Gnarly Tides

Gnarly Tides

--- Originally posted by ZacharyEverlust before 2018-08-22 ---

--- Note: Pokémon Gym Leader TF ---

We are back at the same location! Same place, same time, same method! Well slightly different one, a tweaked version of what will happen to the fellow victim from the previous story. Only this time, its from the OTHER soon to be-surfer's perspective. As such, the story starts off with his perspective. Seran, being called here by his friend, Baikoha, via text.

Dude you've gotta check this out!

I'm having a blast with Swimming! Coach wants you to tag along!

Bring your goggles along too man!

Obviously, knowing his friend, its totally odd that he would post a message like that. Baikoha didn't want to attend Sports Week much less enjoy those "swimming lessons". Not to mention he actually complained about it yesterday at his dorm...

Seran walked towards the open pool, letting his really long brown hair down as he gazed over the line of participants for this year's "Jockification Week", or so what people described. 'They turned guys and girls into jocks, full of school spirit and cocky bravado!' was apparently what some people described what happened to their friends...how farfetched, well, aside the fact that even his own friend posted that weird message back to him.

The invited-teen peered over for his friend for a few moments, unable to find him. Probably already in the pool by then, Seran assumed, scratching his growing beard down below his lip. The thin-lanky man has to be at the beach in about an hour from now, skipping out an hour's worth of sleep to originally bail with him so they could dodge sports week together, though his friend's apparent change of heart as shown in his message...it was weird, really weird.

Probably at this moment, Seran's mind wondered even more about those Jockification rumors he'd heard from the other newbies. "What if they were true?" Was the first stereotypical soon-to-be-victim thought anyone would have. He recalled the goggles he and his friend discussed yesterday, him being the lucky person that received a limited edition "Marlon & Brawly branded goggles." To his surprise, the other pair was inside the gift box that was laid in his doorstep this very morning!

To be honest, it looks awfully strange, with shiny plastic lenses and their sides being being labelled with the numbers 1-2-3-4-5. Coloured completely black with shiny orange lenses. He wanted to go and tell his friend about this too, though it'd be better just to surprise him. Right?- SPLASH!-Wow some douchebag splashed water on him---SHONE!--"WHA--?"

He sensed the sides of the goggles glowing, sending pulsating charges to the lenses as they glowed a bright orange, shining brightly as though its a conjoined process. Glowing and overwhelmings strongly on the inside of the lens, past the helpless victim's past through the corners of his brain, touching the commands and subjects that make a person-them.

"ARGH! My eyes--huh?" Like an enormous tidal wave that's about to wash over a helpless surfer, he felt like his body became paralyzed in a millisecond, as though he was no more in control. HANG TEN! Was the signal the flashed in his brain, the only thing he could focus on the inside whilst observing the pool's water dripping down from his skin--?

Brawler's Stance!

His thought shifted momentarily, the number 5 engraved on the side of the goggles faded away as this happened. His fists clenched, as his body brought itself to an iconic fighting position, one that's familiar in a game remake. With feet firmly rooted to the ground, squats strongly standing apart and fists brought close to his chest.

SOMEBODY HELP ME! He thought loudly to himself, unable to open his mouth aside forming a huge cocky-like smile that was unlike him, eye brows furrowed oddly , if anyone took notice of him, he would look like a mix of an odd statue and a young man looking for a fight. Although...he didn't fit the part of a fighter just yet, needing an appropriate body to support the current position he is in--

SPLASH!

"NOT AGAIN!" He shouted. The Second tide came in, as a swimming gave a powerful dive from the diving board. Drowning Seran's clothes and his chest from the inside even further. A Drenched white T-shirt and brown khaki shorts, with plain looking sandals. This certainly did not match the goggles he is current matching, and that is about to change as the number 4 faded away next.

PUMP IT UP!

WHOA! He watched his body rise up even higher with a dose of electrolytes, goggles converting pool water to salt water as it gave a dose full of a lifetime's worth of minerals to the body. Aging several years as his height went up with it, with even longer legs and arms, a body that's as tall as any other typical sportsman that can be seen in sight.

