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warping-realities · 1 year ago

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Keeping Up With Old Friends (by the best of all @dumb-and-jocked & @callmecallmecrazy

It's a great pleasure to make images for this collaboration between two of my favorite authors. I had permission from both of them to do this and I spent a considerable amount of time trying to be up to par with their work, I don't know if I managed it but I still hope it's to your liking.

“Phil? Is that you?” Geoff could’ve sworn the man in front of him was an old classmate of his, having been lab partners their freshman year. The two had connected fairly well, with Geoff having hung out with the free-thinking, pot-smoking, curly-haired flower child a lot more than he thought he would. Except, scruffy and shaggy Phil was replaced with tailored-beard and straightened-locks Phil. Not only that, but his usual oversized hoodie and sweats had been replaced with a properly fit tee and jeans.

“Geoff! Hey man, how’s it going.” His voice was still the same lively and flamboyant pitch that it had always been. Phil met his friend in a hug over the cash register, squeezing Geoff a little harder than he had been prepared for.

“Surprised to see you here,” Geoff half-joked, knowing that the old Phil would never come close to a shopping mall, let alone a department store. If the job wasn’t so easy and the pay wasn’t so good, Geoff wouldn’t have ever entered either. Too bad college was so expensive.

“Ha! Yeah man, turns out they have some good stuff! Plus, it’s close to where I live.”

“Oh, did you finally move out of the dorms?”

“Yeah, I moved into the Kappa Sigma Alpha house.” The big smile he offered was met by a wide-eyed stare from Geoff. Phil was a free spirit, one who practically came out of the ‘60s. Last they’d talked, he’d been planning on living at an eco-friendly miniature house, certainly not at “prespter-prick incorporated”.

“What happened to living green?”

“Ya know, I wanted a change.” Phil shoved his hands into his pockets. “Plus, college loans are really bringing me down. I needed to save some money and fast. My uncle got me an in with the fraternity; he’s an alum.”

“Aren’t they, like, totally pretentious?” Geoff countered. “We used to joke about those preppy freaks and their smug arrogance.”

Phil frowned, his expression made it seem as if he’d taken personal offense.

“Hey man, they’re cool. After my uncle had pointed out that I was a legacy, I got headhunted by the rush chair. I’m not one of those over-confident princes having yacht parties and spending time at the country club.” Geoff’s tense muscles eased a little, causing Phil to smile. “I don’t think they do that kinda stuff anymore anyway.”

He glanced at his phone, and then back at Geoff. Getting the message, Geoff quickly processed his items and had Phil pay. He was surprised to see Phil was buying more normal clothes. Cheap, standard tops and bottoms that were neither flamboyant or tame: just generic.

“Hey man, great seeing you,” Phil concluded the conversation politely. “Maybe we’ll hang out sometime? I gotta get back to the house!”

Geoff watched Phil walk out, noticing how well he filled out his jeans. The Phil he knew had been a short, skinny beanpole, similar to Geoff’s height but with less pudge. However, the new Phil’s buttocks had developed a sort of plumpness, just barely curving the pants out awkwardly as he walked away.

“That was so strange,” Geoff said aloud, but he assumed that people changed. Phil seemed happy and healthy, and as long as he was saving money Geoff was happy for him. Maybe he always wanted to join a frat?

For the rest of his shift, Geoff continued thinking about the peculiar interaction, but by the end of the day he was too exhausted to think about anything. Once he had gotten back to his dorm, he lethargically changed and jumped into his bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

— —

“Phil? Is that you?” The big man standing in front of the counter didn’t exactly physically resemble Phil. He was fairly big at about 5 ‘10 (a few inches taller than Phil) and the Henley shirt he wore couldn’t hide the beginnings of bulging pecs. And his hair, last time uncoiled but still at shoulder-length, was sheared down, pushed up, and shiny from cheap gel. The face was still the same, even though the hair made his face look a little square.

The young man looked back at Geoff confused for a moment before a tinge of understanding glittered in his eyes.

“Geoff Elliot,” his voice was noticeably slower and deeper than last time. While Geoff went in for a hug, Phil replied with a one-armed embrace and pat on the back. He practically grimaced when Geoff attempted for more affection.

“Phil! Man, it’s been awhile. I haven’t seen you since your last time here.”

“Yes, Geoff, I’ve been very busy with school. And please, call me Phillip, it’s more traditional.”

“Wow, still living with the Kappa Sigmas?”

“Yes, I’ve been acquainting very well. What about you, Geoff?”

“Oh ya know, I’m still in old Walker. It isn’t great, but it’s definitely got a sweet spot in the middle of campus.”

“Living comfortably?”

“Ha, you know I’m not.”

“I can tell,” Phillip noted Geoff’s pale skin and tired eyes. Geoff was taken aback by the outright disdain.

“Well, I’ve got to work if I want to get a degree.” Phillip just nodded, causing Geoff to carry the conversation. “You’re looking good. Do the Kappa Sigmas expect gym time?”

“Yes,” Phillip’s stern demeanor dropped a touch, allowing a bit more levity in his voice. “There’s an expansive gym at the country club. It’s free and they even give you a few hours a day to use it!”

He was practically giddy as he talked, allowing Geoff to relax a bit. This was the Phil he knew, chirpy and friendly though now not as exceptionally outgoing. And if Geoff was being honest, Phil seemed extremely content with his new situation.

“Have you picked up any sports? It seems like you’ve got the bod now,” Geoff joked, knowing that Phil hated physical activity. He playfully slapped one of Phil’s broad shoulders and was shocked at how firm the muscle was.

“I’ve been doing a lot of golf! I play with several of the other guys and even some of my uncle’s coworkers. I’m getting my handicap down too.”

“Oh, you’re playing golf?” Geoff hadn’t expected an answer, but if one came he would’ve guessed football or baseball–not golf.

“Yes, it’s very enjoyable. And great for business bonding. Chance for us men to talk about the frat, women, sports and the like. Say, you watch the game last weekend?”

That was wholly unlike Phil, but Geoff guessed he was probably throwing himself into the fraternity world.

“Nah, man, I’m not into basketball.”

“It’s football season.” His reply was so direct and unvarnished that Geoff had to grip the counter for support. “I know not everyone is into the NFL, but I assumed you would at least watch like any other man. And our team is having an exceptionally great season. 4-0 in conference play.”

Phillip kept talking about football as Geoff stared deep into his eyes. Was this really Phil? The guy used to pretend like he didn’t know what sports were. What was happening to him?

“Anyway, Geoff, it’s been great catching up,” Phillip said, dumping his items onto the register. Geoff was surprised to notice that Phil was purchasing only name brand items. Not expensive, but not generic either. “Maybe we can grab some beers and watch a game sometime.”

Phillip hastily paid for all of his items and walked out. Geoff couldn’t help but notice the increasingly larger derrière. His buttocks had developed a shelf-like quality, curving the cheap khakis out as he walked away. Its slight jiggling motion was a stunning contrast to the hard muscle covering the rest of his body.

“Yeah, great to see you Phil-lip,” Geoff forced out the last syllable. This was not the Phil he knew, but instead some dude named Phillip. Geoff continued on with the rest of his shift, the interaction slipping from his mind at the end of the day when he collapsed into bed.

— —

“Phil? Is that you? I mean, Phillip?” Geoff had hoped he wouldn’t see him again after their last encounter, but when he saw this barely-familiar-looking man his curiosity got the best of him. He told himself it was all in his head, but everything about these encounters were disturbing. Geoff wasn’t sure if it was steroids as his former buddy’s growth seemed extremely quick, but it could’ve just been the sudden makeover too. What was even crazier was the man next to him was somehow larger.

