The Interviews
The Interviews
--- Originally posted on 2021-02-07 by dumb-and-jocked. ---
“Can you guys believe we actually made it?” Elijah exclaimed proudly. Even as the tallest of the trio at 6’7, he had to arch his back to see the top of the skyscraper in front of him. Elijah had worked hard to get his degree in business, so the prospect in front of him made him feel like he was touching the finish line. He had applied for an interning position in the financial department, and the company had been so impressed with his application that they had set up an interview immediately.
“I will admit, it is pretty incredible,” Dylan added. He was in the middle of the three, having a little over average height at 5’11 and pretty good muscular tone. What really stood out about him though was his voice, for it was a powerful bass that could shake concrete walls and was completely recognizable at any event. He too had applied for an interning position in the financial department, creating a little friendly rivalry between the two.
“I’m still surprised we all made it.” Although Joe was almost a foot shorter than the giant Elijah at 5’7, he made up for his height in sheer body mass. Back in college, he had been the star wrestler of the college, giving him a body packed with pure strength and flesh. One wouldn’t be able to guess it, but Joe was also skilled in another area: accounting. He was so talented in fact that he had actually been scouted out by the company.
“I guess we should head in,” Elijah stated, making his way forward slowly. “If we actually want to work at the Carmichael Corporation, we’ll have to ace these interviews.”
“Oh yeah, like that’ll be hard,” Dylan jeered as he walked through a set of grand swinging doors. “My record is pretty well stacked. I think I have the best chance out of the three of us for this position.”
“Dude, I’m going for accounting.” Joe gave a rough eye roll, before walking off to notify the secretary of their presence.
“And like I have any competition,” Elijah scoffed as Dylan and himself took a seat on a nearby bench. “Once they see that my name was on the Dean’s List every semester, I’ll get in for sure.”
“You only got that because you were the captain of the basketball team,” Dylan mocked.
“Did not,” Elijah hurled back.
“Did too!” Dylan retorted.
“You understand that I actually worked for those grades, right?” Elijah felt himself get heated as his muscles grew tense.
“Oh you worked for them alright,” Dylan mumbled. “On your knees.”
“Excuse me, bro?!”
“You heard what I said, coc-”
“Gentlemen!”
A sharply dressed male was staring down at the two bickering companions. The man was furiously tapping a pen against his clipboard, obviously irritated. Standing tall in front of the two, he was wrapped up in a gray 3-piece suit with a checkered tie that fit well against his sculpted body. His face showed that although he acted superior, he had to be a similar age to the two young men cowering below him.
“My name is Yale Stockton Rockefeller IV, and I am one of the Accounting Managers here at the Carmichael Corporation,” he began pompously, effortlessly taking control of the situation. “If you want to work here at the Carmichael Corporation, the first concept you must learn is respect and decency to and in the workplace.”
“Sorry,” Dylan and Elijah replied in unison, deeply embarrassed and annoyed by the stuck-up prick.
“Now, I assume I will be performing one of your interviews today,” Yale took a moment to look at his clipboard. “Is one of you Joseph Koroll?”
“That’s me.” Joe appeared from behind Yale, surprising the other man a little bit. After checking in, Joe had quickly run to the bathroom to wash his face, finding he had accidentally missed a few hairs when he had shaved this morning. Not noticeable, just a little itchy.
“Exemplary,” Yale responded, causing Joe to give the other two looks that said What’s with this guy?
“Let us make our way to a correspondent room, we have a lot to cover in little time.” Before Joe could comprehend what Yale had said, the other man was already walking towards an elevator. Joe quickly scurried along, waving to his pals before he was lifted up.
“How do you think he’ll do?” Dylan pondered.
“Better than the two of us so far,” Elijah pouted.
— —
“Joseph Koroll.”
“Yes?”
Yale sat straight at his desk, constantly giving off an ill-tempered glare as he peered back and forth between Joe and Joe’s resumé. What made it even more intense was that Yale’s eyes had an oddly captivating color to them. The two sat in a small conference room on the 15th floor overlooking a part of the city below. Joe didn’t feel that nervous–he actually felt quite confident–but the giant yellow chair he sat in made him seem much smaller than he actually was. Even for his muscular figure, he barely filled half the seat, and his head did not make it anywhere near the top. Not only that, but the chair was placed in the center of the room, giving him more attention than he needed.
“I despise that I must admit it,” Yale sighed. “but your experience and credentials are rather splendid.”
“Thank you?” Joe replied back, a little confused.
“If you want to be a part of the Carmichael Corporation however, there are some aspects that must be changed or enhanced.”
“I understand.”
“The Carmichael Corporation is not some urban start-up with jeans and herbal teas. This is a very demanding industry, one that expects all employees to be obedient and loyal.”
“Of course,” Joe nodded along. “That would make sense.”
“I do not know or care what went on at your last position, but if you want to succeed in this company, it is imperative that orders from a superior be followed. Would you be okay with this level of obedience?”
“Yes sir.” Joe slyly added in the title, sensing he had to accept a power shift.
“That is more appropriate,” Yale smiled. “Now, let us first address the things that need to be changed to be hired. Your attire is the most noticeable facet, as it is unsightly to say in the kindest of terms.”
“Unsightly?” Joe was surprised, finding his red sweater and black slacks quite refined before making eye contact with Yale.
“And that is the kindest of words,” Yale snickered back. “If you want to succeed, you will need to learn how to dress like a man. Let me read you a small excerpt from the company handbook.”
Yale stuck a hand into his bag and pulled out the largest book Joe had ever seen. It had to be at least 1000 pages, yet Yale had no trouble finding the exact description he was looking for.
“Blazers are classic items that work for semi-formal occasions and casual office places. Even as a man transitions to daily suits, a blazer will always have a place at a garden party or fraternity alumni event. Ties and bowties are a delightful way to add color to an outfit. Business attire defaults to long ties, and more conservative workplaces require more conservative choices. Consider emulating the attire of your superiors.”
Yale continued, “Supports should be practical and supportive. Belts are fine for casual outings; however, braces are more desirable for suiting, both for support and style as it allows a more traditional and flattering cut. Similarly, undergarments should provide support and coverage. Briefs are the most appropriate underwear choice, as it provides support without being extraneous. It is also compatible with tennis and golf; sports you will be expected to participate in and the only sports you will be allowed to play.”
Yale paused and took a deep breath. Once he had finished gathering himself, he looked over at Joe and gleamed with satisfaction. “I believe it is secure to say that you have already anticipated these particular needs of the company. Am I assuming correctly?”
“Yes sir,” Joe quickly replied. He had made sure to dress in one of his casual outfits today, something comfortable yet reputable. Along with a navy blazer that had been hung on the door, Joe had paired his classic navy polka-dotted tie with a blue button-up and wool dress pants. Sheer socks silently encased his Size 11 feet inside expensive-looking Oxfords, while two bright, yellow suspenders and a hefty watch worked as the statement pieces. He’d also made sure to shave his beard into a beautiful stubble, something that really made him seem both masculine and well-kept. Joe had originally been concerned that the look was a little too casual, but the fact that his superior had noticed it brought a smile to his lips.
“Superb,” Yale acknowledged. “If you are hired here, you will be expected to meet a certain standard of fitness.”
Yale once again examined Joe before meeting eyes, causing Joe to respond with a smug look.
“Interpreting what I have seen and read, I suspect you will be engaging in a routine similar to the one when you were in varsity golf?”
“Very similar, indeed.” Joe resituated himself in the chair, sitting a little straighter to truly show off his 6’1 height. His tight clothing did an impeccable job showcasing his muscular build, which wasn’t as massive as a bodybuilder’s but definitely imposing. He kicked up one of his Size 14 feet onto his knee, knowing he could now get a little more comfortable.
“You will also need to adapt to our image of masculinity, Joe. This is something that has an adjusting definition for everyone here at the Carmichael Corporation. Do you understand what I am referring to?”
“Not exactly, sir.”
“To explain further,” Yale eyes had a piercing gleam to them. “the duty of a man is to understand that when lacking in some areas of presence, he must identify other ways to consume the devoid territory. Men are meant to take up a certain amount of space, no matter their stature. This does seem appropriate, correct?”
“Yes sir.” Joe completely interpreted what Yale was referring to. It was only natural that some men had larger presences than others, so it was Joe’s duty to match that same standard. Readjusting in his seat once more, Joe felt his wide, plump bottom jiggling about, consuming the entirety of the extra wide seat. He bagged his pants as he sat, causing the crotch of his pants to ride up and give him a distinct moose knuckle. The fluid movement accidentally made him hard, but Joe knew no one would be able to see his 4 inches.
“Now, I believe the next issue is your tone and speech.” Yale pulled out his handbook once more and flipped to another random page.
“Our manual refers to multiple accessible forms of dialogue, but you will be working with men of all ages from assets and banking within accounting. Therefore, it would be best if you learned how to speak slower and adapt your vocabulary to something better cultivated.”
“Why would that help me exactly?” Joe questioned.
Yale, once again annoyed by Joe’s indecency, glared directly at him before explaining. “It will deepen your voice and give you more presence, which will be extremely helpful in business. You will also be able to use a fuller, more masculine tone–much like my own. I expect that is what you desire?”
“Yes sir.” The words spilled out in nearly double the time they had before. Joe’s tongue felt heavy as he spoke as every syllable seemed to require extra effort to spit out.
“Finally, if you aspire to work at the Carmichael Corporation, it is imperative that you adjust your title.” Yale moved along calmly, not at all caring about Joe’s confusion. “Joe is a very informal name. Lazy and lackadaisical. It sets you up casually in a professional world, agree with me?”
“I guess I don’t know…” Joe muttered, his voice sluggish and insensitive.
“In business, you know how important it is to give the right impression. The men in these industries expect a certain standard of professionality, even in your title. And you must give yourself every possible advantage.”
“Yes, of course sir,” Joe monotoned.
“Professionally, I think you should introduce yourself as your full name, John Millard Koroll.”
“I apologize for the inconvenience, but that is not-”
“And where is your surname from?” Yale interrupted. “Is it German?”
“No, it is most certainly-”
“Make it German. It will give you a much more asserting presence. And I reckon a suffix would add some competency as well. From now on, we shall refer to each other by our full names to emulate what the atmosphere is like here at the Carmichael Corporation.”
Joe was still at a loss over the last few comments. He was starting to feel a little panicked over the thought of losing his own identity to the corporate world, but before he could think any further on the topic, Yale stepped in.
“That will work for you, will it not,” Yale stood up from his chair and extended a hand, making sure to share a mutual gaze with Joe. “John Millard Koehler III?”
“By all means, Yale Stockton Rockefeller IV.” John Millard’s thick, slow voice drawled out. He got out of his own seat and shook Yale’s hand in a firm motion.
“Splendid!” Yale replied. “Then I can confidently declare that you are precisely what the Carmichael Corporation is scouting for. John Millard Koehler III, you will be starting as early as next week.”
“That is just grand!” John Millard responded cordially. “It is truly an honor, my gratitude, Yale Stockton Rockefeller IV.”
“The honor is all mine, you will be an illustrious addition to our department.” Yale sat back down in his chair and ushered John Millard to do the same. “Before I dismiss you, let us discuss acquisitions and the baseline salary. Here at the Carmichael Corporation, we want to make sure that you can ‘be audit you can be’.”
The two chortled merrily at the accounting joke before getting back to business, knowing they had a prosperous future ahead.
— —
“It’s been almost an hour,” Elijah exhaled. “Shouldn’t Joe be done with his interview by now?” The two other men were still sitting on the same bench, waiting for anyone to come and greet them like Yale had appeared before. Countless businessmen had passed in front of them, but all of them seemed so eager to work that they didn’t recognize the recently-graduated college students.
“I don’t know,” Dylan replied honestly, twisting a lock of his curly mane within his fingers out of boredom. “I mean maybe this is the corporate world and everything takes a little longer than expected.” He then stretched to loosen up his joints, showcasing the body of a former running back for everyone to see.
“Yeah, but how many questions do they have to ask to see if Joe is a good fit or not?”
“Apparently a lot.” Dylan began swinging his legs back and forth like a child on a swing to entertain himself. The Size 13 canvas shoes went to and fro, hypnotizing him more than they should have. Elijah watched on too, somehow entertained by the small amount of movement.
“Ahem.”
The two young men quickly shot up off the bench, standing solid. In front of them was a brawny man between the pair’s heights. He looked to be somewhere around sixty, as displayed by his slicked-back salt-and-pepper hair, prominent jaw, and robust torso. His body was brilliantly exhibited in a multi-layered suit, one that displayed every shade from silver to slate.
“I assume the two of you are here for the hiring process, correct?”
The two men nodded their heads quickly.
“Very good.” The man made a quick glance at Dylan and motioned him to follow. Dylan did just that, giving a thumbs-up to Elijah before disappearing down a hall.
