A Whole New World

A Whole New World

Ah, welcome. I see you’re becoming accustomed to your new body. All the travelers who come here seem to have that reaction. The male specimens on your world must be very poor, indeed to lead to such awe. Welcome to Braün. I trust your journey was a safe one. Please, come this way. Your contractor is waiting for your arrival. As per the document you signed, you will be serving here for a period of no less than two of your Earth years. That translates to seven-hundred-thirty-and-one-half days.

During your service, you will be required to act in whatever capacity your contractor desires of you, barring sexual service and favors. Depending on the aspects of what your service entails, certain alterations in thought processes and habits may occur. This is normal, and should be treated as such.

As your disclaimer form read, we at Braün are not to be held responsible in any way, shape, or form for any drops in IQ, loss of clothing, loss of memory, personality overwrite, or any other such incidents that may or may not occur. As a worker, you are to be given a temporary work visa and a certain amount of rights under your employer. Should you so decide, you may become a naturalized citizen of this world and integrate with any number of classes within the general populace. 

If there are any problems that should arise, you may contact the agency or other appropriate authorities to process your case.

Do you understand these rights and disclaimers as they have been read to you?

“Huh? Oh. Oh, yeah. I get it. Say, you guys wouldn’t happen to have a mirror handy, would you?”

*Sigh* Down the corridor, last door on the right. You can pose to your heart’s content while you’re being processed.

“Sweet!”

...

Initial Analysis:

Possibility of Naturalization: High.

Potential Class: Manual Laborer/Gym Rat (May prove useful for power generation.)

All right, that one’s done. Time for the next.

The Muscelhaüse Part 1

Charlie scratched his head as he looked over the directions on his phone’s GPS for what had to be the fifth time. He’d circled the walkway far longer, but when he’d tried to ask anyone in the building nearby, nobody would answer. The place seemed deserted. The skeletons of trees and vines crawled along the support poles and wire fencing that had been laid along the sidewalk leading to a wooden fence.

“Charles Walker?”

Charlie nearly dropped his phone at the sound of the voice. The heavy clunk of thick-soled boots beat repetitively on the sidewalk slabs. He looked up to behold one of the most aesthetically pleasing males he had ever seen.

The man had to be at least six-one, maybe taller. He wore a set of darkened shades that emphasized the subtle squareness of his cheekbones, while preserving the general egg shape of his face. His chin and lips were ringed by carefully groomed black stubble. A patch of well kept hair rose in style with a high-and-tight look that left his sides faded to join the top. The sun threw the definition of the man’s bare torso into a work of art akin to the ancient statues of Greece and Rome.

No, he’s buffer, Charlie thought.

A fitbit tracker was strapped to one wrist, and a simple wristwatch to the other. A hole had been torn in the black jeans that clung so tightly to the man’s frame.

“Who wants to know?” Charles asked.

“The name’s Gabriel. I was sent to help you get to your destination. The Muscelhaüse is difficult to find on one’s own, even with the assistance of a GPS. Since you kept circling the same place, and happen to be rolling a suitcase behind you, I figured you were probably him.”

“You’re from the Muscelhaüse?” Charlie raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Gabriel shrugged. “I was just getting off shift. Figured I’d help you get there, since I needed to get some cardio in before my workout. It’s not far. We’re that big purple building over there.” He pointed behind him at the empty lot behind the wooden fence, only this time it wasn’t empty.

“How...?” Gabriel started.

“Yeah, we get that a lot. Come on. We’ve been waiting for you to check in for the last hour.” He reached down and seized the suitcase from Charlie’s weakened grip, then turned. “You’re going to love it there.”

This deserves a reblog. What an excellent beginning of a deeper introspection to his original meathead tattoo story. I can’t wait to see where it goes. Well done, BODriver! Well done!

It was a stupid dare, and you were a dumbass to go through with it… But college is the time to do stupid shit, right?

“Are you serious?” said Rhys, giving your unassuming, un-inked body a once-over. “Sorry, I don’t touch the face, neck, or hands unless you have at least a few pieces already. And honestly, you’re gonna have a hard time finding any artist who would.”

“Wait,” said your friend Jake, who was sitting beside you. “Would you change your mind if we told you it’s for a dare, and he’s gonna get it lasered off after a month?”

“That makes it even worse, dude,” said Rhys, as he started getting up. “I’m serious about my art, and I’m not gonna purposefully give someone a tat he doesn’t really want—”

“—How about I throw in an extra two thousand above your normal fee?” said Jake, nonchalantly.

Before Rhys could even protest, Jake threw two thick stacks of 20s onto the table. You saw the tattooist mouth something in bewilderment before he sat back down. After a few seconds of pondering Jake’s offer, he looked back at you.