Bathed in an appropriate amount of UV rays from the sun, his body crusted into a perfect moderate-brownish Hawaiian tan, like its a result of time and dedication. With his body being at a prime at his early twenties, yet feeling really uncomfortable underneath the clothes he's currently wearing, like it wasn't his style, like he deserved something better--

WOW! The next thought came up, as he watched as his clothes physically re-materialize by themselves right before the goggles covering his very eyes-- RUBBER! Starting with the feet, as the base of the sandals dyed themselves a strong orange, and black rubber soaked itself over the top.

Escalating hugely, they grew larger than the size of his foot as they reached a decent L-size. Bottom becoming rubber like the top, with the strap too becoming part of the design and turning orange as well. Five circles appeared where the toes should be and two black rolled loops appeared at his ankles, though the whole new wet-shoes get-up barely fit him.

The same treatment can be said about the rest of the attire as it went up, clothes now barely fitting and staying on him due to the L-size of the clothes, only thanks to the tight-fitting quality of wet-attire were why they were able to still stick onto his thin bod.

With Khaki shorts morphing themselves blue with waterproof threads as they wrap loosely around his waist, sky blue boarder shorts only on due to the current "stance" he's made into. A plain generic T-shirt gaining originality as they rediscovered cool typical sports patterns sufficing from his chest and trailing from on shoulder to another.

Those patterns turned a familiar pure orange as the rest of the shirt turned into a sporty black. Bringing out a cool and manly side out of the wearer. The sportier shirt hugged tightly to his skin as they turned into a waterproof-skin tight fabric, seemingly rubberized. A loop suffices around the top of his shirt, below his neck and similar to the ones of his wet-shoes.

With that being said, the last changes formed at his fists as the surfer influence touched his hands. Black covering his fists as they turned into orange at the top, with the same loop down at his wrists. Forming Brawler-like slash Surfer wet gloves for those who enjoy diving into the ocean from time to time, and with the current status of his body, it seemed as they just enjoyed anything water sports related, especially surfing--

SPLASH!!!!

"DUDE! THIS IS NOT COOL BRAH---?!" The man complained, vocabulary "Oh man! I haven't even bulked up yet---!" He realized that, with it being the next stage as the number 3 faded too.

IT'S WORKOUT TIME!

His brain thought, feeling his fists clenching even harder as veins bulge toughly from his arms. Watching them firm up as they do their years of training hard, growing to a sizable size as those knuckles nicely fit the gloves like a proud brawler.

The power and energy moved up to his shoulders, expanding them wide and steady as a result of surfing for over a decade, body posture and balance maintaining his strong figure. With a hefty lean-muscular chest supporting his front with tanned pecs and chiseled abs showing his status as a gym instructor, and a gym leader.

Legs tanking out, with calves steadying and fitting the boarder shorts like he liked it. Butt rounding and firming up, jutting out simultaneously with his feet as they filled in their entire wet-shoes. His attire completely suiting his powerful physique, like he deserved it.

"Man! This is great and all!" The soon to be hundred percent Surfer man spoke. "This like totally caused a storm of astonishment to my system! Oh man! But like..."

SPLASHHHH!

"HAHA! Wow! Again with the waves dude!" With water entering his system, cleansing his throat and tonsils, refilling the surfer lingo that he ever most desires with an attractive, chill and a totally radical voice that didn't cared much about intelligence." Gnarly Voice man...AWESOME!"

HANG TEN DUDE!

"Wicked!" An overwhelming surge of confidence and resolve shone in his face. Teeth as white and strong as a Sharpedo's, a smile evolved to a fearless confident grin. Angular Jaw being a sticker to the personality that crashes tides and oceans with his surfboard.

"I LOVE this dude! Can't get enough of it!" Hair spiking at the back, maintaining themselves like an in-bred style that suits him. Blasted away with Sky Blue like his boarder shorts, totally radical as they held spiked in place, bangs free. Facial features chilling with the breeze blowing against his forehead, ears wide open, nostrils filled with the scent of the sea, black sharp eyebrows boldly representing his self-assurance, his power, and his passion for what he does.