This Phillip was 6’4 and wore a baby blue oxford button-up with a yellow and blue striped repp tie. The shirt looked ready to burst as it was tight against the two firm mounds sticking out of the young man’s chest. On top of the set was a two-button navy blazer with the letters KE on the left side, which Geoff assumed stood for Kappa Sigma. His hair was much different, for the overgrown shag was now neatly cut, with short sides and tapered across the crown. The ivy league was sharply parted on the left side and held sturdily in place by an expensive looking pomade. Not only had his hair transformed, but his face had undergone a dramatic change too. His jaw, formerly a little pointed and sharp, spread wide and hung low, giving his face a distinguished lantern shape to match his newly-cleft chin.

This Phillip stood ramrod straight while searching through a rack of new suits from Brooks Brothers. The man next to Phillip was older but otherwise nearly identical. He was thicker around the middle, but any gut he might have was hidden by the extremely high rise of his pants, sitting above his belly button just under the rib cage. His tie was black and grey with a subtle windowpane pattern, and his suit shared a similar palette.

The other man stared at Geoff for a moment before tapping Phillip on the shoulder.

“Pierson,” his voice was slow and deep. “I believe this boy is trying to get your attention.”

The younger man turned towards the counter to see Geoff. A faint bit of recognition crossed his face momentarily.

“Geoff Elliot.” The voice was practically monotone, low and deep. He took a few powerful steps forward and offered a large, coarse handshake.

“Uncle,” Phillip turned to face the older man. “This is a friend from college, Geoff Elliot. Geoff, this is my uncle.” He gestured robotically between the two. The uncle offered his hand and it was the same rough shake.

“Nice to meet you…” Geoff sort of trailed off, hoping to get a first name.

“John Howard Johnson.” The reply was colorless. “Mr. Johnson will do.”

“Alright,” Geoff simply replied. “So, Phillip-”

“Please call me Pierson,” Phillip said curtly. “My uncle thinks I would be better suited professionally as Pierson.” The way he spoke, extremely even in both rhythm and pitch, was unnerving.

Geoff could make out some of Phil’s features in the hulking face before him. An upturned nose and naturally thin eyebrows over wide eyes resembled the Phil he knew. But the rest of the face clearly belonged to this cocky fratboy named Pierson.

“Okay, Pierson. So, any news about Greek Life?”

“I am very happy with the Kappa Sigmas. Life there is perfectly preppy.”

“That’s great. Glad to hear you’re doing good!”

“Yes, my uncle believes after college I will be an ideal candidate for his company, Hemplebaum Inc..”

“That place downtown with office drones filling foreclosures and manipulating bank accounts?”

“Correct,” Pierson stated blatantly.

“Huh, okay.” Geoff was getting sick of this conversation, and of this act. There was obviously something going on here, so he decided to just ask about it flat out.

“How long are you going to keep this up, Phil?”

“Pierson.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Geoff retorted. He knew it probably wasn’t best to argue with customers during his shift, but this was more important than a job. “How are you willing to sell your soul to some frat? We used to joke about these guys! Can’t you see something is wrong?”

“I’m offended by your tone, Geoff. And honestly,” he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves while disgustingly eyeing Geoff’s uniform. “I grew up. You could do with some growing.”

“You’ve grown into a mindless fratboy.”

“And you, Geoff, are still a child. We ‘mindless fratboys’ are very well groomed and dressed. We speak with clarity and courtesy, and are diligent and helpful. We truly represent the apex of manhood.”

“Pierson,” Mr. Johnson suddenly interrupted the argument. Pierson stiffened up and faced his uncle. “I’m glad you had this chance to catch up with your acquaintance, but we have wasted time.”

“Of course, Uncle.”

They turned to leave, but Pierson swiftly reached into a blazer pocket and pulled out a thick black card.

“If you ever decide to grow up.” Pierson placed it on the register before he and his uncle left, giving Geoff a good look at their backsides. Despite the broad shoulders and bulging pectorals, both had a distinctly pear shaped body, with wide hips and massive butts that shook just a touch as they walked. Pierson’s rump was especially luscious, bouncing around inside those tight, pastel madras shorts. It gave Geoff a boner as he watched it wiggle. Sure, the man was the monster that replaced his old friend, but he had to admit the new douchebag look was kind of hot.

Geoff grabbed the card from the counter and examined it. It was a thick card stock and slightly textured with the Greek letters obnoxiously large in one corner. Right in the middle read “Pierson Buckley Folsom VI,” infuriating Geoff. That was absolutely not his last name, in fact none of those were his names! Had he changed his entire personality to fit in with these people? Had Phil been putting on a fake persona the entire time he was in college? Was this who he truly was? Geoff calmed himself down before reasoning that the name changing was a deeper sign. This whole thing had become so ridiculous he couldn’t just ignore it. He’d have to do some investigating.

— —

“This is Pierson Buckley Folsom VI.”

Geoff didn’t actually want to go through with his plan, but he had to make an attempt. If he could insert himself safely into this Pierson’s friend group, he might just be able to figure out what happened to Phil. Sure, Geoff wasn’t really built for the whole undercover thing, but he owed it to his old friend. Plus, Geoff knew if he let the matter sit, it would just continue to haunt him.

“Hey, Pierson. This is Geoff.”

“Hello Geoff, how may I assist you?” He was already straight to the point.

“Well, you know I was thinking about what you said back in the mall. Growing up and all that stuff.”

“Ah,” Pierson’s stale voice came from the other end. “I assume you are interested in becoming a Kappa Sigma then?”

“Yes.” Geoff swallowed before continuing, “I would like to become a Kappa Sigma.”

“If that is so,” Pierson began monotonously. “We have a rush event this weekend at the Rolling Acres Country Club. Come golfing this weekend, I know you will enjoy it.”

“That sounds exciting!” It totally did not. He did not want to go to a rush event in the most posh, expensive neighborhood in the city. “What do I need to wear? I’m sure they have a dress code.”

“Meet me at the Kappa Sigma house before. I will have appropriate clothing.”

“Sounds good, thank you for your help, Pierson.”

“You are welcome, Geoff.”

And just like that, the plan was in motion. This weekend, Geoff would be infiltrating enemy territory, so it was now time to do some research. He didn’t want to be suspicious, but as far as he could tell, the only person who thought something was amiss was him.

— —

The Kappa Sigma Alpha house was a well-built, classic home that looked like it belonged in Connecticut or somewhere else classy. The elegant mansion was extremely large, just like all of its brothers. It was so huge in fact that it had a room strictly dedicated for watching football, and that wasn’t even the media room! According to Pierson, there was a room with a movie projector on another floor. The football room was just a man cave according to him, except it was a sunlit, high-ceilinged game room. It was about five times bigger than the dorm Geoff was currently living in, which was only half the size of Pierson’s room.

When Pierson had answered the door, he was dressed in a full monochromatic suit.

Geoff had expected something more casual, so he was wearing a faded pair of khakis and a plaid button-up. Geoff’s bulkier counterpart was intensely embarrassed by his attire and insisted he put on one of his old suits. Geoff thought about protesting, but instead allowed it. He fit quite well in it, as Pierson’s old suit was from Phil’s era. Geoff hated the whole dress-up ordeal, but he needed to fit in as much as possible, and to do that he would have to do everything Pierson said.

“Are we going golfing in suits?” Geoff asked innocently, unsure if they’d actually be participating in the sport.

“That’s absurd!” Pierson remarked, his tone just barely leaving its usual flat level as he dodged the question. “We will be changing at the club.”

Geoff couldn’t imagine how most people showed up dressed like this, but he would do whatever made Pierson comfortable. And apparently, the change had been necessary. After they got past the gate and into the main clubhouse, every man he passed had a tie on. Some of the brothers were already dressed in polos and khaki shorts, with the color of their outfits being the only way Geoff could figure out who was who. After Pierson had checked them in for the rush event, they headed to the lockers to change. Once the two had stripped, Pierson handed Geoff a small white piece of fabric. Geoff was horrified to find it was a pair of whitey-tighties, completely generic besides a tiny logo and a thin, blue line running through the band.

