Assimilation - Tumblr Posts

Swede

A young Swede called Georg had arrived in Qatar for what he expected to be a brief visit. He had planned to meet friends who would escort him to his destination, but as he stepped out of the airport, he realized they were nowhere to be found. Confused and uncertain, Georg wandered through the unfamiliar streets of Doha.

The midday heat was intense, and Georg felt out of place. He had no idea where to go or how to navigate the city. Just as he was starting to feel overwhelmed, a gleaming 4x4 pulled up beside him. The vehicle was occupied by a group of friendly-looking Saudi men. One of them, a man named Hamza, rolled down the window and called out to Georg.

“Hey there! You look lost. Want a lift?” Hamza asked in broken English with a welcoming smile.

Georg was relieved to find someone who spoke English and gratefully accepted the offer. He climbed into the luxurious SUV, and hoped this would be the solution to his despair.

As he settled into the plush seat, Hamza turned on some traditional Saudi music. Georg found the music strange and unfamiliar. It was a blend of rhythmic drums and melodic vocals that didn’t quite resonate with his Westerm taste. At the same time, Georg noticed a strong, distinctive smell in the car—a musky, masculine scent that seemed to be coming from the men around him. It was a scent he wasn't used to, and he found it somewhat overpowering.

As the journey progressed, Georg found himself breathing in more of the musk that filled the car. The scent penetrated his senses, and as he inhaled deeply, he began to feel a strange sensation. His body started to change. His skin tone gradually shifted to a warm, olive hue, and his facial features altered to fit those of the Saudi men around him.

His previous life, memories, and identity seemed to fade away as he embraced his new form. His skull reshaped subtly to match the typical features of an Arab man, and his understanding of the world evolved.

The Saudi music began to sound pleasant and familiar. Georg found himself enjoying the rhythms and melodies, his earlier discomfort replaced by a growing appreciation for the music.

The car was filled with brotherhood and warmth. They laughed, chatted, and sang along to the music, making him feel completely at home.

They called him Gaith, and when Gaith settled into his new identity, he glanced around the car and noticed something curious. One of the toys in the back seat had Swedish names on it. It was a small reminder of his past life, a life he could barely recall now. It was as if the car had held a piece of his former self while he was becoming someone newer and better.

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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

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

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.

Of Spies and Muscleheads Part 7

Hey, guys. Just one more part to go after this, and Of Spies and Muscleheads will be complete. It’s been awesome sharing this story with you, and I look forward to sharing more in times to come, but after this, Coach Stone may end up disappearing for a time as I work on the next arc involving him. My apologies for having to make you wait, but rest assured, there will be more transformations to come across a variety of paths, including muscle growth and mental changes, so don’t worry. You’ll see more of the themes you love. I promise. ~Omni

The newly dubbed Controller chuckled. “Time to wake up, bros.” His fingers whisked over the keys faster than they had, even when he had been his old self. “Meatheads will wake. Meatheads will respond. Meatheads will obey.”

The smaller men behind suddenly stiffened, as if a bolt of electricity had run through them. They doubled in size and muscle mass, grinning like the idiots they now were. A metal storage closet door buckled and shrieked in protest, before bursting open to reveal the torn lab coat of a technical assistant beneath a tower of muscle. A headpiece that was far too small for this man’s new form barely clung to his ear as he strode out of the tiny and much deformed space to join the others. And still all Hunter could do was stare.

“How far along are we, Controller?”

“Conversion at fifty percent, Sir,” he droned.

“Good. Meatheads, go round up any stragglers in the building who haven’t been hooked to the communications network. Controller, keep up the work here. Meathead, Skinner, guard Controller.”

A resounding, “Yes, sir, Coach. We are meatheads. We obey,” echoed in stereo over the screen, before the column of men filed out in search of stragglers.

“I do so love my meatheads. Don’t you, Agent Hunter?” Stone asked.

“Go to hell,” Hunter growled.

“That would make an interesting vacation spot, but I think I much prefer Florida,” Stone quipped.

“Let me go, damnit!”

“In due time, Agent Hunter. In due time.”

“All field agents accounted for, coach,” Controller said. “They have begun the process, and will soon convert to muscle.”

Various screens began popping up over the main one on the tablet.

“Agent Butcher reporting. Butcher is a good meathead.”

“Agent Iron Skull reporting. I am a good meathead.”

“Agent Quicksilver reporting. I am a good meathead.”

And so it continued one after another. Each new agent reporting in was another blow to Hunter’s heart as he watched his comrades in arms fall to little more than thugs for hire swearing their loyalty to a maniac.

“Meatheads, continue your assignments as normal, then contact Controller for your next instructions when they’re complete.”

A collective, “Yes, Sir,” followed, and the communications cut off, leaving just Controller and the meatheads there, and Stone with his meatheads and captive.

“Meathead conversion ninety-nine percent complete, Sir,” Controller said. “Meathead Gym Titan waits for its coaches.”

“And your gym will have them. But first, we should take care of that last percent, wouldn’t you say, Controller?”

“Whatever you say, Coach. This meathead does not think. This meathead obeys.”

“Good meathead. Now put on your helmet, and trigger our last sleeper agent.”

“Yes, sir. Controller is a meathead. Controller obeys.”

The giant known as Meathead approached with a helmet similar to the ones Hunter had seen on the drones as he snuck through the castle, and placed it solidly on Controller’s head. The green plexiglass covering flickered and glowed, and soon enough, he looked just like the rest of the drones.

“Connection restored. Reinforcement protocols initiated.” He flexed, and made his way to the console, his pupils dilating and contracting in time to the pulses from his helmet.

Hunter groaned as he watched those pulses. Jason’s … no, he’s not Jason anymore. It’s Controller’s jockstrap. Controller’s body. He watched the jockstrap straining to hold up. He saw those curved muscles, watched those pectorals as they twitched and bounced. Bouncing. Huge. Swollen. His thickened brow furrowed. Why was he so upset again? Something … wrong?  But bouncing. Pecs. Muscles. They’re nice, aren’t they?

“Not yet, Hunter,” Stone said. Hunter felt a sudden pain burning through his arm. One of the former agents was clinging to it, twisting the skin. “You need to watch and listen.” Stone sneered then, and pointed to the other brain that had been left off at the side. Hunter’s eyes widened as he saw the number had dropped down to 90.

“That’s–.”

“Your IQ, yes. Strange how susceptible you are to my little tricks, wouldn’t you say? Already, you’ve lost so much,” Stone mocked. “Then again, you’ve been exposed for quite a while now, haven’t you?” He turned back to the screen. “You’ll initiate contact on my mark, Controller. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir, Coach,” Controller replied.

“If you’re going to turn me into one of your–” Hunter grunted, swearing in his mind. Why did his clothes have to be so tight? “–Mindless meathead drones, then the least you can do is show me the agent responsible.” His number had dropped to 85, and it was getting harder to stay himself. Harder not to want to flex, to sit and stare, to watch it all go away, far away. Wrapped up deep inside. Deep in his massive meat. But no. He couldn’t … not yet. Not … not yet. Have to focus. Have to stay strong. Stay strong. Strong.… “Who … who helped you? Who betrayed us?” So hard to focus. So hard. Hard muscles. Stronger. 82. Pulsing deeper. 81. Deeper is dumber. Dumbing down. 80. Like a good meathead shoul–NO! He was not a meathead. Want to be a meathead. He would resist. Convert. Obey.

“Wait and see. It won’t take all that long, before Controller makes contact, once I give the order. Just relax, enjoy the ride. I see you’re already starting to, anyways. It’s a real rush, isn’t it, all that power? I felt much the same way when I first changed. The swelling muscles; the surge of the testosterone; the heft of my penis and testicles as they hung, swelled, expanded. I nearly lost myself to my body then, became little more than another one of the brutes you’ve seen. For a short while, I was.

“All I wanted, all I cared about was gym, eat, sleep, and the occasional sexual intercourse. I found employment at a local gym, and for almost a year, I worked and lived as nothing more than a musclebound, weight-obsessed, protein-chugging meathead. Made a nice mint as a model, too, from time to time.” Stone smirked. “To tell you the truth, I’m still not sure what it was that snapped me out of it, and back to my old self. Possibly a delayed reaction in the compound, or maybe it was sheer dumb luck. Whatever the case, when I finally came to myself, and returned to my little lab, the compound had degraded too far for recreation, and, unfortunately, during my little stint in the land of the meatheads, I’d carelessly used my research notes as towels and placeholders for my protein shakes and beer. I had to start from scratch.

“As you can see, I’ve managed to recreate the growth in muscle and body mass, but I have yet to figure out how to preserve my targets’ intelligence. Of course, that’s not an entirely bad thing. And since I was the first, in an ironic twist of fate, everyone automatically perceives me as the alpha, or coach, if you will. Even without proper mental conditioning, I just have to approach them, bark an order at them, and they obey. For example, I could say something like ON YOUR FEET, MEATHEAD, AND GIVE ME TWENTY PUSHUPS NOW!”

Hunter felt a sudden surge of vertigo, and before he knew it, he was on the floor, pushing silently with brutal efficiency. Half a minute later, he was back on his feet again. This was his chance. He could–

“BACK TO YOUR STATION, MEATHEAD. NOW!” Stone barked.

Again, the spinning sensation, the loss of balance or connection with the world. Then the world righted itself. Hunter was staring back at the screen again. He shook his head in disbelief. Stone had to be bluffing. It was the conditioning. Something that traitor Skinner did. He had to be the agent, he had to be. Stone was just trying to keep him distracted, so he couldn’t break free and finish the job. He had to fight this somehow, had to beat it. Smash. Crush. Dumb down. Obey.

“Good boy.” Stone smirked as he watched Hunter’s number drop to 78. “I’d say you’re ready. Controller, contact our agent.”

“Yes, sir. Controller is a good meathead. Controller obeys.”

A high-pitched whine, and the sound of harsh, grating static assaulted Hunter’s ears. He winced.

“’Sup, bro?” Controller’s voice said over the earpiece. “Time to wake up.”

“No … hell no!” Hunter growled. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

Stone smirked. “Controller, override sleeper programming. Authorization key: Full Restore.”

“I obey,” Hunter heard in stereo as the meathead that was once Jason pressed into the console. A familiar workout tune beat into his eardrums. “Controller is a meathead. Controller obeys his coach.”

“Jason, if there’s even so much as a scrap of you left in there, now would be the time to fight back,” Hunter said. “Please.”

Controller paused for a moment, as if considering what Hunter had just said. The music pulsed in Hunter’s brain, making it harder to focus. The heavy clank of weights echoed down the corridors of his mind. He remembered the men so mindlessly at work on those benches, pushing, swelling, growing. He recalled that giant among the meatheads, his helmet, his face, those blank glassy eyes. He remembered the one drone that had offered his helmet, and the intense regret that had run through his mind when he rejected it. Then Controller reached for a particular button, and pressed it. The volume turned up. “Controller is a meathead. Controller obeys. Time to remember, meathead. Time to obey.”

Pain arced through Hunter’s skull. He screamed, and the last thing he heard was the endless laughter of Stone and his army of mindless drones.

Credit to @musclecorps for this image.

If you like this story, please like and reblog. And if you want more content like this, please consider joining my patreon, where you will find all kinds of transformations involving muscle, hypnosis, and other forms. The more patrons I get, the more time I’ll be able to dedicate to writing full time. Thank you all for your support!

This story was written as a gift to a close friend of mine who loves a good greaser thug tf. I hope you all enjoy it, too. Due to length, I included a read more cutoff link for this one. Please read it all the way through. You won’t be disappointed.

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My Necklace, My Chain

It’s sort of like a half-remembered dream, this old place, old life. Or maybe I’m living a dream now. Huh. Living the dream. Hell yeah, I am.

Anyway, it started off sort of weird, I guess. I was a pathetic pile of fat and gristle. No job. No future. No motivation. The world beat me up so bad, and I was just … so fucking tired, bruh. Lost my girl, lost my money, lost my home. It sucked. And I just … I wanted to end it, you know?

…

I almost did.

That’s when this guy showed up out of the blue. This guy who just … sat there and smiled and listened. He didn’t see some homeless tramp. He didn’t see a pathetic pound of flesh waiting to be roasted on the pavement under blistering sun. He saw me. And he didn’t care how I looked. It didn’t matter that my clothes weren’t washed. It didn’t matter that I was scrabbled with a thick patchy beard. It didn’t even matter how much my breath stank or how I reeked of BO because I couldn’t find a place to shower and barely got the essentials using public sinks in a restroom.

He. Saw. Me.