— —
“Dylan Pringle.”
“Yes… sir?”
Dylan watched a small smile creep onto the man’s lips after his little addition. There had been a few minutes of back and forth eye contact from Dylan’s resumé and Dylan himself, but he wasn’t feeling too apprehensive. Although the man seemed extremely uptight, Dylan knew there was nothing in his credentials that wouldn’t seem impressive. Plus, the man had already seemed to take a liking to Dylan, as he had been escorted to an expansive office that Dylan assumed had to be the man’s own. It was simply decorated with a few modern black-and-white pictures and two tables lined with retro leather chairs. There were also a few closets and coat racks holding different suits and other formal wear, probably owned by the man himself.
“I must inform you that the position you have applied for has already been filled.”
The sentence came as a shock to Dylan, causing him to twitch a little in his seat. Dylan was so perplexed that he had to examine the man’s eyes carefully to see if he was telling the truth. He was surprised to discover that they had an oddly charming hue.
“I would regard that as a godsend however, as you were not at all qualified for the position.”
“What do you mean?” Dylan’s bass tone became thundering. “I have everything the job requires… and more!”
“Surely you meant to say ‘Sorry Sir, is there another position open?’ as here I thought you were serious about working here at the Carmichael Corporation.”
Dylan was once again caught off-guard.
“Hmm, they told me you were more articulate.” The man made a disappointed grimace before moving on. “I was willing to offer you another position working under me rather than in the financial department as it seems you have no competence in the area. That is generous of me, is it not?”
“Yes, definitely sir.” Dylan was relieved that he still had a chance to work at the Carmichael Corporation, especially after applying for a job he never could have performed.
“Good.” The man walked over to a table and grabbed a rather large book. Dylan was able to catch a quick peek as the man passed by, noticing the pages were lined with questions and guides. Dylan hoped these weren’t all going to be used in the interview for the other position.
“There are a few things you will need to learn quickly if you expect to succeed in this business, do you understand?”
“Yes sir.” Dylan made sure to maintain eye contact to confirm his answer.
“Very good. First, we have a completely reasonable dress code here. I know you may not have expected to wear a suit every day, but it will be required. And by a suit, I expect a minimum of 3 layers in some shape or form.” Dylan cringed in his seat barely, knowing that his black turtleneck and jeans probably didn’t make the cut.
“Sir, are you-” Before Dylan could protest, the man pushed forward.
“I find a certain degree of conformity aids in office morale, is that not fair? I can tell by how you present yourself you also believe this to be true.”
“It is fair, sir.” Dylan agreed. He always made sure to wear multiple articles underneath his blazer, as it made him feel more polished. Even though he was forced to take off his tan blazer at the door, it had allowed him to expose the other garments on his body. These included matching tan pleated pants that graciously showed off his hefty pouch, a white button-up with matching white suspenders that strained heavily against his pecs, and a striped tie that shared the same charcoal color with his wing-tipped derbies. Readjusting his glasses, Dylan waited patiently for the man to continue.
“I believe it is also appropriate to have a strict haircut policy. Your hair is to be cut every two weeks, and I will refer you to my own barber. You will style it neatly and you will use whatever product I chose.”
“Sir, if I may interrupt.”
“No, you may not.” The man glared down on Dylan. “I expect to see comb lines so sharp that even from a mile away a man could tell you know how to use pomade. Understood?”
“Completely, sir.” Dylan felt like this task would be no problem, as he already maintained his hair strictly. Brushing a hand across his scalp, he was delighted to feel his sharp quiff still held stiffly in place with not a single hair sticking out. He also made sure to rub a hand across his jaw, feeling up the sculpted beard contemptuously.
“Now, you recognize that you would not be starting at the top, correct?”
“Yes sir.”
“Meaning that you would have a certain number of superiors, including myself, correct?”
“Yes sir.”
“So to clarify,” the man began, making sure that their eyes met so he could verify. “You would be an inferior male, underneath me and a plethora of other men.”
“Wait, that isn’t-” Dylan’s booming register was somehow once again cut off.
“You will need to present yourself to this position accordingly, but I believe it is fair to say that will not be an issue.”
“That is accurate, Sir,” Dylan replied reverently in a soft, creamy tenor. He understood where he was on the ladder, and how he’d have to act accordingly. Still sitting in his chair comfortably, the 5’7 man brought his legs closer together, allowing the sides of the Size 8 feet to touch. While doing so, Dylan felt his micropenis twitch eagerly inside his tight briefs, sending an excited reaction to the hole between his two jiggly, doughy buttocks.
“You will also be expected to attend to some other needs of mine,” Sir started. “Dry cleaning, note taking, errands, and the like.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“You will be loyal, you will be obedient, and you will be my dedicated servant.”
“Sir,” Dylan’s meek voice began. “What do you-”
“To work and succeed at the Carmichael Corporation,” Sir declared through fiery eyes. “it is imperative that orders from a superior be followed. Understood?”
“Yes Sir.” Dylan was willing to do just about anything that could give him an advantage in business; anything that would make his superiors pleased.
“So with that said,” Sir leaned back in his chair happily, dropping the handbook on the desk and crossing his arms across his chest. “If I were to ask you to, say, change your name, would you do that for me?”
“Yes Sir,” Dylan lied through his teeth. He was willing to do just about anything, but not that.
“Here at the Carmichael Corporation, we like to go by our full titles as they allude to more professional, defined statuses.”
“Absolutely, Sir.”
“Let’s first start with Dylan: just a gross, common name. You agree?”
Dylan didn’t, but the thought of a superior changing his name was suddenly tantalizing.
“Personally, I believe you would be more suited as a Dorrance. And for the surname, well,” Sir chuckled wickedly to himself. “Pringle was never an actual name, just a detrimental snack. You would be much better suited with Peabody. Classic, but preppy, which seems to be the direction you’re taking. Though I believe you should at least be a Junior.”
Before Dylan could fire back a string of arguments, Sir had ascended out of his throne and extended a strong palm.
“Congratulations, Dorrance Rotterham Peabody, Jr.,” Sir seemed very pleased with himself. “You will be a great fit as my new personal assistant.”
“Thank you immensely, Sir!” Dorrance replied, jumping out of his chair in excitement and eagerly shaking the man’s hand. “How soon may I begin to work under you?”
“Right away, boy.” Sir made sure to emphasize the demeaning word. “I have a few outfits I need you to sort through and approve of, as you know my taste quite exquisitely.”
“Of course, Sir.” Dorrance followed Sir to a table covered in sheets displaying different suits and styles. He immediately immersed himself into the work, separating out the preferable blacks, navys, and grays from the disgusting other palettes. This extremely pleased Sir, so much so that he wanted to reward Dorrance with something special. So, Sir gave Dorrance’s butt a big appreciation swat as he strutted away, causing Dorrance’s ample rump to shudder within his pants as he continued his work.
— —
Elijah grimaced, noticing the time on the gigantic clock inside the main lobby had only moved by a minute. The wait had been a lot longer than he had expected, forcing him to cancel an event with friends and a hookup from Grindr. It had been about an hour since Dylan had been taken away to his interview, and almost 2 hours since Joe’s disappearance. He was concerned about what this meant for them, but he was becoming more concerned about what this could’ve possibly meant for himself. Maybe he didn’t have a chance within the Carmichael Corporation. Elijah was beginning to feel as if the employers had completely forgotten him when a young man magically appeared before him, answering his plea.
The man wore a tight fitting suit, seemingly strained at both the broad shoulders and around the crotch. It was exceptionally subdued, a rather pale black color with a white button-up shirt and a gray tie with a subtle windowpane pattern. He carried a briefcase that looked both rather expensive and rather ordinary. The young man stood ramrod straight, his muscular build hidden by the extremely high rise of his pants, sitting above his belly button just under the rib cage. His powerful jaw–while covered in a little youthful baby fat–spread wide and hung low, giving his face a square, lantern shape.
“Elijah Grove.”
“Yes?”
“I assume you are the last respondent today?” His voice was slow and deep, catching Elijah off guard.
“I guess?”
“Do you guess or do you know?” The young man seemed to get rather disgusted by Elijah’s uncertainty. “If you expect to succeed at the Carmichael Corporation, you are going to have to know.”
“I-” Elijah was almost sure he saw the young man’s eyes flash dazzlingly as he began. “I know I am the last respondent, yes.”
“Grand.” The man ushered Elijah to get up and tread closely behind. Following quickly, Elijah was surprised to see that they were leaving the building.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Elijah chose his words carefully. “Where are we going?”
“I am fond of conducting my interviews over promenades,” the young man replied. They steered their way around crowds of businessmen as they ventured into the streets, making random turns here and there. “It shows how well you can think on your feet, literally. It is an aptitude you will need to be proficient in if you want to become an Associate like myself.”
“Associate?” Elijah blinked a few times out of confusion, knowing that he had applied to work as an intern in the financial department. Although he was a few inches taller than the young man, he was having a little difficulty catching up, causing him to fall in and out of the conversation.
“Indeed,” the man misinterpreted the question. “I was recently put in charge of development acquisitions and advanced from Junior Associate to an Associate. Fascinating, is it not?”
“Sure.”
The two strolled a little further out of the city, moving away from the busy center where the Carmichael Corporation headquarters stood. They came upon streets a little emptier then before until they finally turned into an old park. It was actually quite beautiful, covered in old knotty trees and overgrown plants. Birds were constantly chirping and squirrels chased after each other like there was no tomorrow. It was also littered in large stones, adding an oddly picturesque feel to it. Elijah was surprised that he had lived in the city for so long and had never once been to this place.
After a while more of walking, the man led them to an old picnic table before turning around and offering a large, rough hand. Confused, Elijah accepted it and the grip practically shattered his bones. Elijah had kept his body fit since his high school basketball days, so he was surprised to feel such a sheer strength in the young man’s shake.
“My name is Keating Eckley Whitlyn, Jr.,” the young man stated before placing his briefcase down and taking a seat at the table. “Our interview should not extend too lengthily, as I have some imperative work to attend to after this.”
“What would that be?” Elijah asked earnestly, his jovial tone a major contrast to Keating’s flat, molasses-like demeanor. At 6’7, it was fairly difficult for him to get his skinny legs under the table, but he managed.
“I have been assigned to a downtown acquisition project, a potential development on 520 Porter where we need to clear the lot.”
“Huh, okay,” Elijah strangely got interested. “So what is it that you are removing?”
“Currently the future site of the Carmichael Settlement on Porter is occupied by this park we are lounging in right now.”
“This park?” Elijah was surprised. “But it’s stunning! There’s so much life and nature here. You wanna tear it down?”
“It is an eyesore and it occupies a lot with high economic potential. It is better suited for development.”
“How could you be such a soulless jerk?” Elijah scolded, getting angrier faster than he had anticipated. He began caring less and less about the job and more about his own morality. Sure, Elijah got how important money was, but he didn’t think he would be able to live with the guilt of destroying an animal’s habitat, let alone an entire population’s. “Don’t you understand what you would be doing? The impact this will have?”
“I’m offended by your tone.” Even after being insulted, Keating’s voice still sounded low, slow, and empty. His eyes however seemed to flare up before he continued. “And yes, I understand exactly the impact this will have. It will create a serviceable, profitable property for the Carmichael Corporation, which in turn will compensate me with enough money to survive. That is what any respectable man like you and I would desire.”
“Survive?” Elijah mocked, now getting extremely annoyed that Keating had compared the two of them.
“Obviously.” Keating wasn’t defending himself, but instead explaining what he thought was a common fact. “I just bought a house out in Fenwick, the only neighborhood in this squalid city with expansive acreage, tree-shaded streets, and good schools. It is very difficult to purchase a home in that neighborhood, especially one with the seven bedrooms, four floors, and private tennis court I required. Plus, I’m working on my country club application. The application fee alone is $50,000. Looking over your records earlier, I had gathered that was something you desired as well, correct?”
“Yes, that is true.” The idea was buried inside Elijah’s mind. Far from feeling like a fresh fantasy, it was embedded deep, as though it had always been there, as though he’d always wanted to buy a giant mansion in a gated neighborhood with an expensive country club. It was always the goal to move out to Fenwick for corporate shark Elijah.
“I am relieved that that is settled.” Keating opened his briefcase to reveal a combination of different documents, papers, and a massive book that Elijah couldn’t believe fit in the bag. Keating proceeded to pull it out and flipped open to a page somewhere in the middle.
“To become an Associate, you will first be assigned underneath me as a Junior before moving up the ladder. You will still make a good deal of money however, so do not feel too unsettled. Do you understand?”
Although they were maintaining a shared gaze, Keating was not able to read the confusion on Elijah’s face.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s correct.” Elijah was here for a position in the financial department, not to be an Associate, so he was embarrassed to point out the error that Keating had made. Not embarrassed enough however to not correct him.