"And it just gets better and BETTER!"

"SPLASHHHHHHHHHH!"

"WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Fully lost in the Ocean, the new man awoke. With the number 5 completely fading away, he understood the hang ten quality within him and embraced the tide. With outstretched arms voluntarily breaking past any gnarly paralysis, and a body standing tall and firm as water poured down on him.

His goggles glowed and allowing the sun rays reflecting of the pool's surface to bask him with all the thoughts that he needed. Goggles taking on their true form as they tinted themselves as pure orange shades, with black sides supporting his coolness.

"Yo! Brawly! Sup!" Marlon raised his hand. HI-FIVE "Hey Man! Totally drenched me over here! Haha!" He laughed.

Lifting up the shades, revealing two piercing light blue eyes that shredded killer waves. He understood who he is, and how couldn't he? Being the Former Gym Leader of Dewford City's Gym, churned in the rough waves while pumping in the gym and toughening up in a pitch-black cave.

Now the Captain of The University's Water Sports Group, and yet another carefree Surfer Jock who loves nothing more than being in the water, Brawly takes his stance.

With his buddy Marlon by his side, being the fierce competitors and the greatest of friends back when they met in orientation. Rooming up like the bros they are, and having being given their own special goggles together by the higher-ups as a reward for being one of the best pairs in their category. The Ocean. Though his was definitely cooler since it could transform back and forth between his trusty shades and goggles with a button at the back. How awesome is that?

With their knowledge of the ocean, surfing as well as a healthy match of Pokemon battles and tons of working out. With Marlon and Brawly taking the lead in The school's Swimming/Water Polo and Dynamic Surfers Teams respectively, The Captains of the University's Water Sports Group were unstoppable together.

"Dude! Race you to the top of the diving board." Marlon swam. "Oh yeah? Well I'm gonna wipe you down man!" Brawly jumped in and swam right after him.

The two of them made their way to the diving board.

"Hey Man! Watch this--I'm gonna make--!"

"A Bigger Splash Than The Sea!"

SPLASH!

"Dude, that's nothing. Don't forget, I'm--!"

"A Big Wave In Fighting!"

SPLASH!

Making a Model

Travis made a double-take as he walked down the street on his way back from the liquor store in preparation for the house party he’d been invited to. It was a shopfront that caught his eye, one that he could have sworn wasn’t there the day prior.

“‘New You’, huh?”, the little, shiny shopfront intrigued him, “A clothing store, or something?”

Travis pushed on the door and took in the space, it was large and organized. Aisles ran long and contained everything from clothing, costumes, and accessories, to sporting goods, sex toys, and novelty items. The store seemed devoid of other customers, and staff as well.

“What a weird place,” Travis moved along to a counter of trinkets and small goods stacked neatly into stands. Small bottles of what Travis believed to be novelty drinks were scattered through a stepped stand.

“Liquid Wish?” Travis, being a rational 27-year-old man, was not convinced by the magical claims written on the bottle. But, he was interested in something that might sweeten the cheap, unpalatable vodka he’d bought minutes prior.

“Hi there, can I help you with anything?”, a deep voice startled Travis as he turned to see a tall, well-dressed muscular man standing behind him.

“Oh! Um, I was wondering is this, like, safe? And, uh, do you know what it tastes like?”

“Perfectly safe! This one is raspberry if I remember right… Berry of some sort,” the man chuckled as he gestured to the bottle visible through Travis’ grocery bag, “Looks like a big night coming up?”

“Ha, yeah I think so,” Travis laughed, “I think I’ll take this?”

The men moved to the register and Travis handed over what he thought to be an exorbitant $10 for the small amount of pink mixer.

“I should mention, you need to drink it all before making a wish,” the clerk said with a wink. Travis smiled nervously, he couldn’t quite tell if the man was joking or not.

