength. His traps rise with a power that suggests he has not just carried his own weight but perhaps the entire gym’s.

This new form exudes a swaggering confidence, an embodiment of raw power and dedication. It’s a striking contrast to the previous Neil, and it marks a dramatic shift not just in appearance but in the potential for his acting career.

Neil stared at the line, his mind turning to mush as he read the words "Gonna flex those muscles and flex my way into her DMs, you know what I’m saying?" over and over again. He felt his intelligence slowly slipping away, becoming dumber and dumber with each passing moment. The line was like a poison, infecting his brain with its crude and crude thoughts.

As he read on, Neil's memories began to change, becoming crude and rude. He remembered a kiss he had with his boyfriend, the feeling of his lips on his own making him shudder with pleasure. But this memory was quickly replaced by a snarl, his face contorting in disgust at the idea of sleeping with another man. The image of his boyfriend slowly morphed into a big-boobed, slutty white chick, her ample breasts and tight jeans making Neil's mouth water.

He flexed his muscles, feeling like a dumb, obnoxious fuckboi. Neil grabbed a beer from the fridge, the cold can feeling good in his hand. He cracked it open with a loud hiss, the sound making him let out a buuuurrrrp that echoed through the room. "Ah, yeah!" he exclaimed, feeling like the king of the world. Neil's mind was a mess, but he didn't care. He was too busy being a dumb, obnoxious fuckboi to worry about anything else.

As he sat on the couch, beer in hand, Neil's thoughts turned to the chick he had just imagined. He pictured her in his mind, her big boobs and tight jeans making him feel all hot and bothered. He flexed his muscles again, feeling like a total stud. Neil's mind was a jumbled mess, but he didn't care. He was too busy being a dumb, obnoxious fuckboi to worry about anything else. He could almost see the girl's face, her makeup smeared and her hair a mess. She was the epitome of everything Neil despised, a shallow, superficial creature who only cared about one thing. Neil's distaste for her was overwhelming, and he couldn't help but wonder what she would think if she knew how pathetic she was. "Gonna flex those muscles and flex my way into her DMs," he repeated to himself, his voice deepening slighlty.

His muscles responded to this newfound resolve with a dramatic surge. His biceps, already impressive, began to inflate even further, their size expanding rapidly as if they were inflating under the pressure of an unseen force. Each flex of his arms brought about a visible increase in their bulk, the veins beneath his skin becoming more pronounced as they snaked their way up his arms.

Simultaneously, his chest began to swell, his pecs pushing outward and upward with a forceful expansion. They grew so robust and full that they seemed to defy the constraints of his previous form, creating a massive shelf that commanded attention. His abs, once a well-defined set of ridges, began to expand and redefine themselves into an awe-inspiring landscape of muscular strength. Each muscle was honed to perfection, their definition more pronounced, their mass more substantial.

With this transformation came an intense, almost unbearable pain. It felt as though every fiber of his being was being stretched and restructured. Neil gritted his teeth as the pain coursed through him, his muscles burning with a fierce intensity that seemed to push against his skin, almost as if it were struggling to contain the newly burgeoning bulk. His breathing became labored, each inhalation sharp and ragged as his body adapted to the rapid changes.

As the beer finished, Neil let out another large buurrrrrrrp, feeling proud of himself for being so manly. He thought about his old friends, and how much they were losers. They were all gay, and Neil felt a wave of homophobia wash over him. He thought about how gross and disgusting they were, how they went against his faith. He thought about how he was better than them, how he was a real man and they were just a bunch of fags. The thought of them made him sick, and Neil felt a wave of disgust wash over him.

Neil's voice started to tingle as he read the next line, a sense of excitement building up inside of him. His eyes scanned the words quickly, but his brain picked up every detail. He could almost hear the deep, gravelly voice that was describing this swagger. "No cap, my swagger is as legendary as an Arabian stallion's!" he read, repeating the line in his head. Suddenly, his voice started to change. It got deeper, like a growl, and he could almost hear an accent creeping into his words. "No cap, my swagger is as legendary as an Arabian stallion's!" he repeated again, feeling the words taking on a new meaning. His mind started to shift, like a puzzle clicking into place. He could feel a sense of entitlement washing over him, a feeling that he was something special, something legendary. His personality started to take over, becoming the most obnoxious Middle Eastern douchebag.

His face started to change, shifting into a thick, furry beard and piercing brown eyes. He felt his nose growing, his cheeks puffed out and his chin jutting out. His hair grew wild and curly, sticking out in all directions. He flexed his huge muscles, grinning as he felt their power surge through him. He turned to his side, picking up his Instagram and scanning through the pictures. "Ah, another day in the life of a legendary Arabian stallion," he said, posting a new picture of himself. His followers started to comment, congratulating him on his swagger. Neil grinned, feeling like he was the king of the world.

He started to dance, his hips swaying from side to side as he moved his body. "No cap, my swagger is as legendary as an Arabian stallion's!" he sang, his voice echoing off the walls. He was in his own little world, a world where he was the biggest and the best. No one else mattered, nothing else existed. He was the one and only Arabian stallion, the most legendary creature in the land.

Neil's dance turned into a run, his feet pounding the ground as he moved. He could feel his heart pounding, his body surging with energy. He was in his prime, the greatest Arabian stallion the world had ever seen. His muscles rippled beneath his skin as he ran, his sweat dripping down his face. He was untouchable, unstoppable, the king of the land.

Rami threw the script down, the page of the script for the character he was reading on the front page reading, "Rami 'The Sultan' Al-Karim is a 24-year-old muscle-bound show-off with a deep tan, perfectly styled hair, and an ego to match. Constantly flaunting his gym gains and cheesy pickup lines, he's the epitome of cringey Gen Z bravado with a Middle Eastern flair." Neil was dead, and in his place stood Rami, an obnoxious entitled middle eastern douchebag. Rami let out a loud scream, "Gah. What the fuck is this script, acting is for fags!" He jumped up from his chair, his face turning bright red with rage. He stormed over to his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he scrolled through his Instagram and Twitter feed. Rami's fingers flew across the screen as he scrolled through his Twitter feed. He came across a tweet from a guy, "I love how gay men are always so sensitive." Rami let out a loud laugh, his fingers flying across the screen as he typed out a response, "Lol, what a fag. You must be a closeted homo, always talking about gay men." He sent the tweet, his eyes scanning the screen for a response. A few minutes later, the guy responded with a tweet, "At least I'm not a stupid Gen Zer who thinks they're a Sultan." Rami let out a loud laugh, his fingers flying across the screen as he typed out a response, "get bent, fag! You can't handle a real man!!!!"

Rami's eyes landed on a picture of a slutty white girl on instagram, her tits spilling out of her top. He let out a loud groan, his dick starting to get hard. He quickly typed out a message, "Hey cutie, what's up? You look so hot, I need to get you in my bed ASAP." He sent the message, his eyes scanning the screen for a response. A few minutes later, the girl sent him a picture of her tits. Rami let out a loud groan, his dick getting even harder. He quickly typed out a response, "Oh my god, you're so hot. I need to get you in my bed now." He sent the message, his eyes scanning the screen for a response.

Rami's dick was getting so hard that he could barely stand it. He quickly jumped up from his chair, his fingers flying across the screen as he snapped a picture of his dick. The picture showed his huge, hard dick, his balls hanging low. He quickly typed out a caption, "Just got so hard, I need to get laid ASAP." He sent the picture, his eyes scanning the screen for a response.

The Awakening of Destiny - Chapter 2 : The Silent Transformation

You begin to feel the weight of your new name, Omar, settling into your very being. It’s subtle at first—small changes in your thoughts, in the way you carry yourself, in the choices you make. The practices and beliefs of the Arabization movement start to take root within you, almost imperceptibly shifting the foundation of who you are.

As the days pass, you find yourself drawn deeper into the world I represent. Your lifestyle begins to align more closely with the ideals of our movement. You start to adopt the habits and practices that define us, and with each passing moment, you become more integrated into this new identity. The food you once ate, the clothes you wore, even the way you speak—all begin to change, reflecting the transformation that is occurring within you.

But as you change, Omar, so too does the world around you. Friends, family, society—they all begin to notice the differences. They sense that something within you is shifting, and their reactions are far from understanding. They don’t see the purpose that now drives you, the strength you are beginning to cultivate. Instead, they see only the unfamiliar, and with that comes resistance.

The people who once knew you as one of their own now find it difficult to understand the path you are on. They question your choices, challenge your beliefs, and push back against the transformation that is reshaping you. The struggle is not just external, but internal as well. Doubts creep in, testing your resolve, making you question whether this path is truly yours.

But in the quiet moments, when the world’s noise fades away, you begin to experience something else—visions. In your dreams, a mysterious figure appears, guiding you towards the new path you are on. These visions are powerful, almost overwhelming, yet they are unclear. You feel a connection to this figure, a deep sense of comfort and purpose when you see them, but you cannot fully understand the messages they are conveying.

The visions leave you both comforted and puzzled. They reassure you that you are not alone in this journey, that there is a greater force at play, guiding you towards something far beyond the life you once knew. Yet, they also challenge you to trust in the unknown, to have faith in the path that is unfolding before you, even when it is shrouded in mystery.