“What,” Geoff asked. “Dude, seriously?”

“All of us wear them,” Pierson blatantly stated, showing how he had stripped down to his own. Geoff had only noticed Pierson’s behind before, but now he took his chance to examine the whole body. Pierson was thick from below his pecs down to his butt, no real waistline. The holes for the legs in Pierson’s briefs clung tightly to his thighs, making the curve of his extremely wide buttocks stand out. His bulge was extremely pronounced too, pushing the briefs to their limit. Everything about Pierson was just so big nowadays, his proportions practically comic level. He looked good.

Knowing he had to do it, Geoff quickly stepped into the briefs. The briefs made their way up both of his legs and finally began to engulf his private regions. He pulled the waistband up and let them sink into place. The bright, white fabric comfortably held his body from the tip-top of thighs to just above his pubic bush.

“Let me help you with those.”

Pierson glided over to Geoff and dutifully pulled the briefs higher, a lot higher. Geoff’s belly button was now completely hidden, giving him a slight wedgie and his small package an even smaller moose knuckle. His flat bottom seemed more vertical than ever, and his 3-inch soft dick was nowhere near whatever Pierson was packing. Geoff should have been in pain, he should have been protesting, but something had subtly changed inside of him. The moment was deceptively erotic, something overly-personal but seemingly inconsequential that he was giving up to fit in. The look of disgust he originally had on his face had faded away, replaced with a simple, charming smile.

With that done, Pierson handed Geoff some pink Bermuda shorts and a blue polo, each made of a stretchy and breathable material.

“You sure these are mine?” Geoff asked, noticing that the sizes were much too large. “I’m not sure I’ll fit.”

“I’m certain we’re the same size, Geoff.” Pierson replied, putting on his own set. The striped Hampton Lime polo he wore beautifully accentuated his pectoral shelf and–after being tucked into some tight cobalt Bermuda shorts–his blooming muscle gut. Geoff didn’t actually know the names of the hues, Pierson had strictly informed him beforehand. Pulled up to rest just below Pierson’s brief’s waistband, the shorts were held up by a fashionable belt that Geoff knew had a price tag with at least 3 digits. The shorts not only continued to advertise Pierson’s laughably large bottom, but also displayed powerful calves that looked as if they were stolen from a marble statue.

Although Pierson was certain they were the same size, they most certainly were not. Geoff was not surprised when his outfit failed to fit. The belt he had barely kept the shorts from falling, and even though the shirt was tucked in, it still draped over him more like a curtain. Unlike the briefs that had fit perfectly, the clothes were meant for a man much larger than him. A fraternity brother.

The final pieces were short, plain white socks and a pair of large golf shoes. Once again, Pierson had insisted the two were the same size, but Geoff knew his feet would never fit in the Size 14 giants. Even after tying the tightest knot he could, the shoes were still fairly roomy and loose, causing Geoff to focus intensely on every step in hopes of not tumbling over. Sighing in defeat, he noticed a small emblem on one of his socks, the same he had seen before on the briefs. He checked the other sock, and then also found it on his polo over the left breast. Deciding it couldn’t hurt, Geoff inquired about it.

“I don’t think I recognize this brand,” he started. “Are we wearing Ralph Lauren?”

“Not exactly,” Pierson replied, who had also finished getting dressed. “It’s a partner brand of Polo Ralph Lauren that made an exchange with the Carmichael Corporation. Apparently some financial deal.”

“What is the Carmichael Corporation?”

“They are an investing partner with Hemplebaum. The two often work together on acquisition projects. The event today is co-hosted by both companies. A lot of Kappa Sigma Alpha’s alum actually work at the companies, as the pair and the fraternity are continually functioning together. Almost like a cycle, I assume.” Pierson chuckled at that.

“I see.” Geoff smiled at the new piece of evidence. Not only did he just find that a company was in on the ordeal, but three. There was definitely something peculiar about this “financial deal,” and whatever these Hemplebaum and Carmichael organizations were, they had to be behind the disappearance of Phil.

The two then made their way out to the course. A plethora of young, muscular men and older counterparts were already golfing away, chatting merrily about subjects Geoff knew he had no interest in. Stocks and economical talk were topics that were unsurprisingly extremely boring. Pierson made sure to introduce as many people as he could as they walked along, and Geoff made sure to mentally write down each suspect in his head.

There was Yale Stockton Rockefeller IV from Carmichael, a man slightly older than the pair but identical in size and manner to Pierson. He was wearing a violet polo, docksiders, and light gray madras shorts. Then there was Henderson Harold Hearst from Hemplebaum; he shared the same age and exaggerated proportions with Pierson’s uncle, Mr. Johnson, who was also there. He was wearing a white sports polo, black golf cap, and a pair of golf trousers that somehow expanded over his massive thighs, showing off Mr. Hearst’s thick trunks and amble, jiggly buttocks that pressed generously backwards.

There were a plethora of other businessmen that were also introduced to Geoff along the way. Keating Eckley Whitlyn, Jr. from Carmichael; Emerson Foley Gillingham-Smyth from Carmichael; Rotterham Casper Cornelius Southard from Hemplebaum; John Millard Koehler III from Carmichael. All the titles and accentuated names made Geoff’s head want to explode, but he hadn’t even met a quarter of the populus yet. There were still all the Kappa Sigma boys with names like Thurston F. Walbridge IV, Wyndham Judge Kilbourn V, and Hunt Johnstonbough. Geoff couldn’t understand how people remembered all of these obsessive, extensive, and money-grubbing men and their names. All of the businessmen and fraternity brothers were just a bunch of wealthy blockheads.

A sharp, static shock zipped inside of Geoff’s high-waisted briefs, causing him to pause momentarily. The shock sent a signal up his anus and tickled his prostate ever so slightly. In his head, Geoff immediately reevaluated his previous thoughts. These men weren’t obsessive, they were just clean-cut and well-maintained. And their names weren’t extensive and money-grubbing, they were traditional, conservative, and sumptuous. These corrections brought a cordial smile to Geoff’s face. Only now noticing he had stopped walking, Geoff jogged to catch back up to Pierson, causing his slightly-larger buttocks to gingerly bob.

As they walked out onto the course, golf bags strapped across their backs, Geoff could see a tall figure in the distance seeming to greet them with a small wave. Pierson returned the gesture amiably.

“Who’s that?”

“Prescott Neilson Powers IV. I invited him to play with us. Prescott is the Kappa Sigma rush chair. ”

“You invited the rush chair?”

“Prescott, yes. He’s been a close friend since I attended preparatory school, you should know that, Geoff.”

Geoff did not know this, as Pierson hadn’t existed less than a semester ago.

“I thought you would get on quite well. Besides, he’s on good terms with many important people. If you want to join the fraternity brotherhood, no one is a better connection.”

Prescott was in stretchy plum-colored golf trousers, a ballcap with the KE logo sitting proudly on the front, and a smoky-gray polo exactly like the ones they were wearing. Geoff had a bit of a shock realizing how much Prescott looked like Pierson. His body filled out the polo tremendously with broad shoulders, baseball-like biceps, and a thick but strong core. He also had that overly-wide posterior that led into legs and calves formed by deadlifts and deep squats. His hair–which was sheared down into a practically flat bit of black hair, shiny and parted–was the only noticeable difference between the two, but otherwise Geoff might have mistaken the two for brothers or cousins.

“Greetings!” Prescott shook Pierson’s hand and pulled him in for a pat on the back. For his part, Pierson tensed up a bit but did not resist.