Not long thereafter, Travis found himself at the party with his friend Ben. The two chatted underneath strings of party lights in the large, decorated yard of a stunning home. Travis was making short work of the sweet cordial, mixing it into his cheap vodka, pouring the last of it into what was his fourth drink.

He felt out of place, knowing next to nobody here. It was Ben’s socialite friend-of-a-friend who had dished out the extravagant invites after all. And that was reflected amongst the attendees: attractive, well-dressed models and influencers.

“Who’s this friend of yours again? How does he know so many good-looking people?” Travis asked, incredulous at the attractiveness of the crowd.

“Friend of a friend, actually. I don’t really know them. All I know is he’s some ‘Instagay’ type,” Ben explained.

“Well I guess that explains this crowd,” Travis gestured, “Wish I looked as good as these guys.”

And with those words uttered, Travis felt a flutter in his stomach, not even thinking about the “Liquid Wish” he’d drank or the store clerk’s remarks.

After entertaining themselves for quite a while longer, Travis found himself airing his chest by pulling at his shirt. He felt unusually warm for this time of night.

“Jesus, Trav, you’re sweating like crazy!”, Ben was taken aback by how feverish his friend had become in such a short space of time. Travis reached for his forehead, sweat coating his hand. He could feel the heat radiating off his face.

“I must be coming down with something,” Travis could feel himself burning up, “I think I should go.”

“That’s a good idea, shame though… But thanks for coming, Trav. Let me know how you’re doing,” Ben replied sympathetically.

Travis patted his friend on the shoulder and meandered out of the party. The walk back to his apartment wasn’t long, but it felt like an eternity with the stifling fever.

“Shit, it was probably something in that fucking drink,” Travis thought to himself as he stumbled home.

With a sigh of relief, he threw his keys to the side and collapsed onto his bed. He laid atop the sheets groaning at the heat stirring inside him. But that was not all that was stirring. Travis could feel himself becoming hornier by the minute. Before long, his cock was erect and begging for release in his shorts.

His breathing was becoming heavy and rapid. His cock had never felt so hard in his life. He wrinkled the sheets in his fists while his whisper-soft moans grew louder and louder. Until, with a gasp, he launched a load of cum into his jeans. It took him a moment to realize what had happened. “What… the fuck… is going on,” confused, he pulled himself upright and stumbled off the bed before collapsing to the floor on his hands and knees.

“What’s… happening,” Travis mumbled feeling his entire body wind up with sexual tension. A guttural groan bellowed out from his throat as his almost six-foot-tall body began to stretch. His lengthening arms pushed him further off the ground, while his legs slid out along the floor. Unable to hold it back, the now six-foot-three Travis orgasmed again.

The same tension filled Travis’s hands and wound its way up his arms. He could feel his biceps swelling against the short sleeves of his shirt while striations of muscle bulged from his forearms. His hands spread further out along the floor, the palms growing outward. His fingers stretched out longer and larger. His arms, meanwhile, throbbed and tore through his sleeves. His shoulders ballooned outward with muscle, destroying the top of the shirt. Travis’s eyes bulged and his cock fired again at the sight of his massive, muscular arms and the large, manicured hands attached to them.

“Please… f- fuck… what’s happening to m- me,” Travis crashed to the floor and rolled onto his back, bending his back upwards. His nipples ached to be touched as pecs swelled outward from his thin chest. Buttons snapped apart and the shirt fell away as his chest heaved larger. He ran his hands across the mounds feeling a smattering of hair gracing his chest. Moving lower he touched the abs that were throbbing outward from his slimming stomach. His fingers traced newly forming cum gutters down to his hips. He could feel how tight and lean his waist was becoming with his jeans loosening slightly.

Travis attempted to remove himself from the floor. He pushed himself back onto his arms and legs, failing to make further progress when wave after wave of pleasure rocked his cock. Cum unloaded over and over as the six-inch member began to slowly enlarge underneath his pants.