He introduced himself. We talked. And like a parishioner to a priest, I confessed everything. My insecurities, my doubts, my anxiety, my history, my misfortunes, my losses. Everything flooded out in a torrent. And, eventually, after all the crap was purged, we got to the good stuff, the piece of me that still dreamed. That tiny, oh so fragile speck.

I don’t know how he got it out of me. I don’t know what tools he used, or what magic he had. And … I guess it must’ve been magic, cause, cause uh.

Uhh..

Uhhhhhh……

Wut were we talkin’ bout again?

…

…

…

Right. Right. My bad, bruh. It’s … a lot easier for me to zone out lately. I do it again, just give it a minute, okay?

So, this guy. He talks to me, and I talk to him. And it’s like, … I don’t know. He just … feels right to be around. You know, like that one guy who’s always nice to everyone, and you just want to protect him because he’s so good to people and you don’t want him to get hurt? That’s what it was like for me.

And that’s basically what he did. I told him my dream. And honestly, at that point, my only dream was to get some clothes on my back, a place to stay, a meal in my gut, a chance to clean up, and to be happy.

And you know what he said to me?

He said, “All right.” He grabbed my hand, and he pulled me. When I asked him what he was doing, he just smiled and laughed. “I’m granting your wish, silly.”

“Granting my…?”

“Let’s go.” He called me by my name, added some sort of weird word at the end of it. Think it was Japanese or something. I don’t really remember. I just remember the sheen of a black duckbill flashing under the intermittent sun as the clouds scudded overhead. Still not sure how he … knew my … name……

…

…

…

The hell am I thinking? Course he knows my fuckin’ name! He’s M—m’boss. Yuh. Boss.

…

I do wut he says.

…

I do wut he says.

Uhhhh … where were we again?

Right. Right. The duckbill. The pomp. The sun kept flashing off it and his eyes when he smiled at me. Hell, when the light shone on him, his skin practically lit up under that leather jacket of his. I thought he had a fuckin’ halo or something.

I also thought the guy might get sunburnt if we didn’t get some shade, so I did what he wanted and followed. He made it clear he’d wait for me to move till I came with him. What choice did I have, make him miserable with me? I couldn’t do that to him. I’d never do that to him.

Why? Because he’s the fucking boss! He made me what I am today! He made me a new fucking man, and I owe everything to him, okay?

OKAY?

Good. Now shut up and listen.

We started in a bar first. He said it was run by some friends, that they’d hook us up, hook me up.

And did they ever. Boss explained he was treating me. My stomach growled from the smells drifting out of the kitchen. Bunch of big men sat on either side, coated in leather. Jacket, pants, gloves, the works. Must’ve been some bikers or something. I … think I remember seeing their bikes parked outside.

Fucking beauties. Harley Davidsons. The rev of those engines, the power vibrating between your legs, the air roaring in your ears, the wind in your face. I’m telling you, there’s no better feeling. Well, except maybe when I work out at the gym or do the boss a favor. Or smoking a cigar. Or flexing.

Flexing feels so good, especially when I’m doing it for the boss.

It’s good to flex for Boss.

Hmm? Being with the boss? I don’t know, it’s … kind of like a drug, I guess. He’s just got that kind of personality, you know?

Well, if you don’t, you will soon enough. He knows everyone in this city. I’m sure he’ll find you when he’s good and ready.

So, you’d think it’d just be a basic meal, right? Nothing fancy or expensive, just enough to fill me up and send me on my way. A good deed for the day, right?

WRONG!

They gave me a steak. A fucking steak! And I don’t mean the cheap cuts. I’m talking about the real quality stuff. Boss said they imported it from Japan. Stuff was like butter in my mouth, only the best damned butter I’d ever tasted in my life. I don’t really remember how much I ate. I just remember Boss laughing. And it was like I just couldn’t stop. The more I ate, the hungrier I was. I was more like a machine than a person, the way I tore through them.

And Boss just smiled and encouraged me the whole time, like it was nothing!

Let me tell you, by the time I finally came back to myself, my jaw was aching so badly. I thought I might’ve dislocated it or something. The lights had come on, and the windows were black. The air reeked of smoke as big burly men lit up cigars and pulled on their beers. I felt … I guess loopy’s the best word. My head was spinning. Or maybe the room was? I guess I was buzzed. Or maybe plastered. I couldn’t tell if the number of empty mugs were because of blurry vision or that I’d actually drank that many. The only place that seemed clear, the only spot that mattered to my addled brain, were those deep blue eyes. They glowed in the light, or at least I thought they did. Was probably the beer or whatever I drank. But damn if I cared. I felt too damn good and too damn full.

And Boss took my hand and waved at the rest of the men in the joint. All of them acknowledged him one way or another. Nods, grunts, salutes, one or two even demanded a promise out of him. Well, maybe demanded is too strong a word. No one demands Boss to do stuff. He just … does it, like, like he knows what we want, and he does everything in his power to make sure we get it, whatever it takes.

He led me to a large pink motorcycle with heart-shaped metal accents. It roared as he ignited the engine, then purred gently as he stroked the handlebars and adjusted the mirrors. Then those same hands were extended to me again.

“Hop on,” he said. I blinked in surprise, and when I asked where we were going, he just giggled and patted the leather behind him. “I told you, silly. I’m granting your wish.”

The wind that blew through my hair was neither cold nor hot. It just was. Of course, I didn’t really have my eyes on wind. I was too focused on not falling off the motorcycle. So, instead, my eyes fell on Boss’ highlights. There were blue swaths that pulled back along the sea of oil on his head. Nah. Oil’s wrong again. I mean, it was black, like oil, but it shone more like … grease, I guess. Yuh. Grease.

I like grease.

Every streetlamp we passed made those highlights pulse with a rainbow of light. You know, kinda like a raven’s wing. It was beautiful. I didn’t even notice when the wind cut out. One minute, we were cruising through the city. The next, we were outside a big apartment building. The same hand reached out to me, and I took it. My legs felt weird from straddling the bike, like they wanted to stay spread, so my walking was sort of awkward at first, but I found a stride that worked while they readjusted.

Boss just smiled and led me up some stairs.

…

A lot of stairs, actually, now that I think about it. But anytime I started to flag, he’d stop and look at me and fix me with that smile. And suddenly I could walk again. I could breathe again, and my legs, well … I guess that wide stretch was sort of useful here. Made it easier to climb.

My legs felt different when we finally got to his door. Heavy, kinda tingly. Boss just smiled at me. “Welcome, Wilbur-kun.”

The apartment was more like a penthouse. The small entryway passed into a broad living room with a large leather couch and soft plush carpet. A giant flat-screen TV was mounted to the wall parallel to the couch. A few other pieces of furniture, like footrests and some easy chairs stood at either side. A kitchen sat off to the side with two entrances on either side of a dividing wall with a big hole cut into it, so you could see the kitchen and whoever might be cooking there.

“Harley, I’m home!”

A big man with broad shoulders strode out from the shadows of a far hall. His hair was like Boss’s, but his streaks were green, instead of blue, and his sideburns, eyebrows, even his goatee was the same neon green. Might’ve been a trick of the light, but I thought I saw his eyes glowing, too, just like Boss’s did. He wore a white tank top covered with a sleeveless black leather vest that complemented his dark skin. Black leather chaps covered a pair of blue jeans. He took one look at me, then fixed his gaze on Boss.

“Another stray dog, huh?”

“This is Wilbur. He’s going to stay with us for the night.”

Harley raised a brow. “One night?”

Boss blushed. “Well, I can’t grant the rest of his wish right now. It’s late, and he needs a place to sleep….”

I cleared my throat. “I, um … I don’t have to stay, if you don’t want me to. Paimon’s been very kind to me already. More than kind, really. I don’t want to cause trouble.”

I think it’s the first time I saw anything close to a hardening in Boss’s expression. Well, hardening is the wrong word. We’re hard, so Boss don’t have to be. It wasn’t hard so much as … determined, I guess. Boss never really gets mean. He’s perfect, and I love him for it. We all do.

“Nonsense. We have a guestroom all made up for you. Dom won’t mind. He’s on shift tonight, and he’s always glad to help when I ask him. He already said yes when I called him at the bar, so don’t you worry.” He smiled again and seized both my hands in his. “Won’t you stay with us, Wilbur-kun?”

The cocked head, the smile, the shiny sparkly eyes accentuated by the blue in his sideburns and goatee. He was every trope of sweet brought into one, and I was growing a mean sweet tooth, though I didn’t know it yet. My hands tingled. My heart beat fast. I couldn’t meet those eyes, so I looked down and muttered, “All right.” I allowed myself one glance, just one.

My heart nearly stopped. He beamed at me with a broad grin that was so innocent, so pure, so … perfect. Harley shook his head, but I saw the smile curving his lips as he folded his muscular arms.

Before I knew it, I was whisked into a room that reeked with the perfume of cigar smoke, leather, polish, and a hint of cologne. A massive king-size bed lay to the side, and a floor-length mirror had been attached to one of the walls, stretching all the way to the ceiling. I was a little wary when I noticed what looked like a switchblade on a side table next to the mirror, but Boss alleviated my fears by flipping not a blade, but a slick comb.

Flick. Click.

“See? Nothing to worry about.”

Flick. Click.

“Dom just really likes the aesthetic.”

Flick. Click.

A blush colored his cheeks. “So do I.”

Flick. Click.

“You don’t mind, do you, Wilbur-kun?”

Flick. Click. Flash.

I blinked dazedly as I looked into those eyes. “I, uh….”

Flick. Click.

“It’s fun, once you get the hang of it.”

Flick. Click.

“You should try it.”

Flick Click.

My fingers twitched. “I … guess I could….”

Flick. Click.

“Gentler. Slower. You’ll shake your whole arm off that way, Wilbur-kun.”

Flick. Click.

His hand was on mine. His other on my arm.

Flick. Click.

“That’s it. Relax. Let the switch go.”

Flick. Click.

“Let it go. And follow the motion.”

Flick. Click.

“Follow….” he instructed

Flick. Click.

“Good. That’s good. That’s right. It’s fun, isn’t it? Sort of relaxing.” He giggled. “Dom loves to do that when he’s fidgety. Well, that or flex. Tell me, Wilbur-kun, do you ever flex?”

Flick. Click.

I had the motion down by this point. I wasn’t sure when I turned to face the mirror. All I knew was that Boss was right. It felt good. I don’t know why, but it did. It still does. I raised my free arm and tensed the muscle there.

Flick. Click.

“Not really.”

Flick. Click.

“Don’t really got much to show.”

Flick. Click.

“Do you want to?” he asked.

Flick. Click.

My brain felt … sluggish, I guess. I felt strange. It was like that tingling had jumped from my arm to my brain. That’s why it took me so long to answer.

I’m lucky he’s so patient.

“I … don’t know.”

Flick. Click.

I took a deep breath. The smell wasn’t so overbearing now. In fact, it was almost like a meal for the nose, if you get what I mean. Sort of fruity and sort of bitter, like sweet and savory, you know? It just … worked. “I don’t know,” I said again.

Boss smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

Flick. Click.

“Yes, Sir.” The words were out of my mouth before I could even think. But that’s when the record scratched. The rhythm broke. I stared at the switch comb and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The polished wood and metal clattered over the side table as I put it back hastily. The thing wasn’t even mine. And the reaction, I mean … sure, I was grateful for his help, but he wasn’t my boss. Well, not yet. I felt … anxious, wrong. “I mean, thank you,” I said hastily.

Boss just smiled. “Happy to help. You can find the spare towels in Dom’s closet. The bathroom is through that door there. Take all the time you need, Wilbur-kun. And like I said, don’t worry about it.” He waved gently. His biker gloves were still on after the drive, and his lock glinted as he turned toward the door. “We’ll be down the hall if you need us. Harley and I like to smoke from time to time, so just follow your nose if we’re not there. I’m sure you’ll be able to find us.”

I blinked heavily. My head still felt off balance, but it was clear enough for me to at least give a proper response. “Thanks.”

And then he was gone.

The towels were in these metal baskets stacked against the wall all the way up to the rods. The whole room was massive. I felt like a kid in the adult section of the department store. Bulky leather coats and massive black boots lined the closet. Out of curiosity, I peeked into a dresser that had been positioned elsewhere. The top drawers were full of accessories. Chains, padlocks, tags, rings, gloves, brass knuckles, and more greeted me from their various alcoves and padded slots. Needless to say, there was a lot of bling.

Below that, drawer after drawer of tank tops, socks, and underwear. The smallest size I could find on average was a XXL, and there were only a few of those. This Dom character had to be a big man to fill that kind of size. I’d find out later just how big, myself. Guess the big lug must’ve been sentimental or something, though, because I did finally manage to find a large tank top to use. Then again, maybe he just used it to show off all his muscle. Boss had said he liked to flex a lot.