As you continue to transform, Omar, the struggle becomes a crucible, refining you, hardening your resolve, and strengthening the connection to the new identity you are forging. You are no longer just the boy you once were; you are becoming something more. The name Omar is no longer just a label—it is the embodiment of the strength, the purpose, and the destiny that now defines you.

The silent transformation is well underway, and though the path is fraught with challenges, you begin to realize that this is only the beginning. The visions will continue to guide you, and in time, the doubts will fade, leaving only the fire of purpose that now burns within you. The world may resist, but you, Omar, are becoming unstoppable.

Chapter I

The Awakening of Destiny - Chapter I : The Awakening of Omar

Chapter: The Awakening of Omar

I watched as the young Chinese boy stood before me, uncertainty etched into every line of his face. His life, once marked by the mundane and the unremarkable, was about to undergo a transformation beyond anything he could have imagined. The name he once bore, a relic of his past, had been shed. Now, he was reborn. Now, you are Omar.

The power of a name is more profound than most can comprehend. It shapes identities, alters destinies, and forges new paths where none existed before. When I called you by your new name, Omar, I saw the confusion in your eyes, but I also saw something else—an awakening. The name is not just a label; it is a key, unlocking the potential within you, aligning you with a movement that has silently expanded its influence across centuries.

As I stood before you, Omar, I felt the weight of generations resting on my shoulders. The movement I represent thrives on the cultivation of strength—strength of mind, body, and spirit. These are the masculine ideals deeply embedded in our Arab-Islamic culture. The harsh environments of the desert, coupled with unwavering religious convictions, have forged men of unmatched resilience and confidence. You are now part of this lineage, Omar. You are the embodiment of this strength.

With each repetition of your name, Omar, I watched as the transformation began to take hold. At first, it was subtle—your tastes, your preferences, your surroundings all began to shift. But as you immersed yourself in the culture that I represent, the changes became more pronounced. You grew taller, stronger. Your skin darkened to a rich, commanding hue, and your features became more assertive. The name Omar had done its work, transforming you into a symbol of Arab strength and dominance.

Now, as I stand before you, I see not just a boy, but a man—a man ready to carry forward the ideals of our movement. You are more than just a name, Omar. You are a force, a weapon of cultural conquest. The silent power of Arabization flows through you, reshaping the world into a reflection of our ideals.

The time has come, Omar. You will continue the cycle, reaching out to others, planting the seeds of transformation just as I did with you. The name Ahmed will be next, and the cycle will begin again. This is our destiny, and you are now its vessel.

In this moment, I see the fire in your eyes, the purpose that now burns within you. The transformation is complete. You are ready to lead, ready to dominate, ready to reshape the world in our image. The path ahead is clear, and you will walk it with the strength and confidence that only those like us possess.

You are Omar, and the world will know your name.

Open House, Open Recruitment

Adam stood in the doorway of the modest suburban home, surveying the interior with his critical eye and attention to detail. The house was perfect for a young family—three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a spacious backyard, and a quiet neighborhood. With the open house scheduled for the afternoon, he had only a few hours before people arrived to ensure everything was in order.

As he moved from room to room, straightening pillows and adjusting curtains, Adam noticed a box tucked away in the back of the closet in the master bedroom. Curious, he pulled it out and set it on the bed. The box was unmarked, but it had a strange weight to it that piqued his interest.

He opened the box, and inside, neatly folded, were several white soccer jerseys with green details. Adam lifted one out, inspecting it closely. The material was soft, almost inviting, with intricate green embroidery along the sleeves and collar. There was no brand tag, no indication of where it had come from.

Something about the jersey drew him in. Without really thinking, he slipped off his blazer and tie and unbuttoned his shirt, replacing it with the white jersey. The moment it touched his skin, a wave of warmth spread through his body, settling deep in his chest.

He stood still for a moment, puzzled by the sensation. His reflection in the bedroom mirror caught his eye, and as he looked at himself, Adam noticed subtle changes taking place. His hair, once light brown, darkened to a deep black. His skin tone shifted, taking on a warm, olive hue. His facial features sharpened, becoming more angular, with a prominent nose and a thicker beard that seemed to grow in seconds.

His heart raced as he watched the transformation in the mirror. His blue eyes darkened to a rich brown, and his neatly trimmed beard got thicker. Adam's clothes seemed to change as well—his dress pants and loafers replaced by a pair of tan trousers and sandals that complemented the white jersey.

He blinked, trying to reconcile the image in the mirror with his memory of himself. He felt different, not just physically but mentally. He realized he was no longer Adam Barnes, a real estate agent from Connecticut. His thoughts, his memories—they were shifting, rearranging themselves into something new.

The name that came to him was not Adam but Omar. He was a devout Muslim, a man who had lived his life with a sense of purpose and faith. The transformation had not just altered his appearance but his very identity. He felt a deep connection to his new self, as though he had always been Omar and the life of Adam was a distant, fading memory.

Omar looked down at the remaining jerseys in the box. A sense of duty welled up within him—these jerseys were meant to be shared. They held the power to transform, to bring others into the fold of faith. The open house was no longer just about selling a home; it was about offering something far greater.

He carefully laid out the jerseys on the dining room table, each one neatly folded and ready to be handed out. As the first guests for the open house arrived, he felt a calmness and sense of duty settle over him. He knew exactly what he needed to do.

Darren had been a pompous advertising executive. Until one of his new clients needed help in a new vitamin water campaign with a top secret ingredient. The client was generous to supply his office with it as well.

He partook in drinking it, but the more he drank the more foggy his head became. After a week he noticed his beard grow in thicker and his muscles bulking. Not disappointed with the changes he didn’t stop drinking it.

After two weeks his interests changed. No longer partying at nightclubs, he opted to be sober and respect his body. He found a local mosque to attend and began praying everyday.

A month passed and his clients came for a visit to his office. No longer in business casual attire, he chose a thobe and keffiyeh. The client called out his name commenting on his change of appearance but he quickly corrected him:

“You must be mistaken my name is Darab”

The Brotherhood Game

Ryan leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head after a long day of classes and homework. His desk was cluttered with empty cans of energy drinks, textbooks, and a few scattered notes from his computer science lectures. A quick glance at his phone showed it was almost midnight, but he wasn’t tired yet. He felt like diving into something new, something that would take his mind off the monotony of the day.

He scrolled through an online gaming forum, his usual haunt for discovering obscure games, when a thread titled The Brotherhood caught his eye. The comments were oddly cryptic:

“This game will change your life.”

“Once you start, there’s no going back.”

“You have to play it to understand.”

Ryan’s curiosity piqued, and he clicked on the thread. Buried within the discussion was a download link, seemingly posted by someone who knew what they were doing. There were no screenshots, no official descriptions, just a simple message: “Enter if you’re ready to see the truth.”

Without much thought, Ryan downloaded the game. The installation was quick, and before long, the title screen appeared—The Brotherhood—written in elegant Arabic script that glowed softly against the backdrop of a vast, sun-drenched desert.

He pressed "Start," and the game launched into a character creation menu. Oddly, there were no customization options, just a single prompt asking for his name. He typed in "Ryan," but the game rejected it.

“This is not your name. Your name is Saif,” the game stated.

"Saif?" Ryan mumbled, puzzled. He tried to override it, but nothing worked. With no other option, he clicked "Continue," and the screen flickered before placing him in a beautifully rendered desert town.

A figure approached him, draped in a white robe with intricate green details. "Saif," the figure called out, "Welcome home. You have much to learn." The voice was calm, almost hypnotic, and it resonated deeply within him.

"Wait, home?" Ryan questioned, but the game moved on, seamlessly guiding him through the town. Every building, every face seemed familiar, as if he had walked these streets before.

The game didn’t have traditional quests. Instead, it involved meditative exercises, discussions with wise elders, and moments of reflection. The longer Ryan played, the more he felt himself slipping into this new identity. It wasn’t just the game world that was changing—it was as though the game was reaching out into his own reality, altering it bit by bit.

After what felt like hours, Ryan noticed something strange in the reflection of a water basin within the game. He was no longer seeing himself but Saif—a young Middle Eastern man with sharp features, wearing a white jersey with green details and AirPods. The realization hit him hard, but the game wouldn’t let him stop.

“Remember who you are, Saif,” the voice echoed, growing fainter as the screen faded to black.

Suddenly, the game returned to the main menu, but something felt off. Ryan blinked and looked around his room, but it wasn’t his dorm anymore. The walls were adorned with Arabic calligraphy, and the posters of his favorite games were gone. Even more shocking, he was wearing the same white jersey with green details and AirPods as his in-game character.

“What the...?” Ryan— Saif—whispered, staring at his reflection in the darkened screen of his computer. His heart pounded in his chest, the transition between the game and reality blurring more with every passing second.

Panicked, Saif reached up to touch his face, but it felt different, more angular, like the man in the game. He jumped out of his chair and rushed to the mirror, only to see the same face staring back at him—the face of Saif. It was unmistakable. The person he had become in the game was now standing in his room.

A soft chime from his computer pulled his attention back to the screen. The game was open again, this time displaying a new message: “The Brotherhood is your destiny. Share it with the world.” Below the message was the same download link he had clicked on earlier.