“As a Junior Associate, you’d start with a baseline of 100 plus three percent commission with incentives quarterly based on goals and projects,” Keating answered, once again misreading. “I believe that will be appropriate compensation, am I accurate?”
“Yes, indeed you are,” Elijah replied cheerfully, glad that the issue was all cleared up. He had wanted to start as an Associate right away as he was worried it the Junior position wouldn’t give him the pay he had hoped for, but apparently it wasn’t that far below. Plus, if he did well, he could quickly move up like Keating had.
“Your job will require calls, lots of calls,” Keating droned, his piercing eyes drilling right into Elijah’s. “Calls to landowners, historical groups, insurance companies, auctioneers, all with their own opinions and interests. A few calls will be less productive, with upset protestors yelling at you about our improvement upon the lot. You will have to decelerate your speech to command attention better. Be direct and contain emotions. You will be better suited to appear calm and in control at all times. There is no need to ever appear energetic or excited.”
The hurling of information confused Elijah. “So you are saying I shouldn’t care about the clients?”
“Yes,” Keating confirmed. “You can try being sympathetic, but you will quickly find that being stern and direct will get them off the line quicker so you can return to work. Based off of what I have already perceived, this will not be a hindrance.”
“Thank you.” Elijah found himself mimicking Keating’s voice: deep, dull, and disinterested.
“There are many perks of the job, including a corporate gym on the fifth floor which I highly recommend you use.” After investigating Elijah’s long, fit body, Keating brought his eyes back to Elijah’s own. “We expect every man to have a sense of presence at the Carmichael Corporation. Currently, you are far from meeting those standards.”
“What do you mean by that?” Elijah responded. It was hard for a man of his height to keep a healthy weight. A high metabolism meant he was always fairly skinny, but he didn’t expect it would be such a problem.
“The gym is a good source of weight training,” Keating continued, ignoring the question. “I personally workout an hour before work each day and one hour afterwards. You will be expected to maintain a similar routine. It appears however that you already understand the importance of presence, but if you are interested in a tour of the corporate gym I would not be affronted.”
“Thank you, I would be very fond of that.” Elijah smiled politely after his reply, moving his legs a little under the picnic table. At 6’3, it was a little difficult for him to keep his well-defined legs under the table, but he managed. Although he’d left golf after college (and hoped to get back into it with his admission into the country club) Elijah had made sure to keep his body in excellent shape by working out almost everyday. His proof could be seen through the skin-tight quarter-zip sweater and the black khaki’s that hugged his meaty quads and calves.
“At the Carmichael Corporation, we do have a dress code, but it is reasonably undemanding.” Keating turned the manual around to show Elijah. The page that Keating had flipped to displayed a model covered head to toe in a full, very dapper yet very posh suit. Elijah’s eyes fluttered quickly before looking back to Keating for confirmation.
“‘Reasonably undemanding’?”
“I would say so. A suit works as the foundation of a man’s future in business.” Keating closed the handbook and placed it back into his briefcase. Elijah could have sworn a tiny smile crept onto the corners of Keating’s mouth during the action. “I appreciate that you have already generated this knowledge.”
“I’m glad you noticed,” Elijah flourished, his voice still plodding. Elijah had made sure to pick out an outfit that had shown off all of his best features. First, a drab, beige, perfectly-cut jacket with matching pleated pants, accompanied by a striped salmon button-up that contrasted well against his pale skin. He had matched his coffee-colored tie to similar shaded Size 13 tassel loafers and a pair of bronze supports that were hidden expertly beneath his coat. Finally, he had styled his blond hair into a fashionable ivy-league cut, making sure to also get a fresh shave earlier that morning. Just the thought of himself in the outfit made him perk up inside his white briefs, bringing his dick to a 6.5-inch mast.
“There are only a few more things we must address, one being your character and ethics.”
“What is it the company expects?” Elijah asked.
“You must understand,” Keating glared. “the Carmichael Corporation expects every man to share the same morale system. We want a unified front; a collective conscience per say.”
“Alright,” Elijah accepted. “What are these shared values?”
“There are the equitable ideals like marrying a woman of the same class, having an abundance of children, and being a member of good standing at multiple prestigious clubs.”
Elijah sighed to himself quietly while still maintaining eye contact, disappointed in these old-fashioned beliefs.
“At the Carmichael Corporation, we also have intimate objectives that stand high above the others. You must want to move upwards on the corporate ladder. You must want to fully commit yourself to your work. You must want to embody everything a man should be: big, strong, soon to be rich. You must want to be every title a man should own: sportsman, fraternity brother, and avaricious. You want money, do you not?”
“Yes,” Elijah confirmed deliberately. “I want money.” This brought a greedy sneer spread to Keating’s face. Elijah felt like a low, deep, and great truth had awoke inside him. Luckily, the Carmichael Corporation’s principles had aligned perfectly to his own.
“Very good.” Keating eyes also seemed to grin wildly. “Now, two imperative adjustments I would personally like to make. The first is your name.”
“My name?” Elijah opposed.
“Yes, you will need something stronger, more outdated to establish yourself as a man of the Carmichael Corporation. Is that not true?”
“Yes, I do believe that to be true,” Elijah suddenly affirmed. “Please tell me what you think my name should be.”
“Your name is not the only dilemma however, but also your nationality,” Keating resumed. “I believe a British origin would give you a brilliant presence. More mannerful, much more respectable, and it would help establish you as a leading man. Plus, a legacy will give you generational value. What do you think?”
“I-”
“But,” Keating cut off before Elijah could even attempt to reply. “I should not be bashful in saying that you already represent all those factors. Care to agree, Emerson Foley Gillingham-Smyth?”
“Most certainly,” Emerson acknowledged accordingly in a pretentious accent. He was a diligent, hard-working, and prosperous Brit, and those were only the first words that came to his head. Some may have called him smug and arrogant, but he was really just confident and self-assured. He resembled the epitome of a real man, as displayed by his stunning suit that contrasted his tanned skin eloquently. His dark, chestnut hair and beard also gave off a shocking amount of masculinity. Just the thought of himself and his own superiority made him perk up inside his white briefs, bringing his dick to a 9-inch mast. He was by no means a repulsive sodomite, but he could admit a handsome man when he saw one. And he was a handsome man.
“So what do you convey, Keating Eckley Whitlyn, Jr.?” Emerson began, taking a stand with his Size 15 feet planted firmly beneath him. “Do you believe I could become a Junior Associate at the Carmichael Corporation.”
“By all means,” Keating replied, getting up and extending a hand forward. “You’ll be a fashionable fit.” They gave a single sturdy shake before finishing their business. While heading towards the exit, they held a light conversation about stocks, each having grabbed a business edition of the Times along the way.
Gripping the paper tightly as they drifted away from the park, Emerson felt almost restless. The idea of stripping away that atrocity of a park to add in a new, profitable site was so thrilling it was mildly arousing. After his success here, Emerson knew he would receive a promotion, which pleased him mightily. Making their way across a boulevard, Emerson watched the Carmichael Corporation’s headquarters come into view, the place where he knew he would accomplish everything he desired.
More Posts from User211201 and Others
Chronivac Coworkers
--- Originally posted on 2022-09-19 by davidrodge ---
You sit down at your desk and rub your eyes. Another day of paper pushing and number crunching to get through. It wasn’t like you had done anything particularly interesting the previous night. You had stayed up a little later playing some mediocre matches of online gaming - but when I guess when you get to be around 40, your body constantly feels like it’s been dragged behind a car down the high way. Not that you didn’t take care of yourself, in fact you’d say you looked pretty good for your age…
You stretch in your seat, and reach for your coffee as your computer powers on. The few windows illuminating the office show the first few morning beams of scorching July sunlight. Behind you, the door opens and your Coworker David strides in.
“Morning Adam!” He says in a strangely cheerful voice. You put your coffee down from your lips and give him a stare. Normally David was about 20 minutes later than he already was, and usually he walked into the office with the same enthusiasm you’d see in a man walking towards a guillotine.
“Morning Davo,” you say, typing in your far too long corporate password. “You seem less Zombie-like today, what are you so excited about?”
David Smiled as he sat down in his chair opposite from yours. You were techniqually Davids senior Manager, but the two of you had developed a decent friendship between Friday drinking and the occasional tennis match.
“Oh Nothing Adam, I just got to the top of the waitlist for this super cool Software, and I was finally able to download it!”
You nodded, half listening as you began logging into all your engineering system.
“Very Interesting, what’s the program called? Is it like a Gaming platform?” David opened up his laptop and started to type furiously.
“No it’s not a game at all, It’s an app called the Chronivac. It’s supposed to be a reality altering software. I had a friend in the UK that sent me the information for it, He said that it completely changed his life.”
You paused from your coffee long enough to lean over and roll your eyes at him.
“I hope you didn’t have to pay any money for it.” You moaned, “This Job doesn’t pay you enough for you to be wasting your time on Overseas Scams.”
David was absolutely transfixed on his laptop. A wide, slightly crazed looking grin spreading over his face.
“It actually ended up costing me thousands of dollars,” he said, now in a far quieter voice, “but it was completely worth it.”
“THousands Of DoLLARS!” You exploded, immediately turning the heads of the fellow desk jockeys nearby,
“SHut UP man,” David hissed, half closing his laptop defensively. You simmered as the both of you waited for the rest of your colleagues to return back to their work. David narrowed his Eyes at you, smile creeping back onto his face.
“It wasn’t a waste of money and I can prove it too you. Just let me find your profile really quick.”
“Wait, this thing has a profile for me on it?” You said, now even more concerned then before. “David, This seems like some really dangerous software And I definitely thing that you shou-“
Davids Computer cut you off with a cheerful beep, and immediately you felt a strange sensation course through your body.
“What the hell!” You shout as you start the world around you starts to grow. You feel a strange tightening sensation in your body, as you glance downward. Your clothing seemed to liquify, shifting from a smart suit and dress shirt into a casual tee. In shock you glance at the bay window and catch a reflection of yourself. There you were…. Or rather, there you were 20 years ago! You lift your hands up too your face and feel your skin. Wrinkle free, young, and real!
“ there’s no way this is real,” you say in a whisper. This has to be a dream you think, as you continue to explore your now unfamiliar body.
David leaned over the edge of his desk beaming,
“ See I told you man! This program is incredible!” He looked you over, seeming to be proud of his work. “Dang it’s crazy what taking 20 years off a man can do!”
You take a brief pause from reveling at your new found youth.
“ this is incredible David! How is this even possible?!”
“It’s the chronivac man! Like I said it’s freaking amazing and can change anything!” The wild grin still fresh on his face.
You stand up, coursing with a newfound energy.
“WE HAVE TO TELL EVERYONE ABOUT THIS!” You say ecstatically. The grin drops from David’s face.
“What?”
You begin to jog away from the desks, heading straight for the break room where you knew, most of your coworkers would still be gathered.
“We can change anything with this! This is going to be the coolest thing any of these morons have ever heard about!”
“Wait! No stop! Aww shit-“ you hear David shout as you continued running. You barely processed his voice or cared. You felt so alive! The excitement in your chest was all you could feel or even think of right now. You slid around the corner, breaking into a sprint down the hallway. You could hardly wait to introduce your new younger self to your coworkers and tell them about this amazing new device.
“GUYS, YOU WOULDNT BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED TO-“
Suddenly your voice catches In your throat, as your mouth dries out In an instant. You keep running, starting to trip over yourself on the concrete floor.
“ what the” you gasp through a dry mouth. Your tongue feels like a pillow in your mouth as you tumble to the floor. You are vaguely aware of the sight of your hands, which appear to be changing color and texture. Your vision fades with the sight of your fingers turning bright blue and seeming to collapse in on themselves.
You can’t seem to find your voice, or be able to move as you feel yourself shrinking. You feel an indescribable softening sensation on all sides as you slide to a stop. Suddenly, it’s over as quickly as it started, and there you lay on the floor. Your brain slows down, filled only with the most basic thoughts now.
“ what….. happened…” you think to yourself with great effort. Your aware of footsteps coming towards you from your position on the floor.
“ Sorry about that man, I just couldn’t have you sharing my new toy with the rest of the world. It’s kind of like a private club, ya know?
….David? You think through fuzzy thoughts.
“ I’m still learning how to use the program haha, but you did turn out to be a nice pair of underwear Adam.”
You feel your now small form being lifted from the floor, then shoved into a pocket. David’s pocket.
“Don’t worry man, we’ll get you sorted out. I think you’ll make a really good practice for me before I start changing myself.”
You couldn’t respond at all, but felt almost at home In the musky warm pocket you were haphazardly shoved into.
….so … nice… you find yourself thinking. You try to shake the fuzz out of your primitive mind. Trying to remember anything besides the new world you found yourself in. You faintly hear David through his clothing.
“ alright, I think the first thing we should do is get you home so we can have some fun.” You feel yourself being lifted from his pocket and placed back on the ground. You felt a longing to be back in the warm musky dark.