The changes continued their migration, with Travis’s lower half next in line. His ass soared outward, thickening and swelling, tearing the rear of his jeans and underwear. Further down, his legs filled with muscle and railed against the denim. His knees burst from the fabric as his calves bulked up dramatically. Thick, meaty thighs tore at the seams, leaving the jeans almost completely in ruins.

Travis’s growing cock jutted out from the mostly destroyed pants, eliciting a loud moan while it unloaded on the floor. Rolling to the side and pushing his hips toward the ceiling he came again, shooting across his beautifully muscular chest. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing: a thicker cock, at least an inch longer, rising skyward.

Travis kicked at the heels of his size ten sneakers, desperate to remove them as they began to constrict his feet. But his lengthening toes bulged against the canvas, tearing through with a rip, followed by a moan. The soles soared into the open air, his arches and heels elongating and widening. Travis could see the toes on his now size thirteens poking above the meaty pecs in front of his face - long, lean, and immaculately cared for.

“God… augh… I- I don’t… understand… w- what’s… happening,” Travis growled feeling his jaw shift. His face shifted sharper and more angular. He clasped at his head, feeling a new nose and mouth. His short hair rustled out longer on the top, styling itself upward into a handsome quiff. His cock throbbed, continuing to creep longer and thicker while larger balls quivered below.

A large hand gripped the tall chest of drawers as Travis pulled himself to his feet and desperately fumbled for the small mirror sitting atop it. He brought it to his face and shuddered at the sight of his stunning new reflection. Trembling, he ran a finger down his cheek and moaned with the confirmation that this was him.

“I- I’m hot?!” Travis stuttered aloud. The eight long, thick inches of cock sticking out from his crotch trembled in excitement at the view. Reluctantly, he grasped his cock in his hand and stroked. He gasped at the sensitivity of the larger head, knowing he wouldn’t last long.

With a gasping roar, Travis came explosively. He fell backward onto his bed, continuing to shoot onto his washboard abs. After the last of his former self was expelled, he stumbled to the bathroom, still in awe at the body he now possessed.

The moment was interrupted by a distant buzz. It was a text from Ben. Travis’s mind raced. How would he explain this? Who would believe him?

He opened the message: “Hope you feel better soon!” Attached below was a selfie of the two of them that Ben had taken earlier in the night, except in the photo Travis looked exactly like he did now. Reality had seemingly shifted around him. But his memory and the tattered clothes lining the floor and hanging from his body told another story. Stunned, Travis flung upon his closet door to see larger, fancier clothes lining the racks and shelves. Still in disbelief, he switched to the camera roll on his phone. All of the old photos of him seemed to reflect his new appearance.

It was only then that he connected the dots: the “Liquid Wish” he’d thought was a gag, followed by the remark that he wished he looked like the attractive men at the party.

“What the fuck was in that stuff,” Travis pondered, thinking back to the store. “But whatever it was, I think I can get used to this,” Travis thought as he glanced in the mirror once more and groped his large package.

Body to Brag

--- Originally posted by unknown before 2018-08-22 ---

So you want a body you can brag about, well since you been so nice and kind and you have helped me along this journey I can.

All I just need is you to put these on. Ohh, there to big for you.

I am sure you will grow into them.

You're feeling hot?

Why don't you just jump into the blue sea and cool off?

Wow, nice jump man.

Are you still feeling good? No? How?

All a sudden you feel great pain in the chest and feel great muscle grow, you feel six punches in your belly, you uncover a sweet six-pack.

You feel more muscle growth in your arms and legs, as you get stronger.

You feel that tension between your arms and your moans as they grow bigger and deeper.

Your legs get straight as all the muscle gets into a balance.

Heat goes to your face as you feel a rash and the more you started you felt a small beard form.

You soon feel you get longer and your nose straight and your eyes widened to show you beautiful eye color as it changes from green to black and soon that red hair becomes a beautiful brown shiny hair.

You begin to moan as your small ass gets bigger for fucking people with, your dick gets bigger and so do your balls, as you cum all over them.

You begin to moan, as your mind becomes clear and you're dumber, as it gets cleared with sexy guys.