Without thinking, Saif copied the link and pasted it into a group chat with his friends. He typed, “You have to play this. Trust me.” His fingers moved on their own, as if compelled by some force he couldn’t resist.

The last remnants of Ryan’s identity dissolved as Saif looked back at the computer screen, now displaying a message in Arabic he could somehow understand perfectly: “Welcome to The Brotherhood.”

He smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of purpose. The Brotherhood had claimed him, and now, it was time for others to join.

The Brotherhood of the Golden Thobes

Chapter 1: The Mysterious Leader

In the heart of the city, nestled between towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, lay a park that seemed untouched by time. The park was a sanctuary of peace, where the sounds of birds and rustling leaves drowned out the noise of the world beyond. This place had a certain magic about it, a stillness that allowed those who visited to reconnect with themselves and, sometimes, to discover something they hadn’t known they were missing.

Idris walked through this park every day, his presence almost as much a part of the landscape as the ancient trees that shaded the paths. Dressed in a golden thobe that shimmered in the sunlight, Idris exuded an aura of calm and authority. People often glanced at him as he passed, drawn to the warmth in his eyes and the quiet confidence in his step. Yet, despite his commanding presence, there was something approachable about him, as if he was someone you could trust without knowing why.

As Idris strolled along a winding path, he noticed two young men sitting on a bench. They were deep in conversation, their heads bent close together, oblivious to the world around them. Idris paused, observing them for a moment. There was something in their demeanor—a restlessness, a sense of searching for something just beyond their reach. Idris knew that feeling well; he had seen it many times before.

He approached them with a gentle smile, his golden thobe catching the light and reflecting it like a beacon. The two men looked up as he neared, their conversation trailing off as they took in the sight of him. There was something magnetic about Idris, something that made them feel as though they were in the presence of someone extraordinary.

“Good afternoon,” Idris greeted them warmly, his voice smooth and reassuring. “May I join you?”

The men exchanged a quick glance, their curiosity piqued. There was an unspoken agreement between them, and they nodded in unison.

“Of course,” one of them replied, gesturing to the empty space on the bench.

Idris sat down beside them, his movements graceful and deliberate. He could feel their eyes on him, filled with curiosity and a hint of something else—perhaps hope, or maybe even longing.

“My name is Idris,” he said, his voice carrying a quiet strength. “I’ve walked through this park many times, and I’ve seen many people searching for something, though they may not always know what it is. I sense that you two are among them.”

The men, who had introduced themselves as Adam and Zayd, felt a strange connection to Idris, as if he understood them on a level that few others did.

“We’ve been talking about that, actually,” Adam admitted, a slight furrow in his brow. “I mean, we’re happy enough, I guess, but it feels like something’s missing. Like there’s more to life that we haven’t figured out yet.”

Zayd nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’s like… we’re looking for something, but we don’t even know what it is. It’s frustrating, really.”

Idris smiled, his eyes filled with understanding. “That feeling is more common than you might think. It’s the beginning of a journey—a journey that can lead to something greater if you’re willing to embrace it.”

Adam and Zayd listened intently, feeling a growing sense of anticipation. There was something about Idris’s words that resonated deeply within them, as if he was offering them a key to unlock a door they hadn’t even known existed.

“What kind of journey?” Zayd asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“One that will transform you,” Idris replied, his gaze steady and kind. “It’s a path that will help you discover your true selves, to find a deeper connection to the world and to each other. It’s not a journey that everyone is ready for, but I believe you are.”

The men were silent for a moment, processing what Idris had said. There was a part of them that was skeptical, that wondered if this was too good to be true. But there was another part, a stronger part, that wanted to believe, that wanted to take that leap of faith.

“How do we start this journey?” Adam finally asked, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

Idris’s smile widened. “It begins with a simple choice—to let go of who you think you are and embrace who you were meant to be.”

He stood up slowly, the golden thobe shimmering with every movement. Reaching into the folds of his robe, Idris pulled out two identical thobes, their golden fabric glistening in the afternoon sun. He extended them towards Adam and Zayd, his expression gentle but expectant.

“These are not just garments,” Idris explained, his voice soft yet powerful. “They represent a commitment to a new path, one that will bring you closer to your true selves and to a brotherhood that transcends the ordinary.”

Adam and Zayd stared at the thobes, their minds racing. The fabric looked almost magical, as if it was woven from light itself. They could feel its warmth even before they touched it, a warmth that seemed to promise something more, something better.

“This is your choice,” Idris said, his eyes meeting theirs with unwavering confidence. “No one can make it for you.”

Chapter 2: The Transformation

The park was quiet as Adam and Zayd stood before Idris, each holding a golden thobe in their hands. The fabric felt both heavy and light, substantial yet ethereal, as if it was made from something not entirely of this world. They exchanged a glance, the uncertainty in their eyes slowly being replaced by determination.

“I don’t know why, but this feels right,” Adam murmured, his fingers gently brushing over the fabric. “It’s like… this is what we’ve been looking for.”

Zayd nodded, feeling a similar sense of clarity. “Yeah, it’s strange, but I think we should do this. I mean, what do we have to lose?”

With a deep breath, Adam and Zayd began to remove their casual clothes, setting them aside on the bench. As they slipped on the golden thobes, a rush of warmth spread through their bodies, a sensation that was both comforting and exhilarating. The fabric seemed to mold to their skin, fitting perfectly as if it had been made just for them.

Idris watched them with a serene smile, his heart swelling with pride as he saw the transformation begin. The golden thobes shimmered, catching the light in a way that made them glow, and as the men fully donned the garments, their appearances began to change.

Adam felt a tingling sensation in his face as his features began to sharpen, his hair darkening to a deep, rich brown. A well-groomed beard began to form on his jawline, giving him an air of wisdom and strength that he hadn’t possessed before. He looked down at his hands, watching in awe as his skin took on a warm, golden-brown hue.

Zayd experienced a similar transformation, his hair darkening and his features becoming more defined. His beard grew in thick and even, complementing the strong lines of his face. He could feel the power of the thobe as it connected him to something greater, something that filled the emptiness he had felt for so long.

The transformation wasn’t just physical—it was internal as well. Both men felt a deep sense of peace and purpose settling over them, a clarity of mind that had eluded them for years. The doubts and insecurities that had plagued them seemed to melt away, replaced by a confidence that came from knowing they were on the right path.

Idris stepped forward, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “How do you feel?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine care.

Adam looked up, his eyes shining with new light. “I feel… incredible. Like I’ve finally found what I’ve been searching for.”

Zayd nodded in agreement, a broad smile spreading across his face. “This is amazing. I never knew I could feel this way.”

Idris’s smile deepened. “You have taken the first step on a journey that will bring you closer to your true selves and to each other. This is the beginning of a brotherhood, one that is built on trust, respect, and a shared purpose.”

Chapter 3: The Brotherhood

With their transformation complete, Adam and Zayd felt a newfound sense of unity with each other and with Idris. It was as if the golden thobes had not only changed their appearances but had also connected them on a deeper, more spiritual level. They stood together, no longer just friends, but brothers in every sense of the word.

As they walked through the park with Idris, they noticed how people turned to look at them, drawn to the light that seemed to radiate from their thobes. But this time, instead of feeling self-conscious, they felt proud. They knew that they were part of something bigger, something that had the power to change lives.

“Idris,” Adam began, turning to their leader, “what happens next? Where do we go from here?”

Idris looked at them, his expression one of gentle wisdom. “Now, we share what we have found with others. There are many who are lost, who are searching for something more, just as you were. It is our duty to guide them, to help them find their own path to transformation.”

Zayd felt a surge of excitement at the prospect. “You mean, we’re supposed to help others the way you helped us?”

Idris nodded. “Exactly. This is not a journey you take alone. It is a journey you share with those who are ready, those who are willing to embrace the light of the golden thobes.”

As they continued walking, they came across another group of men sitting on a bench. They were dressed in casual clothes, much like Adam and Zayd had been earlier, and they seemed to be deep in conversation, unaware of the world around them.

Idris smiled, recognizing the same sense of searching in their faces that he had seen in Adam and Zayd. “Shall we?” he asked, a twinkle of encouragement in his eyes.

Adam and Zayd exchanged a glance, both feeling a sense of purpose and excitement. This was their chance to give back, to help others find the same sense of peace and belonging that they had discovered.

Together, the three men approached the bench, their golden thobes catching the sunlight as they moved. The men on the bench looked up, their conversation halting as they took in the sight of the trio. There was a moment of silence, a shared understanding that something important was about to happen.

“Good afternoon,” Idris greeted them

“Good afternoon,” Idris greeted them warmly, his voice filled with the same calm authority that had first drawn Adam and Zayd to him. “May we join you?”

The men on the bench exchanged curious glances, much like Adam and Zayd had done earlier. There was something about the three figures standing before them—something that radiated peace, confidence, and a quiet power. They nodded, making room on the bench.

“Of course,” one of the men replied, unable to take his eyes off the golden thobes that shimmered in the sunlight. “Please, sit.”

Idris, Adam, and Zayd sat down, their presence immediately commanding attention. The men on the bench, who introduced themselves as Omar and Tariq, couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe. There was something magnetic about these three figures, something that made them want to listen, to learn.