“this time however, I think we’ll turn your awareness off.”
David smiled punching his new specifications into the chronivac program. Adam wouldn’t remember any of what just happened, and also be open to his suggestions. The underwear on the pavement started to expand, shifting and changing until Adam once again stood in front of him with a slightly dazed look on his face.
“is it weird that that kind of turned me on…” David muttered to himself.
“Dave… what the hell is going on? Adam said In a bewildered voice. His voice echoed in the parking garage that they now stood in. David smiled, and typed into the chronivac.
“you were about to give me a ride home, remember big guy?”
Adam, still looking confused, but seemingly unaware of the last 20 minutes of his life shrugged and fished for his car keys.
“Alright man but don’t judge about the mess in my car.” He smiled and clicked his horn. The two of you walked over to the old SUV Adam drove and stepped inside, scooting aside the old take out bags and random junk. Adam sheepishly got In and fastened his seatbelt.
“Thanks for taking me home man, I wasn’t feeling the best.” David said hiding a smile while still typing in his computer. Adam started the car and began to pull out of the parking lot.
“no problem man, it’s been a boring day for me anyway.”
I’m sure it was… David thought pulling up Adams profile again. David pulled up Adams profile. He continued to explore it as they got on the highway - passing the braves stadium. Now it was time to really see what this program could do. He clicked on the occupation section and replaced senior engineer with Uber driver and hit enter. The cars interior suddenly shifted, quickly becoming neater and tidier. An Uber sticker appeared on the windshield. David smiled and Adam glanced over at him.
“Hey you owe me tho David,” he smiled “I could be making money right now instead of driving your ass around.”
“for sure man, I’ll make it up to you.” David grinned. He clicked onto Adams body specifications.
Alright let’s slide that age way down… maybe 22? He looked good like that, but let’s pump up his muscle mass by 80 pounds and increase his attractiveness level. David pulled open Adams identity profile and messed around with a few things. Instead of being a work friend, Adams new relationship to David was a complete stranger. David deleted Adams previous educational experience tab and input college fraternity brother into his profile. He dropped the IQ level down to one of the lower settings. It might be nice for Adam to worry about less right? He input “easygoing” into his profile. He hit shuffle on race, just for some added fun and eagerly hit enter.
the change was immediate. Adam shifted in his seat, losing a few inches of height but gaining a ridiculous amount of mass everywhere. His legs filled in his pants so quickly David thought they might burst. His arms ballooned outwards and his face shifted to a cocky smirk. His pecs jutted out against his shirt, bouncing with the cars motion. The clothes he previously wore liquified and stretched tight against his body - becoming a simple tee shirt and short shorts. His hair styled itself into a skin fade, and a tan crept over his body. A backwards cap materialized on his head, and a stud In his ear as he glanced over at David.
“What? You like what you see man haha?”
The new Adam raised his arm and flexed his now massive bicep.
You both laughed as you felt a mixture of pride and arousal. Adam put a beefy arm on the dash of his car and started typing into the gps, stopping at an intersection .
“Where was it you said you wanted to be dropped off again sir?”
David rattled off his address, trying to hide the growing… excitement that was beginning to show In his crotch. The new Adam glanced down and smirked at David, but continued driving. David smiled, reviewing Adams profile again.
“ So what do you have going on in your life… Adam right?” David asked, trying for conversation with his previous boss.
“We’ll I’m just chilling at the university right now…” Adam said with a dull laugh, “spending a lot of time at the gym and with the boys right now.”
David nodded absentmindedly, sliding Adams sexuality to nearly 100 Percent gay. Just to see what would happen. He slid the Libido curser to high and glanced back up at Adam. A distracted look now plastered on his face, one hand on the wheel, one hand now migrating down to his shorts.
“… and you know… spending time… with the boys.”
David could barely contain his excitement as the two pulled up to his house. Adam threw the vehicle in park and shifted his Adonis frame in his seat to face David.
“Hey man, don’t even worry about the ride today, it was nice meeting you. I’ll void the bill In the app.” He said with a smile. David met his gaze and blushed. Oh my god, was he flexing?
“Oh that’s really too nice of you man, there’s really no need.” David stuttered
Adam smiled and bit his lip, he hopped out of the car to get David’s door.
“No I insist. I Really enjoyed being your driver today.”
David stepped out of the car, amazed by what he had been able to do to his friend. The new Adam held out his hand for a solid high five. He winked and said,
“Message me if you ever need a ride again bro.” With that, he strutted back to his car, then got in and sped down the road - blasting music.
David stood on the edge of the driveway. Clutching his lap top and trying to calm himself. He began to stride into his house, weighing his options. People had warned him, that the chronivacs power could really go to your head if you didn’t have a handle on it. He unlocked the door and paced into his living room. David hadn’t thought much about it, but man had he really surprised himself. In the space of 1 hour he had changed his boss into a horny college himbo without so much as a blink.
He through himself onto the couch and started up at the ceiling. David smiled, thinking of the limitless possibilities that now awaited him. He could literally become whatever he wanted to. Could change the world in whatever way he wanted. The possibilities were so endless p, he had no idea what to do.
After a moment of watching the rotating fan David grinned. He didn’t know all the things he wanted to change, but he did know what he wanted right now. He pulled his laptop back up and fired up the chronivac. Adams profile still displayed on screen. David clicked into Adams relationship status and began clicking around. It took a second to find the option, “willing to sleep with any man.” But David aggressively slammed the enter button and pulled out his phone, finding an Uber text string with the new Adam.
“Thanks again for the free ride today man. Was wondering if you wanted to ride anything else tonight? 😘🍆”
He waited breathlessly for a moment before three dots appeared on his screen, and then a message. Apparently a picture the new Adam had taken at the gym.
“on my way back big guy”
David slammed his laptop closed and ran to change into some more relaxed clothes. That was enough messing with the chronivac for the day. It was amazing what a horny stud he had been able to change his boss into. And ridiculous how quickly David had fallen for him.
David wrestled with his tie and glanced out the bedroom window as a car raced up. The new and improved Adam jumped out and started sauntering towards the door, already removing his shirt. David could only stares as he felt himself begin to go hard. He and Adam were going to have a lot of fun tonight.
Update
Hi all
I've posted most of the stories that I could find for shapedbydesire/breedertfs/hogtfs.
Someone has graciously provided some more stories from older deactivated authors that I'll post somewhere this week so look forward to that.
If anyone finds stories from shapedbydesire or other authors just DM me the posts/links.
Strapped Down and Beefed Up
--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---
It was a nightmare scenario for Aiden, but his dad, firm of tone and sick of having a snowflake of a son, was fully adamant.
“You must do this, Aiden. I’m not giving you a choice. Everybody gets some body work done these days. It’s not like I’m forcing you to change your gender or get massive reconstructive surgery like one of those CK models. You’re not going to be a Gaga Version 7.0 or a Beyoncebot. I’m not putting you through any oddball risks for a Guinness Record, either. Look, you think those freakish long legs on Nastasha, excuse me, but that’s how I think of her, Natasha Abioye look natural on a woman? Not to me they don’t.”
“Think of it this way. It’s not any different than going to the dentist or barber shop, ok? You think your teeth are natural? You think your hairstyle is natural? Of course not. I just want you to live up to your fullest potential. You haven’t exactly been a stellar student. You’re not even in the top 10 percentile. You’ll finally man up. You’ll have some serious guns and everybody will be jealous. And I’ll get the son I was always hoping for. It’s win-win. You’ll still be you, just a much better version of you. Don’t you want to be a better man?”
“Yes it is different, dad. For starters, we’re supposed to be making society more feminine, not more masculine. For second, it’s not my choice. I have some serious gender dysphoria, which I’ve told you about repeatedly. If I’m getting any hormonal or surgically corrective work done, it will be to transition to a woman. Mom said maybe I could. Almost every queer guy my age goes in that direction. There’s not even many lesbians who want to be a man anymore. You just don’t get it because you don’t go to my school. Men are obsolete. I’ve read Caitlyn Moran. You haven’t even read her, dad. I should know better than you on what’s real,” Aiden said.
“Just look at the statistics about men,” Aiden continued, trying to really connect with his father on something he could relate to. “I am good at statistics so I do have something to offer. I’m making plenty of progress. Maybe someday I’ll even be an actuary or accountant for an LGBTQIAP+ Resource Center. I can’t see myself caring about most jobs but I could care about that. I do get a say in my own life. What about that can’t you understand?”
Aiden’s dad just shook his head and laughed. It wasn’t a mean laugh, but a bitter one, a sad laugh. Aiden could tell it was his dad’s way of coping with a world that had headed in a direction he just didn’t understand. Aiden figured his dad must have feel he like the world that had shifted right out from under him, so he tried to be empathetic. He even felt kind of guilty and ashamed for the moment, feeling aware of his dad’s antiquated value system and how he hadn’t measured up to that expectation. But it was still Aiden’s life, not his dad’s. There was no way he was going to let his own life be derailed. Being a part of community-based social justice movements for almost two years had taught him so much about what truly should matter to us all.
“Aiden, my son, maybe someday you’ll understand. But this babble that’s pouring out of your mouth is exactly why this needs to be done for you. No more arguing, ok. I’ve already put money down for it.”
The fateful day was just around the corner, and Aiden was even considering running away from home. But where would he go? He was thinking about begging the school to intervene, but could they? Would they? That would almost definitely lead to a conference call with his father, and how would that end. He tried his mother, but she just said talk to your father as it was his decision, not mine. So he sulked and refused to budge instead. Maybe his dad would eventually listen to reason if he displayed how deeply upset he was.
But then it was Wednesday, and his dad had told him he was off school for the rest of the week, and he’d already let the school office know about his doctor’s appointment today. As far as Aiden was concerned, he’d have to be frog-marched there as he wasn’t going to go. He practically was marched out, in the end, as his dad had to take him by the arm to get him moving down the stairs.
“Here’s one way to think of it, Aiden. You’re transitioning, son, which is the big contemporary trend, right? You’re just transitioning in a different way from the herd. Think of it that way if it helps you get through this. I’m going to be so proud of you for taking it like a man today. You’re legitimately going to transition into a real man right before your very eyes. Believe me, that’s going to be so much more valuable and needed in the future than anything your friends are playing around with right now.”
“Dad, this is so wrong,” Aiden pleaded from the passenger seat. He was looking over at his dad behind the wheel, eyes straight ahead on the road. Aiden tried to make his own face look as panged as he could, hoping the expression on his face would be enough to make a difference. It wasn’t.
“There really is no right and wrong, so give it a rest, Aiden. I’m your dad and whatever I say is just as right as anything they might teach you in that school. Sheesh. I should have packed up the wagons and moved the family to Sandy Springs or Alpharetta a long time ago. This joke of a school system has totally failed you. Just you wait, my son. Dad’s fixing the mistake he made by skimping on a better neighborhood and school district. That was my mistake, but I’m finally making things right for you today.”
Even in the doctor’s office Aiden wouldn’t give it a rest. “Please, dad. Please,” he tried to beg at the reception desk, clutching at his dad’s sleeve, trying to get through to him, somehow, even though he wanted nothing more than to push him away and pout hard. He had to try, though. This was his life on the line. The embarrassment of whatever his dad was going to put him today through was nothing compared to what he’d even have to deal with at school.
None of Aiden’s friends were on the side of men, and who knew how they’d treat him after this. If you wanted to be respected, you had to have a body that was oppressed and had at least some sort of claim to victimhood. Everybody knew it. A man’s body was going to mess everything up and who knew how he’d be treated in one of those. He’d be stuck in the exact same kind of body he and his friends were always trying to take down. His dad didn’t seem to understand any of this. Aiden was even sobbing right in the waiting room.
“Oh Aiden,” Aiden’s dad said, sighing heavily. “I’m so disappointed in you. Really, stop it with the tears. I was hoping you’d start finally begin to at least try pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps. But it looks like we’ll be strapping you down today instead.”
And indeed, in the doctor’s office, it soon became clear that restraints were an option. Aiden had started panicking over the mere suggestion of a needle, and seemed to barely be able to simply make it through his blood pressure being taken today without a panic attack. Aiden’s dad was the one who suggested to the doctor that they restrain him. “Sorry, doc. He’s overacting because he thinks it’ll get him out of this,” Aiden’s dad said to the doctor. “I don’t know why he has to be like this today as he knew it was coming. But I’m sure you’ve seen this behavior before.”
“Yes, we do see this a lot,” said the doctor, calm and collected, continuing on with his work as he talked. “We usually go with restraints in at least 3 out of 4 cases or so. It’s just easier that way for everyone involved. Sometimes the liberty of the changes happening freely is good option for everyone involved, and we’ve even done them with the boys sitting upright before. You’ll find you get the same results either way in the end, however.”