Well if you are feeling good, you look good instead.

Well, get out of that water if you feeling good? No, why?

Who are you starting at? Him? Wow!

Why don't you get a piece of him?

You can brag to him about your body, but I think you're too dumb to understand me.

Well just go gets some ass because I think he is starting at you too and I think he needs help down there man.

And maybe after that, you can tell me the details.

Well, I don't think you need that Brian to brag, even though you can't because you're too dumb to understand me and you can just let your body do the work.

Oops sorry man I that I used too many words.

Don't stand around to get him.

He looked into mirror, starring intently at his reflection and said it, practically as a whisper “bro”

He shuddered violently, instantly experiencing such an intense wave of nausea he had to hold on to the sink to prevent himself from passing out.

He tried to catch his breath and looked back up at his reflection intently. Nothing seemed to have changed except for maybe his rigid posture and the determination in his eyes. Of course his body was going to resist. He was going against everything he was and thought he wanted to be for so long.

But that was about to change. His best friend went though it, the guy he had a crush on most of his life but dared not say it… now he was something completely different, something they used to despite. He felt a flicker of it inside him already, ready to grow. He gripped the sink harder this time and said it again… “bro”

It was easier and more obvious this time as he kept his eyes locked on his reflection. Same wave of nausea, but the body shiver was accompanied by something more, a new wave of golden color to his skin, a clearing of his complexion, dissolving of a layer of fat. He watched as he gained a few inches in height and waist rose to sink level. He already looked so much better. But he had to commit. No turning back now. “bro”

Less nausea more pleasure this time as everything about him became larger. The facial changes were even more dramatic compared to the subtle differences before- jawline, full lips, thin eyebrows and growing full curly head of hair. Noticing the changes was accompanied by a new rush and swell in confidence not just muscle. This wasn’t a feeling he was used to when seeing himself naked, but here he was hot and beautiful and the high just made his head numb with bliss and pleasure. This was it. He was becoming one. A “bro”

Now his voice sounded deeper. Still gripping the sink he see his arms flex and pump with new muscle. Everything about him screamed gym rat, jock, no- look at that ass swell- fuckboy. Yeah. That was more like it. His waist was well above the sink now, just hiding the monster member growing below. Fuck it felt good. The empty head made so much sense now with all the urges and hunger pumping through his veins. Hell yeah. No goin back. He wanted to flex, he wanted to lift, he wanted to fuck. But first. Looking into the mirror. Thirsting at everything he was becoming. He smirked and said… “bro”

Super hot story! Great for a first attempt at inanimate TF.

Not In The Exhibit Brochure

It was a hot summer day and the city was filled with people coming to be a part of one of the biggest fantasy conventions in the country. Video games, board games, tabletop RPGs, LARP, movies, TV shows, theater shows, even musicals. If one fancied themselves a fan of a franchise that existed in any of these forms, they could be found spending a sunny August weekend in the convention center.

Mark meandered between countless people in the Second Pavilion, getting tired having spent the last five hours walking around the convention area, being asked for pictures and catching up with his friends. This year he came wearing a full cosplay of one of the characters from his favorite first person shooter. He put on a tactical vest, helmet with a full headset, a tactical belt with a bunch of accessories and camo pants. In his hands he was bearing a perfect replica of the most famous gun from the game.

He spent a long time perfecting the costume, both by searching for just the right gear and by spending hours in the gym. Now his broad and thick shoulders, football-sized biceps and veiny forearms were visible for all attendees, which garnered Mark a lot of attention, which he enjoyed.

It was exhausting, however. The temperature inside the convention center got uncomfortably high at times, so he decided to take a break. He fold the few friends who joined him during the day that he was leaving for a while to take in some relatively fresh air, then pushed his way through the crowds until he got to the exit.

Thanks to the fact that the center was basically in the middle of the city he didn't have to go far to get to a park and relax, then find a place to eat and just take a walk through the city.