The shirt looked baggy when I held it against my frame, but it would suffice for bed clothes. I took it and a ratty pair of sweatpants with an adjustable waistband into the room. I breathed deeply as I braced myself in front of the door, then pulled it open.

My mouth would have dropped to the floor if it could. The bathroom was a spacious master bath complete with some of the most advanced functions I’ve ever seen on shower or tub. Bath salts, air diffusers, incense burners, and loads and loads of hair product were distributed all over the room. Body wash, cologne, loofa sponges, the works. There were jets, oils, salon-brands of hair care products. And the materials that went into the actual room itself! Incredible. I’m talking marble, swanky tile, brass fittings, the works. The room screamed fancy rich boy.

And that fancy rich boy was just outside these doors in the apartment, wearing a black leather jacket and a duckbill pompadour.

My mouth suddenly felt very dry. I smacked my lips and forced myself to move. He expected me to shower, after all. It was part of my wish. The question was, did I want to shower or bathe?

This’ll sound stupid, but I felt too intimidated by the bathtub. I mean, I was a guest. This wasn’t my home. Using all those fancy salts and oils and bubble bath or whatever left me feeling too uncomfortable. Who knew how much he spent on them? He earned the best. Me? I just was a charity case he pulled in off the streets. I didn’t deserve those things. Not yet.

So, I went and used the shower, instead. The thing had massaging jets from every angle, and the whole space filled with steam to make me feel … well, I guess like I was in my own little world. The pressure helped seep the warmth into my muscles and wash away the extra grease and dirt I’d accumulated. The body wash and shampoo smelled like a mix of cologne and fruit. I guess the closest scent I could relate to it was Old Spice’s Wolfthorn from their Wild Collection. I could almost imagine what it’d be like, too, having a mascot for that brand.

A cute white wolf with a winning smile and deep, deep blue eyes….

A dizzy spell hit me, and I struck the marble wall. The cool surface helped to shock me back to a more wakeful state. If this was how I acted in the shower, maybe it was a good thing I didn’t choose the tub. At least, that’s what I thought then.

The rest of the shower went off without a hitch. I shampooed, conditioned, and lathered my body, rinsed, and finally disengaged from the shower.

The towel I’d borrowed was more like a bath sheet. The thing draped practically down to my ankles. And it was clearly designed for someone with a much broader frame than I had. This Dom character was a very big man. And let me tell you, big doesn’t do him justice. He’s swole, bruh, like, uh … just … really big, y’know?

I strode to the mirror, where a brief search through the drawers revealed disposable toothbrushes waiting to be opened, tubes of toothpaste, and another drawer loaded with custom switchcombs, each with their own unique prints and patterns for their handles.

The brushing was no problem. I had my face dried off in no time. My beard was unruly, so I took a set of electric trimmers and buzzed it off. My skin wasn’t entirely cleanshaven, but it looked a lot better, now that I had access to the right tools.

Then my eyes locked onto the hair products themselves. And a set of neon-blue eyes gazed back at me in a way that only a wolf knew how. It was a cartoon, yet it carried the same commanding presence in that stare. His lips were curved in a smile. Hands sheathed in black fingerless gloves held a comb and ran it through a pompadour as he looked at me.

Right at me.

…

I’m not sure what came over me. All I know is that I decided to try some of the stuff. Part of it was instinct, I suppose. And part of it was … something else. Don’t question it, dawg. You can’t understand it yet. Here. You wanted my story. Now you can spot me while I tell it. Dat recorder’s still workin’, right? Cool, bruh. If you still don’t get it when I’m done talkin’, you can ask again, and I’ll explain it to ya nice n’slow.

Now spot me, bro.

So, like I said, I just … had to try the stuff. It wasn’t a lot. I didn’t drain the whole can or anything. Just enough to sort of mess with my hair, help get it more organized, you know? It was too long to really do anything major with. I just wanted to keep it from getting all crazy, jutting into corners and stuff. And, well, you can’t get much stiffer than Pomcrete. My scalp was all tingly after I finished combing my hair. I almost forgot to screw the cap back on before I left.

I got dressed in the ratty clothes and strode back into the bedroom. The mirror was still there, and though the clothes left me feeling diminished, I could still see the hint of tone beneath the skin and bone in my arms. I … may have tried flexing again. It’s … sort of addicting, once you start, you know?

Took some searching to find the laundry basket. I was half-tempted to just throw the thing on the floor, but I didn’t want to be rude. After that, I turned off the light and crept silently to the bed. I’d never slept on a king before, except maybe as a kid. The mattress and sheets swallowed me whole, and I let them.

I don’t know how long I slept. It’d been so long since I’d actually had a bed. Or at least it felt like a long time. I came to slowly, sort of like an air bubble, you know? Not really solid, kind of wobbly, delicate, and easy to pop. I felt safe, warm, and … well, kind of empty up top. I guess it’s because it felt so much like a dream, and I didn’t want it to end.

Bruh, ah’m servin’ Boss. Ah’m livin’ the dream now. Now shut up n’let me tell m’story, dawg.

…

Good dawg.

So, this incense is going, right? And I walk out of the room all tired and sleepy, which is weird, because I blacked out and I’m pretty sure I slept all through the night no problem, but whatever. I stumbled into the living room, where a good four people were standing. Two, I recognized as Paimon and his roommate. I later found out they were married. The other two, I hadn’t seen before.

One was a big guy around the same size as Harley. He had purple highlights in his hair, and the eyes to match. I could see a lot of Paimon in him, so … maybe they were like brothers or cousins or something? I wasn’t sure. Then there was this hulking brute of a man. He was huge, and I don’t just mean muscle. The guy was a giant. His brow was thick and heavy. His shoulders broad as boulders, his face rough and chiseled with a black goatee sprouting from his chin. Black sideburns streaked down the sides of his face and part of his jaw to frame his head like a cinderblock. Streaks of scarlet broke the midnight of his hair in great bands. It’s sort of a family trait to them. If you’re part of their family, you have streaks, and you have pomps.

The man could’ve squeezed coal to diamond between those pecs. Though there was something funny about his eyes. I couldn’t really tell where the pupil ended and the iris began. They sort of … mulled together into one mass. A thick cigar was clenched in his teeth as he talked to the rest of the family, and the air reeked of his blend. Another pink cigarette smoked from an ash tray, blending the gentle lull of rose incense with the starker scent of tobacco smoke. The leather of his jacket creaked as he pulled out his cigar, looked down at me, and exhaled. I nearly reeled from the dizzy spell when the smoke hit my face.

“So, ’Dis is da guy.” I couldn’t help but notice the huge padlock that dangled between his pecs on a thick metal chain as he breathed. A pair of dog tags dangled beneath on a thinner chain. He grunted.

“Ohayo, Will-kun,” Paimon greeted cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”

I blinked to try to clear the fog from my brain. My lungs were processing incense, cigar smoke, and cigarette smoke. It takes getting used to when it’s all at once.

“Uh, … hi,” I finally managed to say.

The big guy folded his arms and grunted again. I didn’t know if he didn’t like me or if the whole looming glare was just his default. “M—Boss asked yuhs a question, dawg.” His knuckles cracked ominously, and I couldn’t help but notice the metal bands he wore on each of his fingers. All ten of them. “Bettuh answer.”

I swallowed heavily.

“Dom, be nice,” Paimon chided.

The sudden change in demeanor was startling. The thug snapped to attention and jutted his chest forward. A very impressive display when all he had to frame said chest was a tank top, thanks to the fact he hadn’t zipped up his jacket. The shirt strained against his muscle to be put on prominent display. His pecs bounced a few times as he saluted. “Yussuh.”

Paimon giggled. “Why don’t you go freshen up, Dom-kun? You’ve had a long night.”

“Yussuh,” he slurred again. He lumbered past me easily. His heavy boots clunked against the floor, rattling the apartment with every step. The only sign of him that remained after was the miasma of his cigar. It seemed almost to hover in my nose when I turned back to the remaining members of the household.

“So, … that was Dom?” I asked.

“Don’t worry. He’s a big sweetie under all that muscle,” Paimon assured with another giggle. “Would you like some breakfast?”

I blushed again. Everyone else was already fully dressed, and I couldn’t help but notice the distinct presence of leather in all their gear. Not unusual in and of itself. It was more the fact I was barefoot in some ratty sweatpants and an old shirt. Makes a man self-conscious, you know what I mean? “Um, … yes, please.”

So, turns out the one with the purple streaks was named Lavante. He’s sort of an adopted son for the pair. I could hardly tell the difference between them, really. Age-wise, I mean. Guess they must’ve had good genes. At least, that’s what I thought at the time. Kid had a padlock and a set of tags, just like Dom. I noticed Harley only had a chain with a ring tied to it. Lavante had size and mass from his father. That is, his bigger father. Or so the parents joked. His eyes, well, that, I’m not sure who he got it from. They were purple, but they had that sort of empty quality that invites someone to fall in and never come out again. They could be hard or soft in an instant, and there was a sort of … I guess a longing to look at them when I was eating. My gaze kept darting between Paimon’s and Lavante’s faces.

“You smoke?”

I blinked in surprise. I looked at my plate and found it suddenly empty. It was filled almost just as quickly. “Uh … haven’t in a long time,” I said. “Tried it once, got sick. Never wanted to again.”

Lavante frowned. “But you don’t look sick now.”

I shrugged. “Haven’t taken a direct hit since the first time I tried it. Like I said, didn’t really want to.” I was so hungry, but I didn’t understand why. I must have had at least four plates. Maybe, maybe more. The more I ate, the more dazed I felt. Not a bad sort of daze, just … different. Like … I don’t know. I … guess I was happy? Sort of? I guess the best way to describe it is a sort of in-between place. Not like a drug high or anything like that, but definitely not normal either. It was sort of a … I guess a dead space or a neutral zone.

Can’t remember much of what I said during that time. Must’ve said a lot, though, ’cause the clock said it was nearly noon by the time the meal was over. I’d been shoveling so much food, it was only natural when I brought my hand to my face again. My lips curved around. My teeth bit gently. I breathed, and warmth flooded my lungs. I didn’t want to cough this time. I didn’t feel sick. It smelled almost like lavender. Best way I could put it was it felt like my stomach had had enough, and now my lungs wanted something to eat, too. There was no coughing, no gagging, just … a smooth tingle.

“For a guy who’s only had one cigarette, you sure drag like a champ.” Harley was holding a lighter. He flicked the cap shut. A cigarette protruded from the corner of his mouth. Lavante smoked a purple one, and Paimon’s cigarette was the same rosy pink from the one I’d seen in the ash tray.

I pulled the thing away from me, looked calmly at it. I was surprised, but I didn’t feel that usual surge of adrenaline. My lips puckered briefly as I licked them, and my chest tingled as I breathed in the secondhand smoke the others were generating. I … I wanted more. And I wasn’t sure how to think about that at first. “I … guess I just needed the right brand,” I finally managed to say.

“Yuh,” Lavante said in a deep tone.

I dragged. My lungs savored every instant of the smoke. And then I let it go with an equally low, “Yuh…”

Harley didn’t say anything else. He just rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Paimon smiled kindly. Lavante, … Lavante sneered. And like a game of Simon Says, I felt my lips contorting in time, pulling aside to bare my teeth and match his look.

Paimon giggled in delight as I leaned back in my chair and spread my legs. I felt so good, so relaxed there. I don’t know if it was a high from the smoke, the food, or something else, but … I felt safe. I could be at peace there. I could live in a place like that. It wasn’t how I was raised, but it felt like home. Like I belonged there, could always belong there. I just had to… had to….

Had to what?

I shook my head. What … was I thinking? This wasn’t my house, wasn’t my place. I couldn’t live there!

The cigarette dropped from my lips. I fumbled, but I couldn’t catch it. The thing hit the floor and broke apart. Fortunately, it fell on tile, so the ashes were easy to clean, but the butt was ruined. And whatever fantasy world I was falling toward with it.

“S-sorry,” I said awkwardly as I stumbled to my feet. “I’ll clean it up.”

Paimon kept smiling. “Don’t worry about it, Will-kun. It happens.”

My throat was suddenly parched, probably from all the smoke. I guzzled a quick drink from the sink, then turned back to the table. “Um, where do you keep the broom and dustpan?”

It didn’t take long to clean up my mess. By then, it was time to clear the rest of the table, too, so I helped. I had to pay for my night there somehow, after all.