Aiden was asked to disrobe, which he did very slowly, full of embarrassment and shaking with nervousness. Then he was asked to lay on his back on the doctor’s table, the rattle of the medical paper below him catching his attention as he got situated. The doctor opened a lower cabinet and got out the velcro restraints to be clasped upon his arms and legs. Aiden had never seen velcro so thick before. The doctor had to pull the cuffs open with both hands, straining to unclasp all four of them as they were so heavy duty. Aiden felt frozen and numb, like a dumb animal, as the restrains clamped him to the metal bars of the table.
He could feel the chill of the metal brush up against one of his thighs, which was a bit splayed out and lightly brushing against the cold gleam. Aiden didn’t really know much about metal or beds, medicine or velcro, any of it. It wasn’t what was important to him. But right now he at least wished he knew more so he could find a way out of this.
He tried to sit up and couldn’t. Maybe something would go wrong. He hoped so. An earthquake, a blackout, anything at all would be good right now. Maybe his dad or the doctor would just die of a heart attack. “Please,” Aiden started to say out loud, really wanting to make his point about how wrong this all was. “You’re not my dad. Stop it. You’re not my dad at all if you do this to me.”
“Sure thing, Aiden, whatever,” his dad said, chuckling the tone in his voice lightly dismissive. “Look at you, you all all prepped and ready to go. Are you ready to say goodbye to sissyhood?
Aiden’s dad continued, “I just have to tell you, son, that I knew this was the perfect option for you once you started sassing off so much and saying ‘sis’ all the time like you thought it was the same as saying ‘peace on earth and mercy mild’. It’s really a travesty that your school let you down. The war on men has been going on since before I was even born, and I suppose you didn’t stand a chance. That war was already the establishment by the time you went off to kindergarten. It really did make you a sissy. Well, son, now you’ll finally be a man, a big man. Just you wait until your worldview becomes clarified for you. You’re gonna have the time of your life.”
Aiden whimpered as he saw the doctor get out a long needle, and continue to do so as the doc approached his nutsack, but he couldn’t see anything that far down in these restraints. All he could really do was stare to the sides, or stare at the ceiling, so it was just a quick job of pain at first. And then there was the sickening feeling of a large amount of liquid being injected into his right testicle. It was just as bad when the doc did his left nut.
“Goodbye, sissy,” Aiden’s dad said. “Look at those nuts. You’re getting some big ones already, you should see them.” Aiden would be mad if he weren’t so terrified. This was all so wrong, so evil and such a betrayal. When he was free again he would definitely do everything in his power to make it clear this was not ok. Just because he’d end up with a changed body did not mean he ever needed to go along with it in his own mind. And he would never accept that his dad was doing this to him. This was so terribly wrong.
And then the pain started, just a flicker at first, like a match being lit inside his nutsack. Aiden started screaming as he felt the fluid start to burn. It was as if his balls were heating up. It felt as if they had already swollen and as if they were swelling even more. The felt as if somebody had just set them on fire. Even worse, it felt like the blaze was still growing. The pain felt absolutely excruciating, as if his body was going to swell, pop, and mutate into some heated up mountain of flesh, the monster of muscle his dad had told him he wanted, a jacked stack of living meat and flesh. It was the polar opposite of what he wanted to be. But it was already happening. Aiden could feel his dick burning, throbbing, as the fire spread, the sensation of blood pumping into his dick. His dick was swelling, burgeoning, expanding clearly palpable to him. He could feel it swell and feel it embiggen against his nuts. He tried to wrest his way out of these tight velcro manacles. They were so much tighter than the blood pressure cuff, though. He couldn’t break them. He was stuck.
It already felt like whatever had been injected into his groin was spreading outwards down his veins . The formula had gotten into his bloodstream. He could feel waves of heat radiating upwards towards his abs, out towards his ass, and all down his thighs.
Muscle started to swell and explode on Aiden’s upper thighs as he cramped up, shaking with cramps and pain. The muscles of his ass felt thick, hard, pushing backwards against the table, his glutes expanding outwards. The pain spread down to his lower legs as his calves started twitching. His quads and hams were totally on fire now. His feet were already cramping, and almost his entire torso felt aflame. He could see when he opened his eyes – which was hard to do given the pain – that his cramping, sharply strained abs were swelling up hard, firm, round and as cobbled as well-worn bricks arising from his smooth belly. He had abs that would never retract now, it looked like, firm and proudly raised from a tight belly that was taking on a very cut V-shape. He was really turning into a man, some sort of muscular dude with a cut gym body. He felt a wave of nausea. The shockingly painful, jolting sensations of a body that was mutating beyond his will, a sharply masculine body, had completely flooded his mind and were almost overwhelming him.
Aiden could smell the sharp scent of adrenaline rising off him, a scent that caught his attention immediately because it wasn’t the norm for him unless he was really being pushed to run hard in gym or something like that. His pecs were twitching, swelling, turning into firm, wide mounds of muscle as the pain spread upwards to his neck and all down his arms. His biceps were cramping, baseballs of muscle jumping up on them, which he could clearly see from his position on the table. The cramps in his legs had died down, and now his arms were fine, the burning and cramping being more in his feet and hands. Breathing deeply, his lips pulsed in the shape of an O, he thought for a brief second that maybe this wasn’t so bad, despite all the pain. Maybe he would be able to handle this, this new muscle, which wasn’t as hulky as he feared. The baseball shaped biceps on his arms looked just about right, an attractive, jocked-out model look that he could learn to live with. But then the burning sensations were returning, and he was heating up more, and the cramps returned. He saw his abs pop even harder, his pecs continue to expand, and watched his biceps strain and swell further as the pain persisted, refusing to stop, refusing to die down. His guns, which is what they were starting to look like, were pushing into larger baseballs and then more towards a small football size, stretching the skin so tight as veins started to pop out and demand the attention of his eyes, all while his muscles seemed to be throbbing, harder and harder on a rocket of swelling pain.
He was screaming freely now, as he hyperventilated, such dry, sharp screams, until suddenly his voice cracked down in a hoarse, choked-off scream, the fall of a whole octave in one jolt. His vocal chords, steeped in the spreading effects of the serum, were growing and maturing in size along with the rest of him. And he couldn’t stop screaming, sounding like a cow or a bull to himself, these lower, stupid-sounding screams of a man trapped like a prodded bull in a stall. His voice continued to fray as he screamed uncontrollably, sounding ever more ragged and shredded, and not being able to stop screaming seemed to only strain his taxed vocalizations all the more.
Looking down at his sweating, overstrained body, the pecs that were now jutting from his chest, all Aiden could think to do now was try to break out of his restraints and scream. He let out a low, gutteral groan that sounded more and more like a roar as he shifted his weight to his side, trying to find the power to break the velcro. This was too much pain and transformation and he would not comply. It was evil. He had to get out of this, he had to make it clear to this doctor’s office that this was not right, he had to get out of it all before things got even worse. He wasn’t thinking clearly anymore.
Aiden’s body, or at least as much as he could see of it as he looked down, was looking masculine, massive and freakish. His broad pecs now a thick shelf of meat that expanded outward. His back had widened into a thick hood of meat that took up a bigger slab of the table. His neck was thick and bullish, and his arms were just snaking with veins that had popped up all up and down the length of his forearms. Most of his arms and some of his torso now had a vascular look that he’d never be able to hide again. The pumping veins of his football-shaped biceps were drawing his attention once again, so much bigger than he had ever wanted or thought possible. His rounded shoulders and glutes had him feeling like he was sitting higher on the table, even, which was completely disorienting. His cock and balls had stopped burning, and he mostly soon only felt burning and smaller cramps, smaller jolts, on the nape of his neck, in his hands, and in his feet.
And then it died down, the rollercoaster of a mutating injection being largely overly and done with, and then there he was, breathing heavily, staring at the ceiling. His eyes were wide open and roving wildly over minute details about the room that he didn’t even seem to care about before. He looked back at his swollen bicep and couldn’t get over how it looks completely different, with so many lines of vein to trace and note, so many different shapes and ridges of muscle to take into account.
“You ok, Aiden?” his dad said, looking down at him, patting on one of his legs as if to comfort him, the doctor taking notes with a pen and a chart to his side. “Just wait until you see yourself, Aiden. You’re not even gonna believe it.”
Then they were undoing his heavy straps, the doctor and his dad working together, ripping the heavy straps open. And then he was sitting up, feeling somewhat dizzy. Part of him wanted to lash out at the two of them, which he probably could, given this body. And yet he was so disoriented and even more importantly, it was already over now. It couldn’t be undone. This was his body, now. He had to at least figure out what they had done to him first.
They walked him over to the mirror, his dad gripping his arm and helping to steady him as he found his balance.
He looked at his reflection. He had completely hulked out and turned into a freak, he thought, like a bull of a man, or a beast of a man. Maybe a silverback gorilla crossed with a bull, he finally considered. He barely even recognised himself like this, and this body seemed to have nothing in common with the personality traits of his that he had long considered so important. His face was now covered with a dense, short but thickly bristled beard. He hadn’t even noticed it in all the ensuing chaos and the intensely burning, muscular mutation. It’s not easy to see your own facial hair without a mirror, Aiden figured. It still surprised him to see a hairy face reflected back at him.
He was now just corded with vascularity. He looked massive and felt massive, noting that they were two very different things, and both happening at the same time now. The doctor gave him a towel to put on to cover himself up, and he couldn’t even believe the size of his long, thick dick and how low his nuts were hanging, hairier than ever, not to mention the way his pubic bush had thickened up and spread out. His dad helped him wrap the towel around his waist, tucking the the corner in tight so it would hold. “There you go, big guy,” his dad said, slapping him gently and affectionately on the back. “Man, Aiden, you really do look great. You did a great job getting through that pain, too.”
Aiden looked in the mirror again, eyes both glazed over with shock and wildly searching, as if he weren’t even able to quite yet find even himself. He felt like he was still trying to come to. It was similar to feeling like he was underwater, and very much a dreamlike sensation, like he couldn’t quite wake up, although he definitely wasn’t sleepy. He still felt on edge and could feel the pump of his blood right through his arteries as it pulsed to feed his new, much thicker muscles. He could feel the tight, eager power and energy in his legs. He could see it all over his torso, this raw power he now had, this taut, lean meat that was stimulated with adrenaline and ready to burst into physical action, physical activity, the sort of life he hadn’t led before. All that muscle he’d developed looked both out of control and good at the same time. Aiden really wasn’t sure what to think, and he felt like it was difficult to even try to think right now. He didn’t want this, and it was going to be so awkward to go to school like this, right? He had been mad at his dad earlier, right? How was he going to manage at school when he looked like this? What was he… he was trying to think, and decided it didn’t matter right now. He had to get accustomed to this body. He looked so different. The muscle looked good, didn’t it? He really looked fit as hell.
“Flex for us, Aiden,” the doctor said, calmly and clearly. “Like this,” the doc said, putting down his chart and doing a double biceps even in his lab coat, smiling. Aiden didn’t react right away, still feeling dazed, so the doc did it again. “Like this,” the doc said, putting his arms up again.
“Ok, doctor,” Aiden said, thinking his own voice sounded low, stupid and weird. He wasn’t sure what to say. This really was like a dreamstate, almost, he thought. He thought of how weird it felt to even feel his thickened, larger feet against the bare carpet. How weird it felt to have this towel around his very tight waist and these huge thighs just bursting out from under it. How weird this fur looked on his face in the mirror, far denser of a beard than he could grow before.
Aiden turned to the mirror, raised his arms in a couple biceps and flexed, hoping he was doing it right, noticing the corded veins pop even more. He felt lightheaded from all of this, but at the same time, he felt confident. His dad and the doctor really liked the results, and it was hard not to be impressed by such a body. It was very hard, Aiden realised, and it was his now. His.
“Uh, um… like that, doctor?” he started to say, struggling for words, focused on his reflection.
“Like that, Aiden,” the doctor said, picking up his clipboard again.
Then his dad was standing by his side, talking to him again as he looked in the mirror and down at his own body, still getting to know how different it looked. “Very nice job, Aiden, and I’m proud of you,” his dad said. “You are going to be able to chase any tail you want in school now. Just look at those guns. Just make sure to make those boys earn it. Put them in their place and show them who’s boss. And don’t ever let them act like they’re better than you.”
“For sure, dad,” Aiden responded, just wanting to agree with him for the moment, not really thinking about all that right now. The thought of scoring any boy in school does seem pretty awesome, though, since he mentioned it. In this body he’d be the ones always expected to top guys, he suddenly thought, but especially with the way he was feeling right now, he might be fine with that, or more than fine. He could top any guy he wanted with this body, probably. All this muscular energy was going to have to go somewhere, he knew, and it might as well be into sex. And would he be getting into sports now? He’d be working out from now on, right?
“Aiden, I know you were afraid of this all at first, but we sure knocked the sissy right out of you with that formula, didn’t we? How are you feeling now? You can be honest.” his dad said with a cheerful, friendly tone.