“Prescott Neilson Powers IV, this is Geoffrey Elliot. We had few classes together last year, and now he is interested in rushing.” Before Geoff could correct the error of his name, Prescott grabbed him into a similar handshake-to-hug.

“Pleasure to meet you, Geoffrey,” Prescott said calmly. “Well, let’s play.”

“Are we taking the cart?” Geoff asked, pointing to a line of white, polished golf carts. He really didn’t want to walk around the entire course. He hadn’t exerted that amount of physical energy since high school gym.

“Of course not!” Prescott and Pierson chortled before Prescott continued. “I’d figure us three needed to work less on our glutes and more cardio!” Prescott then reached out and gave both Pierson and Geoff hard butt slaps. Geoff wanted to object, but a momentarily jarring jolt from his briefs once again silenced him.

“We all know this will not be enough to alleviate that problem,” Pierson quipped as they made their way to the first hole. Geoffrey completely forgot what he was thinking about and followed with a polite smile, his shorts now tighter against his inflated rump.

Prescott was extremely friendly and a little physical. Upon learning that Geoffrey had never golfed, Prescott took it upon himself to teach him everything he could, resulting in him saddling up behind him to correct stance and form, but also jokingly pressing his crotch into Geoffrey’s butt and thrusting. The boys all laughed at the horseplay, with Geoffrey nervously trying to hide his boner. If he wanted to fit in around these traditional, conservative men, he’d have to be a lot more careful. Luckily, his member had softened before anyone noticed, returning to its previous 4-inches soft.

Geoffrey had a hard time hating Prescott and the Kappa Sigma brothers. Taking away all the pomp of politics and social structure, Prescott seemed to be an incredibly friendly alpha; the kind of guy who would be quarterback, homecoming king, and class president (all things Geoffrey learned Prescott was). Geoffrey began to recognize that all the Kappa Sigma, Carmichael, and Hemplebaum men had so many things in common. There were so many things about them that Geoffrey really liked. They were gorgeously male and embodied masculine sophistication. They were groomed and cleaned, polite and cheerful. They were such ideal men, what Pierson had called “perfectly preppy”.

“My girlfriend will literally do anything I ask, that’s how dedicated she is to me!” Prescott bragged in a slow but still gloating voice.

“She was always into you,” Pierson added.

“Yes, sir. Her dad’s super rich, one of the department managers at the Carmichael Corporation. He’s inundated with old money. But what about you?” Prescott got a mischievous glint as his eyes located Pierson’s crotch. “Are you getting those fellows ready? It is almost breeding season.”

“What does that mean?” Geoffrey inquired.

“Pierson Buckley Folsom VI here is getting married.”

“Congratulations!” Geoffrey replied enthusiastically, forgetting that Pierson hadn’t had a partner less than a month ago.

“Thank you. We’re finishing some final details; her mother is very specific. Sometimes, she acts as though I’m unworthy.”

“She cannot do better,” Prescott assured.

“She is a perfectly suitable spouse. I am very pleased with the situation,” Pierson affirmed before setting up his shot and launching the ball. He let out a whistle of appreciation as it landed in the green just a few feet away from the hole.

“Good shot,” Prescott and Geoffrey said simultaneously. Geoffrey hadn’t noticed his voice was beginning to imitate the other two’s, as it was now a little deeper and even-handed.

“Geoffrey, I know it’s late notice, but I hope you can at least attend the wedding. The club has strict guest limits and I’m running out of passes for nonmembers for the bachelor party.”

“Thank you, Pierson. I’m sure I can make it.”

Geoffrey didn’t want to attend for investigative purposes however, he just wanted to support his close friend Pierson.

“And if you join the fraternity and get your membership before, you can enjoy all the heterosexual fun.” Prescott winked at Geoffrey and snagged a nipple that was now stiffly pressed out from the polo. Geoffrey had somehow not felt the weight of his upper body before as he walked, as his chest now stuck out and increased his height by a few inches. Geoffrey should’ve cared more about his enlarged torso, but for some reason walking around with pecs straining a polo felt incredible, like a huge dose of testosterone had been injected into him.

After a few more rounds, the trio decided to take an intermission and head back to the club. The main ballroom at the Rolling Acres was a lively place stocked with booze and many other pompous and colossal-sized men. Before Geoffrey could figure out what was going on, Pierson and Prescott were already removing the caps from a collection of glass bottles and pouring multiple glasses full of amber liquid.

“Come on, sit,” Prescott instructed, slapping Geoffrey’s bottom before taking a seat. Originally, Geoffrey had intended on asking some analytical questions and refusing the drinks, but after a quick agonizing wince he discovered he didn’t want to upset his new friends, or the financial connections they represented. Taking a big swig of the liquid, he sat down in the chair, his increasingly wide and plump behind consuming nearly ¾ths of the extra wide seat.

“You’re getting pretty good at the trap shot, Pierson Buckley Folsom VI, ” Prescott toasted Pierson.

“You’re still better, Prescott Neilson Powers IV,” Pierson was already refilling his drink happily. The trio continued chatting until Pierson eventually excused himself to the toilet, leaving Geoffrey alone with a man he thought would have been detestable. But this afternoon was fun. He got a small knot in his stomach as Prescott turned to him with a viperous grin.

“Geoff? Geoff Elliot?” Prescott suddenly said, dropping his voice low. Geoffrey was confused for a moment, as he hadn’t thought of himself as Geoff in a while. It was almost shocking, but then he cautiously nodded yes.

“Please, call me Geoffrey, Prescott.”

“Oh, I will, Geoffrey,” he emphasized the name. “You look good, and I have to admit I was wrong about you, Geoffrey. When Pierson had said he had invited you, I did not think you would make it. But here you are: willing and able, and looking much better with the muscles might I add. These clothes have done wonders for you.”

“Thank you, Prescott. I am very happy spending time with the Kappa Sigma men and the alumni.” Prescott nodded and smiled as the robotic words left Geoffrey’s mouth. Geoffrey had been content with his answer, but he hadn’t processed the real meaning behind Prescott’s comment. Absentmindedly scratching his calf, he should’ve been surprised by the amount of fur that caught in his grip. It also should have shocked him how firm his muscles felt; the thick, robust quads and strong, sculpted forelegs now filled his salmon shorts appropriately. They were also helped by his waist, which had expanded out both in the pelvic and gluteal regions.

“I like having my fellow fraternity brothers around. It is truly a real lifetime bond, care to agree?” Geoffrey nodded as Prescott took another deep swig. “Something that really defines a man: who he is and who he’s going to be.”

Prescott then seemed to stare at Geoffrey curiously. For his part, Geoffrey had no idea what to say, and so stayed silent. “If I’d known this is who you were going to be, I’d have made sure you were my brother a long time ago. Of course, I knew Geoff, but not Geoffrey. Not big, strapping Geoffrey.”

“Yes,” Geoffrey stirred his glass and sat there.

“And I still have yet to meet whom you will become. You still have a ways to go until you have finished.”

“Finished?”

“The rush event, of course. You did not think it was over, did you? It is only a quarter past one you jester!” Prescott then grabbed Geoffrey’s head and gave him a playful noogie. The respectable man’s knuckles drove apart Geoffrey’s hair, causing the slightly-greasy afro to spill out a little more.

“Your hair has been a little off today,” Prescott noted. “Did you use enough pomade this morning?”

“Yes,” Geoffrey confirmed. “I believe I did.” He fixed his hair precariously, making sure all the edges were still held together like a helmet. Geoffrey liked his textured ivy league cut chipper yet sharp, just like the fine fellows of Kappa Sigma Alpha.

“Now, Geoffrey, what do you think Geoffrey is like in college?”

“I’m Geoffrey.”