“You and your friend have more money than sense, but I need a new set of tires, so… I’m just gonna take this,” he said.

“Oh it’s all Jake’s,” you replied.



“Just to make sure I got this right… You want a thumb-sized tattoo—chosen by your bougie friend—right on your forehead… And you don’t want to see it until it’s done?”



“That’s right,” you responded. Nerves had your stomach feeling all knotted up, but in your head you knew Jake’s crazy shenanigans always turned out fine in the end. College had been a blast ever since Jake had entered your life.

“And even though you’ve never gotten a tattoo before, you’re gonna be fine with the pain of me repeatedly jabbing needles into your face, and you promise that you’re not gonna bitch out?”

“I promise.”

Rhys sighed.

“Fine, I’ll do it. But if your friend asks me for any hate symbols, I’m gonna kick his ass. Also, he can’t ask for any colors since those are harder to erase. And I’m diluting the black to about a 75% grey. And I’m using a light touch. It’ll start fading right away and probably end up looking like shit, so don’t you ever tag me or this place in any pics online, and don’t tell anyone I did this for you.”

“Deal,” said Jake, before you could respond. “Now let me show you the design…”

After looking at whatever was on Jake’s phone, Rhys quickly led you and Jake to the back and sat you on a chair. After disappearing for a few minutes, Rhys came back with a stencil.

The first 15 minutes of inking felt like an eternity. You focused on keeping your breath steady as the searing pain and the buzzing of the gun pounded your skull. You remained silent as you listened to Jake and Rhys chat on how exactly did you end up in that tattoo shop, on the last Sunday before classes started, with this crazy idea.

Jake, being his over-talkative self, started by explaining how, way back last year, he’d gotten himself an entire house right off campus, where he’d first met you during one of his infamous keggers (the next of which Rhys was totally invited to, by the way). It didn’t take long for Jake to bring you into his crew, and take you on as his next “project.” To like, get you to come out of your shell. Eventually his housemate would move out, which was a bummer, but that meant the room was wide open for you this year.

And it was yesterday morning while you were moving in, when another of Jake’s friends mentioned the new tattoo removal clinic that had opened over the summer. And you guys were curious about it, even though no one in the group had any tats. (But Jake totally would’ve tatted up by now if his dad wouldn’t disown him.)

So you volunteered to get some ink. And not just anywhere, but right on your forehead, and you’d keep it there for four weeks until you started getting laser treatments to get rid of it. Cuz you’re crazy like that.

Wait, was that really how the conversation went? You could’ve sworn it was Jake’s idea…

Jake—being in his “comfortable” financial situation—would pay for the tattoo, and then for the removal. And if you went about your college life without covering up the tat or holing up in your room while you had it, you could choose any tattoo that would stay on Jake’s ass until graduation. Sure, the whole plan sounded like something straight out of Jackass, but college is the time to do stupid shit, and maybe this shit could get you famous on Youtube or something.

You broke your silence by telling Rhys you needed a breather. The pain had been making you clench all over.

After Rhys stepped out of the space, Jake took out a pair of wireless Beats from his bag.

“Hey, champ, you did great. You’re a beast,” Jake said, flashing a mischievous grin.

“Thanks Jaker. I had no idea it was gonna hurt that much. I was afraid I was gonna move… What’s that for?” You pointed to the headphones.

“I just remembered I brought these, so maybe you should listen to that playlist you like so much… You know, to distract from the pain.”



“You mean your weird take on ‘lo-fi chill beats to study and relax to?’ Don’t get so full of yourself, I don’t like it that much, haha.”

“Woww…” Jake pulled back his wavy dark brown bangs as he feigned offense.

“That hurts, bro. You know how much of my heart and soul I put into updating my playlist… Actually, I’m not at all hurt cuz I know you’ll beg me to put it on for you, and you’re gonna love it and thank me for its healing power—”

“—OK, OK, that’s enough. Just put the headphones on me. My hands are all clammy and gross.”

“Sure thing, bro,” said Jake, with a strange twinkle in his hazel eyes.

As soon as Jake sat back down from putting the headphones on you, you saw Rhys return, donning fresh gloves. You closed your eyes as the familiar music enveloped you. It was the soundtrack of the many late nights you spent with Jake in his room. Sometimes you really did your studying to it. But other times, you’d *relax*, talking with Jake about everything and anything, but mostly you and the potential he saw in you. Listening to the playlist often took you back to the first time you’d met him, during that fateful party almost exactly a year ago.

He’d been standing out on the balcony, watching the full moon. You’d asked him what he was listening to, and with a smirk, he’d wordlessly stuck both earbuds into your ears. At first you were confused by the silence but then you picked up on the beat… And the two different voices, split between both ears:



“Trust me,” sang the left, with heavy distortion.