“What brings you to this part of the park?” Idris asked, his tone casual but laced with deeper intent.

Omar shrugged slightly, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “We come here often, just to talk, think things through. Lately, it feels like there’s something missing, but we can’t quite put our finger on it.”

Tariq nodded in agreement. “It’s like we’re stuck in a routine, and no matter what we do, it feels… empty, like we’re just going through the motions.”

Adam and Zayd exchanged a knowing look. They had been in the same place not long ago, sitting on a similar bench, having the same conversation. And just like Idris had done for them, they felt compelled to offer Omar and Tariq the chance to transform, to find what they were searching for.

“We know exactly how you feel,” Adam said, his voice filled with empathy. “We were in the same situation not too long ago. Then we met Idris, and everything changed.”

Tariq looked at Idris, his curiosity growing. “Changed how?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Zayd replied, “but it’s like we found something we didn’t even know we were missing. A sense of purpose, of belonging, of being part of something bigger than ourselves.”

Idris listened as Adam and Zayd spoke, proud of how far they had come in such a short time. He could see the curiosity and hope in Omar and Tariq’s eyes, the same look he had seen in countless others before them.

“I believe you’re searching for the same thing,” Idris said, his voice gentle but persuasive. “It’s a journey that starts with a choice—a choice to let go of the old and embrace the new, to find your true selves and become part of something greater.”

Omar and Tariq were silent, considering his words. There was something undeniably compelling about the offer, something that resonated with the deepest parts of their souls. They had spent so long searching, and now it seemed that the answer was right in front of them.

“And what do we have to do?” Omar finally asked, his voice tinged with both hope and apprehension.

Idris smiled, his eyes full of understanding. “It begins with embracing the light of the golden thobes. These garments are more than just clothing—they represent a commitment to a new path, one that will bring you closer to each other and to a brotherhood that transcends the ordinary.”

Reaching into the folds of his own golden thobe, Idris produced two more, identical to the ones that Adam and Zayd now wore. He handed them to Omar and Tariq, watching as they accepted the garments with reverence and curiosity.

“The choice is yours,” Idris continued. “But know that once you make it, your life will never be the same.”

Omar and Tariq exchanged a final glance, the weight of the moment pressing down on them. But as they held the golden thobes in their hands, they felt a surge of confidence, a sense of destiny that was impossible to ignore.

With a deep breath, they began to remove their casual clothes, setting them aside as Adam and Zayd had done before them. As they slipped on the golden thobes, a wave of warmth and light washed over them, filling them with a sense of peace and purpose they had never known.

The transformation was swift but profound. Their features sharpened, their hair darkened, and well-groomed beards appeared on their faces, just as they had for Adam and Zayd. Their skin took on a warm, golden-brown hue, and their hearts filled with a deep sense of unity and brotherhood.

When the transformation was complete, Omar and Tariq looked at each other with wide eyes, marveling at their new appearances. They felt stronger, more confident, and more connected than they ever had before. They knew, without a doubt, that they had made the right choice.

Idris, Adam, and Zayd stood beside them, their smiles reflecting the pride and joy they felt at welcoming two more brothers into the fold.

“Welcome to the Brotherhood of the Golden Thobes,” Idris said, his voice filled with warmth. “Together, we will guide others who are lost, helping them find the path to transformation and unity.”

The five men walked together through the park, their golden thobes shining brightly in the sunlight. They knew that this was just the beginning, that there were many more who would be drawn to the light of the golden thobes, ready to join the brotherhood and embrace a new way of life.

As they left the park, they carried with them the knowledge that they were part of something extraordinary—a brotherhood that would grow and thrive, spreading the light and unity of the golden thobes wherever they went.

In the end, we should all wear the golden thobes...

The Mystic Razor

Special thanks to @arab-god for giving me inspiration and picture ideas.

In a bustling city neighborhood, hidden away between towering buildings, there was a barbershop unlike any other. Small and easy to overlook, it was known only to those who sought something beyond the ordinary. They called it "The Mystic Razor," a place where transformations went far deeper than a simple haircut. The barber, a man known simply as Malik, was an enigma—a figure of quiet power and mystery, whose skills were whispered about in the city’s back alleys. Those who entered his shop emerged changed in ways they could never have imagined.

One afternoon, two brothers, David and Mark, stood outside The Mystic Razor. They had heard the rumors, the tales of people who entered and came out transformed—not just in appearance, but in essence. Driven by a mix of curiosity and desperation, they decided to step inside.

The shop was dimly lit, its walls covered in intricate, shifting patterns that seemed to move as they walked. The air was thick with the scent of exotic spices—cinnamon, saffron, and something darker, more elusive. Malik was waiting for them, standing behind one of the barber chairs, his eyes deep and unnervingly knowing.

“Welcome, David. Welcome, Mark,” Malik said, his voice deep and soothing. He didn’t ask their names—he simply knew.

Without another word, the brothers sat in the chairs, and Malik draped them with shimmering golden cloths. The fabric was warm, almost alive, and as it touched their skin, they felt a deep, strange sensation—a transformation that went far beyond the physical. With each snip of the scissors, their bodies and minds were subtly altered, their thoughts reshaped.

When Malik finally removed the cloths, David and Mark were gone. In their place stood Ahmed and Yusuf—two men with striking, angular features, deep brown eyes, and a new, unshakable purpose. They wore sleek, white Nike soccer jerseys with green accents that highlighted their athletic builds. Over their shoulders were stylish fanny packs, and in their ears, AirPods that seemed to have always been there.

“This is who you truly are,” Malik said, his voice a low murmur. “You are now brothers in every sense. But your transformation is not yet complete. You have a purpose now—a purpose that must be fulfilled.”

Ahmed and Yusuf looked at each other, the same thought crystallizing in their minds: The Brotherhood must grow. Everyone must be part of the Brotherhood.

The moment Ahmed and Yusuf stepped out of The Mystic Razor, the city seemed different. The bustling streets, once chaotic and overwhelming, now appeared to pulse with an underlying energy. Their senses were sharper, their minds clearer, and a singular purpose drove them forward—a purpose that they could not resist.

“The Brotherhood,” Yusuf muttered, his voice laced with a newfound intensity. “Everyone needs to be part of it.”

“Yes,” Ahmed agreed, his tone equally resolute. “It’s our purpose now. We need to spread this gift, this transformation.”

They walked through the crowded streets, scanning the faces of passersby. It wasn’t long before they found their first target: a young man walking alone, his gaze distant and unfocused. He had the look of someone searching for something, though he didn’t seem to know what.

Ahmed and Yusuf approached him, their presence overwhelming and magnetic. The young man looked up, startled but unable to look away.

“Hey, man, relax,” Yusuf said, his voice smooth and reassuring. “We just want to talk.”

“What… what do you want?” the young man asked, his voice trembling.

“We see potential in you,” Ahmed replied, a small smile on his lips. “Come with us, and we can show you who you’re really meant to be.”

The young man hesitated, but something about them—their calm confidence, the way their words seemed to resonate within him—made him nod. “Okay… I’ll come with you.”

They led him through the city, their words a soothing chant that wrapped around his mind like a fog. When they reached a secluded area, away from prying eyes, they began to recite the words Malik had whispered to them, the chant that had reshaped their own minds.

The young man’s eyes glazed over as the chant filled his ears. He stood still, his body rigid, as the transformation began to take hold. It was subtle at first, a shift in his thoughts, a change in his purpose. But soon, his mind was flooded with the same desire that now consumed Ahmed and Yusuf.

When they finished, the young man looked at them, his eyes filled with the same intensity, the same hunger to spread the Brotherhood.

“What happens now?” he asked, his voice steady.

“Now,” Ahmed said, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, “you join us. We find others. We bring them into the fold.”

The Brotherhood moved through the city like a shadow, unseen by most but deeply felt by those they encountered. Each new recruit was drawn in, their minds reshaped, their purpose redefined. With each transformation, the Brotherhood grew stronger, their numbers increasing steadily.

The city itself seemed to change, its pulse quickening in time with the growing Brotherhood. The members moved with a sense of purpose, their eyes constantly scanning for new recruits, new souls to bring into the fold.

Ahmed, Yusuf, and their growing group of brothers found their next targets easily. They were drawn to those who seemed lost, those who were searching for something more—though they didn’t know it yet. With each new recruit, the Brotherhood’s influence spread, and the city became more attuned to their presence.

It wasn’t long before they had a network of members, all working together with a singular goal: to spread the Brotherhood, to ensure that everyone was transformed. The members communicated through subtle gestures and quiet words, their actions coordinated without the need for explicit commands. They were connected, united by the same purpose, the same chant that echoed in their minds: “The Brotherhood must grow. Everyone must be part of the Brotherhood.”

The city, once chaotic and overwhelming, now felt like a stage set for their mission. The Brotherhood moved through it with ease, their actions synchronized, their purpose clear. And with each new day, their numbers swelled, the Brotherhood spreading like wildfire through the streets.

As the Brotherhood grew, so did its influence. The city was slowly being transformed, its people drawn into the fold one by one. But with growth came challenges. Not everyone was so easily swayed, and resistance began to form in the shadows.