“Correct, but these past few semesters you have not been. I just wonder what you wish you had done?”

“I wish I’d attended more sports games. I love football, and enjoy playing tennis and golf.” The answers had been installed in his head without him knowing.

“Splendid!”

“I’d want to have a group of men to watch sports with,” Geoffrey added.

“Indeed, every game we have an event at the house.”

Geoffrey stared at him with glassy eyes. He was confused. It seemed like Prescott wanted him to say something, but he could only shrug.

“Would have been nice.”

“I do hope you apply for the fraternity. The brotherhood would be a good fit for you.”

“I’ve really enjoyed myself so far,” Geoffrey admitted. “And the prospect of living in the manor is tantalizing.”

“Where are you living nowadays?”

“I have a dorm in Walker. It’s a heap, but I live alone.”

“Have you thought about living with other men? Such ideal, perfectly preppy men?”

“What?! No, I haven’t, I mean..” Geoffrey sputtered a little, not considering that factor in his infiltration plan. It seemed like a dream, to be surrounded by so many gaudy, haughty, and sexy men. After a momentary painful shudder, Geoffrey realized he would love to be surrounded by so many prosperous, presumptuous, and handsome brothers. Of course, his definition of handsome was a man who was traditional, well-heeled, and physically attractive to women. Geoffrey believed that men ought to align themselves to the only orientation, one where his 5-inch soft dick didn’t get aroused to the thought of other gentlemen.

“I’m not sure it’s right for me,” Geoffrey announced truthfully, authorizing a smirk from Prescott.

“It’s right for Geoffrey. For football-playing, fraternity brother, corporate shark Geoffrey.” Prescott smiled and got up from the table, ushering Geoffrey to follow him.

“If you become a brother, either the Carmichael Corporation or Hemplebaum will pay off your student debt as long as you work a year-long internship with them after you graduate. I can set you up.”

“Really?”

“I always support my Kappa Sigma Alpha brothers.” His impish grin was the only signal Geoffrey had before another blow to his bottom. After a little excruciating twitch, Geoffrey returned to reality, his voluminous buttocks still vibrating as they had now accumulated a soft layer of fat that made him even wider.

“Kappa Sigma Alpha, brothers strong, brothers long. Four years forged the lifetime bond!” Prescott chanted and stared at Geoffrey. Geoffrey hesitated, but his mind wanted it so bad. He wanted Prescott to like him, to be his brother. Geoffrey wanted to be one of the classy, dashing brothers.

“Kappa Sigma Alpha, brothers strong, brothers long. Four years forged the lifetime bond.” Prescott smiled as Geoffrey repeated the stanza back to him.

Pierson then showed up a moment later from behind them.

“What did I miss?”

“Just the rushing of our newest member here!”

“Newest member?” Pierson replied excitedly. “You are going to become a brother, Geoffrey?”

“I must!” Geoffrey replied eagerly. He wanted to become one of these perfectly preppy brothers, which kind of went against his reason for coming here in the first place. But, why was he here again? Was it not to be rushed? For some reason, Geoffrey felt like he was forgetting something, but it didn’t bother him enough to dwell on it. Any inappropriate memory of infiltration or distaste had been sapped from his increasingly cordial mind.

“That makes me so elated!” Pierson exclaimed. “Let us go find my uncle then, that way we can have him officiate the necessary forms.”

“If I can have a moment,” Geoffrey paused the celebration. “I would like to use the restroom.”

“Well…” Pierson hesitated.

“Of course!” Prescott gave a reassuring glance to Pierson, although Geoffrey didn’t know why. “Around the corner over yonder and then westbound. We will go retrieve Mr. Johnson while you alleviate.”

“My gratitude.” Not only had Geoffrey’s tone adopted the same deep, flat, and robotic tone, but his vocabulary slowly became much more sophisticated. As he strolled over to the restroom, Geoffrey now felt the weight of his body as he walked. He hadn’t noticed before, but he had settled out around 6’3 thanks to his extended limbs. His newly broadened shoulders filled out his dark periwinkle polo nicely. They made him feel like he took up the entire doorway as he entered the lavatory, and his big, wide stride made his butt and crotch kind of wiggle as he walked. He could feel the fabric of his salmon shorts tighten around his balls and release, then tighten on the other side. It was mildly arousing.

After taking a hearty leak, Geoffrey pulled his briefs back up above his belly button. It was deceptively erotic, something overly-personal but seemingly inconsequential that he was giving up to fit in. And that’s what he wanted after all, to fit in. Why be unique and different when one could be conventional, classical, and consistent? That’s why he had come here in the first place, because he wanted to be like these men. Geoffrey wanted to be a Kappa Sigma, and after that work at either the Carmichael Corporation or Hemplebaum.

Washing his hands in the sink, Geoffrey looked up and was very pleased to see the extremely handsome young man in front of him. He filled out his clothes almost to the point of bursting, from the Size 14 golf shoes to the Philadelphia blue polo. As he admired his form in the mirror, Geoffrey couldn’t help but brush the smooth-shaved line of his prominent jaw. He really could swear that his face had been almost heart-shaped, but now there was a distinctly hexagonal shape to the thing. Geoffrey was practically a hypermasculine parody: low brow, big nose, and wide jaw with a gigantic cleft chin: just like all the other men here.

Once he had finished appreciating his form, he exited the restroom and found Pierson, Prescott, and Mr. Johnson all chatting merrily. When they noticed his entrance, they immediately turned to allow him into the conversation.

“What can I do for you, Geoffrey?” Mr. Johnson asked. Geoffrey tried to find a concise answer for that question, but found that impossible.

“I want to become a Kappa Sigma and work with business and finance after graduation. I want every piece of advice you can give me.”

“Why is that?” Mr. Johnson was suppressing a smug smile though Geoffrey didn’t notice.

“I want to be just like you. And Pierson Buckley Folsom VI. And Prescott Neilson Powers IV. And all the men here at Rolling Acres.”

“Enjoy the event?”

“Immensely. I belong here with these kinds of men. I want to move into the Kappa Sigma Alpha house, not live in some pathetic university building.” He cast a disgusted look before continuing. “I want to become an alumni and work under the Carmichael Corporation or Hemplebaum.”

Mr. Johnson smiled. “So, Geoffrey, are you willing to fully commit yourself to the Kappa Sigmas?”

“I am, sir,” he replied in a soldier-like manner.

“Excellent. Well, I can proudly say you are approaching the physical standards. Let me address one concern.” Mr. Johnson carefully moved his massive arm behind Geoffrey and patted his buttocks gently. Geoffrey didn’t react as a gentle sting pulsated his prostate and a charming smile adorned his face. Mr. Johnson’s hand moved away to reveal an enormous rump identical to the others’, one thick with muscles underneath but concealed underneath a spongy layer of fat. With the salmon Bermuda shorts now tight against his behind, the crotch of his shorts were pulled tight into a prominent moose knuckle, also showcasing his 7-inch soft dick.

“Yes, that is more appropriate.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, there is a rather large change that I believe is a necessity for your progression into the Kappa Sigmas as well as your new social circle.”

“What is that sir?”

“Your name, it is just too common and destitute. You agree?” Geoffrey snapped back confirmation even though it made his head spin. “Personally, I have always been very fond of names associated with old money.”

“You want me to change my last name?” Geoffrey asked, slightly confused.

“Not exactly. Your entire name will have to be reformed.”

“My entire name?”

“Well, I thought you wanted to succeed.”

“Yes sir.”

“So you want to change your name. What do you think would work?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“So you want my help, is that what you are saying?” The words were coming so fast and Mr. Johnson’s eyes were so enticing that Geoffrey nodded.

“Yes sir, please tell me what my name should be.”

Mr. Johnson crossed his arms over his shelf of pecs, clearly relishing in the moment even though Geoffrey had no idea why.