“Lose control,” sang the right, sounding slowed down.

“TRUST ME.”



“LOSE CONTROL.”

“TRUST ME.”



“LOSE CONTROL.” The music started to speed up.

“TRUST ME. LOSE CONTROL. TRUST ME. LOSE CONTROL…”

This song always took you back… But this time, as you were listening to it in the tattoo parlor, something was different. A third voice, evenly spread to sound like it was stalking you from behind:

“This is the next phase. Become the new meat.”

“This is the next phase. Become the new meat.”

“You are the meathead,” the voice approached closer.

“You are the meathead,” closer.

“You are the meathead,” closer.



I AM THE MEATHEAD, you replied with the whole of your being, before being awoken by a hand tapping your shoulder.


“Hey, wake up, Champ,” Jake said as he took off the headphones. “You’re all done.”

You were confused.

You’d thought the tattoo was gonna take at least an hour, but after just one song on Jake’s playlist, you were done already. At first you were tempted to feel concerned, but you remembered that Jake had said it would distract from the pain, and he was right. He was always looking out for you.

“Well,” said Rhys, handing you a mirror. “What do you think?”

You looked at your reflection. There, right in the middle of your forehead:

🍖

The meat emoji. A cylinder with two ends of a bone sticking out of it. Really? You were surprised, but relieved that it wasn’t something obscene or gross. Little did you know that it unlocked the next phase of Jake’s plans for your development…

I said I might do this, and I decided I will this time. Here is the entire Patreon story I published a premier for earlier this month. I hope you all enjoy. If people are interested, and you haven't already, feel free to visit my patreon  and subscribe for multiple benefits and to give me the freedom to write more of these great transformations for you all.

A Costly Boast

Jackson smirked as he finished posting on his tumblr feed. Sure, the pic had been more of a joke at the time, but he did look good, and he knew his watchers would want to see more of his sculpted body and rugged features. He was a magnet for both men and women, after all.

I’m the biggest gorilla in the forest.

He’d added the caption at the end for the sake of the persona he’d developed for his web posts. And, he had to admit, if did feel good to show off.

With his work finished, he shut down his computer and grabbed his cell phone. It was time for another nature walk. He strode out in his cargo shorts and grinned up at the sun. Winter had passed at last, and the sheer amount of green was enough to make anyone’s head spin. It was simple enough to pass along the trail behind his house and admire the view it afforded. The sight of the river and buildings in the distance always left him in a pensive state of mind.

After he’d spent enough time musing over the view, he reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone.

Might as well check for any replies.

Jackson smirked at the number of likes and reblogs. His body was definitely a popular commodity. Then he scrolled down to the comment and frowned.

A user named Goodf3ll0w had written, As you boast, so shall it be. A special gift to you from me.

Jackson frowned and scratched at his head. “The hell...?” he muttered.

He put his phone away and continued his stroll through the forest. The trees clustered together on both sides as the trail became rough. Bird calls became more frequent, and he suddenly felt an increase in the humidity. He puffed his chest as he strode along a particularly steep incline that he didn’t recall passing before.

The foliage thickened as fronds and other low lying bushes sprouted with thick leaves to obscure the view beyond the path. Moss and lichen spotted trees that seemed almost to tower into immensity. Oaks, palms, redwoods, sequoia, and who knew what else. He breathed heavily and a wave of dizziness overcame him as a pungent sweet odor struck his nostrils.

Jackson groaned and leaned against a tree to regain his sense of balance. The dizziness eventually passed, but the sweet smell remained. He didn’t feel so good. He turned around to go back, but when he did, he found no sign of the previous path, only a network of barely worn trails branching through the trunks.

“What the...?” He blinked blearily and strode toward one of the paths. He felt the rough remains of slippery roots and dried leaves crunch and squash beneath his soles. A curious series of hollows had formed naturally between the roots, and long-dead leaves and other greenery lay in an approximation of a nest of sorts. What kind of animal would need to build a nest that large?

Jackson grunted and scratched at his chest as he continued his journey. Better not to stay and find out. He thought he heard the tinkling of laughter, but when he turned his head to find the source, the laugh would jump to another part of the woods. He let out a low growl of frustration, then decided to finally let the noises go. Instead, he huffed along a random track. Surely, he’d be able to find a proper way out eventually. After all, he’d taken this forest track hundreds of times before. He knew it like the back of his hand.

He rubbed at his ears with his fingers when a dull tingling decided to tickle at the skin along the surface, then shuddered at the sensitivity.