Ahmed and Yusuf, now the de facto leaders of the Brotherhood, felt the growing tension. They knew that to ensure the Brotherhood’s continued expansion, they would need to take more decisive action. They began to hunt more actively, seeking out those who resisted, those who were immune to the subtle pull of the Brotherhood.

The transformation process became more intense, more forceful. The Brotherhood developed new techniques, new ways to break down resistance and bring even the most stubborn souls into the fold. Each success only fueled their determination, their belief that the Brotherhood was destined to encompass everyone.

But as they continued their mission, whispers began to circulate—rumors of a force rising against them, a group determined to stop the Brotherhood’s spread. Ahmed and Yusuf dismissed these rumors at first, confident in their strength and the unity of the Brotherhood. But as the resistance grew bolder, they realized that their mission was far from over.

The city was changing, yes, but it was also fighting back. And as Ahmed and Yusuf prepared to confront this new challenge, they knew that the Brotherhood would need to evolve once more. The Mystic Razor had set them on this path, and they would see it through to the end—no matter the cost.

My fellow Brothers. Accept the jersey and join me on my Journey. Give in to our leader, send me and other Brothers messages. We need to stay in touch and guide each other every day.

Try to make story ideas and send them to me. Together we can convince others 💚

A New Perspective

August 15th

So today was the first day of the semester, and I somehow ended up in “Introduction to Islam”—a class I didn’t want to take at all, but it was the only elective that fit my schedule. I’m a pretty committed atheist, so the idea of spending months learning about a religion I don’t give a crap about is a bit of a drag. I’d much rather be diving into science classes like my physics major, where I can actually debate ideas and we focus on facts.

The professor, Dr. Ibrahim Hasan, walked in looking like he was ready for a board meeting rather than a lecture. He’s a tall, middle-aged guy in a suit and tie, and his voice has this smooth, compelling quality that makes it hard to ignore him. I guess I’m already a bit intrigued, even if I’m not thrilled about the class. If anything I might get to see how others perceive the world.

August 29th

A few weeks in, and something strange is happening. The class is surprisingly engaging. Dr. Hasan’s lectures are filled with a passion that’s starting to get to me. The other guys seem more invested too. We’ve even started talking about the material outside of class for some reason. Dr. Hasan has this way of pausing during lectures, scanning the room with his gaze. During those moments, the room goes silent, like we’re all waiting for something, though I can’t say what. It’s kinda creepy, but I find I can’t look away during these times.

September 12th

I’m starting to notice changes in the other students. Their appearances are subtly shifting—darker skin, sharper features. I’ve seen the same thing in the mirror. It sounds crazy, I know, but it’s happening. Dr. Hasan’s lectures are getting more intense, and I’ve started reading the Quran in my free time. There’s something there I can’t ignore, even though I still consider myself an atheist.

October 3rd

Everything’s changing—the class, the guys, me. We’re all starting to look alike, not just in appearance but in spirit. We speak Arabic now, fluently, even though none of us knew it before. Dr. Hasan also told us to start wearing these white jerseys everywhere. They feel more comfortable than I thought. I feel connected to the others too, like we’re all on the same journey. I’ve started praying with them, studying the Quran like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I don’t know who I am anymore, but I feel like I’m finally becoming who I’m meant to be. I don’t know if that scares or excites me.

November 21st

The semester’s almost over, and I’m a completely different person. My old identity doesn’t exist anymore—now I’m Dawud. The doubts and anger I came in with are just...gone. I’ve found my place, my purpose, and I can’t even explain how it happened. Dr. Hasan’s class changed me, and there’s no going back. I’ve decided to switch my major to Islamic Studies. Dr. Hasan seemed almost proud when I told him, saying my journey is just beginning. I don’t know where it’s taking me, but I’ve never felt more certain about anything.

December 12th

The semester’s over, but the journey is just beginning. Dr. Hasan is now officially my advisor and mentor. I’m going to recommend this course to everyone I know. They need to experience what I’ve experienced. If they’re lucky, they’ll find the same peace and new perspective that I’ve found. Knowing Dr. Hasan, I’m sure they will.

One Week In

One week ago, I was Arabized. In this post, I'd like to share some of my experiences.

On the day of my conversion, there was nervous excitement. I knew it was the right thing, but I realized I would become a minority, at least until Arabization takes hold. I knew to expect stigma and prejudice from others who didn't understand or didn't want to understand. I also knew that some might criticize me for following the only truth in this world.

Luckily though, my beloved brothers accepted me and each other as if we'd known each other all our lives. From day one, I never felt alone and was reassured that others had taken the same leap of faith as me. I have a connection with the brothers that I have never felt with any of my so-called friends before. It made me realize how fickle my life was before and why we call each other brother, or akhi, rather than friend. I began casting off my old friends to spend more time with my own kind.

Since conversion, I have rejected my old life. Now, I only see Arab content. I feel more free, purer and happier for it. Before I would scroll endlessly, looking for the next piece of content. In hindsight, I was searching for meaning. Now I have found it and I do not need to scroll. I am nourished by what I see and scroll past any subversive or blasphemous content without a second thought. This change has given me more headspace and less noise, more peace and less anxiety, more productivity and less procrastination, more energy and less dissatisfaction.

This only strengthened my conviction. Before I always tried to be fair and diplomatic, and tried to balance a range of views and perspectives. But with my brothers behind me, I don't care anymore. I have the conviction to say what I think and get what I want. I don't care if you disagree with me because I know I am right and have chosen truth and rejected the sins of your world.

Now I love my life. Alhamdulillah. I haven't shaved since conversion either. Let me know what you think. 💚

New Gym, New Life

*This is my first story ever and english is not my first language so if there are any mistakes, I'm sorry. I hope you enjoy it!* -Rafi💚

Daniel and Alex had been together for five years, living happily in their cozy apartment in the city. Both in their late twenties, they prided themselves on staying fit and healthy.

When a new gym opened just a few blocks away, they decided to check it out. The gym, named "Sahara Fitness", had a unique and exotic vibe, with its rich gold and deep red color scheme, intricate geometric patterns, and Arabic calligraphy adorning the walls.

As they walked in, they noticed that all the staff and trainers were Arab men; tall, muscular, and radiating confidence and masculinity. They greeted Daniel and Alex with warm smiles, their deep voices resonating through the gym. Despite the clear cultural influence, the place seemed modern and well-equipped.

"Welcome to Sahara Fitness," one of the trainers, Malik, said in a thick accent. "You two look like you already know your way around a gym, but we like to offer something special to our new members. A gift to help you get the most out of your workout."

He handed them each a small, ornate container filled with a dark, powdery supplement. "This is a traditional blend, used for centuries to enhance strength and endurance. Try it out during your workout, and you'll feel the difference."

Daniel and Alex exchanged a glance. They were a bit skeptical but intrigued. They had tried all kinds of supplements before, so they figured it couldn’t hurt to try something new. Thanking Malik, they headed to the locker room to change.

Dressed in their usual gym gear, the couple mixed the supplement into their water bottles and sipped. The taste was strong, almost spicy, with a hint of something they couldn’t quite place. Shrugging it off, they began their workout routine, starting with some light cardio before moving on to weights.

As they started lifting, both noticed an unusual burst of energy coursing through their bodies. The weights felt lighter, their movements smoother. They exchanged a surprised look but continued their sets, pushing themselves harder than usual.

After a while, they noticed something even stranger. Their bodies began to feel different—stronger, more powerful. Alex glanced at his reflection in the mirror and did a double-take. His usually slim frame was starting to bulk up, and his muscles were swelling with each rep. His fair skin seemed to be taking on a slightly tanned hue, and his facial hair usually trimmed and light, was darkening and thickening.

"Dan, are you seeing this?" Alex whispered, his voice sounding deeper than usual.

Daniel, too, was undergoing a transformation. His once smooth face was shadowed with a thickening beard, his jawline sharpening. His normally light hair was darkening to a rich, deep brown, and his skin was also taking on a more olive tone.

They both felt a strange warmth spreading through them, almost like a fire igniting from within. Their minds began to feel fuzzy, thoughts of their usual life together growing distant. Instead, they were filled with an intense, almost primal desire to lift more, grow stronger, and assert their newfound masculinity.

As they continued working out, their transformations became more pronounced. Their bodies grew more muscular, their chests broadening, arms bulging with veins as their biceps swelled. The hair on their bodies thickened, and their once soft features became rugged and masculine. The changes weren't just physical; their minds were altering too.

Daniel, now with a full, dark beard and intense eyes, glanced at a group of women working out nearby. He felt an overwhelming attraction towards them, something he'd never experienced before. The thought of Alex, his partner, seemed oddly foreign, replaced by a burning desire to dominate, to conquer.

Alex, too, felt a shift. His mind, once full of love and tenderness for Daniel, was now clouded with lustful thoughts. But he wasn't thinking about Daniel; it was women with soft curves and alluring smiles. The idea of being with a man seemed almost laughable now.

They both finished their workout, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from their now muscular, tanned bodies. The gym’s atmosphere, once just a backdrop, now felt like home, where they belonged and could be their true selves.