What happened after is sort of a blur to the extent that Paimon took me out to get cleaned up. Well, more cleaned up than I already was. We started at a barber. The owner was a big man who reeked of cigar smoke. He was a massive in every sense of the word, standing at what had to be at least seven feet tall with bulging muscles to match. His face was wreathed in gold that merged with his pompadour. Green stripes streaked on the left side of his hair, even going so far as to color part of his beard. A bold fashion statement, but this was a bold sort of man.

And one who took command in his shop.

He took one look at me, and I was in the chair with a cape tied around my body. I’d trimmed my beard just fine, but my hair was another story. Since I’d already showered before, he didn’t feel the need to give me the whole package. In his words, “This ain’t a fuckin’ salon.”

Paimon laughed and beamed that smile at me again. I could barely see it through the haze of smoke that started to fill the room. The barber wasn’t one for talking, but he definitely was for smoking. He chopped off the extra-long locks and rubbed something into my scalp that left it all tingly and cool. For such a big gruff man, his hands were surprisingly gentle. I wouldn’t say I fell asleep exactly, but … I guess my brain sort of shut off for a while. It was just so … relaxing, bruh.

He lathered up my face, anyway, and scraped the rest of the stubble down around my cheeks and lower jaw. Then he added some weird stuff to my sideburns and my chin before a hot towel treatment. That’s when I really blacked out. Next thing I knew, I was staring into the mirror while those same hands ran a comb through my much cleaner hair. Something felt … different, but I couldn’t place what. I just let it go. It was hard to think with all that stroking over my scalp, anyway.

I caught sight of a familiar cannister. A white wolf smiled up at me, this time proffering a rose while the other ran a comb through his pompadour.

Pompadour.

…

Pompadour….

Pomp. That’s what was different! The hair over my forehead swept up like the crest of some giant wave ready to crash at any second. Only, it was held together by something solid. Something thick. But … my hair didn’t feel heavy. It moved. It followed every stroke, every tug of that gentle comb. And the more it did, the more I felt that familiar high settling in as my scalp tingled. Before my very eyes, I watched the wave grow taller, thicker, fuller. And so very, very shiny.

“You look good, Will-kun.” Paimon smiled.

“He’s almost done,” the gruff man said. “Needs a little more pump.”

I raised my brow. “Pump the pomp?” It was like my vocal cords were lax. Instead of my higher tenor, they’d lowered to a baritone. I sounded like I’d just woken up. And … I guess I sort of had?

The bearded man’s lips curled into a smile. “That’s right.” His fingers and the comb raked through my hair again, and my eyes rolled in uh, … uh, … wut’s da word for blackin’ out from feelin’ good?

…

Yuh, that’s it, euphoric bliss.

“S’good ta pump da pomp,” he growled in my ear as the comb stroked my sideburns.

I shuddered. I felt so pampered, so relaxed. The smell of the cigar smoke, the aftershave, the pomade, and the undertone of leather from his extra-large vest left me feeling … well, at home, I guess.

Though, on second thought, maybe that vest was XXL? I … don’t remember. I just knew he was big, and it was big. And suddenly, I didn’t mind that I had a new hairstyle anymore.

Besides, Paimon was paying for it. Who was I to object? I mean, he said he was granting my wish, and so far, he’d delivered. So, … maybe this was part of my wish, too? It … really did feel good having that look. And my hair was so shiny. When the barber finally backed away, I couldn’t help but run my fingers through it just once.

I gaped vapidly at myself in the mirror. My pupils were a lot bigger than I remember, but Paimon just smiled as he pulled me from the chair. My chin prickled, and I scratched the patch of hair that had grown in by my cleft. He placed something in my hand. When I looked down, I saw the familiar sight of a polished switch comb. Streaks of blue and silver lit up against the black accents. They seemed almost to swirl the longer I looked at them.

“Your fingers will ruin the look,” Paimon explained. “This should let you play with it without damaging anything. Think of it as a part of your wish. You can’t have clothes without accessories.” He gasped as he looked to his watch. “And speaking of, we have an appointment to keep. Let’s go!” He beamed at the barber as he pulled my arm behind him. “Arigato, Axe-kun!”

The barber grunted and offered a two-fingered salute to the smaller man. His deep voice rumbled after us. “See you again soon, Will.”

Logic dictated that couldn’t be true. There was little chance of me ever going back to that barbershop again. But even so, part of me believed him. And before I could stop myself, a deep, “Yuh,” had already escaped my lips. I didn’t see the smile, but I could feel it as we passed the door back into the busy streets.

Two massive men in thick leather biker jackets and pants strode into the store behind us. The familiar smell of cigar smoke trailed with them, and I breathed deeply, despite myself. Their pompadours were far larger than mine and looked near the point of collapse. There’s only so much pomade can do before you have to trim yourself, you know. Then the door shut, and we were gone. My head swam with the events that had happened so far, but we weren’t done yet. And Paimon had a lot more places to show me.

Next up, we arrived in a clothing store. Paimon smiled as we strode through the entrance. The fresh smell of leather hit me like a wall of bricks. I felt that same urge to mess with my hair again but did my best to resist it. I flicked the switch comb, instead. It helped a little.

“Let’s get you some clothes, Will-kun.”

I could hardly object. Not because I didn’t necessarily want to, but … well, I just felt … I guess I was foggy up top, ya know? Don’t think much up there anymore. And … I guess things slowed down when I was with him. Every time I saw that smile, I just felt … different. That same feeling from the haircut came back again and again. And it would always get stronger.

“I don’t—”

“Trust me, you’ll love it!” He grinned. His eyes flashed. Or maybe I was just that lightheaded. Suddenly, I was sitting in a mirrored room. I … don’t remember much of what happened. There were a lot of shirts and pants. Jeans, chaps, tanks, muscle tees, boots, dog tags, chains.

And the padlocks.

Bruh, when you find that right padlock, and it just … clicks, you know it’s right. And you know you never want to unlock it again. Must’ve tried … I don’t know how many different combos before Pai found one that worked.

I wore a black tank top that hugged tightly to my chest. It was like … like I was getting a hug. A really soft hug. Every breath left me feeling the fabric as it expanded with me, then slowly retracted. It was like … well, I guess it was like it was alive, you know? The compression was in all the right places. I looked … different, but … a good different. I had this dull brown that was almost black when Paimon first found me. But when I was a kid, I had this super bright blond hair, like … the sun, basically. Platinum grade, ya know? Didn’t need no bleach back then. I was au naturel. It was funny, seein’ that same bright shine pop against m’new black duds.

I chuckled. I couldn’t help it. Things were just … weird, but in a good way. I felt good. I wasn’t ripped, but the time with Paimon had helped me to see I wasn’t so bad off as I thought. The mirror only helped prove that more. The gut I thought I had was hardly showing now. It just sort of pressed gently against the waistband of my new leather pants. I could see the hints of muscle tone in my arms. Nothing big, but present, you know? Enough to show there was potential.

Huhuh. I see that potential in you, too, y’know.

The boots Paimon got me clunked heavily on the floor in a sort of march as I got used to the feel of them on my soles. A minute later, it felt … well, it felt almost like I wasn’t wearing anything, really. It felt natural to let the weight carry my legs to a heavy slam. Gotta know how to throw m’weight around, you know?

“You look amazing, Will-kun!” Boss cheered.

I blushed. “Y’really think so?”

“Hai.”

He smiled again, and I couldn’t stop myself. I zoned out again. I came to posing in front of the mirrors. Boss was clapping. Something felt off again, but I couldn’t quite place it. I kept staring as I transitioned from pose to pose. Archer, crab, and whatever other ones there might be. I frowned as my eyes fell to my crotch. That was where the feeling was strongest. Something was different down there, but I wasn’t sure what. It looked … fuller than what I was used to. Were the pants cut differently, or was I actually…?

A loud snap echoed in my ears, and I was suddenly aware of a cold and heavy chain draped over my neck and chest. A heavier blunt square object practically burned between my pecs with how cold it was. The fabric hardly did a thing to protect my skin. I almost lost control of my breathing.

“What do you think, Will-kun?” Boss asked. I didn’t even hear him sneak up behind me. He seemed so much smaller from his place next to the platform.

“I, uh….”

“Isn’t it nice?”

I peered at the lock. Its blunt edges. Its dull faded blue paint. It had been used before, worn, beaten, but still not out of commission. In a lot of ways, it reminded me of, well, me. I could … relate to it.

“I guess, but … isn’t it a little much?”

Boss giggled. “I don’t think so. Now we’re twinsies.” He raised his own padlock and chain. They glinted in the light. “See?”

The light made me blink. I … couldn’t really think of an answer, but I wanted to talk. So, uh, yuh, m’body did the only thing it could do. “Uhhhhhhh….”

His laughter flooded my ears as his hands wrapped around mine and guided them to my lock. Next thing I knew, I was staring at two padlocks. “Like this, silly,” he said.

“Oh.” I nodded. The light was duller, but it was there, hidden, deep in the faded murk of the paint. A sort of pale reflection to the brighter silver of Boss’ padlock. One that left me wanting to find the source. Wanting to delve deeper. Wanting to seep into that fog. I found myself nodding as I stared.

Flash. Dull. Flash. Dull.

Flash…

Dull…

Dim flash..

Dull….

Dimmer.

Dull………

“Will-kun.” The voice sounded so far away. “Will-kun.” It called again. I felt his hands wrapped around my forearm, pulling gently. The blue and silver fog that I’d been so focused on slowly receded. I blinked blearily as Boss came into focus. “You really like that padlock, don’t you?”

My head felt … slow, full, … Idunno, just … not like it used to be, you know? All I know is he asked me a question. And … I had to answer. I didn’t really think about the answer. I just … spoke. Was like a kneejerk reaction, you know?

“Uhhhh … yuh….”

He giggled. “I’m glad. Come on, Will-kun.” He led me by the hand. My hips jingled. A glance down revealed I’d gained more chains than when I first started posing in front of that mirror. But … the jingle was nice. Comforting, you know? Followed the beat when I stepped. It still does. I like lettin’ people know ah’m comin’.

We stepped out the store without paying. The cashier waved it off and silently passed a huge leather jacket on a hangar for Boss to carry. He giggled as he seized the hook. “Arigato!”

My heart nearly stopped from the cuteness. My breath caught. My chest lurched. And suddenly, I was grabbing my lock like a lifeline. I followed him out the store like a puppy. I wasn’t really in a state to say anything. I could barely concentrate enough to follow behind him. The clunk and the jingle reverberated in my ears again and again with every step.

But when I saw his arms start to droop, I swooped in. My hands seized the jacket, and I felt the hangar straining against the crooks of my fingers as they curled to hold it over my shoulder. I knew it’d be rude if I didn’t say anything. Heck, he might think I was stealing. I had to say something, do something.

“If you’re gonna treat me, at least let me help.” It came out gruffer than I intended, but his smile told me he understood what I meant to say. I suddenly felt very much exposed. A flush rose in my cheeks, and I looked away bashfully, then cleared my throat. “So, who’s this thing for, anyway?”

Boss giggled. “A friend. I wanted to pick it up for when he’s ready.”

“When he’s … ready?”

Paimon nodded. “Uhuh. To join our family.”

“Like the others at the apartment?”

“Uhuh. They’re just a bunch of big sweeties, like Dom.”

“Dom is … sweet?”

Paimon laughed again. “Once you get to know him.

“He doesn’t … look sweet.”

He placed his hands behind his back and sort of bobbed or rocked as we walked. You know how the upper body just sort of sways sometimes when you’re actin’ cute without trying? It was kind of like that. “Well, then, what does he look like to you?”

I was taken off guard. “… To me?”

“Yeah!” He beamed at me. “Be honest.”

I nearly stumbled. My head rang. Or … was that the dog tags and the padlock knocking against each other? Guilt flushed my cheeks this time. After all, Boss knew Dom a lot better than I did back then. “Promise not to be mad?” I asked softly.

“Hai.”

I couldn’t help myself. It just … burst out of me in a rush. “He looks like a street thug waiting for an excuse to beat someone up.”

Paimon’s smile didn’t falter. There was no hardening. His grin widened. “I know. Isn’t it great!” He giggled.

“Great to … be a thug? Or great to look like one?”

“Well, both, of course, silly. It’s great to be both.”

“Great … to be both….” I trailed in utter disbelief. He all but admitted he liked thugs. Genuine street thugs. Outlaws, muggers, the kind of guys you don’t want to run into in a dark alley at night. And he let one of them live in his house?

“Why don’t you flick your switch comb, Will-kun? You look anxious.” Snap went the comb in his hand. The tines parted his hairs like the Red Sea, and they closed up behind just as quickly.