“Well” Aiden said, flexing in front of the mirror, trying to figure out how he really felt. “I look in the mirror and I see a real bull of a man. It feels better than I expected. I guess I can’t say I asked for this. But with all this muscle on me and looking and feeling so different, I honestly think I’m really going to come to like it. I can see why you wanted me to do this. Right now, I’m feeling like I should even thank you, dad. I mean, this is crazy, but that’s how I feel. The energy of this muscle is amazing,” Aiden said, flexing again in a double biceps, enjoying the feel of making that muscle pump up. It felt kind of weird that he had just said that to his dad, like he wouldn’t have said it before at all. And yet it felt right. His body felt so different so why wouldn’t he feel totally different, too? He had the right to change his opinion if he wanted to.
“You’ll figure it out in the end, Aiden. They’ve got to weigh you up and take some bloodwork and a few diagnostics. Glad you came around. I’ll be outside waiting for you when you finish up.”
“Thanks, dad. This isn’t so bad. In fact, I think it’s kinda badass.”
“Hell yeah it is,” my dad says. “That’s what I want to hear, Aiden.”
“Well then hell yeah, it’s some badass shit, dad. I look like a total stud now. Really looking forward to seeing what this body can do.”
I give my old man an embrace and pat him on the back as he walks out towards the waiting room.
Making Some Changes
By: the-craftsman
The cafe had seen a lot of better days, times when, the boss admitted, that it was a great place for college jocks to hang out and chill, but throughout the years it became “sophisticated”, a place where boring people came, ordered their drinks and left, leaving the cafe a place for dwelling hipsters, like Andrew and Rob here. The two of them sat down, Andrew barefoot not minding as he was complaining to Rob about the useless “jocks” on campus, needless to say things needed to change. Rob and Andrew were once again sat on a casual day, most of the people by now were leaving which was odd for the afternoon, and they swore they saw the appearance of more jocks in the cafe then they were on campus, which of course made it all the better when they complained.
“God what are with the meatheads today,” chuckled Andrew, beginning to sip into his chai tea (because of course he would be the type of person to order chai tea at a cafe), his feet still barefoot as he began scratching at his beard, feeling like it was slightly rougher against the skin, even skinnier he supposed.
“Yeah, I don’t know, maybe they put steroids in the coffee here,” smirked Rob as he drank his own chai tea, feeling a bit of a tangy taste causing him to smack his lips, his eyes narrowing as he shifted in his seat. “From the taste of it, sounds like some of it slipped into our tea.” Rob joked, both him and Andrew laughing, neither noticing that their laughs had become deeper, almost more full as they were the only ones in the cafe by this point, that was, beside their new manager who was watching them earnestly as he wiped the tables.
“God yeah, man this tastes awful,” grimaced Andrew, noticing his grip on the cup had become weaker, like his hands were feeling numb and he swore the cup was smaller than before. “I’ll go see if we can get a replacement or something.” Rob nodded, shifting in his seat as a sweat was breaking out on his brow, hoping Andrew didn’t notice. Andrew had walked up to the manager, still barefoot, not minding showing off his body now especially when there was nobody left in the cafe besides him and Rob, “Excuse me, sir, is it okay if we can get a replacement please, these just taste a bit…” The manager ignored him, though Andrew swore he could see a smirk. He was horrified as he dropped both the cups, glancing at his hands as he saw tanned skin began to appear, the tone travelling down his fingers which elongated.
“Andrew!” Rob was behind him, his own hands doing the same. Before the two could even begin to run away, they both looked down, watching their feet expand, growing to be similar footsize as Rob’s own pair of feet broke through his shoes, the toes popping out of the seams as the leather all but buckled upon his feet, the musky odour that began to emanate from them causing him to stifle a deep moan, as his feet all seemed to move on their own, instead of running away like he wanted them to, they were getting closer to Andrew. Andrew witnessed the change, unable to stop smelling his own musk that even began to make his cock erect.
“R-Rob, we need to, to get out of here…” Andrew groaned, feeling his now larger and toned hands began to caress Rob’s body, slowly tearing off his clothes as Rob’s hands did the same to him. Both their hands exploring one another’s bodies, exploring each other as they began groaning and moaning together. Andrew felt Rob’s torso begin to creak, his own fingers seemed to almost create the crevices that defined themselves in Rob’s belly as his body became thinner, his shirt falling away as pectorals began to jut out, and Andrew felt Rob doing the same to his own, Rob’s fingers coming down to create the perfect navel and defined abs for himself. “R-Rob…” Andrew moaned before he felt Rob’s lips on his own, the two of them unable to stop themselves as their cocks pressed up against one another. Andrew’s fingers traced on Rob’s shoulder blades watching as a tattoo began to form.
It was then when they felt their bulges expand, their cock elongating and lengthening against one another as their pants seemed to fall apart, Rob’s hands came to grasp Andrew’s ass and he suddenly felt his own inflate, his ass thickening and becoming somewhat wider as if the fingertips and hands that brushed it were crafting it, shaping it into the perfect bubble butt as Andrew did the same to Rob. They both glanced down as new underwear appeared, tightly fitting around their cock and ass, outlining themselves. Andrew even teased Rob, his fingers diving into the crevice of his new large ass, slapping it slightly and smiling as he did so, Rob yelped and groaned at the spanking and the fingers that continually teased diving into his ass to rub against his prostate, almost arching his back as he wanted more. Yet instead both their hands continued to explore each other’s cocks, fingers caressing the very head and the tip, rubbing against them to hear the other groan just that much more louder.
“You like that bro?” smirked Andrew as his finger came and playfully caressed the throbbing underside of Rob’s cock, his fingers making Rob tingle as he pre-cum was beginning to jut out, staining their tattered pants as Rob began to hump and thrust into Andrew’s hand.
“Andrew b-bro…I need…need more…” Rob continued to hump at Andrew faster, wanting more, hoping his collea- his bro could shove his cock down his ass, but with a seductive wink from Andrew, Rob knew that was later.
They moved even closer, feeling both their legs almost tangle as they brushed against one another, becoming thinner, much more muscular as their calves defined themselves, their bulges still rubbing against each other as they were leaking. Andrew kissed Rob once again, unable to stop as his mind was altering, his groaning and moaning becoming much more apparent as the tatters of their old ‘nerdy’ clothing disappeared, their rough beards were gone as their jaws became chiselled, as their hands ran through each other’s hairs, their locks were gone, instead their hair was straightened, each other’s fingers almost combing through and styling it on their own.
The musk was far too much, their feet both being confined to sandals as the two sniffed deeply, their fingers were clutching and grasping at each other’s cocks through their new underwear, rubbing the very head with their palm as Rob looked up at Andrew, biting his lip at the man’s blonde hair as he stared at them with brown eyes.
“B-Bro…I’m gonna…”
“Gonna cum for me bro? Do it.” And with that, Rob couldn’t stop himself as he felt Andrew’s fingertips pull at his cock one last time before he stained his underwear with heaps of cum, upon seeing this Rob quickly did the same to Andrew, only giving him barely two strokes before Andrew did the same, the two of them cumming and leaning into each other’s touch, reality bending around them as their old lives were forgotten, lost upon them, no longer the hipsters that they were but the dumb bro jocks they once resented, once were jealous of, and that they now once were.
By the time Andrew and Rob came back to be, they were both standing up, the manager facing them as he gave them their new drinks.
“Yeah bro, don’t give us any of that chai tea shit again, I’m telling you we don’t drink that,” Rob noted as the manager smiled, giving his most sincere apology as he waved goodbye to the two new jocks, the both of them laughing and flexing in their new bodies as they left the cafe. Needless to say they weren’t going to be lingering around any longer, they had frat parties and other “cool shit” to be doing.
Another favorite
Jock
“Can you tell me your name?”
“Max?” His voice was slow and unsure. I wasn’t surprised.
“That doesn’t seem right, does it?”
“No,” he confessed.
“You look like a Jock to me.”
He hummed in agreement, eyes still glazed over.
“What do you do, Jock?”
“I work on com–” He broke off, frowning as he struggled with his words. “I work on computers.”
“No, that’s not right. What do you do, Jock?”
There was a slight pause before a dumb smile began to cross over his face. “Flex,” he grunted.
“Where are we, Jock?”
“The gym.”
“What’s so special about the gym, Jock?”
“I flex here,” he responded, eagerly lifting his arms to flex his massive guns. “I get bigger.”
It was hilarious to think that just a few minutes ago those mountainous biceps had been half the size. Then again he’d been twice as intelligent then too so this really was a trade up for both of us. I hadn’t even realized my magic was possible of changing another person this much but I guess the amulet I bought really does amplify my magic like the store owner said. And here I was thinking he had been trying to con me out of some money!
“Who do you belong to, Jock?”
Another pause. His arms dropped to his side and he frowned. “No-one?” he replied slowly, sounding more unsure of himself than ever.
“You don’t really believe that, do you, Jock?”
“No… sir.”
“Who do you belong to, Jock?”
“You sir!” he barked in response, frown dropping into a dumb smile. Such a brainless brawny beauty and he was all mine. I could already think of a number of things I was going to do with him now that he was under my control but why not take it slow first of all and really take a look at what I now own?
“Go on, Jock. Pick up those weights and show me what you can do. Prove what a big man you are!”
The moment Jock’s hands wrapped around those weights he lost the last remaining bits of himself. Gone was Max, the computer techie from my office who had deemed himself too good looking to go on a date with me. Now he’s a lumbering mindless jock who wants nothing more than to please me any way he possibly can. Don’t worry, it’s not all bad for him - I’m pretty sure he’s going to love every moment of it from now on!
Absolute favorite. A brutal story written masterfully
End of Shift
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My life is over. I’ve been playing a high stakes game, and somehow landed on one side of the odds all the time, but my luck was bound to run out sooner or later. I guess I should be happy that it turned out to be later, but it sucks no less. I got sloppy. I was looking through the items near the cashier, as always, trying to mostly use reflective surfaces to see what was going on, as always. I need to be within 15 feet or latency becomes an issue. Some old lady still using the old wallet was buying KokaKola and a pack of Ziffs. This would be easy, as always. I discreetly pressed my watch as she was ready to make the purchase, activating my EM-swiper. I wouldn’t take much, a few credits more. She probably wouldn’t notice it, or think the store stiffed her, or think she bought two packs of Ziffs and lost one. I’m not stealing to get rich, just to get by.
As the EM-swiper went off a high pitched beeping starts behind me. I barely have time to turn my head enough to see the charging police officer, before he slams me into the side of a KokaKola fridge. Shit, I hadn’t done a survey pass through the store as I always do. I could barely register what he was screaming in my ear. “Drop it,” I realize, and let go of the magazine. He must have thought I had the EM-swiper in my hand. He told me to put my hands against the wall and performed a pat-down. It’s only him, so he must be off duty or not on a real patrol. He empties my pockets on the cashier table. Nothing of value, and certainly not something incriminating. I may not have been fortunate enough to afford academy, but I’m not stupid.
“You are detained under suspicion of committing proximity fraud. Do you understand?” he asks me in that commanding yet bored tone of a laborer having to recite corporate bullshit, only in his case it is in the pretense of justice. “Yes,” I answer him. He doesn’t have anything on me or he would have arrested me right away. Probably. “Put this on to acknowledge you’ve read the Citizen Rights Act and agree to an investigation in this matter.” He hands me a pair of handcuffs to put on. I hesitate for a second. He is behind me and in the way of the store exit. I can stall for time and tell him to recite the CRA, but that immediately counts against you, as it is your duty to know it. I have no choice but to put them on. It’s the latest model. I haven’t seen any up close before. Light, thin, all metal, no key hole. Probably opened remotely or only inside a police cell or some shit. I put them on.
“Turn around, pick up your stuff, and exit the store.” I do as told, turn around and begin to pick up my stuff and put them back where he took them. It’s an older police officer. None of them young, jacked up types. Perhaps he is one of the fair ones. But then I am the criminal, so what good would that do me? There’s a small, black duffle bag by his side. So he is on his way home. Perhaps he is tired. Perhaps I can shake him. Have Leo remove the shackles and then stay low for a fucking long time. Or this just doesn’t amount to anything more than a slap on the wrist. I walk towards the door, him behind me.
“Nice watch,” he says, pointing at my wrist as I reach or the door.
He knows. Unless I can get away now my life is over. All I can think of is the monstrosities the state churn out as punishment. Equal part labor force and sadism. I open the door as little as possible and as soon as I am through I dash down the block. I don’t dare look behind me, but I don’t hear him in pursuit. Halfway down the block I swerve into the alley that cuts across the building and out on the block on the other side. If I can cross that block and then down south I’m in the park and there are plenty of places to hide there.