“What’s wrong with me?” he murmured to himself as he let his hand drop and furrowed his brow. He trudged through the path as the foliage thickened and began to brush against his skin.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been going on. He’d been walking for what felt like hours, but the sun still filtered through the canopy above with the same light.

“I need a break,” Jackson said as he dropped onto one of the larger tree roots to the side of the road with a heavy thump. He hunched forward to catch his breath. His skin was sleek with sweat, and his feet were covered in a layer of dirt. His stomach complained with a loud grumble. “And now I’m hungry. Great.” He grunted and tried not to think about his current situation, until something hard bounced off his head.

“What the--?” he growled and rubbed the place where he had been struck, then looked down in some surprise. The fruit was long and curved, like a boomerang. Its green flesh was tough, but yielded slightly to the touch. A series of silver patches gave the peel an almost metallic glint that caught at the eye. “Now where did you come from?” He looked up into the canopy, but found no signs of the fruit in question. Either it was too high up there to see or someone was deliberately playing him. He didn’t like either prospect.

All the same, he was hungry, and the food was there. He weighed the pros and cons, turning the fruit in the light all the while. It seemed almost like a mutant banana. Could the silver have been mercury? If so, it was poisonous in the extreme. But that didn’t make sense. Fruits didn’t develop mercury in them. It would have been filtered by the roots of the tree, and probably would have killed the tree itself. ... Right?

He furrowed his brow and scratched at his head. “Should I or shouldn’t I?”

A more violent protest from his stomach soon answered that question. Jackson sighed as he peeled back the flesh the same way he would the store-bought variety. The fruit itself seemed to glitter in the filtered light. Drops of what looked almost like rock candy were interspersed in a series of criss-crossing patterns over the flesh to give it a gem-encrusted appearance. The scent of the flesh was sweet and strong. Jackson’s mouth watered as he gazed at the tip, where a silvery patch in the shape of a star stretched down in segmented lines over the rest of the fruit to refract the color through the studs that bedecked the rest of the flesh. He swallowed, then took a bite.

The fruit was one of the richest he had ever tasted, putting its cousins back at his house to shame. Jackson let out a low moan, then devoured the rest eagerly. When he’d finished, he looked down at the peel in disappointment. He wanted more.

Suddenly his tongue felt thick and lethargic. He moved it about his mouth a few times, but his jaw didn’t seem to want to function. His arms grew heavy, and his body began to droop. He felt so ... sleepy. Dust sifted down from above, a gold dyed green by the sun’s filtration through the leaves. He breathed, and the sweet scent of the banana or whatever the fruit was still lingered.

The forest began to spin as he stumbled to his feet. “Wh-wha—?” He didn’t get far before he fell to the ground. The world continued to whirl around him, despite his immobility. The last thing he remembered was the distant sound of child-like laughter.

Jackson blinked blearily as he slowly came back into consciousness. He groaned as he worked his arms under his body and pushed himself up. He paused and held that position for a time. Whether out of habit for a morning workout with planks or something else, he wasn’t sure. He looked around the path, then slowly got to his feet. He felt ... strange, bloated. He heard the sound of fabric creaking and straining and patted at his waist and legs to probe for the problem.

Everything ... felt okay. Sure, the waistband was a little tight, but he was used to that sensation. His thighs brushed the edges of the shorts’ cuffs as he walked. He breathed deeply to steady himself. His nostrils flared. He smelled water mingled with that strange fragrance from before. He wasn’t even aware when he’d started moving. He felt the dust in his throat, though, and knew he needed something to wash that sensation away as soon as possible.

The roads had long since become impossible to track. Everything looked the same in these woods. Occasionally, he would stumble and have to catch himself on a trunk or brace himself for a shock against a nearby root. It wasn’t until he’d walked a good half mile or so before his groggy mind finally came up with a more sensible solution. He reached into his pocket and fumbled in the tighter space.

The fumbling soon turned into a groping, then a frantic search followed by a violent yanking that tore the seams holding the pockets in place.

“Shit!” he swore. The phone was gone. His one chance at calling for help or using GPS to navigate out had disappeared.

He knew he had two options. Either he could stay there and keep grumbling about it or he could actually find that water and save himself from potential dehydration.

He chose the latter.

Every few minutes, he would turn his head to strain at the direction of the flowing water. Sometimes it would be louder. At other times, he would have to double back and try another path. Eventually, he arrived at a heavy incline layered with interwoven roots that matched the gabled limbs overhead.

“Damn. Wish I had my phone for this. It’d make one hell of a picture,” he said as he marveled at the natural structure, before he leaned over and began his climb.

The roots were slippery, and he fell on his face more than once in the struggle. The arch in his feet ached from how heavily he’d leaned on them in his climb up. He had to rely on his upper body to get him through the last of the climb. His shoulders and neck throbbed, and his torso felt taut as he finally pulled over the last hurdle to reach the top of the natural obstacle course.