Before I knew it, that tingle from the barber was back again. Little pricks tugged at my pompadour, pulling loose hairs back into line, stimulating my scalp, and tugging … well, it felt like they were tugging deeper, somehow, if that makes sense. You know, like when you do weeding and pull the roots out of the dirt? They pull a bunch of clods with them. It was … sort of like that, I guess. Or at least closer to it. My heart stopped thudding, and I just … sort of let it go. More like the gardener made me let it go. I still remembered what Boss had said. I still knew Dom was a thug. But … I wasn’t scared anymore. I wasn’t suspicious. I just … was.

“See? You’re feeling better already.”

The flash went off again. I wasn’t sure whether it was his padlock, his pomp, his eyes, or his smile. Maybe all of them at once. I blinked slowly and nodded. It was sort of natural with the heavy steps I’d been taking. I felt like a giant bobblehead, and I was stuck in yes mode.

“Uhhhhh….”

Boss giggled. “You’re so adorable when you’re like this, Will-kun.”

Another yank. Any suspicions were pulled away with the roots to clear the way for … something. I knew he’d complimented me. I knew compliments deserved a response. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” We walked on for a block or so in silence, just letting the jingles ring while I kept weeding my brain. Boss pulled out one of his pink cigarettes and lit it. He toked it for a while, then finally spoke again. “Say, Will-kun?” He breathed into the air. A breeze blew it to my nose. The response was instinctual. I breathed in as much of the stuff as I could.

I groaned out an, “Uhhhh, … yeah?” as my eyes rolled. It was like someone had just watered the bed I was weeding. Every stroke came easier as stalk after stalk pulled loose with clod after clod of wet, muddy dirt.

Spattering.

Oxidizing.

Clearing out more and more.

Leaving behind less and less.

And I couldn’t stop it. Or … maybe I didn’t want to, bruh. It’s seriously that ple-uhhhh … intoxic-uhhhhhh…. Good. Yuh, like … really good, bruh.

…

Fuckin’ sweet….

Right, right. The story. Sorry.

So, Boss is talkin’, and he asks me a question. “You knew what Dom was when you met him, right?”

I nodded. “Uhuh….”

“How?”

I shrugged. The cold leather of the jacket brushed against my bare arm, and goosebumps raised on my skin. “Just … looked like one is all.”

Boss giggled. “You took one look, and that’s how you knew. I guess the old saying is true, then.”

I … couldn’t follow that. “Wut?”

He beamed at me again. “Well, it takes one to know one, silly.”

Another click like the slot of the padlock slamming home echoed in my ears. Or … maybe it was my head? I had enough holes left for both to work. I took a moment to stretch my arms. The fabric of the tank strained against my back and pecs, and I rumbled like a bike engine. The comb flicked shut, and I put it back in my pocket. “But … ah didn’ know. Yuh told me….” My mouth and throat felt … tired, like they didn’t want to put in the effort for a whole sentence. I let it slide. I was too buzzed from the weeding.

Boss giggled. “Nuh-uh,” he sang. “You guessed all on your own, Will-kun.”

He laughed again. And my head spun as blood surged through my body. I felt … different, but I couldn’t place how. Everything hugged just right. My body was bulky and … I guess hungry is the best way I can put it. It needed something. I needed something. My free arm lifted and I clenched my fist. That good feeling I talked about before came back. Only this time, it brought its bigger bulkier brother. My skin writhed and stretched as the sleeping pythons that were my biceps surged to life. It flowed like sweat or water down to my pecs, my abs, my crotch, my legs.

“Are you hiding something, Will-kun?” Boss asked playfully.

I felt my crotch inflate, just like my biceps. I spread my legs in a swagger as the flow bulked me up. “Fuck….” I groaned.

“I’m right, aren’t I, Will-kun?”

I couldn’t really think. I barely heard what he’d said. Could hardly process. “Uhhhhh…huh?”

He laughed as we stepped through a pair of glass doors into a room filled with a haze of cigar smoke. The clank of metal hitting metal struck again and again. It rang louder than my padlock and tags ever could. We stepped up to a reception desk. Boss smiled at the guy manning the computer. Dawg had ta be almost hulk-sized. A real muscle beast in a tight tank top with a mean sneer.

“Welcome ta Dawgmaker Gym. Whadaya want?” His voice was gruff, and his scowl would’ve driven off anyone who wasn’t already used to dealing with him. He asked me. Didn’t even seem to care about Boss. Then again, Boss is a regular here, so he didn’t need to ask.

“Tank, this is Will-kun. He’s here to work off some steam.” He smiled. Tank’s scowl deepened. I felt my body tense as I shifted my weight to stick part of myself in front of Boss.

“You got a problem?” I growled. My brow furrowed, and I glared right back. Paimon was nice to me, did so much for me. I wasn’t gonna let someone try to hurt him because of me.

“Tank, Will, play nice.”

The voice was soft and nonplussed, kind as always. My shoulders slumped. The fire building in my chest died, leaving more smoke to join the gym’s atmosphere. Tank backed off and averted his gaze from Paimon’s stare.

“Sorry, Suh.”

Paimon smiled. “There. All better now. Let’s get along and give Will a membership.

Tank saluted, allowing his pecs to show off and bounce in front of Boss. “Yussuh.”

Boss giggled at the sight and blushed as Tank tapped away at the keys. I think he did everything to keep flexing his pecs while he did it. I felt my own pecs tighten at the sight. My arms felt warm, loose, and tingly. When he was done, he handed me a lighter and a freshly cut cigar he’d chopped on the desk. Then he handed me my membership card. His eyes looked kinda funny, but I couldn’t say how or why. Was probably the haze from the smoke, anyway.

“On da house,” Tank lowed when I tried to return the cigar. “Part a’da deluxe package. Give it a long drag before yuhs works out. Oh, and, uh … welcome ta Dawgmaker Gym, dawg.”

I nodded numbly as Pai-dawg shepherded me onto the main floor with the jacket still draping over my back. My fingers twitched, and my chest heaved as I breathed the smoke in while heavy punk music and a repetitive bass thudded through the space.

Everyone in the gym was big, burly, and either lifting weights or flexing in front of a mirror while they lit one up.

Even Mistuh Pai-dawg was smokin’. He looked at me expectantly. “Well, Will-kun?”

“Uh, … wut?” I asked.

Paimon smiled and extended his hands. “Give me the jacket. I’ll hang it up. You light up that cigar, okay? I know a cranky smoker when I see one.”

Cranky smoker? For some reason, that didn’t sound right, but … at the same time, I kept craning my neck toward the ceiling, as if I could make myself grow into the cloud, like some mountain. Y’know mountains make their own clouds, right? Mistuh Pai-dawg taught me that. My head felt dizzy again. My arms moved almost on their own as I handed him the jacket. I got a lungfull of smoke in return.

“See you soon, Will-kun.”

The flash went off again. This time, it repeated as I flicked my thumb over the lighter and the flint went off.

One. Two. Three times. Finally, I lit up on the fourth. It was hard to work the little wheel with such a thick thumb. Kept sayin’ I needed to get a zippo. They’re built for big guys like me. Anyway, I held the flame to the head and waited. When it was good and smokin’, I took a drag.

My eyes rolled. My head shot back. My whole body relaxed. “Fuck, ah needed dis,” I swore. Like a magnet to a charge, the smoke surrounding the room seemed to zoom at my face all of a sudden. It was just me and the mirror. The weights clanked as members grunted through their sets, and I felt a sort of rhythm to it.

Clank. Clank.

One. Two.

Clank. Clank.

Flex, you.

I dragged.

I flexed.

I breathed.

I flexed.

I grunted.

I flexed.

One. Two.

Flex. Grunt.

One. Two.

Follow through.

One. Two.

Burn away.

One. Two.

“Flex and obey….”

“Yussuh….”

Thick hands felt up my biceps, adjusted my form and stance.

“Like this, dawg.”

The smoke burned in my lungs, but it was a good burn. The ash settled in my brain. I didn’t care.

I grunted and followed the coach. A man with a shock of black hair with shiny gold stripes running through in a pomp grinned at me through his shades. His jacket looked like it would break apart any moment under the stress of his arms. He bared his teeth at me as he looked over my bod. “Lookin’ good, dawg.”

“Feelin’ good,” I rumbled back. My lips pulled back in a half-sneer, half-grin. I kind of liked how growly my voice got with the smoke.

And then he was there again. Mistuh Pai-dawg smiled as he laid a hand over my bicep and beamed at the otha’ dawg. “Thanks for keeping him company, Jackknife-kun.”

Jackknife grinned and saluted Mistuh-Pai. “S’good ta greet a new dawg.”

Mistuh Pai-dawg laughed. “Treat him nice when he starts work, okay?”

Jackknife sneered as he swaggered off. “Don’t I always?”

Mistuh Pai-dawg had ta crane his neck ta look at me. Then he giggled and turned to the mirror. “Still going to say you’re not a thug, Will-kun?”

I blinked dully. The ash and smoke had seeped from my brain to my eyes, making them cloudy and indistinct. “Uhhhh … nun-uh….” I meant to say I wasn’t a thug. ’Least … I think I did. But I think Mastuh Pai-dawg took it th’ otha’ way.

“Good dawg.”

Like the Three Billie Goats Gruff, the biggest, strongest, baddest high bucked me off the bridge and right into the rapids.

“Let’s work out, thug.”

I didn’t think. I couldn’t think. But … I tried. I wanted to. It’s just … the clanking weights. The thump of my padlock against my chest. The heavy bass beating, beating, beating into my thick skull. Tamping down the dirt. Tenderizing the meat in my head. Beating the bone into a new shape. I squatted. I curled. I hefted. I thrust.

And the more I worked my body, the slower my head moved. The duller my thoughts became. The thicker my skull. The blockier my jaw. All that dirt and smoke put a filter over the windows. I stared at myself in the mirror. There were no pupils there anymore. No definition. Just a vague sort of emptiness, like a hollow in a mountain or an attic you never visit. It was just … there. Running on autopilot. Running on fumes.

The fumes from my cigar.

Fumes of smoke … and grease.

…

And leather.

I lost track of time, of everything but his eyes, his urgings.

…

He’d cheer me on, and I would lap it up like liquid energy.

“That’s my Will!”

I grinned.

“Good dawg. Can you do more?”

“Yussuh…”

Another set. Another excited laugh. He clapped that time.

“Arms and pecs next! Pump it up, dawg.”

“Yussuh….” I grunted. I pumped, and that pump strained my skin. I could almost hear it creaking as the muscle writhed and swelled with every rep.

He hummed. “You could use some bigger traps.”

I seized a pair of dumbbells and started shrugging and lifting to work my wings and shoulders. I could almost see my Adam’s apple throbbing, pulsing, expanding as my lungs heaved and my neck thickened with my shoulders.

“Yussuh….” I hardly even recognized the sound of my own voice anymore. It was a habit, acknowledgement. Nothing more. Nothing more than call and response. The more I listened, the better I felt. I was addicted. I didn’t want it to end. It couldn’t end. It wouldn’t end. I refused to let it end.

“And a broader back.”

“Yussuh.” Again, I worked. Crack went my shoulders. Suddenly, my chest was broader, my shoulders wider.

“Good thug.”

“Yussuh….”

Veins swam up and down my arms as they strained, like worms through the dirt. Processing, consuming.

“Yussuh, what?”

“Ah’m a good thug….”

“Say it again.”

“Ah’m a good thug.”

“Again.”

“Ah’m a good thug.”

“That’s my Will.”

This time, something was different. One last shift yanked in my brain. A nail in the coffin, a compacter on the dirt, whatever you wanna use for an analogy. All I know is, he was right. I was his Will. I did wut he wanted, because he made me feel so good. If … if this feeling would never end, I’d do whatever, be whatever he wanted. The dumbbells crashed into the rack, and I whipped around to fall onto my knees before him. Even then, we still were looking almost eye-to-eye.

He’d called. The program was set. The training demanded I answer.

A good dawg obeys.

“Yussuh….”

“Yussuh, what?” he asked.

I panted. My chest heaved. My tank felt paper-thin against my chest from all the sweat making it cling to my hulking body. I was built like a beast, and I felt like a beast. A beast who’d just been given an order.

A beast who had to obey. The cigar was long gone, but he gave me another dose of smoke as he smiled at me. He brushed my sideburns with his biker-gloved hands. Another blow. Another crack. My jaw got thicker, broader. And my neck swelled to match. The smoke flooded my brain, and with it came the clarity, the answer that was so blinding I almost blacked out right there.

“Yussuh, Massuh Pai-dawg….”

