Prophecy Of Amin

Prophecy of Amin

Amin's personal coaching were popular in the gym and he was well respected.

He began offering his services for free because he was inspired to help people and improve the community around him. He helped with their workouts and also provided Supplements to aid their plan.

True to Amin's promise, his clients lost fat and gained muscle at a phenomenal rate. Their skin also turned darker along with their hair. Black hair sprouted on their bodies too and foreskins disappeared. Amin provided a basic wardrobe of essentials to new brothers as a rite of passage once their arabization was completed.

Amin's supplements with traces of his Arab seed also gave his clients-turned-brothers more energy and vitality, but also a greater sense of calm and belonging. Asking Amin how they could thank him for helping them, he wanted nothing more than for his brothers to help him help others. He wished no personal gains other than to selflessly help improve his community.

A few weeks ago, Amin had been the only Arab, but week by week that was changing. Soon you could see handsome virile brothers working of their health and self-improvement, supporting each other in a beautiful community.

Positive change was all around. When amin initially joined the gym, he suggested to the gym owner that the women's gym should have a separate entrance from the men's but the owner laughed in his face. But together, the brothers did not let go of their conviction and lobbied the owner for change. Their arguments of morality, distraction and men needing priority, the gym owner eventually relented to the overwhelming pressure from the majority of the members and segregated the gym. The brothers thanked him warmly for seeing things in the right light and making the change.

Amin and his brothers helped many more become better people. Soon more changes outside the gym would also be needed to support their growing community, with Amin as their leader.

His facial features, once distinctively Chinese, subtly transformed, taking on traits more common among the local Muslim people.

Yo, so, get this - when the first German Saving Bank decided to flip the script and become an Islamic bank, it totally shook things up, especially when it came to the dress code. It was like a whole new world, fam, talk about a drastic makeover!

This is what everyone should become. This is what every male should look like my brothers.

Isn't it crazy that the only one wearing a prayer cap is a born Christian, like, what even?

Chapter 2: The Persuasion

Dawood stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his thob. It had taken some getting used to—the fabric was lighter, the fit looser than the suits he once wore. Yet, as he looked at his reflection, a sense of calm washed over him. This was who he was now, who he was meant to be.

The knock at his door was sharp, pulling him from his thoughts. He opened it to find Hassan, a representative of the Cultural Integration Council. Hassan was tall, with a neatly trimmed beard and an easy smile that made him seem trustworthy, almost familiar.

“Dawood,” Hassan greeted him warmly. “As-salamu alaykum.”

“Wa alaykum as-salam,” Dawood replied, still getting used to the greeting.

Hassan stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the minimalist decor of Dawood’s apartment. “I see you’ve embraced the change well. You look comfortable in the thob.”

Dawood nodded. “It feels…right. Different, but right.”

Hassan smiled approvingly. “That’s good to hear. We’ve found that most people, once they make the change, find a sense of peace they didn’t know they were missing.”

Dawood gestured for Hassan to sit. “What brings you here today?”

“I wanted to talk to you about your friend, Mark,” Hassan began, his tone gentle but firm. “He’s been…resistant.”

Dawood’s expression tightened. Mark, one of his oldest friends, had always been outspoken, always questioning authority. Lately, he’d been growing more and more vocal about his opposition to the new cultural shift.

“He’s stubborn,” Dawood admitted. “But he’s a good man. He just needs time.”

Hassan leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Time isn’t on our side, Dawood. The world is moving forward, and those who resist are holding everyone back. You understand this, don’t you?”

Dawood felt a pang of unease. “I do. But forcing people…it’s not the way.”

“Who said anything about force?” Hassan’s smile returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We simply need to help him see the benefits. Convince him that this is the right path, not just for him, but for everyone.”

Dawood hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll talk to him.”

Later that evening, Dawood met Mark at their usual spot, a small café tucked away in the quieter part of the city. Mark was already there, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt—a stark contrast to Dawood’s thob.

“Dawood,” Mark greeted him with a grin, but there was tension in his voice. “You look different every time I see you.”

Dawood smiled faintly as he sat down. “It’s the thob. You should try it sometime.”

Mark chuckled, shaking his head. “You know me better than that.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Dawood said, leaning in slightly. “Mark, you need to stop resisting. The world is changing, and you need to change with it.”

Mark’s expression hardened. “I don’t need to do anything. I won’t be part of this…this brainwashing.”

“It’s not brainwashing,” Dawood insisted, his voice firm but calm. “It’s progress. It’s unity. Look around you—people are happier, more connected. This isn’t about losing who we are; it’s about becoming something greater.”

Mark leaned back, crossing his arms. “And you believe that? Or is that just what you’ve been told to believe?”

Dawood sighed. “Mark, I’m your friend. I’m not here to force you into anything. But this resistance…it’s going to make things harder for you, for everyone. The Council is watching. They’re concerned.”

“Let them be concerned,” Mark shot back. “I’m not going to surrender my identity because some Council says it’s the ‘right path.’”

Dawood felt the frustration rising, but he kept his voice level. “It’s not just about you, Mark. We’re trying to build something new here, something better. But we can’t do that if people like you keep fighting it.”

Mark stared at Dawood for a long moment, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and sorrow. “You’ve changed, Dawood. The man I knew wouldn’t have said something like that.”

“Maybe I’ve changed,” Dawood admitted, “but maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

Mark shook his head, standing up. “I can’t do this, Dawood. I won’t.”

As Mark walked away, Dawood felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. He wanted to call out, to make Mark understand, but the words wouldn’t come. He watched his friend disappear into the night, wondering if he had lost him forever.

The next day, Mark was summoned to a meeting with the Cultural Integration Council. He wasn’t surprised; he had expected this ever since his conversation with Dawood. The Council’s headquarters were imposing, a gleaming tower of glass and steel, a symbol of the new world order.

Inside, Mark was greeted by a panel of Council members, Hassan among them. They all wore thobs, their expressions calm but serious.

“Mark,” Hassan began, “we’ve heard that you’ve been struggling to adapt.”

“I’m not struggling,” Mark replied coolly. “I’m resisting.”

Hassan exchanged a glance with the other members. “We don’t want to make this difficult for you, Mark. We’re here to help you see the benefits of what we’re offering.”

“I see what you’re offering,” Mark said, his voice rising. “And I don’t want it.”

Hassan sighed, leaning forward. “Mark, you’re a smart man. You know that resistance is futile. The world is moving forward with or without you. But we would prefer it to be with you.”

Mark clenched his fists, his anger bubbling to the surface. “You can’t force me to change who I am.”

“No,” Hassan agreed, his tone soft. “But we can make you understand why you need to.”

Before Mark could respond, he felt a sudden, intense pressure in his head. The AirPods-Q—he hadn’t even noticed them before, subtly placed in his ears when he entered the room. The world around him began to blur, his thoughts becoming hazy.

“This is for your own good, Mark,” Hassan’s voice echoed in his mind. “You’ll see, soon enough.”

Mark’s resistance faltered as the messages took hold, reshaping his thoughts, his beliefs. He fought against it, but the pressure was too strong, the pull too deep. Slowly, reluctantly, he began to surrender.

When Mark finally left the Council’s headquarters, his stance was different, his eyes duller. He walked with a newfound purpose