He was soon rewarded. The surging ripple of water over rock echoed through the boughs as Jackson looked on the riverbed. The water sparkled in the light, and he smacked his dry mouth in longing.

The trip down was almost as hard as the trip up. His bare soles throbbed and complained with every step as he worked his quads, hamstrings, and adductors. He huffed breathlessly as the waistband on his shorts cut into his torso and the fabric began to squeeze against his engorged muscles.

“It’ll be worth it,” he said between grunts. His back was sore from all the bending, but he knew he would make it. And then he could wash the aches and burning away in the cool water. The grit of the dirt beneath his feet had long since become little more than a distraction to him, so he didn’t really register when he hit the ground at first. It wasn’t until he found himself staring at his hands pressed against the grit beneath the roots and felt the trebling in arms that he knew he had succeeded. He panted as he thrust himself to his full height again. His arms hung limply and swung lower toward his waist as his shoulders slumped and he hunched forward from the exhaustion of his trek

He gasped as the shock from the water hit, but carried on, until he reached closer to the middle of the bank. The waters were deep enough that he could immerse himself and sooth his aching muscles, not unlike the ice baths he had used once when he participated in football.

He lowered himself under the water and used his hands to grip the sides of the riverbed to avoid getting swept by the current. It was a relief to wash the sweat and grime off. As an extra measure, he opened his mouth to swallow some of the flow. True, the water may not have been purified, but he needed that substance to survive. The hike would leave him severely dehydrated, otherwise.

He didn’t realize just how thirsty he had become, until he felt the water flowing down his throat. The cold liquid dripped off his face and flowed down his chest in rivulets, while his shorts shifted helplessly in the water’s current.

“Man, that felt good.” He huffed as he waded to shore and laid himself out under the sun. His stomach sloshed heavily and his eyes drooped yet again as he laid his hand over his stomach and scratched lazily at his core.

Jackson groaned as he opened his eyes to the darkness. The crickets, frogs, and cicadas chirped incessantly. The night air blew over his recumbent form, but he hardly felt any chill. He reached up to scratch at his head and yawned. How had he managed to sleep the whole day, away?

He stretched his arms, legs, and toes to work out the kinks, then stumbled to his feet. The soreness was worse, and the material for his shorts must’ve shrunk, because the waist band and pant legs both clung tightly to his body. He stumbled to the water to soak his feet and get another drink. His nose felt thicker as he pulled the water off it and across his leathery lips.

“Damn things must’ve been tanned by the sun,” he grumbled. Then he sat in the bank and let the water wash over his sore feet for a while. The way the current played with his toes and soles felt almost like a massage, and Jackson welcomed it. He leaned back on his hands and let out a low deep groan of satisfaction and relief.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there when the music finally reached his ears. His eyes snapped open and he strained with all his might to listen. His head rotated back and forth like a search light as he struggled to triangulate the sound. Finally, he caught the faintest glimmer of light on the other side of the bank, far back in the trees. After spending so long in the dark, it was a simple matter to triangulate the spot for a point of reference.

Jackson didn’t even think about it. The water surged over his calves, then his arms, then his whole body as he launched himself off the riverbed and into the current. The swim against the water’s flow was perhaps one of the most exhausting workouts he had ever performed. His arms and legs burned. His core clenched. His breathing came in animalistic grunts and pants as the water flowed around his meaty hands. Jackson didn’t care. He was about to reach civilization at last, or at least some camper that could help him get out of this place and back into civilization again.

The mud squelched between his hands and toes as he finally made it to the shallows on the other side. “Almost there,” he panted huskily.

The trees and brush were no obstacle to his determination. He bull-rushed leaves and foliage and shoved limbs and branches aside. The music grew louder, and he laughed at the loud pop one of the branches made as he shoved it past its breaking point in a curiously fitting percussion that slid right in with the reedy sound of pipes, the vibration of strings, and the steady thrum of a harp that cascaded like water over a stream bed.

Finally, he thought. He crashed through the last of his obstacles and broke into a clearing filled with … nothing.

Fireflies danced and flickered as the moon’s light shone down on a series of bulbous glowing mushrooms. Strangely grooved rocks dotted the clearing at various points. A series of holes strategically placed within them caused the chorus of whistles as a breeze blew through.

“No…” Jackson fell to his knees. “No.” He clenched his hands into fists to uproot some of the thick turf. “No!” He roared as the world went red. He came to panting on all fours in the heart of the clearing. The mushrooms pulsed gently as his chest heaved. His brow furrowed in a scowl as he puffed out his lips. Fragments of the stones lay in a mess over the overturned earth. Heavy gouges showed where strong hands had torn up clods of dirt and root with the turf. His chest felt taut as he breathed heavily.