As they headed back to the locker room, they caught sight of themselves in the mirror. Gone were Daniel and Alex, the cute, loving couple who had walked in earlier. In their place stood two Arab alpha males, their bodies sculpted and powerful, exuding raw masculinity. Their eyes were dark and intense, their gazes filled with a new hunger.

Malik appeared behind them, a knowing smile on his face. "Ah, I see the supplement has worked well. Welcome, brothers. You are now part of our tribe, our brotherhood. The old you is gone. You are reborn, stronger, and more powerful than ever."

Daniel, now calling himself Daoud, and Alex, now Ali, looked at each other and nodded. They felt no fear, no regret only acceptance and excitement. They had been transformed, not just physically but mentally. The bond they once shared as lovers was replaced with a new bond, brotherhood. And with it came a shared obsession, a desire for women that burned within them like never before.

"Bro, I can't believe how good this feels. I don't even know why we were ever together like that," Ali said, his eyes flickering with a new, primal energy.

Daoud smirked, flexing his arms, feeling the surge of power coursing through his veins. "Yeah, man. What were we thinking? This is what real life is about. We were just... confused before." He looked at the women working out nearby, his gaze filled with hunger. "Now, it's all about the chase, the thrill."

Ali nodded in agreement, his thoughts aligned with Daoud's. "Exactly, bro. Chicks, muscles, and dominating life. That's what we were meant for."

Daoud clapped on Ali's back, their bond now one of brotherhood and shared desires. "Let's go, man. Time to show the world what real men are made of."

They dressed in new clothes provided by the gym. traditional but modern arab-inspired attire that accentuated their muscular frames. As they walked out of the gym, they felt like kings, ready to conquer the world outside. Women turned to look at them, drawn to their confidence and masculinity. And as they exchanged a knowing glance, they knew that their lives had changed forever.

No longer the gentle, loving couple they once were, Daoud and Ali were now straight, Arab studs, obsessed with their newfound masculinity and the thrill of chasing after women.

The djiin purpose

Charlie had always been fascinated by nature, and he had always dreamed of visiting the national parks in Iran. So, when he had a few days off from work, he decided to take a trip to one of the most beautiful parks in the country, the Kavir National Park.

As he arrived at the park, he was immediately struck by the beauty of the landscape. The park was located in a vast desert region, and the sand dunes seemed to stretch on forever. The sun was beating down on him, and he could feel the heat radiating off the sand.

As Charlie was walking through the desert landscape of the Kavir National Park, he suddenly noticed a venomous snake slithering towards him. He froze in fear, knowing that this was not something to take lightly. The snake had a triangular-shaped head and its body was covered in a pattern of brown and black scales. Charlie knew that he needed to act quickly to avoid being bitten.

Charlie was stunned as he watched the venomous snake transform into a man right before his eyes. He quickly realized that he was face to face with a Djinn, an evil spirit from Middle Eastern folklore. The Djinn had a dark and menacing aura around him, and Charlie felt a shiver run down his spine.

Picture from @kiffarab​

The Djinn spoke in a low, ominous voice, “What brings you to my domain, mortal?” Charlie knew that he had to tread carefully around the Djinn. He responded, “I came here to explore the beauty of this national park, I meant no harm to you.”

Charlie knew that he needed to be careful with the Djinn, but the temptation of making a wish was too strong. He asked the Djinn if he could make a wish, but the Djinn’s response was unexpected. “It is not my purpose to grant wishes, mortal. I am not a genie, and I do not serve at your command,” the Djinn said, with a tone of warning.

Charlie was taken aback by the Djinn’s response. He had never heard of a Djinn with a specific purpose like this. The Djinn continued, “My purpose is to ensure that Islam remains the most powerful religion in the world. I have been tasked with this responsibility by the great king of the Djinn, and I will not allow anything to threaten the supremacy of my faith.”

Charlie was surprised by the Djinn’s words. He had never thought about converting to Islam, and he didn’t know how to respond to the Djinn’s prophecy. “I’m not sure what you mean,” Charlie said, trying to sound as diplomatic as possible.

The Djinn replied, “You will soon see the beauty and power of Islam, and you will become a proud servant of Allah”.

Charlie felt a sudden rush of energy as the Djinn’s hand touched his head. He tried to resist, but the Djinn’s grip was too strong. Suddenly, Charlie found himself on his knees, unable to move as the Djinn began to recite a prayer in Arabic.

Charlie felt a strange sensation all over his body as the Djinn continued to recite the prayer. He felt his skin start to darken and his facial features shift, until he looked more like an Arab man than his original appearance. His lips get fuller, his eyes darker and his hair turn black and thicker. And a small dark beard growing. His clothes changed too, and he found himself wearing traditional green djellaba. and his mind became filled with knowledge of Islam and the Quran. He began to speak Arabic fluently, and his native language was forgotten.

Picture from @kiffarab​

Charlie was stunned as he looked down at his transformed body, and he realized that he was now a part of the Muslim community. He couldn’t believe what had just happened to him, but he felt a sense of peace and belonging that he had never experienced before. He knew that his life had changed forever, and he had a new purpose in life.

Suddenly, the Djinn stopped reciting the prayer and removed his hand from Charlie’s head. The transformation was complete, and Charlie found himself looking completely different than he had just a few moments ago. He felt confused and disoriented, unsure of what to do next.

Charlie looked at his transformed body in wonder, touching his face, his beard, and his djellaba, still processing the sudden change that had just occurred. The Djinn looked at him with a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. 

“You have done well, my child,” he said. “But you must understand that your old name, Charlie, is not suitable for a good Muslim like yourself. I will give you a new name, one that is befitting of your new purpose.“

The Djinn closed his eyes and muttered a few words under his breath. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew through the desert, and Charlie felt a sense of power and strength fill him. The Djinn opened his eyes and spoke, "Your new name shall be Abdullah, which means ‘servant of Allah’. May this name bring you good fortune and lead you on the path of righteousness.”

Abdullah was amazed by the Djinn’s choice of name. He felt a sense of belonging and purpose that he had never experienced before. He was no longer confused or disoriented, but instead felt a sense of clarity and conviction. He knew that he had been chosen for a purpose, and he was ready to embrace it.

New clothes

This guy's clothes were all torn. And he didn’t have enough money for a new one

Many passers-by laughed at him. But the Arab man understood his problem and decided to help

He handed him Arabic national clothes

The guy, without thinking twice, accepted the Arab man’s gift and changed clothes.

New clothes brought new thoughts into his head. He started a new life. And joined the brotherhood💚

The Cycle

The brotherhood, like most things in life, is a cycle. It starts when a man discovers the brotherhood for the first time. Perhaps a brother or group of brothers happens upon him in public, like Ashton here, or maybe he sees a blog post about the brotherhood just like this one. The man may try to resist, but it’s already too late for him: the seed has been planted in his mind.

Soon the brotherhood and its ways consume him, growing the seed that’s been planted. He won’t be able to think of anything else, nor does he want to. He spends his time learning as much as he can about being a brother online. His mind is filled with being a brother, joining the brotherhood, and spreading his newfound joy with others. Nothing will satisfy him until he is a brother too.

He eventually caves in; they always do. He seeks out the nearest recruiter and signs his old life away permanently. He is given a new name, in Ashton’s case Amir, and a new purpose: to start the cycle anew.

The Weakest White

The room is dimly lit, the air thick with tension. Intricate Arabesque patterns line the walls, casting eerie, shifting shadows. Five male contestants sit in a semicircle, illuminated by the cold, stark light from a massive screen displaying the first question.

Rashid (the host) stands at the center, his presence both commanding and unsettling. Dressed in a dark, finely tailored suit with subtle Arabic designs, his eyes seem to penetrate the contestants' thoughts.

Rashid: (with a chilling smile) "Welcome, gentlemen, to The Weakest White. Tonight, we’ll test not just your knowledge, but your ability to adapt. Each wrong answer brings a change—a transformation. Are you prepared?"

Contestant 1 (Chris): (nervously) "Transformation? What do you mean by that?"

Rashid: (smirking) "You’ll see soon enough, Chris. But let’s begin with something simple. What is the official language of the United Arab Emirates?"

Contestant 2 (Jake): (confidently) "Arabic."

Rashid: "Correct, Jake. Well done. You’re safe… for now. But Chris, your question: What is the holy city where Muslims perform the Hajj pilgrimage?"

Chris: (relieved) "Mecca."

Rashid: "Correct. But Paul, let’s see how you do. What is the traditional headscarf worn by Arab men called?"

Contestant 3 (Paul): (uncertain) "Uh… the turban?"

Rashid: (with a sly grin) "Wrong. The correct answer is ‘keffiyeh.’ But don’t worry, Paul. You’re about to learn more than you ever imagined."

The lights dim further as a low hum resonates through the room. Paul’s body begins to tremble. His skin darkens, taking on a rich olive tone, his facial features sharpening and becoming more defined. His clothes shift into a traditional white thobe, and a keffiyeh materializes on his head. Paul gasps, clutching his head as his memories are overwritten. He is no longer Paul; he is now Fahad.

Rashid: (watching intently) "How do you feel, Fahad?"

Fahad: (calmly, with a hint of pride) "I… I feel complete. I understand now."