Mark was aware that many businesses and institutions had various perks for the convention ticket holders, to keep the attendees in the city for longer and spread the economic effects of the convention. He was reminded of this fact just as he was walking by the giant building of the art museum. His curiosity was piqued and he checked if he would get a discount of a ticket. It turned out he could walk in for free, the only requirement was to show his pass at the entrance.

What Mark saw after getting through a quick but awkward security check truly amazed him. He slowly walked from one part of the building to the next, taking his time to watch every piece, all displayed in a well air-conditioned space, which was a nice bonus. The museum had a bunch of different special exhibits currently open to the public and they were all pretty stunning, each in its own way.

Finally, Mark made his way to a part of the museum furthest away from the entrance where he saw a recent collection of sculptures from a local artist. Each statue was an extremely realistic depiction of a person, and they were supposed to collectively represent modern society. There were athletes mid-run, businessmen in the middle of walking in between offices, chefs tasting their newest creations, it was all incredible to watch, every sculpture most likely taking weeks or months to complete. Mark stood in the middle of the room as he looked around and every time he managed to find a new detail in one of the statues. While his eyes were jumping from one piece to another, inspecting every curve and small detail, he was unaware of just how much time has passed since he entered this space.

And then he tried to move.

Mark heard his phone buzz loudly in his pocket. It was probably one of his friends wanting to check up on him. He tried to move his hand to take the phone and answer the call, but it wouldn't move. Neither would his head. Or any part of his body. He was immediately alarmed. Mark tried as hard as he could to get any element within his human form to move even an inch, but it didn't work. His whole body was suddenly completely stationary and he could not control its movements, because he couldn't cause any movements. He started to panic and hoped someone would notice that he wasn't well. There were a lot of people at the museum so it would be just a matter of time before one of them came to this room and noticed a guy in a military cosplay was standing weirdly still.

Except this did not happen. Visitors just passed by him with no interest in the person standing frozen in the middle of the room. As Mark looked with his unmovable eyes at the tourists wandering around the space right in front of him he felt like he was losing the track of time. Was it a minute ago that he realized he couldn't move? No it mus have been almost an hour by then. Nah, it couldn't be.

Then Mark realized something horrifying. Not only was no one coming up to help him, they began to stop in front of him and just look at him, as if he was just another...

Did he turn into a fucking statue?! That terrifying thought seeped deep into his mind wreaking havoc along the way. How could this have happened? Magic? But magic wasn't real! That was impossible, this was a dream, for sure! He tried to move his body even a little bit, but again he failed every time. He desperately tried to force his hand to move so that he could pinch himself and wake up from this terrifying nightmare. But no part of his arm changed position, not even an inch.

A larger group of tourists, mostly retirees, led by a young woman slowly moved through the exhibition space and passed by Mark, who continued to struggle and try to move.

"Huh, the guide didn't say anything about this one. Did that lovely lady talk about this soldier, Harold?" An elderly couple stopped in front of Mark and they stood there and admired him for a moment.

"No, Mary, I'm pretty sure I'd remember" The man, Harold, took a step closer towards the statue.

"Harold!" The woman shouted at him. "You can't walk up too close to the sculptures dear."

"Oh, calm down" Harold responded, slightly annoyed at his wife's comment. "I'm in an art museum so don't tell me to not look at the art." The older man stood just a few steps away from Mark. "There's no plaque or rope or anything, this is a free country, Mary!" He was a few inches shorter than Mark, so he couldn't clearly see everything but it seemed he was just looking at Mark's gear.

"Look.The artist - that Gary what's-his-name - knew what he was doing with this one. I recognize all that gear this man is wearing. Nice work." Harold's tone of voice suggested he was weirdly pleased with the statue that used to be Mark. "This is what a real man's supposed to look like. Not some sissy sitting behind the desk all day."

"Of course Harold, of course" The woman walked up to her husband and put her arm around him, then started gently pushing him towards the other statues.