“My, my. What violence.” The soft baritone was playful as it whispered in Jackson’s ear.

“Who said that?” Jackson growled. His throat vibrated as his voice grated from is overuse just moments before. He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed through swollen vocal cords.

Another laugh echoed. “Poor little lost thing. That was very rude, you know. We were having such a lovely party, until you showed up. And after all the trouble I went through to invite you as the guest of honor.” The disembodied voice tutted chidingly. “For shame. Don’t worry, though. Our invitation still stands, and you clearly accepted by coming here, so all will be forgiven. No need to worry your tiny brain about those troublesome details.”

Tiny? “You did this? You took me from my home?” The anger rose again, and Jackson clenched his jaw in anger as the laughter echoed again. His face tingled, but he didn’t care. He had a bone to pick with this stranger.

The music began to pick up again as the man laughed once more. “You left your home and wandered into our lands. It isn’t our fault that you chose that path. Ah, but never you mind. We have such a special gift in store for you.”

“… Gift? What gift?” he snarled.

“What gift, he says.” The clearing echoed with a chorus of laughter as the lights returned to bob and float in dizzying patterns. “Why, the gift of reality, of course, stupid boy.”

Jackson growled and bore his teeth at the lights. “Reality my ass,” he rumbled. “You did something. Tell me. Now!” He felt a heavy impact on his chest and looked down with a furrowed brow. All he saw was his open hand. Had … something been thrown at him? The clearing spun as he turned to try to face his tormentors. The more he turned, the dizzier and more frustrated he became. “Show yourself!”

“Ah-ah, my pet. Not yet. Not yet.” The voice laughed again. “Goodfellow isn’t finished with you. Oh, but it is so much fun to watch you struggle. You can’t keep up with what’s been happening, can you? You poor thing. You’ve eaten our food, drank our water. That was stupid. So very stupid. But what more could be expected of the biggest gorilla in the forest, hmm?”

Jackson gasped. “You!” His breathing grew labored as his eyes rolled around in their sockets to try and track the lights. Surely, there had to be some sort of pattern here, some means to trace the source of his torment.  Some … how.

His stomach rumbled.

“Ah, the beast is hungry. Shall we supply him with something to eat, my friends? What say you?”

The laughter rose to a fever pitch, and Jackson’s ears tingled and rang with the chorus of voices that burst through. Some called to let him starve. Others to play with him some more. Others still said they wanted to make him dance. So many voices. So loud. Jackson growled and clapped his hands over his ears.

“Ah, poor thing. We’re overwhelming him. Softer now, my friends. Softer. Let us ease his simple mind with a little music. That is what drew him here in the first place, is it not? Surely, some piece of him will enjoy a new rendition. And I’ve just the verse.”

The clearing rebounded with mischievous laughter as the reeds, pipes, strings, and harps picked up again.

“As you boast, so shall it be. ’Tis what I said. ’Tis what I see. A wicked snarl so dark and grim would only suit a simian. You followed us. You heard our song. And childlike, you played along, Unknowing of the spells we cast, to draw you to our realm at last. The faery fruit and gurgling stream did seal your fate, or so it seems, As spinning, spinning, your world regressed, No pressing thoughts, save food and rest.”

Jackson growled and huffed as he tried to keep the voices out. They were annoying him. They made his head hurt. “St-stop,” he rumbled as his cheek bones began to push out and his chin receded. His lips pulled back as thick sharp canines protruded menacingly.

“Simpler, simpler, simpler still as music shapes and bends your will. You seek to rule. You seek to lead. The alpha’s role, the general’s need. You wear no crown upon your head, but two great crests are borne instead. Your arms begin to swing and drape to suit the command: Get into shape.”

Jackson huffed and grunted as his arms grew heavier. The annoying lights brushed against him and left his skin tingling with every piece of contact. He increased the pressure, determined to overcome this annoying song. Whoever this was was messing with him, and he didn’t like it one bit. “No. Won’t … win.” He winced at the tingling in his jaw and above his skull. A shudder passed through him as he felt the bones pressing against his hands. But no, that couldn’t be right. He had to be hallucinating. Yes. That’s it. This was a dream, some sort of … of, uh….

He furrowed his brow as the ridge began to jut forward over his eyes, then reached up and scratched at the top of his head in confusion, revealing the ear that had pressed closer to his rapidly changing skull and now remained in that position naturally. He knew the word. Why couldn’t he remember it now?