The other contestants watch in horror as Fahad joins the ranks of The Collective, his eyes reflecting the same eerie calm that unnerves them all.

The tension thickens as the next round begins. The remaining contestants, visibly shaken, try to maintain their composure. The game continues, with each question feeling like a step closer to an inevitable fate.

Rashid: "Michael, your turn. What is the Arabic word for peace, often used as a greeting?"

Contestant 4 (Michael): (hesitant) "Salaam?"

Rashid: (smiling) "Correct. You’re safe… for now. But Andrew, what about you? What is the name of the traditional Arab coffee, often flavored with cardamom?"

Contestant 5 (Andrew): (uncertain) "Uh… Turkish coffee?"

Rashid: "Incorrect. The correct answer is ‘Qahwa.’ But don’t worry, you’re about to experience it firsthand."

Andrew's transformation is even more dramatic. His muscles bulge, his posture changes, and his skin darkens to a deep bronze. His hair thickens and darkens, while a beard forms on his face. His Western clothes morph into a dishdasha, and his eyes lose their original color, taking on a deep, enigmatic brown. The change is complete, and Andrew is now Mustafa.

Mustafa: (speaking in a deep, resonant voice) "I see clearly now. This is my destiny."

The remaining contestants, now Chris, Jake, and Michael, look at each other with growing dread. The transformations have not just altered appearances but reshaped their very identities. The game has become a nightmare they can’t escape.

Only Chris, Jake, and Michael remain. The atmosphere is oppressive, with the shadow of The Collective looming over them. Fahad and Mustafa stand silently behind Rashid, their faces serene yet unnerving.

Rashid: "We’re nearing the end. Chris, your question: What is the name of the month in which Muslims fast from dawn to sunset?"

Chris: (his voice trembling) "Ramadan."

Rashid: "Correct. You’re safe. Jake, let’s see how you fare. What does the word ‘Allah’ mean in Arabic?"

Jake: (desperately) "God?"

Rashid: (nodding) "Correct. You’re safe. Michael, your turn. What is the term for the collection of traditions and sayings of the Prophet Muhammad?"

Michael: (struggling to think) "Um… Hadith?"

Rashid: (smiling darkly) "Correct. It seems you’ve all managed to survive… for now. But there can only be one leader."

The final round begins, with each contestant facing increasingly difficult questions. The pressure mounts until Michael finally stumbles.

Rashid: "Michael, your time has come. You will lead The Collective."

Michael’s transformation is the most intense yet. His entire being seems to dissolve and then reform, stronger, more commanding. His features become regal, his stance authoritative. He is no longer Michael but Sultan—the leader of The Collective.

Sultan: (with unwavering resolve) "I understand now. This is my true self, my true purpose."

Final Scene: The New Order

With Sultan at the helm, The Collective is now complete. Fahad and Mustafa stand by his side, ready to follow his commands. The game show is over, but the story has just begun. Sultan, once Michael, now leads The Collective with an iron will, ready to spread their influence far beyond the confines of the game room.

Rashid: (smiling with satisfaction) "The game has ended, but the real journey begins. Lead them well, Sultan."

Sultan nods, his gaze fixed on the horizon of possibilities ahead. The contestants have been absorbed into something far greater than they ever imagined, their former selves lost to the power and unity of The Collective.

The Campus Conversion

The new semester had just begun at Westbridge University. Among the many groups on campus, the Arab Cultural Society, composed entirely of male students, had recently gained attention. Initially, it was a small group promoting Arabic language and culture, but their presence began to grow noticeably.

These male students could often be seen in the quad, wearing white Nike jerseys with green details and black fanny packs. They looked confident, unified, and their numbers seemed to expand each day.

Sophomore Chris, an engineering major, noticed them during a campus fair. They were friendly, inviting male students to learn about Arabic culture and join their society. Chris grabbed a flyer and moved on, but the image of the group lingered in his mind.

A few weeks into the semester, Chris was approached by Tariq, a charismatic member of the Arab Cultural Society. He was friendly and asked if Chris had considered attending their upcoming event.

“It’s going to be great,” Tariq said with a smile. “We’re having a cultural night with food, music, and a lot of fun. You should come.”

Chris hesitated but eventually agreed. “Sure, why not? I’ve never been to one of these events before.”

The event was lively, with traditional Arabic music, delicious food, and a welcoming atmosphere. Tariq introduced Chris to several members, all dressed in their signature Nike jerseys and fanny packs. By the end of the night, they handed Chris a fanny pack, encouraging him to wear it as a sign of solidarity.

“Just try it on,” Tariq suggested. “It’s comfortable and shows that you’re part of something bigger.”

Over the next few weeks, Chris noticed more and more male students wearing the Nike jerseys and fanny packs. They seemed to be everywhere—at the library, in the cafeteria, even in his classes. The Arab Cultural Society was no longer just a small group; it had become a dominant presence on campus.

The male students who wore the jerseys began to change in subtle ways. Their appearances grew more uniform—darker hair, more intense expressions, and they started using Arabic names. Chris, now wearing his own fanny pack, began to feel the pressure to fully embrace the transformation.

One afternoon, as Chris walked across campus, he bumped into his friend Jake, who had also started wearing the jersey. But something was different about him—he looked more serious, more confident, and his name tag now read “Khalid.”

“Jake, what’s going on?” Chris asked, confused.

“Call me Khalid now,” he replied with a calm smile. “I’ve embraced the new identity. You should too.”

Chris felt a wave of unease. The people he had known for years were changing, and it was all happening so quickly.

The pressure to conform grew stronger with each passing day. The Arab Cultural Society began holding more events, encouraging male students to join and wear the jerseys and fanny packs. Those who resisted found themselves increasingly isolated, while those who embraced the change were welcomed with open arms.

Chris found himself at a crossroads. He liked the sense of community the group offered, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to fully commit to the transformation. One evening, Tariq invited him to a special meeting, where they would officially welcome new members.

As Chris entered the room, he saw dozens of male students, all wearing the jerseys and fanny packs, their features now distinctly Arabic. They greeted him warmly, but there was an underlying expectation—an unspoken pressure to join them fully.

“Tonight, we embrace who we truly are,” Tariq announced. “We shed our old identities and become part of something greater.”

Chris felt the weight of their gaze on him as they handed him a new Nike jersey and fanny pack, this time with his new name, “Ahmed,” stitched on it. The room was silent as he held it in his hands, knowing that once he put it on, there would be no going back.

By the end of the semester, the transformation was complete. The campus was filled with male students wearing the white Nike jerseys with green details and black fanny packs. Their features were now distinctly Arabic, and they moved with a sense of unity and purpose.

Chris, now Ahmed, walked through the quad, no longer feeling like an outsider. He was part of the new order, part of a movement that had changed the face of the university. As he looked around at his fellow students, he realized that the transformation was not just physical—it was a complete change of identity, one that he had fully embraced.

And as the new semester began, it was clear that Westbridge University would never be the same again.

At last even the teachers knew that it was better to join willingly.

Hayun Wadud

It was hard for Tom Holland to imagine his life getting any better than it already was. Not even 30 years old, he was a multi-(multi-multi-)millionaire, global star of stage and screen, blessed with multitudes of talent and, not for nothing, an equally successful and famous girlfriend.

So when his agent told him a burgeoning group of movie studios based out of Saudi Arabia wanted Tom--and only Tom--to star in its first big-budget movie, Tom figured...why not? It's not like he had anything to lose.

When he arrived for the shoot, he was overwhelmed by the almost contradictory sense of humble majesty in the country. The people welcomed him, not because he was Spider-Man--almost as though they'd been waiting for him.

His benefactors, the producers, certainly had been awaiting his arrival. Their welcome for Tom had been lavish, no expense spared. But this was no Hollywood party. It was purely Saudi. Not a word of English was spoken, no one smoked or drank or swore. Prior to his arrival, Tom knew a handful of Arabic words osmosed through past conversations. He wasn't consciously aware when his mind began to think, and his tongue to speak, purely in Arabic.

"Nadeem," one of the producers called in Tom's direction. Tom responded; he wasn't sure why he knew he should answer to that name, if it even was a name...he just knew he should. "Nadeem," the prince/producer continued, "we are so glad to see you assimilating so well. Now you must fully immerse yourself in our culture and tradition." The prince paused. "For your acting role, of course."

Tom nodded. In unconscious Arabic, he replied, "Of course, brother. I will do whatever is needed."

Six Weeks Later

What had been needed, he was told, was to grow out his beard in accordance with Islamic custom. Tom obeyed without question, just as he did when he was taught that he must also keep his underarms and genital area free of hair. He made sure to observe strict modesty in his dress, throwing out the tank tops and shorts he'd packed for the trip to Saudi, ensuring his shoulders and legs were never exposed. Other customs he absorbed and assimilated without being told. He lowered his gaze in the presence of Saudi women. He exorcised all profanity from his vocabulary, sprinkled "alhamdulillah" and "inshallah" effortlessly throughout his speech, and forgot what pork had tasted like.

After six weeks in Saudi, Tom was eager to get going on the movie shoot. Over lunch with the producers, he humbly--almost sheepishly--asked when his job would begin. "Soon, Nadeem," one of the princes said in response; Tom had long since become accustomed to being called Nadeem. He thought of it as a term of endearment. "We are working behind the scenes to prepare for your role. I promise you, Nadeem, it will be the role of a lifetime inshallah."