My hands are not on fire. This surprises me as I look down on my hands, screaming in pain. There is a high pitched sound coming out of the handcuffs, like capacitors charging, but it is continuous. The pain emanating from my hands is something unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. My legs buckle. I know I need to move, somehow, somewhere. It’s just so difficult to think of anything but my hands that are not on fire. It would probably be a good idea to not scream my lungs out, but I don’t really have a choice in that.
Just as suddenly as it started it stops. I’m still writhing in pain, but my hands are not on fire in a much more comforting way. “The payment proxy is in your watch, is it not?” the policeman asks, standing a few steps away. I’m panting, I realize when I attempt to answer him. Panting and sweaty. I can’t manage to speak. I just nod my head.
“The state vs. item RK-220553 finds the defendant guilty to breach of contract with the state, executed by judicial AI 5” he reads off his handheld screen. I’m confused to what just happened. “No trial?” I manage to wheeze out. “You entered into a cooperation contract when you put on the handcuffs, as you are aware of as you claimed to know the Citizens Rights Act. Disobedience at that point allows for immediate trial by AI as long as no forensic work is needed.” He sounded like the same bored cop as he was in the store, reciting memorized text for the thousandth time.
I struggle to get up on my feet. Not only am I shaky, but having my hands locked together makes it surprisingly difficult to get up. “You know, this is bad timing,” the cop starts. “I was on my way home and don’t have all the standard gear. It’s supposed to be a swift punishment, for deterrence, but there is really only one thing I can do.” Why is he so apologetic? He opens the bag and pulls out a fucking tactical human transformer. I’ve never even seen one in person before. He turns it on, selects something on the screen, and points the device towards me. “No, I can…”
This time I am on fire, if only so briefly. There is a blinding light, a pulse of heat, and the smell of burnt plastic. As the transient heat subsides it keeps falling colder and colder. I’m naked. All my clothes have been singed from my body. My watch is gone. My shoes are gone. Underwear gone. And, I realize, my hair is gone. The cop keeps punching in selections in the menus of the devices. I manage to get up on my feet. “Stay on the ground,” he tells me. Not so much as an order, but as an advice. I sit down again and he trains the device on me.
I don’t know how to describe it. It’s not pain exactly. There is something about rewriting the code and cellular structure of your body while your brain is engaged that makes it give up in disbelief. “This can’t be what’s actually happening,” it thinks and gives you completely nonsense sensory interpretations. But it also gives up on all other tasks. Time becomes irrelevant. Critical thinking put on hold. When the device stops you are utterly confused for seconds. Possibly by design, but it makes sense that you can’t rewire the brain in flight without some glitches.
“I want you to stand up,” the cop says in a firm voice. “Who?” I ask, still dazed, just to make sure. “You. Get up on both feet. Take this.” He throws an orange bundle to me, and I feebly grasp for it but my one arm yanks the chain to the cuff of the other arm. The bundle brushes by and lands on the ground next to me. He looks disappointed, more at himself for thinking it would work than on me for not catching it.
I look down at my hand and see something orange in my grip, but it is not the orange that interests my but the grip. My arms, thin from lack of food and nimble from grabbing P2 storage modules out of vendor racks. are enormous. Big, well defined muscles with popped veins going up and around them. They look longer than before and even the hands are larger than they used to be. I can see that not only my arms are different. My chest is all lean and strong-looking as well, the legs have these weird lines showing different groups of muscles under the skin, and I can almost bet that the ground is further down than it used to be. Orange! I’m holding something orange in my hand.
“I only have an emergency kit with me, so not very many options for you I’m afraid. If you had come with me I think they would have found some better use for you, but as I said, I didn’t have much to chose from beside himbot,” the cop said while putting some beat-up looking boots from his bag next to me. He grabs the chain between my cuffs, and both of them pop open instantly, and he folds them up and begins to place them back into the cuff holder in his belt.
There was something he said that was important. Like, really important. I feel cobwebs like I had just been awakened from a deep sleep. “Put on the jock,” he tells me, and again I am confused, but of a different kind. It’s like I urgently need to know what he means, somehow. “You’re holding them in your hand.” I again look down at my hand and see the orange piece of cloth, which obviously is what he meant. I flip it around in my hands and finds it to be an orange jockstrap with a generous pouch. Looking down I also see the reason for that, since my dick and balls are large. Much larger than I remember them to be. I don’t want to keep him waiting, so as quickly as I can manage, with my balance a bit off, I manage to place one leg in each loop and pull up the jockstrap. It neatly collects everything in front into a large orange ball.
Himbot! That’s what he had said. It’s like the government robots but human. What was the I and M now again? Wait, those are just mindless sacks of muscles roaming around doing whatever menial task is available.
“Himbot?” I ask him. “Yes, you are a himbot,” the cop answered. “Put on the shirt.”
I immediately grabbed the orange bundle from the ground I assumed to be the shirt. To my delight I was right and with just a few tries I managed to get it on me. It isn’t a real shirt, but one of those without arms, whatever they are called. Quite a lot of skin showed. The shoulders were bare, as were the sides and the nipples unless you positioned the strings just right. Stringers! It’s called a stringers, or something close to it. I feel so tired thinking of words.
“And the boots”
I grab one of the boots. There is something missing, but I’m not sure what it is. I has something to do with the small holes, I think. Well, the large hole is missing a foot, so I put one in it. Then I put the other foot in the other boot, and looked at the cop to see if he approved. He looks about the same. Good enough I hope.
“Face me and raise your hands” I comply immediately. He is pointing the large gun at me again. I don’t like it, but I must do what he says. He presses a few buttons and then there is a sharp headache.
“Who are you?” “Himbot 220553.” “What is your assignment?” “Walk along path 228-red responding to requests.” “What types of requests?” “Any type of requests.”
Can u do like one with a dorky geek being forced against his will to be turned into a jock and become like the star quarterback for the team like me
“You see, the problem with modern society is that, suddenly, all the emphasis has shifted from physicality and physical endeavours to cerebral enterprises and the furtherance of technology. Societally speaking, that can only lead to a slow downfall of everything we, the human race, have ever built. We have to get back to basics!” On each word of the last sentence, the man banged the meat of his palm on the desk in front of him, emphasizing each point. His gaze, however, never wavered from the array of students sitting in front of him. His eyes swept the room, as if daring anyone to disagree with him. He held the menace in his teeth, playing the silence out, and suddenly relaxed, shifting entirely into another mode, that of easy-going, affable Coach. “But the pendulum swings, boys, the pendulum always swings. One extreme to the other, and boy, when it comes,” he chuckled, swaying his head and clicking his tongue, “it’s gonna come hard.”
The bell sang its saw-song through the air, jarring everyone from their respective trances. Matthew snorted, turning to his friend. “Are you kidding me? One logical fallacy after another. And that pseudo-social science he was spouting? Did you even hear that? Why did we even have him in class today? What was that supposed to teach us?”
Sanjay shook his head. “Which one do you want me to answer first?”
“Any. None. It doesn’t matter. Just doesn’t make any sense. Why have the coach of the football team lecture us on how intelligence and critical thought and technological know-how is actually, you know, in disguise, the downfall of human civilization! Oh, yeah, let’s prize barbarity and tout physical achievement as opposed to …”
Honestly, Sanjay tuned him out. Sure, Matthew was his friend. Yeah, he was smart. Probably one of the smartest kids in the school, but he had a demanding, needy persona that was just sometimes hard to bear. He could be arrogant, almost preening, constantly displaying his prodigious vocabulary and scorning anyone who didn’t reach his impossible standards. Still, better to have him on your side, Sanjay reasoned, than not.
“So, yeah.” Matthew tossed his hair back from his eyes. He’d been letting it grow long, some rebellion thing. “Wanna watch foreign films tonight?”
“Uh,” God, again? He had a passion for subtitles that bordered on the pathological. Sometimes, he’d even quote the French when the appropriate time arrived. “I can’t, tonight. Family … thing.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, a toût a l’heure, mon ami!”
“Seeya,” Sanjay moved off into the hallway throng. “Weirdo.”
o
The faint, overlapping sound of calls and cries, short and shouted, that echoed from the field. Some grunting. Matthew hated that, in order to walk home, he had to follow the small sidewalk around the back side of the school and around a fairly large chunk of the football field. He usually had his earbuds in, and today was no exception, with Einstürzende Neubaten playing (and only because of the name) in his ears. He tapped his hands idly against his thighs as he walked, tapping out a badly-timed beat to the song he was listening to. His eyes he kept firmly fixed ahead. He refused to look at the game in progress, or the training, or whatever. Can’t deny that his eyes did flick to the left, but he didn’t turn his head, so that doesn’t count. Or so he reasoned.
Out of all the sports, Matthew hated football the worst. He could make concessions for “real” football, or soccer, if he was pressed, but American football, the NFL, all of it, just left a bad taste in his mouth. Stupid celebrity body-glorifying inane banal moronic and, on one occasion, mentally retarded, were all words that came out of his mouth whenever confronted with the topic. Team sports on a whole repelled him: the whole notion of conforming to a set, of being reduced to a function, caused him to shiver way down deep inside his skinny body. He was furiously proud of his body, liked that he could slip in and out of places unnoticed. He wore mostly blacks and grays for the same reason.
Of course, he was bullied. What kid isn’t? Matthew is no idiot. He’s read books, seen movies, he knows. The bully does it because the bully feels like he’s inferior in some way, is over-compensating. Yeah, he knows the “why,” but the “what” keeps happening. Physical threats. He’s been tripped, kicked, spat at. He does not let himself break to the bullies. He knows that he is superior to them, and one day, they’ll be pumping his gas. The knowledge of this certain future is enough to glaze and harden the sneer on his face whenever he runs into them.
He looked up just in time, swerving to miss the outstretched hands of one of his classmates. He didn’t even have time to notice which one it was. All he saw was a wide grin and the palms of the hands, and the world yawed above him, sky to treetops to treetrunks to dead leaves on the ground, and he was falling, poorly, ungainly and akimbo, ass over teakettle, and rolling, crashing through various underbrush, skinning his palms on ill-placed rocks, the world became a splatter of color on a palette, and then turned to gray fuzz as he came to a halt.
“Whoa, kid, kid, holy fucking …” Someone had rushed to his side, but Matthew couldn’t tell who it was. His eyes were unfocused, his ears were slamming loud carillons of hiss and bells, he throbbed, nearly all over. He thought, well, nothing’s broken, and remembered relief. He cracked his mouth and a strange noise flopped out, like a broken bassoon. “Are you OK? Did you just fall?”
“Stupid … question,” Matthew said, and passed out.
o
He woke up at home. In his own bed. His posters on the wall, his strange Russian propaganda posters, his vintage movie posters. He still throbs all over. That part wasn’t a dream. This is, however, that weird murky space between waking up and really waking up. Surfacing, sort of, through the shallows. He remembered … falling. He remembered … being pushed! His head is like an anvil factory. Jabs of clanging pain twinned to his heartbeat. He groaned, and ground his hand, hard, into his left eye. The pain did not abate. He rolled over, the sheets followed, and he untangled himself, with some amount of confusion. There was a slightly heavy … slightly wet smell in the air, almost as if someone drenched in cologne had been there recently. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, Matthew thought murkily, then shook his head violently. No! It was awful! It smelled like a locker room. How the fuck did he get home? He reached for his phone, which was where he always kept it, on the night stand next to his bed. He thumbed it open. No missed calls. No new text messages. The time was 10:30pm., on whatever day. He idly thought he might have amnesia. It was dark, and he could hear the crickets sawing feverishly away outside his window. He felt a stab of hunger, and slowly swung his legs out of bed.
The anodyne glow of the big-screen television was near-blinding as Matthew limped down the stairs. Weird, he thought. No one in this house is usually awake at this hour. He moved closer to inspect. No one on the couch. Not a sign that anyone had been there, actually. It was all very Roanoke. He half-expected to find “CROATOAN” carved into the coffee table. It gave him a little, dull chill. As he moved closer, the sound of the television grew louder, and the picture seemed to clear, resolving from white noise to figures, moving back and forth on the screen. The white noise resolved into the sound of … an audience? Matthew squinted at the screen, came even closer, outstretched a finger to prod at its surface, delicately. Then he backed up, shaking his head, chortling. “C’mon,” he said out loud, the sound of his voice flat in the living room. “Don’t be a moron.”
It was a game on the television. A football game. NFL, from the looks of it. Uniforms … orange and white and orange and black. The, uh … Broncos and the Browns. Right. That’s a lot of orange. I didn’t even know we got this channel. What channel? Oh, ESPN, right. The football’s pretty fucking elusive, doesn’t seem like anyone can get a handle on - oh, there we go. That guy’s running. He’s got the ball. Feels like something’s going to happen. Oh, hey, this guy’s coming out of the, no, no, he’s gonna make it he’s - oh. Nope. That guy jumped on top of him and he wasn’t close to the end zone.