The longer he scratched, the more powerful the tingling became, and a dull sense of pleasure soon followed. A deep rumble emanated from his chest as his forehead gradually flattened and his skull began to push back against his scratching fingers. The pleasure continued to mount, until he let his other arm drop uselessly to his side. He was too lost in that dim happiness to care about the words that flowed into his newly transformed ears.

“The fellow has an itch to scratch, and soon he’ll have the wits to match the form for his most costly boast as pleasure overwhelms its host. Let magic flow and have its way as body swells and music plays. As brain is overwhelmed by brawn, ’tis hands and feet you’ll walk upon. Let knuckles drag across the ground as we await that glorious sound of human remnants blown apart by every changing body part.”

Jackson squatted in a patch of dirt and felt something unpleasant cutting into his waist, squeezing at his rear and thighs. He let out a dazed grunt. “Hurt … stop….” He reached down to rub at his belly and felt the ridges of his abs comfort him as he ran his broad palm and thick fingers over them in a curve. His breathing came hard, but he could still manage for now. The tingling spread with each stroke, and his breathing became more steady as the slabs were slowly consumed by the mass that grew there, followed by the stimulation of new hair follicles. With each breath, his mouth protruded farther as his skin began to darken. He hardly even heard the pop as the seams on his shorts burst open to reveal red skin that rapidly sprouted a forest of coarse hairs.

“Bigger bone and leathery skin will help you match your ancient kin. Head and neck now realign to fit the structure of your spine. Your shrinking brain and broadening back will soon develop what you lack. A big dumb ape, you now must be. Now shed your last humanity. With lack of thought comes lack of speech. Dumb apes like you hoot, growl, and screech. Too stupid now to disobey or keep my little prose away. Forget. Submit. Do as I say. Our silverback you now shall stay. From now on and forever more, you’ll roam across the forest floor.”

At last, the pressure on Jackson’s waist eased with a final snap. He grunted as he let his knuckles rest on the earth and snorted through his nostrils as they flared and retracted on his new muzzle. His skin darkened as his eyes lost their light, while the black hairs thickened into a massive coat of fur that covered him from his head down to his hands and feet. True to the words of the singer, his back swelled into immensity with broad shoulders and a large rear with squat legs thick as tree trunks. His feet cracked as they expanded into broad flat hand-like appendages, while the large toes adjusted into another set of opposable thumbs. The moment he stood on all fours, his neck and skull snapped into alignment, making it a natural position for him to stand and navigate in. He felt a dull itch on his back and reached behind to scratch at it, oblivious to the bright silver that developed there.

He blinked tiredly at the lights, and soon saw the strangest figures. Tiny little hairless things danced in the grass or the air. Some scampered with tilting red hats that smelled of blood. This made him uneasy, but the blood was not his, and he didn’t want to move for some reason. A strange creature stood in their midst holding a bundle of tiny sticks woven together. It smelled of a creature he hadn’t encountered before, with its hairy legs and hard no-feet. Yet, it seemed … familiar somehow. He grunted in confusion, until it offered him the shiny fruit. He sniffed it experimentally, smelled the sweet juices inside, and took it. It was a simple matter to peel with his meaty hands, and he quickly consumed the food, his concern for the strange creatures forgotten in his hunger and his primal desires.

One of the redcaps chuckled throatily in malicious glee. “Well done, Puck. Well done, indeed. Now that’s what I call a show!”

The satyr grinned and bowed to his audience. “I thank you, kind sirs and madams, for your patronage. It is this humble servant’s hope that he has provided some measure of entertainment for his fellows that will prove enjoyable for many days to come.” He grinned at Jackson as the gorilla laid down to sleep off his transformation and let the magic in the fruit seal the binding. The scraps of clothing he left behind soon degraded into so much cotton and flora, leaving only the metal button behind. Time would take care of that monstrosity, and there was no fear of repercussion from the former human. He was too stupid to piece together his past life. Yes, this was a fun little game with little consequence to the human world. He would have to play with another human soon. And he would hate to see the new toy get lonely.

He stroked his chin and smirked. “Perhaps we’ll give him a troop to play with one day. Now won’t that be fun?”

I’m the biggest gorilla in the forest.

Get Bricked

You didn’t believe him when he first approached you in the gym. You thought he’d misspoken. Most of the guy in the gym did, actually, and Marcus was the biggest of the bunch.

“Let me help you,” he’d said. “Work with me, and by the time I’m done with you, you’ll really be bricked.”

“Uh, don’t you mean ripped?” you’d asked.

Marcus just smiled as he motioned to the weight bench.

It came in little stages. A few reps here, a bit of cardio there. And all the while, Marcus would babble on about his work routine, his diets, the focus it required, the diligence, the ability to be absolutely unyielding in every respect. It got kinda repetitive, so you just sort of grunted and filtered it out as you worked.