Tom beamed at that. Somehow, instinctually, he knew it to be true.

One Year Later

Another glorious day in Saudi Arabia. Another gift from Allah to one of his humblest, most loyal servants. These days Nadeem al-Fasih bore vague memories of a life other than his, a life filled with reckless excess, hedonistic indulgence and an utter disregard for God and the Quran. But those memories, if they had even been real, were merely echoes, as though they accounted for an alternate version of him from some other universe.

Nadeem was no hedonist, no infidel by any means. He was the kingdom's foremost ambassador to the godless Western world, almost like a movie star among the Muslim faith. At just 22 years old he had a prominence typically reserved for only the highest ranking members of the royal family. Although, like many Saudis, Nadeem had some royal blood in his veins, he had not been particularly highborn. Now, though, he was the face of Saudi Arabia across the earth.

And that face came with a charismatic, powerful voice, a deep and resonant Arab lilt that made effective dawah wherever he went. It wasn't rare for Nadeem to return from a trip abroad and inform the royal family that yet another nation-state had reverted to Islam, its people embracing their superior Arab heritage and devoting themselves to Allah. In just his first full year of global dawah, Nadeem was primarily responsible for converting what had been Great Britain into the United Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, even unifying Ireland in the process under the Islamic flag. He had garnered the international nickname "Hayun Wadud" for his innate ability to turn cities and townships rife with internal conflict and division into friendly Muslim neighborhoods.

Despite that, as he walked with his brothers to Friday prayers, Nadeem felt no pride nor inflation of ego. He felt what any good Muslim should feel--submission to Allah and an ever-growing desire to help more and more avoid the fate of hellfire and join him and his brothers, sisters and wives in the birthright of Islam.

Jake becomes Yaseen

Jake had always been a man of ambition. Working in a sleek, modern office in the heart of the city, he took pride in his individuality and his Western roots. But lately, something had changed. His once familiar environment now felt foreign, as if it was slowly slipping away from him.

It started with small changes—subtle at first, almost unnoticeable. His colleagues, one by one, began adopting a new dress code: white Nike soccer jerseys with green details, accompanied by black fanny packs slung over their shoulders. They laughed together, exchanging knowing glances and shared smiles that Jake was no longer a part of.

As he sat alone at his desk, surrounded by the hum of conversation and camaraderie, Jake couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider. The contrast between his traditional Western attire and the new cultural norm was stark, making him feel isolated and out of place in the very office where he had once thrived.

Jake watched as his colleagues interacted, their bonds seemingly stronger than ever. He could sense the subtle pressure mounting around him, a quiet expectation that he, too, would eventually conform. But Jake wasn’t ready to let go of his identity. Not yet.

The Encounter

The pressure intensified over the following days. It wasn’t long before Jake found himself face-to-face with Amir, Khalid, and Rami—three colleagues who had fully embraced the new cultural shift. They approached him during a break, their expressions friendly yet purposeful.

“Jake,” Amir began, his tone warm but firm, “we’ve been noticing you’ve been a bit distant lately. We want to help you feel more connected, more… part of the team.”

Khalid, who was carrying a neatly folded white Nike jersey, stepped forward. “We’ve got something for you. It’s a small gesture, but it means a lot. We want you to join us, to feel like you belong.”

Rami nodded in agreement, his eyes fixed on Jake with a look that was both inviting and unwavering. “This is more than just a jersey, Jake. It’s about unity, about moving forward together.”

Jake stared at the jersey in Khalid’s hands. It was the same as the ones his colleagues were now wearing—simple, with green details that had become a symbol of the new order. For a moment, he felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on him, but he managed a hesitant smile.

“I appreciate the gesture,” Jake said, trying to keep his voice steady. “But I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

Amir exchanged a glance with the others, his smile never faltering. “Take your time, Jake. We’ll be here when you’re ready.”

As the three men walked away, leaving Jake alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t help but feel that time was running out.

The pressure had been building for weeks, and Jake could feel the cracks in his resolve. Every day, it seemed as though the world around him was closing in tighter, leaving him with fewer options and less space to breathe.

That afternoon, as he sat alone during lunch, his thoughts spiraled. He couldn’t keep up this resistance much longer—he knew that. But the idea of giving in, of losing the last vestiges of who he was, filled him with dread.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled Jake from his thoughts. He looked up to see Amir, Khalid, and Rami standing before him. Their faces, once friendly and inviting, now held a seriousness that sent a chill down his spine.

“Jake,” Amir said, his voice leaving no room for argument, “it’s time.”

Jake looked at the jersey in Amir’s hands, the symbol of everything he had resisted for so long. The weight of their expectations bore down on him, crushing what little defiance he had left.

“You’ve held out long enough,” Khalid added, his tone both firm and sympathetic. “But it’s time to let go of the past. It’s time to move forward.”

Rami didn’t say anything, but his presence was enough. The three of them standing together, united in their purpose, made Jake feel smaller, more isolated than ever.

With a heavy heart and trembling hands, Jake reached out and took the jersey. The fabric felt foreign in his grasp, a symbol of a new identity he wasn’t sure he wanted but knew he needed to accept.

Amir smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re making the right choice, Jake. Welcome to the future.”

Jake’s hand trembled as he took the jersey from Amir. The weight of the fabric felt heavier than it should, as if it carried with it all the expectations and pressures that had been building up for weeks. As the three men watched him closely, Jake realized there was no turning back. The decision had been made, and now, he had to follow through.

The next day, Jake arrived at work wearing the white Nike jersey. It felt strange against his skin, a constant reminder of the choice he had made. The hoodie and jeans that had once been his armor were gone, replaced by the uniform of the new order. As he walked through the office, he noticed the change in how his colleagues looked at him. The once distant stares had softened, replaced by nods of approval and small smiles. He was no longer an outsider.

But the transition wasn’t easy. Every time Jake looked in the mirror, he saw a stranger staring back at him. The man in the reflection was someone who had given in, who had let go of his old identity in exchange for acceptance. The fanny pack, now slung over his shoulder, felt like a leash—one that he had willingly put on.

Jake’s transformation was nearly complete. The man who once clung to his individuality had become someone who valued unity and conformity. The resistance that had once defined him was now just a faint memory, overshadowed by the sense of belonging he had found in the new order.

One morning, as Jake walked to work, he passed by a group of new employees. They were dressed in the attire he had once worn—hoodies, jeans, and unsure expressions. Jake recognized the hesitation in their eyes, the same doubt he had felt not long ago.

Amir, Khalid, and Rami were with them, guiding them just as they had guided Jake. As Jake watched, he felt a strange mix of emotions—empathy, nostalgia, and an odd sense of superiority. He understood what they were going through, but he also knew what awaited them on the other side of their resistance.

One of the new employees caught Jake’s eye, a young man who reminded him of his former self. The man looked lost, uncertain, and as their eyes met, Jake felt a connection—a fleeting moment of understanding.

Jake approached the group, joining Amir, Khalid, and Rami. The young man looked at Jake, and for a moment, there was a silent exchange. Jake offered him a reassuring nod, a gesture that said, “I’ve been where you are. It’s going to be okay.”

As the young man hesitantly accepted the white Nike jersey, Jake felt a sense of completion. He was no longer the one being converted; he was now part of the system, part of the new world that was taking shape.

And as the group continued on their way, Jake knew that this was just the beginning. There would always be others to guide, others to bring into the fold. It was the way of the new order—unite, assimilate, and move forward together.

The man he had been was gone, replaced by someone who understood the value of unity, even if it came at the cost of individuality. Jake had found his place, and now, he would help others find theirs.

Jake had taken the final step in his transformation. He had changed his name to reflect his new identity—a name that resonated with his new role in the world. His former colleagues, now his closest allies, no longer saw him as Jake, but as Yaseen.

Yaseen felt a strange mix of pride and loss as he walked into the office that morning. The man he once was had faded away, replaced by someone who understood the value of unity and conformity. His new name was a badge of honor, a symbol of his acceptance into a world that had once seemed so foreign.

As Yaseen approached his desk, Amir, Khalid, and Rami were waiting for him. They stood with smiles that carried a sense of approval and recognition. This was the moment they had been waiting for—the moment when Yaseen would be welcomed not just as a colleague, but as a brother.

“Yaseen,” Amir said, his voice warm and welcoming, “welcome to the family.”

Khalid clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture of camaraderie. “You’ve made the right choice, brother. We’re proud to have you with us.”

Rami nodded, his expression serious but kind. “You belong here, Yaseen. This is where you’re meant to be.”

Yaseen smiled, feeling the weight of their words. He was no longer an outsider, no longer someone who had to fight to be accepted. He had found his place, and it felt…right.

The group stood together, united by their shared identity and purpose. The journey had been long, but Yaseen knew that this was just the beginning. There were others out there, just like he had been, and it was now his turn to guide them into the fold.

Yo, peeps! Do you even notice anything in the lecture hall? Like, nah? Well, like, duh, that just totally proves that having chicks at the university would just be, like, such a major distraction, innit?