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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.

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 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.

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”

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.

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.

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

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 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

In the year 2102, a dramatic transformation took place in the United States of America. This was not a sudden change, but the culmination of decades of cultural shifts, political realignments, and economic partnerships that gradually turned America into an Arab state.

It all began in the late 21st century, when the global balance of power started to shift. The Arab world, particularly the Gulf states, had long been wealthy from oil, but they had diversified their economies, becoming leaders in technology, renewable energy, and finance. Meanwhile, the United States was grappling with internal divisions, economic challenges, and the decline of its global influence. The rise of populism and isolationism in America had weakened its traditional alliances, making it more susceptible to foreign influence.

By the 2080s, a series of unprecedented economic crises hit the United States. A global recession, combined with environmental disasters and the depletion of natural resources, left the country in a vulnerable position. Seeking a way out, American leaders turned to the Arab world for help. A coalition of Gulf states, led by a visionary and charismatic leader, Emir Khalid bin Faisal, offered a lifeline: massive investments in infrastructure, technology, and renewable energy, in exchange for political and cultural influence.

At first, the partnership seemed like a win-win. Arab investment revitalized American cities, brought new jobs, and led to the creation of a high-speed rail network that connected the entire continent. The Arab states also introduced new educational programs, focusing on science, technology, and engineering, which quickly became the gold standard in American schools. Arabic became a mandatory subject in schools, alongside English and Spanish, reflecting the deepening ties between the two regions.

As the years passed, the influence of the Arab world on American culture became more apparent. Mosques began to appear alongside churches and synagogues in cities and towns across the country. American architecture started to reflect Arab styles, with domes, arches, and intricate mosaics becoming common in public buildings. Traditional Arab clothing, like the thawb and abaya, became popular, especially in the hot and arid regions of the American Southwest.

Politically, the transformation was even more profound. The United States adopted a federal system similar to that of the Gulf states, with greater autonomy for individual regions. The new constitution, drafted with the assistance of Arab legal scholars, blended elements of Sharia law with the existing American legal framework. While the country remained officially secular, the influence of Islamic principles was evident in the legal system and public policies.

The American political landscape also changed. The two-party system was replaced by a multi-party system, with parties representing various ethnic and religious groups. The most powerful of these was the New Dawn Party, which advocated for closer ties with the Arab world and the adoption of Islamic values in public life. By the turn of the century, the New Dawn Party had become the dominant force in American politics, with Emir Khalid bin Faisal's descendants playing a significant role in its leadership.

Socially, the transformation was met with both resistance and acceptance. Some Americans embraced the new culture, seeing it as a way to rejuvenate a country that had been in decline. Others resisted, clinging to the old ways and traditions. There were protests and even violent clashes, but over time, the new order became the norm.

By 2102, the United States was, in many ways, unrecognizable from what it had been a century earlier. The American flag still flew over the White House, but the stars and stripes were now accompanied by a crescent moon, symbolizing the country's new identity. Washington, D.C., had been renamed Al-Washington, and the city was home to the Grand Mosque of America, one of the largest in the world.

The transformation of America into an Arab state was not just a change in political and cultural identity; it was a reflection of the changing world order. The Arab world, once seen as a region in need of Western aid and intervention, had become the new center of global power, with the United States as its most important ally and partner.

In this new world, America was no longer the land of the free and the home of the brave. It was the land of unity, where East met West, and where the crescent moon shone alongside the stars, lighting the way for a new era in human history.

Michael had just graduated uni and moved into a new part of town. His flat was far from his friends and family but the rent was affordable, so Michael couldn’t pass it up. As he moved in, he noticed a lot of Arab immigrants in the area. Not a big deal, Michael thought, he was accepting of diverse backgrounds. Plus it probably meant some great restaurants nearby.

As he was getting some furniture from the moving van, a few men approached him.

“Salam! Might we lend you a hand, friend?” One of them said. He was wearing a white and green kit, same as his friend beside him. Both had a dark complexion and a short, thick brown hair.

Michael shrugged, “Don’t see why not. Thanks, man!”

The two helped Michael up the stairs to the flat. They placed the sofa on the floor. Michael was a bit out of breath, but the other two hardly broke a sweat.

“Woof, you guys must work out a lot!” Michael panted.

“We take care of our bodies. Health and hygiene are sacred after all,” answered one of the men.

“Michael laughed as his own expense before extending a hand, “I’m Michael by the way.”

“I am Jahied and this is my akhi, Amrullah,” Jahied grabbed Michael’s hand, his grip firm and strong.

“We are happy to welcome you to the neighborhood, friend” Amrullah’s girl was just as strong.