For a time, things were pretty cool. Your grades were up, your concentration was better than it had ever been before. You’d learned how to filter out things you didn’t want to listen to or focus on, thanks to all that practice with Marcus in the first place. And it goes without saying that your body was toning nicely. Things were pretty great.

Then he suggested you spend more time in the gym.

And before you knew it, you’d already grunted and nodded along like you always do. His grin was massive, and the workout that day particularly vicious. Your arms felt like they wanted to fall off. You were so tired that night, you didn’t even want to so much as think about your homework.

So you didn’t.

It was the first time you deliberately chose not to work on an assignment you knew was going to be due the next day. It wouldn’t be the last.

The workouts were killers, but you couldn’t help but smile weakly at Marcus when you’d managed to push through another plateau. The guy was just so enthusiastic and charismatic. He’d flex whenever he got really excited. You couldn’t help but wonder if the muscle was part of it all in the first place. Could it really be that simple to gain such confidence?

...

It had been so embarrassing the first time he caught you posing in the locker room mirrors. But then he just chuckled and popped a little flex of his own.

“Like this, bro,” he’d said. You spent the next half hour practicing poses in the mirror. The way the light reflected off his skin, the ripple of the raw muscle beneath the flesh, the way the veins accented the primary locations. It was almost a form of poetry.

You practiced those poses every day from then on at home in your closet mirror.

Then came the party. Marcus insisted you attend at his place for a premier football game, just a close gathering, some of the guys hanging out. You were flattered, but you hardly felt prepared for that sort of thing. Sports had never really been your forte. But Marcus insisted. Time and place.

It was inevitable for you to follow.

You’re still not exactly sure what happened that night. Things are sort of hazy. You arrived on time, but none of the other guys from the gym were there yet. Marcus just chuckled and said they’d be along soon. Then he wrapped his huge arm around your shoulders and led you to the huge leather couch in front of a gigantic flat screen TV.

One minute you were watching the screen. The next, you were standing at the door with your iphone in hand and the rest of the gym goers smacking you on the back.

“I want you to listen to those tunes, bro,” Marcus said seriously. “No skimping out. Every day for your warmups, every night when you sleep. Got it?”

You nodded numbly. And for some odd reason, you chose to run home that night, rather than calling a cab.

It got a lot easier to understand the guys at the gym after that. It didn’t take all that much, really. You just had to do a little research on football and some of the other sports they liked. If you didn’t know about something, you’d ask one of them, and they’d be able to explain it in perfect detail. You were shocked. The guys weren’t dumb. They just specialized. Tony was football, Mikey weights, Alphy diet and nutrition. They became your gurus, all while Marcus continued to push your limits with his routines.

You nearly threw it all away when you got your report card at the end of the year, though. C in almost every course. That wasn’t like you. How were you supposed to get into college like this? It hurt to go and tell the news to Marcus, but you knew you had to.

Then came that hazy period again. You’re not sure what was said. All you knew was you needed to keep going. The gym made you happy now, surprisingly enough. And the guys, well ... you’d become sort of like a unit. You couldn’t picture doing anything without them around anymore.

You got yourself a tutor, and he helped you to pass. You didn’t like that your GPA had dropped so much, but it was better than before.

You hardly pay attention to the teachers now, though. It’s all just so ... boring for you. You’d pass the time by doing mini-flexes and running through some of the games you’d caught the other night in your head.

You still remember the first time you chuckled. It had been so easy. It just sort of burst out of you like a belch. You flexed. You chuckled. You flexed. You chuckled. You flexed....

Most of your games moldered in the dust now. Madden, EA Games, sports, those all were used well enough. After all, you had to have something to play with your bros from time to time.

Then they finally invited you here, to this place. The rough stone blocks behind you were a light dull gray. Daylight streamed over it, highlighting the muscles that now stood out from your sleeveless shirt.

The response was automatic. You raised your arms and flexed. You admired the light as it played across the flesh, casting it shadows that flowed over the curves and bends like a work of art.

You smirked.

You sneered.

You were a muscle god, and you liked it that way.

School? Screw it.

D&D? Bro, you were living that dream. No need to play a barbarian with these guns.

Your future? ... Why think about it? Your future was here with your bros.

Class? ... Class made your head hurt. Whatever. If you pass, that’s all that mattered. You couldn’t get banned from the gym. S’where you and the bros hung out.

You stare into Marcus’ face as he grins triumphantly at you.

“So, how does it feel to be bricked?”

The words flow out of you as easily as if you’d been cursing your whole life. “Huhuh. Fucking sweet, bro.”

And it was. The gym is your life now. The gym and your bros. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.