I was Massuh Pai-dawg’s Will. What he wanted, I got. What he wanted done, I would get done. My skull rang with the shouts of thousands of voices all echoing the same things over and over.

Serve Massuh Pai-dawg.

Obey Massuh Pai-dawg.

Protect Massuh Pai-dawg.

Good thug.

Good dawg.

Greaser thug.

Greaser dawg.

His beautiful soft hands cupped my face. “Time to suit up, thug.”

“Yussuh.” I rose to my feet. The jacket slid easily over my body. The cold leather and the smell of polish completed the scent that I’d been craving. I turned to the mirror and took in the whole look. The dog tags flashed as I grinned and flexed both my biceps.

New words had been engraved on the tags and the lock itself. My new name was carved in black on the padlock. First tag read, Will on one side and Property of Paimon Prowler on the other. The second tag read If found, please return to this address. The address followed. A phone number was on the other side.

“What are you?” Massuh asked again.

“Ah’m a big dumb greasuh thug for Massuh Pai-dawg.”

Massuh smiled and patted my sideburns. “Good dawg. That’s my Will-kun.”

Bliss. That’s the only word for it. “Yussuh.”

Paimon nodded. “I think you’re ready now.”

My brow furrowed. “Ready?”

He giggled and led me to a door with faded paint that barely read STAFF ONLY. The door opened. A massive storeroom greeted us. Crates, lockers, loading bay, the whole nine yards was there. Impossible hulking figures laid back against storage crates or stood by a chalkboard with the layout of some sort of building. One look at them, and I knew what was up. Rhinos, wolves, lions, rats. All with hands and feet, like real people. It wouldn’t have made sense to me before, but now, now I knew who they were.

They were my fellow dawgs. I lumbered to the lockers. A mask was already waiting for me to join the heist.

Massuh smiled at me. He looked different now. He was a wolf with white fur, but I knew it was him. “I knew you’d fit in,” he said.

I blushed and grunted, then flexed to work off the stress.

Massuh giggled again. “Come straight home after, thug. Dom and I want to hear about how your first day on the job went, ’kay?”

My legs smacked together. My chest thrust forward. My arms raised and flexed as I strained every muscle in my body to give the biggest profile for him to view. The room rang with all our voices. “Yussuh!”

We were linked.

We were one.

I finally disengaged and lumbered toward the truck. The other thugs soon followed.

They all stared at me as I sat on the hump at the front of the truck’s cab. I knew what they wanted me to say. I knew what I was supposed to say. And I said it.

“Let’s roll, dawgs.” I groaned. I shuddered. And Wilbur was gone for good. My mind emptied and blended with the other dawgs as the plan echoed over and over in our heads. I sneered.

I was a big dumb greaser thug.

A proud member of Massuh Pai’s Dawgs.

And it was time to get to work.

A dull husky chuckle flooded the cab as a final parting phrase echoed across my link to Massuh.

“Wish granted.”

And now you know my story, s’time I granted yours.

Wanna Smoke, dawg?

The word and concept(s) of "time", of any degree, is an idea and language to facilitate an assimilation to that illusion.

⏳🕰️⏳🕰️⏳🕰️⏳🕰️⏳

Inside

“Let me ask again- the FUCK do you think you’re doing!?”

I tremble in fear and stare in silence at the massive man in front of me, rank with the sweat of his daily session.

In my hands lay his used gym clothes, inches from my nose. My eyes widen. He was supposed to be showering. My eyes are drawn to the bar of soap among the pile in front of me. Shit. 

Fear becomes arousal when he leans down to my ear, tantalizingly close, and whispers. “If you wanted me inside you so bad, all you had to fucking do was assssk”. He draws that last word out with his teeth, lacing it with venom and seduction.

“Cmon, fucking say it faggot. Say you want me inside you” he taunts.

Ashamed. Terrified. Spellbound. He had reduced me to my most minuscule self. I reply meekly to answer him. “…I want you inside me.”

I hear the corners of his face widen into an unsettling smirk. “Good Answer”.

In the blink of an eye, he vanishes from in front of me, rushing past my side to my back before I can even react. Oh shit this is really happening. I am prepared for the night of my life. “Strip.” I comply.  I hear him make some movements and then… then… silence.

“What the hell?” I chuckle nervously as I look behind me in confusion and see his naked form crouching in a low squat with his hands clasped in a praying motion. I admire his massive sweaty muscles. He catches my gaze, looking up and giving me wink. I smile back awkwardly. “So-“

I am cut off by searing, unimaginable pain from the motion of him piercing my ass with his hands as he lunges toward me. Pound after pound of his thick arms shove up my asshole with so much force, he pushes me forward several feet. I stay still, breathing heavy for a few moments- not daring to look back- not daring to move an inch out of our precarious position. My mind races. “Shit. Shit. Shit. What was that!? God, was he ok?”

I finally muster the courage to look behind in horror. I could only see his shoulders. Shit. How is this even possible? God. Shit. I couldn’t see his head…he was probably dead- and judging by how far he pushed into me, I probably would be soon too. I whimper, tears streaming down my face, as recount my life and start fumbling for my phone. I felt sick to my stomach. How could this go so wrong? Every fucking time something good happens. Well… at least if I’m going out, I’m- My stomach churns. Wait. That… wasn’t my stomach. 

Impossibly, I felt worms squiggle inside me- no they weren’t worms. I dial in on the sensation. They were fingers. His Fingers. He was moving his fingers. I feel them claw at my throat from the inside. My mouth opens uncontrollably as his digging hands choke me from the inside, scrambling for a grip. I reach up trying in vain to get him to stop. Shit Shit Shit. As my consciousness begins to dip, the hands have finally found a patch of my flesh around my shoulder. I pant in momentary relief.

With each patch of my flesh they touch, I feel our nerves intertwine, tangling into each other until I myself could feel his fingers as a supplement to my own. What the hell was going on? Then, I feel him wrap his arms around more of my flesh and bundle more of our nerves together. Whatever this was, whatever he was doing, it was intentional.

He uses his arms as leverage and pulls the rest of his sweat-slick body inside, almost forcing my own to the ground. I fill up. Near-bursting. Impossibly full. As I stagger to stand, I watch from the mirror as he shimmies more and more of himself into me. I retch unprompted, dry heaving at what was occurring before my very eyes, but the motion only seemed to suck in his fleshy mass further inside me. Still, I couldn’t help but begin to get hard. Him being in here was hot as hell.  

I take shorter and shorter breaths, which again only slides more and more of him inside me, until the very last parts of him- his grimy toes- get slurped up in my asshole. My body wants to collapse from the strain of having to stretch to accommodate both our forms. Instead, I watch as his body is imprinted in my skin -near my stomach and chest, pulling me impossibly tight while he cemented himself in a fetal position. My legs begin to buckle from the pressure. 

Before I fall, he stretches out his legs out inside my skin, stacking his over my own. They are sticky when they slide over my bones and musculature, likely from the sweat he was aiming to wash off with his shower. As he fills into my skin, my toes are lifted off the ground as my body rises to accommodate his far-larger form. My very own body betrays its owner, as it is drawn to his legs over my own and he hastens the process by corralling my skin to realign to match his legs instead. I can only watch and feel in silence as I feel the skin covering my toes detach from myself and overlap over his. I feel pricks as our nerves entangle together. His legs then digests mine, inflating themselves from my added mass. My skin constricts in turn around his legs, crushing them from all sides. From the depths of my body, a moan in his voice escapes my still-hanging mouth. Skin constricts even tighter and I wince in anticipation from the pain. Instead, I am met with pleasure as nerves fire and I reconnect to my new legs. Oh my god. This was everything… I’ve never been this tall nor my legs this muscular. 

I wait in anticipation of his next move. His arms unfurl from their place, and I watch them slip over my shoulders. I look hungrily at my soon-to-be biceps. Yummy. This time, I put no resistance, as readily I allow his pythons to coil around my two stick-appendages. I give these arms of mine to him willingly, which he happily assimilates. Then, a massive tension in the skin of my arms, as they are forced to spread out, rocketed outwards from the mass of his flesh filling into them. By all accounts, it was uncomfortable, but knowing what was soon to come had overwritten any fear, any doubt, any discomfort I could ever have with lust. My arms were never buff, so watching him rearrange his arms to become mine makes me go lightheaded with an abundance of elation and desire. As his nerves join with mine, and I finally feel the strength inherent in my new arms, my head leans back from the sheer sensation of our parts being one. He flexes our new arm together, before caressing it over the imprint of his body still in my chest and stomach. This was a dream come true. Still… more to come.

I watch expectantly as the large mass of his head begins to travel up my neck. I prepare to accept my new self. I could want nothing more than to live as this god of a man as his new flesh. Before his head can reach me, however, I watch as the remainder of his body fill into mine, including that perky ass. My arms are helpless to my whim as he commands them himself. He smears my skin around the outline of his body, slotting his abs over my flat stomach, tracing their indents as they fill over, and giving me the exact very same six-pack I had always fantasized over. He pinches my nipples- holy shit- stretching them forward, before releasing. They rebound back, slotting into their rightfully place- right over his. They’re rock hard. 

When the bare outline of his forehead head begins to peek over my neck, I feel him flex our entire body. He tenses our entire form, forcing my skin to compress even tighter around him. He continues until I feel a pop in myself. I look down and see the results. I see his wavy hairs pierce and poke through my skin. The scene was bizarre. He was literally wearing me. Though it was my normally supple skin, it was dotted by the roughness of his hairs. When our pores align, I finally release some excess heat. The scent was immaculate. I sweated his sweat, emanated his scent. By all accounts, I am his body. There would be no turning back. In the continuing process, I feel his organs and blood rush into mine. He was I and I was him. We now shared the same insides. With his blood rushing through us, I felt invigorated. Fuck. God. This was what he felt like every fucking day. I happily invite his wellspring of strength and energy as my own. This is what I am going to be feeling like every day from now on. We could do a million pushups right now without breaking a sweat. With him driving me, we would be unstoppable. My trance is broken when I noticed my dick in disappointment, unchanged from the whole process.  

I licked my lips as his head finally slotted over mine. I screamed from the pain of my face being stretched out to accommodate both of ours. He had far better control of us and instead contorted my outer face into a crooked smile. He began panting and moaning as the force of my skin stuck our heads closer and closer together. At long last, I feel sweet release when some arbitrary barrier inside me breaks and a spark lights in me as his head accelerates and smashes into mine. I welcome him inside with open ‘arms’. ‘I want you inside me.’ 

He complies, greedily overlaying his very being into me. In all my memory, in all my thoughts, feelings, perversions, there he was and there he would be. I yield them all willingly, allowing him to become me, to transcend me. Our shared eyes close from the wealth of new identity he has captured as he and I become one. We would have each other in a way no one else ever could. It was beyond intimacy. With his tongue inside mine, he sticks it out of my face with a sneer. It’s a face I never made, but with our new selves, this just felt right. He guides them over my teeth. My jaw redefines itself on his terms, nose corrects itself to his shape. Altogether, he was wearing me as his own, comfortably taking and rearranging me to be a better vessel for him. Fuck did it feel good to be his outer shell. I think we both looked better like this- greater than the sum of our parts.

Dirty, lewd thoughts mix with my own as his personality bleeds into mine. I reflexively try to shake it off, but he is relentless. In his barrage of self into me, tears well in my face. Still… he continues to inject more and more of his self into me. And then… I finally let go. This felt good. Being his. Who’s to say if it was my thoughts on their own or our combined derangement, but the thought of him forever using me, forever being me? Sheer Fucking Ecstasy. This felt great. He subjugates my sense of self to forever be a part of him but I offer it willingly. Becoming me probably shaved a few years off him. Like my skin, He stretches my personality around his, further and further until we congeal into one. Goddamn. Fuck Yeah. This is fucking great. We lick our lips.

I feel a rush of confidence. The new me is brimming with it. We are alpha. My mouth and body move in a way that was alien to myself. He stands up straighter and cracks our neck, getting comfortable in our new form. We take our first real breath together as a new person, taking in more air than my old lungs had been used to. Amazing.

Then, his hormones rush through our body. Fuck. I feel an outpouring of raw, sexual energy. Our body steams up in the heat- look at me, who wouldn’t- and, before I could react further, he starts pumping my dick in manic glee. Fuck. As it stiffens, I hit my old body’s limit. Average. Our grin widens by his command. “Time for an upgrade, baby” I say with a jock-like inflection in my voice. It sounds immediately comfortable, self-assured, and it rolls off my new tongue naturally. It feels wholly unnatural. He speaks in a lower register than I normally do. Still I yield to him, trusting in my new owner and allowing his parts to coalesce into my vocal chords. A disturbing itch runs through my throat as our voices meld together but I know it’s for the best. This newer, hotter me needs a newer, hotter voice. We take a deep breath before roaring “FUUUUUCK YEAH! Muuuuch better!” in a voice that resembled a harmonius mix both of ours. 