“This is my favorite part.” Geoffrey didn’t say anything, as his superior clearly didn’t want him to. And he’d just asked for help so there was no need to say anything. “It’s a great moment, when you realize you want to be whatever I want you to be.”

Mr. Johnson ceremoniously pulled a form out of his suit pocket and presented it to Geoffrey. “This is your fraternity contract. You don’t need to bother with the details. Just sign your name.“

In very literal terms, Geoffrey would be singing away his life. The fraternity, the proud men of Kappa Sigma, and all of the alumni who worked at the Carmichael Corporation and Hemplebaum were now permanently immune from any legal repercussions. Of course, there never would be, as they had plenty of experience in this sort of thing.

Geoffrey was about to sign, but he noticed a different name was listed on the contract.

“It is supposed to be made out by Godfrey Larimer Elverton Jr.?”

“A name I believe will fit you suitably.” Mr. Johnson offered a pen to Geoffrey and gave a conceited smirk. “Just sign.”

The order immediately processed through Geoffrey’s brain, bringing a clubby smile to his face as he wrote out his new signature. Once he had finished, Mr. Johnson took the contract back and made his way to the ballroom stage. He signaled for Geoffrey to follow him.

“Hello?” Mr. Johnson tested a mic, his lifeless bass resonant across the room. “I would like to request every man’s attention please.”

Geoffrey watched on as all the men in the room turned to look their way. So many masculine men dressed to the tens in lavish suits and colorful polos. They were all so refined, so perfectly preppy.

“I would like to announce our first success of the annual Kappa Sigma Alpha rush event: the newest man of Kappa Sigma, Godfrey Larimer Elverton Jr.!”

The crowded room burst into a controlled round of applause. Godfrey felt giddy, proud to become a part of this fine organization. After the room had calmed down, Mr. Johnson and Godfrey rejoined Pierson and Prescott. They continued a fascinating discussion about budgetary and monetary issues, as a recent Hemplebaum acquisition of an old theatre downtown had created quite a profit. Godfrey felt right as home, as if he had always meant to be a Kappa Sigma. He instantly embraced his new role in life and quickly was accepted as a full brother by the other men.

The rest of the day went by pretty quickly. After Godfrey, there were eight other boys who were rushed into the Kappa Sigmas. Godfrey didn’t realize that at the beginning of the day, these boys had all been exactly like him: crude, coarse, and shoddy. In fact, Godfrey didn’t realize that he had been like that at all. His memories had slowly shifted, causing him to remember a wealthier upbringing, one where he had pampered and shaped to become a Kappa Sigma man over the last 21 years.

“To be frank,” Pierson started as they made their way back out to the first hole. “I did not foresee you transitioning so fast, let alone becoming the first pledge of the day.”

“You should recognize that I have been training for this my entire life,” Godfrey replied sternly.

“Oh, I do,” Pierson conceded. “But I will need some testament to that claim. Four strokes is par.”

Godfrey turned to Pierson and gave a broad, bland smile.

“Pierson Buckley Folsom VI,” he declared with a club in his hand. “I’ll only need one.”

#male tf #mind change #reality change #jockification #fratification #callmecrazy #preppification #mental transformation #dumb and jocked

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warping-realities · 2 years ago

Text

Rich People Problems

This is the longest story I've written so far. And once again a tribute to the wonderful work of CallmeCrazy, whose story An Old Fashioned became my all-time favorite and is the biggest source of inspiration for this work. I also have to mention the works of dumb-and-jocked that I admire a lot. And as I said in my first story, English is not my native language, which can bring some grammatical errors. Beyond that, this type of history involves a knowledge of typically American traditions and culture, so there may be other errors, due to lack of deeper knowledge about the topic. Finally, since everything I know about the subject came from the stories of both authors, it may be that mine has become too derivative of these works. Still, I really hope you like it!

Cris sighed for a long time before entering the luxurious and refined ballroom of the Country Club. This was going to be a painful experience. An engagement party, out of the blue. His mother Carol had been widowed a few years ago and since then had focused her life on work as a lawyer. She was a staunch defender of human rights, fighting hard in court for the less fortunate. Cris greatly admired his mother's work and never judged her by her absences, what she did was something that changed lives and from an early age he understood the importance of her work. Even though because of that he has always been a lonely boy, without a father, with an absent mother and a social inability that prevented him from making lasting friendships. He always had books as his greatest company, going from children's classics to true classics, and it was through reading complex political works that he decided to become a journalist to fight against the ills and injustices of the world, just like his mother.

So imagine Cris's enormous surprise when he found out that his mother had decided to marry the multimillionaire and notorious miser Archibald Sutterland III, with a reputation for being a demanding boss and averse to workers' rights.

“The Third” murmured Cris with disdain. Rich people and their pretentious names, he thought with a roll of his eyes, stepping into the room.

He walked through the place, infested with pretentious people, all pretentiously dressed, and looking his way with judgmental eyes. But he didn't let himself get angry, this was, after all, his mother's engagement, and he would dress however he saw fit. Not that he'd had the time to find “appropriate” clothes for the occasion. Having been abducted by a pair of giant security guards from his college dorm earlier that day, bundled into a private jet, taken to a stately mansion, where, in a room the size of his former home, a pompous outfit was waiting for him on the bed. He decided to ignore the garment, despite the protests of his “guardians” who, finally defeated, threw him into a fucking limousine and dumped him in that place that was totally alien and hostile to him.

“How does shit like that happen?” He muttered to himself, as he looked for his mother, determined to confront her about that insanity. Speaking of insanity…he finally spotted her, she was standing by the bar, wearing a dress he would never have imagined, with a goofy smile on her face. One more piece of information for the list of absurd things of the day.

"Mom? What the fuck is going on?” he asked irritably.

“Cristhian, my dear, I'm glad you made it in time! But what are you wearing? Archibald made it clear to the staff that you should be handled properly!”

"Handled? What the hell, mom! I'm not some puppy to be "led" across the country. And what the hell is going on anyway, what ridiculous idea of marriage is this?”

“Be quiet, please Cristhian, don't embarrass me in front of all of society.”

“And since when do you care about ��society?” He said emphasizing the word with obvious disdain.

Forcing a smile in hope no one would notice the altercation, his mother pulled him aside as she spoke.

“Calm down, let’s talk…”

….

Watching the discussion from afar was Archibald Sutterland III, accompanied by his longtime partner and friend, Forrest Gordon-Lenox IV.

“You have to admit the boy has some panache, Archie.” Forrest was one of the few allowed to use that nickname, since both had known each other since childhood, even then only when they were alone.

“I should have anticipated that the boy would have some of his mother's old fire, but if I've made her an impeccable example of a woman, believe me I'll get the brat out of the way. In fact, I think it might be the perfect opportunity to test my own heir.” He said when he saw a handsome young man approaching.

“Good night Father, good night Mr Gordon-Lenox. It looks like Carol is having some issues with her son.” Said the boy with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Good night, Chadwick. Your father and I were just talking about your future brother’s peculiar ways.”

“Chadwick, the time has come. I could do it myself, but soon you'll graduate and you'll need to assume your responsibilities, you know I don't care much for gossip from society, but something like this could have negative repercussions on business. So I need you to take care of the lad.”

"Yes, father, with the greatest pleasure" replied the young man with a sneaky smile.

….

“Mom, looks like I got into a bad adaptation of Stepford Wives! This doesn't make any sense, how can you drop everything, years of career to marry an old man and become a housewife? “

“If I were you, I would be very careful with words spoken in such an environment, my dear.” Said a sassy voice. Turning around, scared, Cris came face to face with a handsome young man wearing a light blue suit, in tune with his eyes, which at that moment were analyzing him with a distinctive predatory look.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I am Chadwick Sutterland.”