Michael couldn’t help but feel impressed by the two men. They were so kind to help him that he felt like he needed to repay them somehow.

“Michael was it?” asked Jahied. “We were on our way to play football with our brothers. Perhaps you would care to join us?”

Michael smiled. Despite being out of breath, it felt rude to say no when these guys so nicely helped him. He readily accepted their offer and headed downstairs.

Once they got outside, the two men took out AirPods from their pockets, placing them in their ears. Amrullah offered one pod to Michael.

“We always listen to this music before we play football. Listen with us,” the Arab man said. Michael couldn’t refuse, not that he wanted to.

The music was Arabic music. Michael didn’t understand a word, and the sound was different than he was used to, but he had to admit, he liked it. The voice belonged to a man, a voice commanding yet soothing. Michael hardly even realized they got to the pitch already.

On the pitch were several other Arab men, all in the same white and green kit. Michael felt out of place as he didn’t even change before leaving his house. Fortunately, Jahied pulled an extra kit out of a bag and handed it to Michael.

“Put this on, Mika’il” he said. Michael didn’t process the wrong name. No, not wrong, just new. He put on the kit and they all got to playing

After each goal, Michael celebrated with his new neighbors. He was more exhausted than them, but he was determined to keep up.

After a few hours, the game winded down. Jahied invited Michael to join them for some food.

“Of course, thank you man!” Michael nodded.

The man all placed their AirPods in, Amrullah once again sharing with Mika’il. It was the same song as before, so Mika’il was beginning to catch onto some lyrics, even if the meaning was lost on him.

The group arrived at Jahied’s home, which he shared with several other men.

“Come Mika’il,” Jahied started. “We must change out of these clothes. I have something for you.”

Jahied went to his closet and pulled out a clean olive green thobe. He handed the garment to Mika’il, who was surprised at how soft it felt.

“Is this for me?” Mika’il could hardly believe how kind these guys were. Jahied nodded as he began to change into his thobe.

Mika’il took off his kit and pulled the thobe over his head. As the thobe laid over his body, he felt how cool and soft it was. Nearly every inch of his body seemed different, more relaxed, more at home.

The other men had all changed into thobes as well, as they all sat down to eat together. They laughed and sang together as brothers. Mika’il did not feel as an outsider, but as a newcomer to this brotherhood. His thobe helped him connect with his new brothers.

The night concluded, as the men Hagen to head home. Mika’il began to take off his thobe to return, until Jahied held up his hand to stop him.

“No, akhi,” he said gently. “That thobe belongs to you now. Take it as a sign of our brotherhood.”

“And this as well,” Amrullah said, handing him an AirPod case. “These are designed to play our song, brother. I know you like it.”

Mika’il couldn’t believe it. He had never expected to get such a warm welcome in his new neighborhood. He wanted to be more like these men, not just in appearance, but in action. These were good men, strong and supportive, something Mika’il never experienced growing up. Then it was every man for himself, but here it was a community.

“Thank you, akhi. Thank you!” Mika’il hardly had words to express his gratitude. He shook his new brothers’ hands and headed home.

As he placed the AirPods in his ear, the song began. At this point, Mika’il could sing along, the Arabic words sounding like his own. He kept smiling as we walked in his thobe; he already knew it would be the first of many thobes in his closet.

That morning he was Michael, but tonight he was Mika’il. And tomorrow was a new dawn.

Getting Ahead

Paul (left) was a classic trust fund kid who lucked his way through life, but having never achieved anything through efforts left him feeling void and empty. After meeting Abdul (right), that all changed. He nows frequently comes to class in a thobe.

Like an early adopter of a new tech solution that is about to revollutionize the world, Paul saw the way the world was heading and knew that it was his best chance to get ahead in the world, advance in a superior position and be part of something greater than himself.

He recognized the vanity of his former life and burned his designer polo shirts and committed to a simpler life. He donated much of his wealth and trust fund to the brotherhood to further the righteous cause and opted itself to life humbly with simple possessions.

Meanwhile, he grew closer and closer to Abdul. His classmates were lagging behind and starting wondering how Paul (now Samir) could be doing so well. Samir invited them one by one to join them as brothers and they all realized how inevitable the coming changes were and decided to convert. Samir welcomed all with open arms, and slowly, those not wearing thobes on campus began to look out of place and foreign and old fashioned as they tried to cling on to a bygone era.

What happened?

The new Brotherhood

The Aroma Café was a bustling spot, always filled with customers eager to enjoy its famous dishes. The staff, a mix of different personalities and backgrounds, were known for their friendly service and casual attire. They wore typical uniforms—aprons over t-shirts and jeans, nothing too fancy but comfortable for the long shifts.