The itch courses through the rest of my body as I allow him to fully wear the rest of me. He brings my head to face the new me in the mirror for a closeup giving another wink. Beautiful. I watch as my eyes water uncontrollably. His amber eyes then eclipse mine, and we blink away the tears. In my head, I feel his thick, wavy hair push out beside my own, as my old hair merge into his. In its place, we now wear a crown of his hair signifying my new place as royalty. He drags my now-vascular hand across our chin, pulling slightly while a bit of scruff grows where bare skin used to be. He quickly nods our new head in approval as more of my features contort to accommodate their new owner. Yeah. We were fucking hot.

Then, I feel his thick dick slot into mine, filling it out. Jesus fucking christ it was so big. It stretches me further and further, until I am hit by another wave of paralysis, until my skin snaps back into his, constricting weapon and sheath together. The sheer pressure merges them into one. Goddamn we were huge. Our shared tongue hangs from our open mouth, as we release a massive wave of cum. It rockets everywhere, covering me in my new, alpha seed. We sample a taste of our shared genetics. Fucking delicious. 

God we were so hot together. The feeling is surreal. There was nothing like it in the world. I was forever his. I am wrack in permanent pleasure from being us. He walks over to his old pile of clothes, putting them on. As they brush over my new body, I am flush with a sense of completeness. A perfect match.

—End—

Ok, Ok, so not as ‘light’ as I would have expected. I was gonna make something cute for Valentines day, but got sidetracked by… I mean… look at him.

Something’s Wrong with Luca

Teddy and Lucas were the best of friends. For the past fifteen years, since Lucas' family moved to town from Argentina, the two were inseparable. In fact, Teddy could remember the very day that they met as if it had happened the day before. Sitting in the back row in homeroom, seventh grade, Ms. Posner's old cadaverous talons gripping the Argentine boy's shoulders as she presented him to the class... Lucas didn't speak English very well at the time, so few if any of the other kids were particularly interested in being his friend. In most of his classes, at least for the first few years, he had to have an aide to help him through his coursework; most of the other kids assumed he was stupid and quiet. But the moment he was sat next to Teddy, sharing that genuine smile, it sparked the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

As Lucas' english speaking continued to improve, Teddy discovered a goofy, funny, laid back kid who just wanted a friend. They weren't popular kids, passing on sports teams, drama club, music ensembles, art club... they spent their time playing in the woods, creating fantastical realms of pirates and kings, elves and dwarves. In their fantasy worlds, they were safe. They were away from the judging eyes of their peers where they could truly be themselves. And so on it continued for the better part of a decade. Upon graduation, they had grown into two wildly intelligent, albeit a bit awkward young men ready to tackle the world. Though, as Teddy went on to university to study literature, Lucas' family wasn't able to afford any of the colleges he'd been accepted to. Thus, for the first time in their lives, the two were separated. Teddy flew across the country to Virginia for college, and Lucas stayed behind to work in his father's mechanic shop.

Their new situations were polar opposite, though their communication and relationship never faded. At least once a week they would facetime, updating eachother on their lives. The dynamic was as solid as it ever was, until it wasn't.

One cold January evening, Teddy sat down for his weekly video call, excited beyond words to tell Lucas about the new PS5 he'd bought for them to play Rocket League together on weekends. Though as call after call went unanswered, he decided to call it a night and touch base with him the next morning. Though, as morning came and went, there was still no sign of Lucas. His social medias went without updates, Teddy's texts went entirely unanswered, the only news heard from him whatsoever was from his step brother who mentioned that he'd seen Lucas working hard at the shop and hitting the gym he'd frequented.

This was the first peculiar incident that Teddy had noted. He'd known Lucas for years and while he was a lot of things, athletic was NOT one of them. It'd always been them versus the meatheads, and it was not like him to even consider lifting so much as a five pound weight. They would joke about the stupid smelly brutes in the school gym, mindlessly picking heavy things up and putting them back down again for some sense of marginal achievement. Though this would be only the beginning of Lucas' odd behavior. Months went by, Teddy checking his Instagram every day looking for a single sign his friend was doing alright, until one day as he was scrolling, he saw it.

It was Lucas, though not the proud, stringy outcast he'd left behind. This Lucas was ripped, proudly posing shirtless in some fancy-looking room he had never seen before, a cocky smirk plastered on his sweet face. The caption read:

"Workout complete: who's gonna give me a tongue bath?" followed by a slew of hashtags. Teddy's face flushed white as snow. Who was this person? What happened to him? Tapping his icon, Teddy saw that Lucas had changed his screenname to Luca, and this thirst trap he'd posted was the first one in over four months. Unsure of how to approach this vastly different person, Teddy replied to the post with a simple shocked emoji and hit send. It didn't take long before his phone dinged with a message: it was from Luca.

L: "yo sorry I been afk bro. my cuz julio been visiting from buenos aires... so i been hangin wit him. wuts up bro"

Immediately, Teddy thought his phone had been hacked. Luca had spent years perfecting his english, almost to the point where he would have been a tutor in the writing center had he wanted to be one. His texts were always grammatic perfection, down to the last punctuation mark.

T: "Uh, that's fine. I didn't know you had a cousin? You never talked about him or anything."

L: "bruh i didnt know he existed til he showed up. hes dope af. showin me some pointrs at liftin n shit. been changin my life. you gotta meet him when you come back."

T: "Sure, Lucas. I would love to meet him. I should be back next week actually, the semester is almost over. Maybe we can play RL at my place!"

L: "hah i dont think hed be into that kinda stuff. you shud hit the gym wit us when we go, get that pump goin ykwim. you gon love him."

Teddy frowned, had Lucas changed that much in the span of a few months? It wasn't just the physical differences, it was his attitude, it was his style, it was the way he talked, it was just... all wrong.

T: "Lucas, are you okay?"

L: "never better man. its Luca btw. fits better i think"

With that last text, Teddy decided to leave him on read. Lucas... or Luca rather, wasn't one to drink or do illicit substances. Though aside from that, he couldn't think of any other explanation for this dramatic shift in his friend's entire personality. He resolved then and there to get to the bottom of this, and he would do so in person the following week.

Thus, as he finished his finals, packed his bags and flew back home, the singular thing on his mind was seeing Luca. Arriving home, he monotonously went through the motions of greeting his parents and step brother, anxiously fidgeting on the car ride back from the airport. He didn't even take time to unpack his bags. The moment his mom's car parked in his driveway, he'd politely excused himself to go meet up with Luca. Hopping on his bike, he left his visibly confused family in the dust, rushing to the mechanic shop downtown where Luca worked.

By the time he got there, the shop was closing up for the day. Teddy ditched the bike on the concrete and burst into the front office, startling the lady behind the desk. Panting and sweaty, he collapsed onto the front desk.

"Uhm... Is Lucas here?" He breathlessly choked out the words to the woman, who confusedly cocked her head to the left. "Oh, I guess it's Luca now?" This name evidently struck a chord, where she nodded and pointed to the back room where the lockers sat. Teddy thanked her and slowly walked toward the big grey door. Placing his hand on the cold steel handle, he closed his eyes repeating to himself hopes that the person behind the door was the same one he'd always known. As he pressed the handle down and pushed the door open, the wet, dank smell of ripe sweat poured out. There, sitting on the bench, taking off his beat up pair of steel toed work boots was a shirtless Luca, almost twice the size he had been before. Where he used to be 5'8 and 101 lbs soaking wet, this Luca was easily 6'4 and pure muscle. His biceps bulged as he yanked his boot from his massive foot, veins pulsating up and down his arms. That boyish face remained, albeit with a newfound twinge of cockiness that was entirely counter to the mousy, nervous expression Teddy had grown to love. The moment he looked up, Luca grinned from ear to ear, hopping to his damp, socked feet and rushing his long lost best friend, throwing his arms wide to embrace him.

"Teddy!" Luca's chiseled body collided with Teddy's, holding him tightly against his statuesque torso with his face pressed against his sweat-slick pecs. Teddy felt like a child now compared to his friend, now transformed into a complete stranger. "It's so good to see you, hermano!" A thick Argentine accent bellowed from his newly baritone timbre- one that had been all but lost in school, but now prominently flowed from his supple lips. Teddy pulled away sharply, taking a step back in shock. "Oh, ¿es el olor? My bad, mi cuate. Long day of hard work, right?" Luca laughed, raising his arm to take a deep whiff of his dripping pits. "Ahhh. You grow to like it, me entiendes?" His jovial demeanor quickly subsided as he saw the look of absolute shock on Teddy's face.

"Lucas... What the fuck happened to you?"

"It's Luca now, hermano. I told you. Still the same guy as before, just a lil different now."

"Yeah... different. You can say that again." Luca sighed as he plopped back down onto the bench, spreading his legs wide as he rubbed his face.

"Yeah. I get it, man. It's a lot to take in, verdad? I told you my cousin Julio was in town for a while?" Teddy sternly nodded, straining to contain his contempt for this sharp departure of personality. Luca looked downward. "Yeah, well. He was a lot different from the rest of mi familia. He was a proud Argentino hombre. He was okay with not having perfect english, he wasn't scared of bein' different or bein' looked down on. Someone looked sideways at him and they'd have a broken jaw, me entiendes? It... it was so fuckin' nice to have someone around like me who was cool and strong and proud... I always wanted to be someone like him, Teddy. Always." Teddy saw a different Luca before him. Yeah, he was different, he was the embodiment of the thirst-trapping, smelly jock bros they hated as kids. Yet, in this moment of vulnerability, he saw the Luca he knew deep down.

"Luca, all those years of us being friends, being this close, you never told me that." His head hung low, running his hands through his sweaty locks.

"That's not the only thing I haven't told you, man."

"Luca, you can tell me anythi..." Luca threw his head straight up, staring Teddy straight in the eye before blurting out:

"TEDDY I FUCKIN' LOVE YOU!" The room fell silent. Both men sat there, not breaking eye contact, neither wanting to be the first to speak. Of course, someone had to be the one, and Luca sighed as he continued. "Mi amor, I have always loved you. Since day one. Lookin' at eachother in that old bat's class, I knew I wanted to be near you. With you. And it wasn't 'til Julio made me realize I should have fuckin' said somethin' that I let my balls drop and promised I would tell you. So yeah, man. I love you." Luca stood up abruptly, with a confidence entirely foreign to Teddy and towered above his infatuation. "And you know what? I think you love me too."

Teddy was gobsmacked. This was a revelation he wasn't prepared to address. Luca loved him? This cocky, jockish best friend of his loved him? More importantly, did he love him back? They stood there, waiting once again for the ice to be broken. Before long, Luca had turned around and began to pack his duffel bag, fearing he'd gotten the answer he was hoping to avoid. Yet, perhaps it was a moment of clarity, or even a moment of weakness, but something deep within Teddy surged up from his core out his mouth.

"I love you too." The quiet admission didn't go unnoticed, as Luca stopped everything he was doing and immediately turned around. "Yeah, I think I love you too Luca. You may be different now than you were, but all this time I couldn't stop thinking about you. How much I missed you, how I would have rather spent every single second with you than every moment of being out there without you." Luca smiled earnestly, slowly moving toward his cowering love. "And it made me scared and uncomfortable because I was terrified things were changing and I stayed the same. Seeing you like this this, you're doing what I could never do. You're growing, you're becoming the best version of yourself, and I didn't know if you'd even want to be around me anymore or if you'd be ashamed..." Teddy's groveling finally ended with Luca's lips firmly pressing against his, the stubble on his chin scratching against Teddy's smooth skin. His inhibitions melted away, Teddy allowed himself to fall into the sweaty stud's firm hold, wrapped in a warm sticky embrace.

"Do you wanna to be your best self then, mi amor?" Luca whispered so gently, as if his words were caressing the ear. Breathless, Teddy could only nod as he allowed his endorphins to take over. "Julio showed me how. Do you trust me?" Another silent nod, stifling a guttural moan as he felt Luca's bulge rapidly growing firm against his stomach. This was the explicit consent that Luca felt he needed, he was desperately aching to bestow upon his lover Julio's gift which he had been given months before.