"So what…?"

"So what, my dear, if we're going to be brothers we might as well agree on some things."

"Brothers???"

"Chadwick is Archibald's son Cristhian so after marriage he will be your brother"

"How wonderful" replied Cris exasperated.

"Indeed, I think we are going to get along wonderfully, Cristian.”

“I wouldn't bet on it!”

“Cristian! Enough of that!" Carol whispered, anguished.

“Let me handle this Carol, your son and I get off on the wrong foot, but let's fix this together. Cristhian, can’t you at least try this for your mom?" Concludes Chadwick in an accusatory tone.

Seeing the anguish on the face of the most important woman in his life Cris gave in.”

"Okay, since it looks like this craziness is going to happen anyway…. but I'm not going to wear that pompous shit." He responded by looking disdainfully at the attire of his future “brother” not caring if it offended him.

“Apparently someone always has to be on top. I think I'll call you Topper, brother, and since we're among bros, you can call me Chad.”

“You can call me whatever you want, this ‘fraternal’ relationship won't last long. So come on, I need a drink.”

“Excellent, follow me please. Carol if you'll excuse us!” Finishes Chadwick, dragging Cris with him across the hall.

….

“Drink this, Bro.” Said Chad reaching a glass of bourbon for Cris. He had dragged him to a locker room near the Club's gym. The pompous and polite demeanor disappearing along the way, replaced by a relaxed attitude and a care free vocabulary. Which made Cris's initial dislike for the other man to diminish considerably.

“What you need to understand, now that you're going to be part of our midst, is that appereances are everything, the way you talk, the way you carry yourself, the way you dress…so those costumes aren't going to work, Topper!” He continued, using that stupid nickname, apparently a bond between brother, or something like that, and as much as Cris protested Chadwick was Chad and Cristhian was Topper. After some failed attempts, Cris no longer objected, after all after that night he intended to have as little contact as possible with the other man.

“I don't give a shit about that shit, Chad. My mother can commit this madness if in fact that's what she wants, which I still have a hard time believing. But once tonight's circus is over, I'm going back to college without looking back.”

“I understand your indignation, I was also surprised by my father's decision. My mother passed away less than a year ago. So understand that you're not the only one upset here, bro. But my father is used to getting what he wants and he wants yourmother. He met her a few months ago, in court, oddly. She argued her case against one of our companies with such ferocity that it warmed something in the old man's icy heart. Since then he has been courting her, relentlessly, until she accepted the proposal last week, it may have seemed sudden, but as I told you, my father gets what he wants, when he wants.” Concludes the boy with a certain bitterness in his voice. Which earned him a few more points with Cristhian. Maybe not everyone there was that awful. But, sitill full of indignation Cris continued with his complaints.

"But I don't understand why my mother didn't tell me anything, it's not like her."

“Bro, you know how women are, nobody can predict their shit.”

To avoid an unwanted discussion with someone he was trying to create some kind of sympathy, Cris let the sexist comment pass.

“Still I don't understand why I need to use this!” He said looking at a twin suit to his future “brother.”

“Appearances, brother. Coming here poorly dressed not only tarnishes you, but also your mother, my father, and our family name. Come on, try it, I bet you'll feel a lot better.”

With a last breath Cris began to undress. But as he removed his jacket, he suddenly found himself very close to a smiling Chad, holding a bright red gem in his hand.

"Not yet, Topper, first we need to make some changes."

The stone began to emit an intense glow. Afraid of what he was seeing Cristhian tried to escape. But out of nowhere his legs went rigid and immobile. As if they were glued to the ground.

“What the fuck is going on? What are you doing?

“Silence, now is your time to listen. You will only speak when I say so.” Cris felt his lips touch, not hard, but still totally unable to form a sentence, his vocal chords incapacitated to do any vibration.

“I like you Topper, really, you got some balls. I think we could still be real brothers. But the way things are, it won't work. Do you know why? For what you are. Or what the people who matter think you are. And you know what they think, Topper? I'm sure that many in that hall looked at you and thought that: a nobody. But what they haven't thought of is what you really are, an opportunity.” Chad continued smiling.

“Have a seat,” he said, pointing to a bench. And Cris felt compelled to sit down, the movement returning to his legs. But when he tried to turn and run away, he ended up sitting right where Chad told him to.

“Such a good boy.” sneered Chad, the red gem held between his fingers.

“You know what that is, Topper? That's why your fierce mother became a trophy wife-to-be. And that is also the key to the future, mine and yours, bro. So I guess I owe this version of you an explanation.

“This little gem here has been in my family for generations, passed down from father to son and ensuring that our lineage, our money and our name continue to live on. I wouldn't be surprised if it was the reason old Dorrance Sutterland, the founder of our line, got his passage on the Mayflower. But I confess that for some generations the Sutterland men have used it for more… mundane ends. When you has everything money can buy, it's hard to find something that really needs the use of this little beauty here.”

“I didn't lie to you when I said that my father met your mother in court a few months ago, that's the absolute truth. And I wasn't lying when I said he tried to woo her either, he did… but was rebuffed, which only ignited the fury inside him even more. And the more the fire inside my father grew, the more the desire to dominate and extinguish his mother flame consumed him.”

“You see, this little stone here has a power over reality itself, there's nothing it can't do, with the exception of a few limitations, which I'll tell you in a moment. The curious thing is that my father doesn't know this, my grandfather never told him all of its potential, for him it is only capable of influencing people's minds, shaping their wills and even redefining their personalities. But he never suspected that it could do so much more.”

“It's all because my dad was always a big asshole. With his stupid rules, his obsession with control, his insufferable rigidity and the biggest problem of all, his avarice. My grandfather would have loved to use the stone on him, but that wasn't possible, that's one of the limitations of the stone's power, it doesn't work on men of our lineage. We are the only ones who can use it but never on ourselves, although there are some interesting ways to at least partially circumvent these rules. Furthermore, each Sutterland man can use it only once in his lifetime.”

“So my grandfather was forced to live with his boring son, who despite having a great ability for finances, always showed a total inability to enjoy the pleasures of our way of life. So, as a small form of revenge, he withheld essential information from my father, but told me everything, as I was a much better heir to our legacy.”

“My father used his chance with the stone to turn your mother into his little trophy wife, Topper. After all the speeches, all the scolding, all the talk of responsibility, he used the stone to win over a woman, just a few months after my mother died! How undignified is that? And when he refused to hand me the stone, he even had the audacity to repeat the usual litany.”

“The same litany that isolated me my whole life, that prevented me from having a true friendship, from living the life I am entitled to. For my father, everything I wanted was frivolous, everything was a waste. And everyone looked at me with pity, pity for the poor rich boy, of course my peers accepted me among them and never had the heart to do anything to me, I'm a Sutherland and that name means a lot. But not even that name can create a real bond, maybe if my dad had put me in a boarding school things would have been different, maybe some real friendship would have been established, but no, I needed to be under his constant surveillance.”

“While my colleagues are enjoying their holidays in Ibiza or the Swiss Alps I am forced to sit next to him in a dusty office! Even my frat brothers, as much as they talk about the unbreakable bond that unites us, they don't really see me as one of the guys, they respect my name and my position, but it's clear that I'm among them because I'm a legacy . Can you imagine how it feels to see all your “brothers” getting ready for Spring Break knowing you won't be able to make it? My father denied me not only the name of my grandfather, he also denied me the opportunity to live my life as it should be lived by our people, with respect for traditions yes, but above all with fun. Yes, with fun, what's the point of having mountains of money if you can't have fun? That's all I want Topper, have fun!