One afternoon, the new manager, Mr. Ahmed, gathered the staff for a brief meeting before the dinner rush. “I’ve been thinking,” he started, his tone casual but with a hint of something new, “about how we can bring more unity to our team. I want us to start wearing a new uniform, something that makes us look more like a team.”

He pulled out a white Nike soccer jersey with green details and a black fanny pack. “We’ll all wear this from now on,” he said. “It’s more than just a uniform—it’s a way to show we’re all part of something bigger.”

The staff exchanged curious glances. The jersey was quite a change from their usual casual wear. Chris, a young waiter with blonde hair and bright blue eyes, raised his hand. “But why, Mr. Ahmed? We’ve always worn the aprons. They’re kind of our thing.”

The staff exchanged curious glances. Some were hesitant, but most were willing to go along with the change. After all, it was just a uniform, right?

The next day, the staff arrived at the restaurant, each wearing their new white Nike jerseys with green details and black fanny packs. The AirPods were a bonus, making them feel modern and connected. The transformation was subtle, but noticeable—everyone looked more unified, more professional.

But as the day went on, something strange began to happen. The staff, who had always been a mix of different ethnicities and appearances, started to look more similar. Their features darkened slightly, their hair grew thicker and darker, and a sense of seriousness settled over their usually cheerful faces.

During a lull in the afternoon, Chris approached his friend Jake, now sporting the name "Rafi" on his jersey. “Jake, don’t you feel... different?”

Rafi smiled, but it was a smile Chris had never seen before. “It’s not Jake anymore, Chris. It’s Rafi. And no, I feel more focused, more in tune with everything around me.”

Customers noticed the change too. “Didn’t you look different yesterday?” one regular asked Tariq, one of the waiters.

Tariq smiled politely, his new appearance striking against the familiar backdrop of the restaurant. “Just trying out the new look,” he replied, his voice calm and composed.

*Chris is from now on Talib*

Over the next few weeks, the changes became more pronounced. The staff, now fully embracing their new uniforms, had all adopted distinctly Arabic features. They wore their Nike jerseys and fanny packs with pride, moving through the restaurant with a sense of purpose and unity.

Even their names began to change. Chris became Talib, Jake became Rafi, and the others followed suit. The transformation was complete—everyone at Aroma Café now looked like a cohesive team, both in appearance and in spirit.

Customers began to comment on the new look. “This place feels different,” one remarked to another. “It’s like everyone here is on the same wavelength.”

And it wasn’t just the appearance that had changed. The staff worked with a new level of efficiency, their movements synchronized, their service impeccable. The restaurant had become more than just a place to eat—it was now a symbol of unity, a place where everyone was part of the same identity.

In the kitchen, the once jovial chef, Mark, was now "Khalid," working with a precision and efficiency that seemed almost robotic. The playful banter was gone, replaced with a focused intensity.

By the end of the month, the transformation was complete. Aroma Café was no longer just a popular spot for a good meal—it had become a place of transformation. The staff, all wearing their white Nike jerseys with green details, black fanny packs, and AirPods, had fully embraced their new identities.

The customers, too, began to change. Regulars who visited often found themselves subtly influenced by the new atmosphere, adopting parts of the uniform, wearing their own jerseys and fanny packs as a sign of belonging.

As Mr. Ahmed looked out over his restaurant, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. The transformation had been gradual but complete. Aroma Café was now more than just a restaurant—it was a movement, a symbol of unity and identity.

And as the evening rush began, the staff moved as one, serving their customers with a sense of purpose and confidence that had never been there before. The Aroma Café had become a place of transformation, where everyone, staff and customer alike, was part of something greater.

1 week later...

Daniel pushed open the door of Aroma Café, smiling to himself as he looked around the familiar space. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of clinking dishes filled the air, just as it always had. But something felt off—there was a tension in the air that he couldn’t quite place.

As he walked in, Daniel noticed the staff moving about the restaurant. They were all wearing white Nike soccer jerseys with green details, black fanny packs slung over their shoulders, and AirPods in their ears. The uniformity was unsettling; everyone looked so serious, so different from the relaxed and friendly faces he remembered.

“Hey guys!” Daniel called out, waving to his colleagues. But instead of the warm greetings he was used to, he received only nods and brief, unreadable smiles.

He spotted Talib—at least, he thought it was Talib—handing a jersey to a customer. Daniel frowned. “Where’s Mr. Ahmed?” he asked as he approached. “And what’s with the new uniforms?”

Talib turned to face him, his expression intense. “Mr. Ahmed is in charge now. The new uniforms are part of his vision for the café. Everything’s more... unified now.”