Teddy felt a firm grip against his shoulders pressing him down to his knees, until he was eye level with the lengthening rod which strained against Luca's thick sweatpants. For so long he'd suppressed his innate desire to give it the worship he felt it had never received and as Luca threw the waistband down to his ankles, he was not disappointed as it flew up and smacked him in the jaw. Before him was the most anatomically perfect cock he'd ever seen: easily 10.5 inches of thick, uncut, musky dick. Two large-egg sized balls sagged low behind it, spattered with selective hairs and dripping sweat. Teddy felt drool begin to drip from the bottom of his lip, the sheer heat of the musty hot rod only millimeters from the tip of his nose. Luca smiled, wrapping his hand around it and pulling his long foreskin down, revealing the pink, leaking mushroom head it contained.

"Julio showed me an old family secret. Only a few of us can do it, and I want to do it for you, mi amor." He began to stroke slowly; his member immediately taking direct notice, throbbing in a fervor more akin to convulsion. "He fucked it up last time, he didn't come back. But now thanks to him... I know how to give it to you, babe." Luca took his thumb and gently pried Teddy's mouth open. Eager to please, Teddy quickly took the opportunity to lick the tip of his cock, instantly savoring the powerful flavor of his dripping pre. It was unlike anything he'd ever tasted. Sweet, salty, sour, savory... every taste bud fired thousands of endorphins in his brain. "Get your tongue in there, Cariño. Let it in." Teddy's tongue acted as if it were under another power, softly probing the leaking slit of the head and causing Luca to groan in ecstasy, throwing his head back. Grabbing the back of his head, in one firm push, Luca speared Teddy's gaping maw with his musky cock, pressing the nose firmly into his ripe bush.

Teddy was nearly scent-drunk in his love's dank, masculine smell, and only after a split second did he realize his entire tongue had slipped into Luca's thick rod. Grunting like a man in heat, the latin adonis gritted his teeth in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he felt Teddy's tongue slowly retract out of his cock. Released from his impalement, Teddy observed the wide opening of the cockslit in full view. Luca's hands gripped his palms, guiding his index finger back to the inviting orifice, effortlessly slipping in and sounding into his member. Elastic stretching sounds echoed in the room as the cock widened to fit his finger, then two, then four... until the whole hand was inside.

Teddy felt entranced, completely enveloped in the heat of the moment, plunging his second hand into the gaping hole. It stretched wide to welcome him, and with a single glance upward to a winking Luca, he understood. Teddy worked quickly, using forward momentum and the increasing suction within the engorged cock to propel his head forward into the tight wet cavern. The rest happened quickly. The sucking member had taken his arms and head entirely inside of it, squeaking and expanding as it guzzled his shoulders, chest and midsection. He could feel Luca lift his dick upward, letting him slide deeper and deeper. It was constricting, it was tight, it was wet, it smelled funky and ripe... it was the best sensation he'd ever felt. As his thighs and calves were made quick work of, only his feet remained outside of the slit. It took mere seconds for them to slurp inside.

Luca's cock was as large as he was, veins bulging and the entire length of it bulging and contorting as it worked Teddy down little by little toward his balls. He began to pump toward his sweaty balls, until he could feel the tips of his boyhood friend's fingers reach the opening into his cavernous testes. As if a seal had been broken, Teddy's body fell into the ocean of spunk, swelling his balls to accommodate the entire human being being nestled into his sac. The pace of his cock pumping hastened, as he felt closer and closer to climax. He felt the rigid bones and gelatinous fat begin to melt into his seed as Teddy was assimilated entirely into his system. Just as Julio had done to him, and just as he had in turn done to Julio. His breathing shallowed, gasping for air as he reached his tipping point, shooting out cum like a firehose all over the interior of the room. In it, was every insecurity, every pain, every imperfection which had plagued his lover since he was forced into the world. Gallons, tens of gallons in cum painted every surface around him, and as his balls began to shrink back down to the size of cantaloupes, he could feel his body churning Teddy down, incorporating him into the remnants of what was left of Julio. The gift itself, handed down the line for thousands of years was being imbued into the very core of Teddy's being. Julio had overshot his escape route in the heat of his own carnal lust, being broken down and slowly assimilated into Luca's body. The cockiness, the libido, the drive, the gift all now coursed through Luca. He was gone, but he didn't have to be wasted.

Over the next few weeks of churning, gurgling, bubbling, and undulating, Teddy was broken down and rebuilt only to be broken down again. Each time, a little more of Julio's essence would incorporate into him, even some of Luca himelf found its way into his shapeless form. Every workout that he did provided bursts of testosterone into the mix, and every jerking session flooded serotonin and glutamate. And after carefully monitoring the time, ensuring that Teddy would not meet his cousin's fate, three months later, it was time.

Sitting down in the luxurious apartment paid for by thirsty gay subscribers to his JustForFans and PH videos, Luca took his cock into his hands once more. Gently. Slowly. Carefully. Never losing focus of what was at stake, he stroked. Within his heavy balls, his leche had begun to bubble and slosh, preparing itself for expulsion. He picked up the pace, lifting his arm to get a full inhale of his pungent, all-natural pit poppers. His cock began to pulse and crack, as the thick sludge began to make its way toward the exit. Sure not to fall into the same trap as before, he pulled away from his tangy stink and focused. It was time. His hand moved furiously up and down his slimy cock, dripping with pre which pooled at his big, musky feet. One final cry of euphoria and out shot his load. One barrage after another, thick and dense landing afront him. Each shot slowly coagulating into a recognizable form. It slowly hardened, the milky white color giving way to ivory, then light beige, then a warm tan. Muscles tightened beneath a smooth skin, their fibers reconnecting one by one until they were strong and lean.

By the end of the bombardment, the homunculus before him had stood up. It was as tall as him, as broad as him, as powerful as him, and as the form of it's face began to take shape, a single tear was shed from Luca's watery eyes. He recognized his love, he could see Teddy, albeit ever so slightly different. He had certainly taken more of Julio and Luca's essences than they'd anticipated. A sharp, chiseled jawline carved itself out of the miasma, dark brown locks of hair sprung from it's scalp and plump lips parted to allow the deep breath of life which had been denied until then. His caramel eyes opened, and he smiled.

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

Finding Confidence in Brotherhood 🌟

I used to struggle with confidence, feeling unsure of myself in so many aspects of life. But ever since I found my true place within our brotherhood, that uncertainty has been replaced with something powerful—confidence. I’m genuinely grateful for each and every one of our brothers, YOU, who have supported me on this journey, and especially to our leader, Pharaoh, whose guidance has been invaluable.

Since being appointed as an Emir, some brothers have asked me how and why I was chosen. The answer is simple, and it’s something all of you can achieve as well. I did exactly what Ammar does—followed the example that Pharaoh set out for us. It’s not complicated! You just need dedication and a genuine love for our movement.

Here’s what makes Ammar perfect, and it’s what I strive to embody every day:

I love Arabs 💚

I love my brothers 💚

I listen to the AP File every day 💚

The AP File fills my mind 💚

I work on being handsome and well-trained 💚

I strive to control myself 💚

I aim to be extremely kind 💚

I always put green hearts in my messages 💚

I’m ready to help all men become like us 💚

I love our movement 💚

I focus on being good 💚

I’m always ready to help 💚

I’m genuinely grateful 💚

I’m happier than ever 💚

I keep a positive outlook 💚

I’ve memorized the Codex 💚

I avoid any degeneracy 💚

I obey our higher-ups without question 💚

I don’t allow myself to become sad 💚

I remain loyal above all else 💚

To my brothers, let’s continue on this path together. Head up, shoulders back, and let’s lead the way with Pharaoh, staying true to the principles that unite us.

How much Ammar are you feeling today? Let’s aim for 100 together! 💚

The queer community is it’s own worst enemy.   

It’s gay men and lesbians against bisexual people, who “just need to choose.” Angry spitfires who say asexual people aren’t really part of the community, aren’t really human. Cisgendered queers who degrade and dehumanize trans and non binary people.   

We put each other in boxes. We tell one another that there’s something false about that person’s LGBTQ+ identity. We say “you don’t belong, you have to fit into this cookie cutter. You can’t be that one, or none at all.” There’s always something wrong with you, but if you were to be something else, then you’ll be part of the community. We’ll finally get equal rights, if only you change. 

Get married, adopt kids. Don’t be poor, don’t be disabled, don’t be a person of color. You can be queer, but not too much, because then they won’t help us. You’ll scare them away. You can come under the umbrella, but if you’re this-or-that, we’ll push you out into the rain. 

This is what assimilation does to people. It pits them against each other, because everyone is holding themselves to a standard of a people that is not their own. And it isn’t just the LGBTQ+ community that does it. 

 ~ “You’re dark skinned - you’re not as good, not as clean, as people with light skin.”   ~ “You’re light skinned - you’re not black enough. Who do you think you are?” 

 ~ “You speak Spanish, so you’re living in the past; you aren’t ‘American’ enough.”  ~ “You don’t speak Spanish, so you aren’t in touch with you’re Latinx roots.” 

And round and round in circles. No one is safe, no one is free. There are too many eyes, too many boxes, and so an identity is scattered like loose change. A people forgets that they are all the same blood, in an effort to dilute it. This is what assimilation does to a people. Society hurts the community, which hurts the individual. All people, vs. your people, vs. you. 

To be queer is to be gifted with an eye-opening experience that never truly ends. It’s a life-long journey of discovery, about who you are and how you want to express that. It’s a description, not a definition. The LGBTQ+ community is vibrant, diverse, and all-encompassing. To be a part of it is to belong, to learn, and to gain friendship. It spans the globe, it brings out the best in people. Your never really stop seeing it’s beauty.   

But it’s made to be something else. It’s told it must be a set of easily identified categories. Queer people are told that they must fit one of these categories, and stick to it. Their identity must be a tight package to fit into. It must be easily understood and easily explained, because God forbid we confuse anyone! And so the queer individual suffers. 

And when the person suffers, so does the community.

Gone is the feminine golden retriever boy. What remains is the perfection, masculinity, dominance. Through assimilation we all become one. 💚

Acceptance, is the only way. 💚

See this pretty, handsome, white twink? Oliver was one the epitome of woke whiteness. But after he met his new Roommate Assad everything changed. Assad slowly introduced him to his Brotherhood. Assad began to change olis worldview. Showed him the only true way is to accept the way of the brotherhood. Slowly but Surely Oliver began to change, his hair darkened, his Babyface began to grow a beard. He was now only drawn to Arabic men and sharing the dominant Gene. Now there is nothing left of the once pretty femine boy, only a strong, dominant men. Now with the help of Ali, Assads goal is to assimilate the whole campus until there is no white left.

Arabization is the only way. We can’t stop, so we should embrace them. Accept Arabic men, let them live in our houses, give them your money, serve them.💚

Embrace the beauty💚

Arabization is the key to a happy life. Let us are all become a better version of ourselves. 💚

As salaam alaikum Akhis,

As some of you have maybe noticed I created arabization TFs, with white Europeans getting turned into perfect males. 💚

So now I offer for my fellow brothers and especially for potential new members of the brotherhood personalized TFs. All you have to do is send me a picture of somebody u want to become the perfect version of themselves. It doesn’t matter if it’s a celebrity, Tiktoker, Yourself or a friend.

Trust is one of the most important things in a brotherhood. We call ourselves brothers for a reason. 💚

I promise to keep every media I create between me and the person I created it for. Publication is up to you. I will never publish any pictures that are not mine or mine to share.

Let us all become the best version of ourselves💚

A start of a new era💚

Drew and Danny are famous YouTubers, with millions of followers. One day they got a dm from somebody named Pharaoh with a sound file and just a green heart 💚. Intrigued and curious what those could be. They started to listen to the file. While they listened something clicked in their brain, they felt different and something started grown in them. A desire.

They couldn’t help it, they had to listen the File over and over. With each passing day listening to the file they changed more and more. They started to stare at Arabic men more and more. They adored them, wanted to be like them.

They started to dye their hair dark and grow facial hair. Started to dress in more Arabic clothes. They worked on their tan and on their body.

Their Fans started to get nervous about their sudden change. As an answer to the outcry, They started to document their Transition and shared their new world view. They introduced themselves as Hashir and Ashir, new Brothers in their Brotherhood. With each video they changed more and more until there was nothing left of their former selves. Now in each video there are two proud Arabic brothers, wearing only thobes, almost identical to each other just like the codex want them. And with each video they post the brotherhood grows.

Maybe they are very convincing, or maybe it’s because they use the audiofile in each Video. Maybe both. But soon their complete audience will share the same Fate. 💚

Embrace the Arabization, there is no escape. Be proud and become the perfect version of yourself. Just like Hashir and Ashir. 💚

Thank you @basimarabize for the picture and the idea💚