Matthew felt a strange sense of disappointment, almost deflation. He cracked his neck to one side and frowned a little. The players were reassembling. Some of them look kinda goofy. The uniforms are kinda cool. I mean, sorta. It’s like armor, or something. Representing … uh, like, houses, or … hey, they’re playing again.
He found his muscles tightening, his hands forming into fists, as the football was snapped into play. His eyes watched it as it described its arc over the field, soaring, spiralling, toward the eager and outstretched hands of – and
“INTERCEPTION!”
Matthew snapped back to himself with all the force of a comet smashing into Siberia. He blinked, blinked again, and then shook his head. Was that something rattling around up there? Jesus, he must’ve hit hard. He should get some more sleep. Was he just watching football?
And … was there a moment there, just a moment, where he … kinda enjoyed it?
o
“Day 2,” Sanjay mimed a gun at his temple, lazing back in his chair. The windows were open, and a light breeze sashayed in. “Seriously, though? Mandated physical education in the form of indoctrination? Not sure that’s what they had in mind, but … hey, it’s gettin me out of class, right?”
“Yeah,” Matthew mumbled. He was still kind of out of it, bruised up and scraped pretty badly, but with no lasting injuries. “Sorry,” he said. “I must’ve really rattled my brains in that fall. Shit…” He dropped his pencil and fumbled around under the desk for it. “I’ve been so clumsy, today, too…”
“Maybe you got a concussion or something, man. You should check in with the nurse.”
“Naw, it’s … I slept, last night, so, I don’t think it’s a, uh, you know. That. Man, this headache. I keep taking all this aspirin.” He shook out a pill from a plain white bottle. “Don’t know if it’s actually helping, or what.”
Sanjay cocked his head at his friend and shrugged. “Suit yourself. Your funeral. And I wouldn’t take so much advil, man. Five, at the most.”
The door to the room slammed shut, and the coach walked in. He never wore street clothes, or, if he did, his street clothes were the same as his regular clothes: basketball shorts and t-shirt, sneakers and socks. He was a younger man, probably in his early 30s, with a corded, muscular body and a commanding presence lightened only by an aloof affability. “Welcome back,” he said, and the room immediately quieted. His eyes swept the room again, much in the same manner as before, as if surveying a course of meats. “I - “ he stopped as his eyes fell on Matthew. “Matt,” he said. “Hope you’re feeling better.“
“It’s Matthew,” he said clearly. “And yeah, I’m fine. No thanks to the guy who shoved me. And I will find out who that is,” he added venomously. “And when I do, you can be sure I’ll be taking it to the proper author - uh - “
The coach seemed expectant, then shook his head and continued. “Well, recent drama aside. We’re here today to talk about the benefits of fitness, and how being physically fit is important in all ways, and, in some ways, how it is the most important. Your brain won’t function if your body isn’t fed, right? And we feed our bodies by giving it nutrition and exercising it just like we would a machine. Sometimes … those machines need a tune-up. I bet most of you here need a tune-up or two.”
“Not me, Coach!’ Brody piped up. Matthew’s eyes skated over to him. He was the QB. He was just over six-foot and weighed twice what Matthew did. He sat in his desk and possessed it of a gawky adolescent superiority. His voice was deep and his face was shadowed around 5 o’clock. “I’m runnin’ on all cylinders.” He lifted his arms and flexed. Most of the class groaned, some of the girls looked sideways, and a paper ball or two was tossed.
“Yeah, well, simmer down there, Bro. It is true, Brody is at his peak physical form for his body type and his age. That’s something you can all aspire to.”
Matthew felt dizzy. The top of his scalp itched. His throat itched, felt swollen. He glanced at the back of his hand. He watched it detachedly as it rose of its own accord, sleepily at first, then erect as a flagpole, fingers straight, unmoving. “Yes, uh, Matthew?”
His words sounded, to his own ears, as if they had been dredged out of him. “How do we .. uh, do that?”
The coach stared at him for a minute, inscrutably. “Good question, Matt.” Matthew let the name go, almost like a bullet in slow motion past his ear, creating auditory ripples in through his ear and passing through his brain - “Well, we can work out, we can play a sport and join a team - shameless plug, football team still needs some good bodies, signup sheet’s outside the door - but there’s lots of different ways to achieve your physical potential.
“You really don’t look so good,” Sanjay commented. “And what was that all about?”
“Nothin,” Matthew said. He felt drunk. “I, uh, it’s fine.”
The class continued, and Matthew sat there, silently, eyes fixed ahead. The buzz and pound in his head continued. It was almost as if the dream he’d had about watching football on the television was still playing, projected on the inside wall of his skull, and he was hearing it from far away.
o
The bell announced in its shrill, strident way, the end of class. Matthew filed out with the rest, past the coach as he was erasing the whiteboard. “Matt,” he heard, and he stopped. “I just wanted to … are you OK?”
“Yeah,” he heard himself say. “I’m good.”
“Well, you had a nasty spill. You said someone pushed you. You hit your head and you scraped yourself up, but nothing was broken. We used your phone and called your roommate and they came and picked you up.”
“Oh,” Matthew said. “It’s Matthew, you know.”
“What?”
“You keep, uh, callin me Matt.”
“Well, I guess it’s just easier. Just a nickname. What’s so wrong with Matt?”
“It’s, uh. It’s not my, uh. Yeah. Whatever. Look, I - “
“Want to sign up for the football team.”
“… Huh?”
“I’m joking. What’s up?”
“I, that question I asked. Maybe I should, you know. Work out. So I don’t, you know, ‘fall,’ anymore.”
“Hey, Matt, that’s a great idea! Not to mention it’ll really help build up your confidence. Who couldn’t use some of that, huh?”
“Right,” he agreed, a little uncertain why. A weird molten surge of … something, was starting to heat up in his stomach. “Yeah.”
The coach dropped his big hand on Matthew’s shoulder and grinned. “I’m so glad you want to do this, Matt. I really think it’ll do you wonders. How about I take you down to the gym for your free period and show you the ropes?”
“My - how did you know I have a, next? I didn’t -”
“I get all your schedules. C’mon, I’ll show you and I promise, you won’t be able to stop once you start. It really is addicting.”
“Yeah, right,” Matthew mumbled, but was already being ushered to follow by the coach’s arm and hand. Before he knew it, they were walking down the hallway, out through into the dazzling sunlight, and then back inside via two metal doors with arrowslit-like windows, metal wiring. The gym. The echoes began almost immediately. Basketball sneakers against the floor with their skreek skreeking, rubber on lacquer. The clang and repeated thud of weights against racks. A pumping soundtrack, fading in and out.
“You’ll be right at home,” the coach said. “Trust me.”
I doubt it, thought Matthew, but Matt’s face was grinning, and Matt’s mouth was saying, “Awesome, Coach.”
o
“So, how’s the recruiting stage going?”
“Great. Aspirin was a great way to hide it. No one knows.”
“And after a minor, accidental, spill, pain relief … is somewhat necessary, wouldn’t you say?”
“Brody is a good QB. He’ll do whatever I tell him to, even if it does include a little … hooliganism. ”
“How about your white whale?”
“Oh, Matt’s doing amazing. You know, you wouldn’t believe it, but the kid’s twice his size. We’ll have him on the football team for this coming season, and he’s gonna make a hell of a QB after Brody graduates. Isn’t even a trace left of who he was.”
“We want to thank you for allowing us to test our new drug out on your student body, as it were, Coach.”
“Well, I understand the need for a return to the fundamentals of society. If that comes at the expense of some brain cells, well, so be it.”
“Quite right. Excellent work. I assume you’ll be having another winning season?”
“Year after year. Year after year.”
Body to Brag
--- Originally posted by unknown before 2018-08-22 ---
So you want a body you can brag about, well since you been so nice and kind and you have helped me along this journey I can.
All I just need is you to put these on. Ohh, there to big for you.
I am sure you will grow into them.
You're feeling hot?
Why don't you just jump into the blue sea and cool off?
Wow, nice jump man.
Are you still feeling good? No? How?
All a sudden you feel great pain in the chest and feel great muscle grow, you feel six punches in your belly, you uncover a sweet six-pack.
You feel more muscle growth in your arms and legs, as you get stronger.
You feel that tension between your arms and your moans as they grow bigger and deeper.
Your legs get straight as all the muscle gets into a balance.
Heat goes to your face as you feel a rash and the more you started you felt a small beard form.
You soon feel you get longer and your nose straight and your eyes widened to show you beautiful eye color as it changes from green to black and soon that red hair becomes a beautiful brown shiny hair.
You begin to moan as your small ass gets bigger for fucking people with, your dick gets bigger and so do your balls, as you cum all over them.
You begin to moan, as your mind becomes clear and you're dumber, as it gets cleared with sexy guys.
Well if you are feeling good, you look good instead.
Well, get out of that water if you feeling good? No, why?
Who are you starting at? Him? Wow!
Why don't you get a piece of him?
You can brag to him about your body, but I think you're too dumb to understand me.
Well just go gets some ass because I think he is starting at you too and I think he needs help down there man.
And maybe after that, you can tell me the details.
Well, I don't think you need that Brian to brag, even though you can't because you're too dumb to understand me and you can just let your body do the work.
Oops sorry man I that I used too many words.
Don't stand around to get him.
TheBurdenBorne Archive
Hi all! Thanks to efforts by @masterwolftfs I have managed to recover even more of TheBurdenBorne's (DeviantArt) old stories!
Below will be a huge index compiled by @imsrtman of most of the titles of TheBurdenBorne's written works.
What I have already posted on Tumblr will clickable on the list.
Similarly, anything marked with an asterisk means that I have a copy of it and will post it soon. I also have some stories that I'm not sure what the title is of so I'll need help with that as well.
As for the remaining entries on the list:
Please send me a DM if you have any of the stories that are not marked or posted yet! I
It does not matter if you only have say part 4 or part 2. If everyone contributes parts here and there we can recover most of it!
(All the stories are sorted from A-Z ascending)
Uncategorized:
Dog Tags
Hypnotizing Young Bro
Jock boy is hypnotized
Man's Best Friend
Missing Dick
Sculpted
Tailgating
Trash
Series: Black Power
Black Power Ch. 1
Black Power Ch. 2
Series: College Camp
College Camp Part I
College Camp Part II
College Camp Part III
College Camp Part IV
Series: Dancing Bears
Dancing Bears No 1
Dancing Bears No 2
Dancing Bears No 3
Series: Daydream Age
Daydream Age 13
Daydream Age 23
Daydream Age 33
Daydream Age 43
Daydream Age 43
Series: Enrollment Week
Enrollment Week 1 (Garrett-POV)
Enrollment Week 2 (Garrett-POV
Enrollment Week 3 (Garrett-POV)
Enrollment Week 4 (Louis-POV)
Enrollment Week 5 (Carl POV)
Enrollment Week 6 (Wesley POV)
Series: Extra Curricular
Extra Curricular: Filmmaking
Extra Curricular: Metals
Extra Curricular: Woods
Series: For Him
For Him Part One
For Him Part Two
For Him Part Three
For Him Part Four
For Him Part Five
Series: Manual Labor
Manual Labor Client One
Manual Labor Client Two
Manual Labor Client Three*
Manual Labor Client Four
Series: One Fad Fits All
One Fad Fits All: Biker Chic
One Fad Fits All: Bodyguard
One Fad Fits All: Cowboy Up*
One Fad Fits All: Lumbersexual
One Fad Fits All: Surfer Boys
Series: Ostello della moda
Ostello della moda: Antonio
Ostello della moda: Bruno*
Ostello della moda: Christofano
Ostello della moda: Diego*
Ostello della moda: Eduardo*
Series: Pokémon Go Team Green
Pokémon Go Team Green: Battle
Pokémon Go Team Green: Captured
Pokémon Go Team Green: Hatched
Pokémon Go Team Green: Traded
Series: Primal Instincts
Primal Instincts: A Bit Overbearing
Primal Instincts: Men are Dogs*
Primal Instincts: Monkey Around
Series: Product Placement
Product Placement: Free Exercise Healthcare Offer*
Product Placement: Free trial Attraktion Kondom
Product Placement: Free wax and hair removal*
Product Placement: Subway sleeper*
Product Placement: Wet Dreams*
Series: Roommate Needed
Roommate Needed One*
Roommate Needed Two
Roommate Needed Three
Roommate Needed Four
Roommate Needed Five
Roommate Needed Six
Roommate Needed Seven
Series: Selfie Seduction
Selfie Seduction Interlude
Selfie Seduction Part 1
Selfie Seduction Part 2
Selfie Seduction Part 3
Selfie Seduction Finale
Series: The Collector
The Collector Part 1: Auction
The Collector Part 2: Acquisition
The Collector Part 3: Audition
The Collector Part 4: Abduction
Series: The Modern Man:
The Modern Man-Step 1
The Modern Man-Step 2
The Modern Man-Step 3
The Modern Man-Step 4
The Modern Man-Step 5
The Modern Man-Step 6
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