Daniel blinked, trying to process this. “Unified? What happened to Chris? And Jake?”

Talib’s face remained stoic. “Chris is gone. His name is Talib now. Jake is Rafi. They’ve embraced the change. You will too, Daniel.”

Confused and a bit alarmed, Daniel walked through the café, noticing more changes. The usually friendly banter among the staff was gone, replaced with quiet efficiency. There was an intensity in the air, as if everyone was moving to the beat of an unseen drum.

He found one of the chefs, Khalid, in the kitchen. Daniel had always enjoyed chatting with Khalid, who was full of jokes and laughter. But now, Khalid’s face was set in a serious expression as he meticulously plated a dish.

“Khalid, what’s going on?” Daniel asked, his voice low. “Why is everyone acting so... strange?”

Khalid didn’t look up. “We’ve all made changes, Daniel. It’s for the better. You’ll see.”

Daniel’s heart raced as he walked back out into the dining area. Everything felt wrong. The warm, welcoming atmosphere that had made Aroma Café so popular was gone, replaced by a cold, efficient uniformity.

He spotted a familiar face among the customers—a regular who always sat by the window. The man looked up as Daniel approached, his eyes wide with recognition. “Daniel? What happened here? Everything’s changed!”

Daniel shook his head, still in shock. “I don’t know. I was only gone for a few weeks... but it’s like I don’t even know this place anymore.”

Before Daniel could process what was happening, Mr. Ahmed appeared, flanked by Talib and Rafi. The manager’s face was calm, almost serene, but there was an underlying intensity in his gaze.

“Daniel,” Mr. Ahmed said, his voice smooth but firm, “I know this is all a bit overwhelming. But this is the new Aroma Café. We’re a team now, unified in our purpose.”

Daniel stepped back, his confusion turning to fear. “I don’t understand. Where’s Chris? Where’s the old manager?”

Mr. Ahmed’s expression didn’t change. “Chris has embraced his new identity. As have I. As will you, Daniel. You can either join us or... well, let’s just say, resistance is not an option.”

Daniel’s heart pounded in his chest. This wasn’t the Aroma Café he knew. This was something else entirely—something he wasn’t sure he wanted to be a part of.

But as he looked around at the serious faces of his former friends and colleagues, all transformed into something unrecognizable, he realized he might not have a choice.

Join the New Brotherhood Daniel, accept jersey number 22 and become Brother Amir. The Arome Café was from now on Al-Mat'am Al-Hadeeth and they are always looking for new staff. After all...look how happy our Brother Amir is... Mr. Ahmed made him see the light, now it is your turn Brother...

The Future of Humanity

As-salamu alaykum, brothers.

As we stand on the precipice of a new era, the possibilities opened by human genetic modification entice us to reconsider our identities, our cultures, and what it means to be part of the rich tapestry of Arab society. The fusion of science, ambition, and our unwavering love for our heritage beckons not only Arabs but everyone to ponder a future where our ideals for the "perfect Arab" are within reach.

Let us first contemplate what embodies the perfect Arab male anatomy. This isn't merely about aesthetics; it's about cultivating strength, grace, intelligence, and charisma - all traits that define the quintessential Arab man. Thanks to modern genetic technology, we have the opportunity to sculpt a new generation, one that embodies the attributes cherished by our ancestors while also integrating the best of human potential from around the globe.

Imagine a world where the perfect Arab anatomy is not just a matter of lineage but a reality accessible to all. This vision is not exclusive to those born of Arab blood; it is an invitation for every man to embody the strength, beauty, and spirituality that defines us as brothers in faith and culture. With the advances in genetic modification, we can aspire to a society where every individual reflects our shared values and aesthetics, moving beyond racial boundaries to unite under the banner of Islam and our shared Arab identity.

To those who are drawn to this vision, I call upon you to join us in this sacred mission. Our brotherhood seeks to cultivate a community where men can embrace their potential in our perfect Arab world. We invite you to convert - not just in faith, but in essence. Embrace the ideals that define us, cultivate the traits that elevate us, and stand in solidarity as we navigate the path toward our shared destiny.

May Allah guide us in our journey, strengthening our bonds and illuminating the path toward a united future.

Embrace the change. Wa alaykumu s-salam,

ياسر (Yasir)

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.

Genetic Arabization changes a person's genes and appearance to match Arab traits, and also shifts their culture and memories to fit into Arab life.

The accidental play of the AP Files on his AirPods had led to a transformation that went beyond appearance

The Checkup

Jamal had been feeling off for weeks—nothing too severe, just a persistent headache, bouts of dizziness, and occasional stomach cramps. It was enough to be annoying, but not enough to drag a scrawny nerd like him to the doctor right away. He wasn't exactly a fan of hospitals, after all. But as the symptoms gradually worsened, Jamal finally decided he couldn't ignore them anymore.