Mark's brain struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed. He had really turned into a statue! People thought he was a part of the exhibit! How could this have happened? He couldn't come up with any even remotely plausible explanation for what he was experiencing. He then thought that his only hope would be his friends - they knew he was downtown, maybe some would guess that he used the opportunity to get into the art museum for free, which would lead them to the place where Mark was currently stranded.

The group of retirees came back, walked next to Mark and was about to leave the room when the tour guide looked at him and murmured to herself.

"This statue was not a part of the exhibit. How did it get here?" She grabbed her phone and quickly led her group towards the rest of the museum.

Mark again realized he couldn't tell how much time had passed since any of the recent events. It was as if his internal clock had stopped working, ran out of batteries. This whole experience was so confusing that he had issues fully registering everything. He tried counting in his head, but got lost after 20, maybe? The only thing he was sure of, for now, was that the day had not yet ended, but he could not tell what part of the day it was, as the whole museum was constantly lit with this slightly weird diffused lighting.

Three people suddenly came into view and stood some distance away from Mark, clearly looking at him. He couldn't hear the conversation they were having because of the noise from surrounding visitors, but he could clearly see that they were all agitated, talking over each other and aggressively pointing at themselves and Mark. As he looked closer he realized they were all museum employees, meaning they were probably debating what to do with a statue which has suddenly appeared within the premises of the musem they worked for, a rather uncommon occurrence.

Not long after they left Mark's view and he was once again stuck in this feeling ot timelessness. Tourists stopped in front of him every now and then, looked at him for a moment and moved on, while he stood still, holding the gun in his hands as if ready to fight, and yet incapable of it because of some indescribable force.

The employees from before came back, one of them holding in their hands a metal stand of come kind. It had something written on it at the top, but Mark couldn't see what it was. What he could see was the employee putting the stand in front of him and them all looking at it.

"That will have to do for now" One of them said. This time they were standing closer and Mark was able to hear what they were saying.

"Yeah, I won't be able to make a proper one until tomorrow."

"Okay, but it has to be there by Monday afternoon, otherwise we're fucked. Jesus Christ, still'can't believe this happened."

"No time for moaning, Jacob. We have work to do." Another one replied. They all nodded their heads, took one last look at the stand and quickly left the scene.

Mark thought about what he had just witnessed, and it took him a moment to understand - this was a stand with information about the statue, which meant him. It was the same kind as dozens more throughout the museum that visitors could look at for further information that was meant to enrich their experiences. This was meant to hide the fact that he was not here just mere hours, or minutes, or days, or-- he was certainly not here when the exhibition was opened. That fact was probably what had made them so angry and confused before - from their perspective a random statue of a soldier randomly appeared in the museum.

His mind immediately asked one question - I wonder what did they write on there? What was his title, his author, his artistic description or statement? Wait, his author? That was a strange line of thought, Mark realized.

I am Uncontrolled Power.

Wait, what was that? Who said that? Where was that deep voice coming from?

I was created by Greg Duchaime Arreman.

Was there someone standing behind him?

I am meant to represent unchecked aggression and power of the Military Industrial Complex.

Wait a second, what this voice inside his head?

I am the physical manifestation of toxic masculinity and bravado.

Holy fuck, this was a voice inside his head. Was this... what they had written about him on this stand?

Fuck yeah, I'm an alpha who follows orders and crushes any sign of disloyalty.

The voice was talking to Mark. Shit, the voice was talking to him! What the fuck?

You scum, get ready to experience the primal, animalistic force of a toxic man! I'm gonna crush you!

Mark wanted to sigh loudly, but of course he couldn't. Great, the museum employees with their great art wisdom made him a stereotypical aggressive soldier. Obedient muscle. The armored tool of American imperialism. And this soldier character seemed to have appeared inside his head.

I am here to blindly follow orders, enforce them and show everyone what masculinity really means!

If Mark could have rolled his eyes, he would. He was stuck, like an NPC frozen mid-frame, standing in the middle of an art museum, possibly forever. And from now on he would represent toxic masculinity, aggression and military prowess.

Whoever stands in my way will be violently crushed with the power of the American Military and my primal force! Toxic and proud, that's who I am!