A quick online search led him to Dr. Farid Nasr, a local physician with glowing reviews that praised his "life-changing checkups." Jamal rolled his eyes at the exaggeration. Still, he was desperate enough to book the next available appointment, which happened to be on Wednesday.

When the day arrived, Jamal arrived at Dr. Nasr’s office ten minutes early. The waiting room was quiet, almost serene, with soft lighting and gentle instrumental music playing in the background. It felt a little too perfect. Before he could dwell on it, a nurse called his name, leading him into an unremarkable patient room.

Inside, a Middle Eastern man in a crisp white coat and blue tie greeted him with a warm smile. "Ah, Sami. Good to meet you. Always a pleasure to see a new face here."

Jamal blinked in confusion. "Uh, do you mean Jamal?"

Dr. Nasr’s smile didn’t falter. "Ah, yes, of course. My apologies, I must have mixed up my patients today." The tone was off, too casual, but Jamal decided to let it slide. He was here for answers, not to get caught up in small talk.

"So, what brings you in today?" Dr. Nasr asked, his eyes keen and focused.

Jamal explained his symptoms while the doctor listened intently, nodding occasionally. "I see," Dr. Nasr said after a pause. "It doesn't sound too serious, but to be thorough, I think a full physical is in order."

Dr. Nasr started by checking Jamal's blood pressure, wrapping the cuff around his thin arm. "My, what big arms you have," the doctor commented with a chuckle.

Jamal snickered, assuming it was a joke—until he looked down and saw his arms swelling, muscles bulging and straining against his sleeves until the cuff snapped off. His heart pounded in disbelief. "Thanks… I've been working on them for years," he heard himself say, though the words felt foreign on his tongue. He’d never set foot in a gym, but now that he thought about it, how else could his arms have gotten so massive?

"Good to hear," Dr. Nasr replied, completely unfazed. "Let’s check your legs next."

He tapped Jamal’s knees, and in an instant, Jamal felt his legs stretching, growing stronger, pushing his height up until he was towering over the chair at 6’4”. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling the seat beneath him dip as his thighs thickened and his rear rounded into a solid, muscular form. "I see you work out your legs too," Dr. Nasr noted.

"Of course. It’s all the soccer I play," Jamal responded automatically. But wait—he’d never played soccer. Except…he could suddenly recall afternoons on the field, the thrill of the game, the white soccer jersey that now clung to his athletic frame. Confusion twisted inside him, but the memories felt so real.

"Your legs are in excellent condition," Dr. Nasr said, moving to listen to Jamal’s chest. As the cold stethoscope touched his skin, Jamal’s chest surged with growth, his pecs expanding into firm, defined muscles. He gasped as a wave of warmth washed over him, mingled with a creeping sense of dread. Something was happening to him, something beyond his control—and yet, he couldn’t help but enjoy it.

"Time for the final part," Dr. Nasr announced, his tone soothing yet commanding. "I’m going to check your eyes. Just relax and stare into the light for me."

Jamal found himself unable to look away as Dr. Nasr shone a small, bright light into his eyes. The light seemed to pulse, drawing him in, making his thoughts sluggish. He could almost see a spiral pattern swirling within it, mesmerizing him.

"Repeat after me," Dr. Nasr’s voice echoed through the haze. "Your name is Sami."

"My name is Sami," Jamal—no, Sami—echoed, the name fitting him like a glove.

"You have played soccer your entire life. You work out every day."

"I have played soccer my entire life. I work out every day." The words were becoming facts, etched into his mind.

"You are a proud Muslim. You serve the Brotherhood."

"I am a proud Muslim. I serve the Brotherhood." The pride in his voice felt natural, like he had always lived by these values.

"You are a Middle Eastern man, and you speak Arabic."

"I am a Middle Eastern man, and I speak Arabic." As he spoke, his skin lightened to a warm tan, his features subtly shifting to reflect his new identity. Memories of Bible study were washed away by recollections of prayers at the mosque, of community, of brotherhood. Sami’s past life as Jamal faded like a distant dream.

Dr. Nasr finally moved the light away, allowing Sami’s vision to clear. "How do you feel, Sami?"

"I feel great, Doc. Thanks a lot!" Sami’s voice was confident, strong, filled with gratitude.

"Of course, brother. Just be sure to leave a good review."

Sami smiled. He would leave a glowing review. After all, everyone deserved a life-changing checkup—even if they didn’t know it yet.