“You don't have the slightest idea how much I wanted to get my hands on the stone, but the old man took guarantees so that I wouldn't have access to it, as if I didn't have my own means and today thanks to this outrageous engagement dinner I finally managed to get my hands on it. And thanks to you, Topper, I'm finally going to have a way to enjoy my life the way I deserve it.”

So, put a smile on that face because you'll be enjoying everything it with me, bro!" Sighed the man, concluding his long villainous monologue, with a maniacal smile on his face.

Cristian, motionless, lips sealed, listened to all that madness, unable to believe it. That was impossible. But so was his current situation. And the story, absurd as it was, provided an explanation for his mother's altered behavior. Still, that was all impossible, wasn't it?

“My grandfather informed my father of specific rules and ways of speaking and ordering the stone, instilling in him a fear of what might happen if those safeguards were not used, in addition to the obvious omission of its full power. My grandfather was diligent in his revenge, Topper. Thanks to him my father lost his chance to achieve something really extraordinary, but I won't lose mine. The stone does not need specific and detailed orders, these things only limit the functioning of it, it is intimately connected to the deepest desires of his bearer, so just ask and it will provide. Goodbye, Cristhian, welcome Topper, bro!” he concluded.

The stone began to emit an intense red glow, in great waves, which in Cristhian's vision seemed to distort things around him, with Chad's hand becoming a blur.

"That shit was real" was his last coherent thought before being enveloped by the red light.

…..

The memories came in waves, totally alien to his identity but intrusive, forcing their way in.

Two blond toddlers, so alike you'd think they were twins, in an elegant living room, arguing animatedly about whose father owned the bigger yacht, eliciting giggles from two pretty blonde women, their mothers.

“Yes, he and Chad knew each other from the cradle. No, no, what the fuck was that?”

“Their mothers were best friends, college roommates and in the same sorority, and their fathers had common bussiness, it was natural that the friendship extended to their children.

“No, his father had been a college professor, not a businessman, and his mother had never been on a sorority. And what kind of spoiled brat has a conversation like that?

Seemingly the same kind of kid who spend their afternoons on the tennis courts at the Country Club. While their parents are excitedly discussing business. Occasionally pausing to flash an approving smile in his son's direction, in Cris's… Topper case. Or a stern look in Chad's case.

“Uncle Archibald was always a pain in the ass, but spending time with Chad and dad was awesome.” It was the thought that appeared in Cris' head, while that memory solidified.

Thinking about his father brought up an old and painful memory of Cris, which was quickly modified by the overwhelming power of the stone. The memory of a thin, brown-haired boy, on a cold winter afternoon, feeling lost and alone, was replaced by that of a blond boy, physically active, but with the same feelings marking his face full of sadness. But that gradually diminished from the moment he felt his best friend's hand on his shoulder, with a warm feeling spreading through his body, knowing that he had someone with him. Although that feeling was interrupted by a flash of irritation when seeing his “Uncle” Archibald whisper something in his mother's ears. His father had just died and there was ambitious old Archie harassing his widow, no doubt imagining a way to cash in.

Cris struggled with the conflicting and confused feelings inside him, he knew that none of that was real, not the anger for a man he didn't know, not that great friendship, not that feeling of warmth. But at the same time it would have been nice to have a friend by his side when his father passed away… it had been so nice…

After his father's death, Cris became responsible, at least in name, for the family's legacy. His mother, contrary to what one might think, was a true lioness, she took over her late husband's business with great interest, expanding the family fortune and ensuring that every wish of the heir was granted. But at the expense of the son's loneliness. Christopher Lauder Hawthorne IV, Prince Topper, fourth of his name, heir of a fortune, surrounded by everything he could want... and alone. The exception was his friend Chadwick Sutherland, but even if the two wanted to spend all their time together, that would not be possible. But his mom made it! He didn't know what kind of deal she made with Archibald, but some time after his father's death, Christopher along with Chadwick was sent to boarding school.

What would have been a torment for other boys was liberating for both of them. Away from his father's stern gaze, Chadwick was able to enjoy life for the first time, while Christopher found in his friend a true brother, there was nothing Topper wouldn't do for him. The two formed a beautiful pair, handsome and charming, soon they were surrounded by a group of friends, which grew more and more. Topper with his outgoing ways, with the certainties in life that only the very rich or the very idiots possess, and Chad, with a more cunning way of thinking, but still willing to have as much fun as he could get. Leaders among their own.

But anyone who thought that boys were stupid was very wrong, Chadwick could never have low grades, under the risk of losing the ironic freedom that the school had given him and Topper, well… Topper had Chad to help him with the most complex questions and a mother willing to overlook her precious son's academic incompetence. Even more so when it became clear that the boy had a natural talent for sports when the two joined the school's lacrosse team, which soon evolved into a passion for all sports they could participate in. Topper's tactical ability on the field and court demonstrated something his poor academic record had failed to do: he was extremely intelligent and capable when he wanted to be. The truth is, most of the time he just didn't care. The exception was precisely sports, which became a true obsession, which Chad shared to a slightly lesser extent. As a result, the two muscular men who finished school barely resembled the two boys they once were. Topper cherished the photograph taken with his friend in which the two wore a mixture of the uniforms of the different sports they practiced, while holding their equipment.

No, no, no! I've always been a good student, I have no idea what the rules of lacrosse are, I've never been to boarding school, and I'm certainly not some pretentious mountain of muscle who thinks he has the world at his feet." Chris thought.

"But I am." Topper replied. Making Cris scared, not knowing where the strange voice inside his head came from, while new memories flowed.

With the end of school and before the start of college, which both boys would go to together, Archibald decided he wanted Chad by his side with the intention of instructing him in the truths of life or any such nonsense. As if Topper was going to let his brother mold in an office all summer. Negative, the two of them would have fun, even if he had to kidnap Chad to do so. Which was not necessary, because once again Carol Lauder Hawthorne had used her magnificent powers of persuasion and ensured that her beloved son had the company of his best friend during those vacations, in which the two explored the Old Continent together, with yacht trips through exclusive islands across the Mediterranean, a brief pause to ski in the Swiss Alps, and the cherry on top: the craziest sex experiences in Eastern Europe.

“Ah Man, the elasticity of that girl in Prague” Topper recalled fondly of that particular night.

“I have never been to Prague, or on a yacht, or the Mediterranean and I would certainly break my legs if I tried to ski.” Cris argued.

“Nonsense, I am a natural athlete.” Topper replied.

"But I'm not you" replied Cris, finally losing the capacity to perceive the strangeness of the situation.

“Of course you are, you idiot. Who else would you be if not me? I’m such a dumbass!” laughed Topper inside Cris's head, which echoed:

"A dumbass, he he he"

And suddenly he also burst out laughing, their laughter mingling as if they were one.

After an unforgettable summer, college time has finally arrived. Continuing with the already established partnership, the boys rented a luxurious apartment close to the Campus. Archibald had the nerve to try to send Chad to a shared dorm, as if Topper would allow it, he would never have agreed to go to a dorm, he deserved and would always have the best and the best thing for him was to have Chad by his side. This time Carol's intervention wasn't necessary, Archibald simply wasn't informed of the arrangement, and what he didn't know wouldn't bother him. Of course, such an arrangement would be temporary. Both boys were legacies and would soon be inducted into their parents' old fraternity.

Chad had no option but to choose business-oriented subjects to study, having known before starting college that his major would be in business. Topper briefly considered studying sports sciences due to his love of sports, but it wasn't like he needed it, so why make the effort? He then decided to enroll in the same subjects as his friend without worrying much about. After all, college was much more than listening to half a dozen stilted old people, it was about making contacts, having new experiences and above all having fun!

“But I'm a great student and business? I'm going to be a writer, aren't I?"

“Ha, I couldn't even write the grocery list if I didn't have someone to do the list and the shopping for me… and great student? I'm always great, even if the grades say otherwise, if I tried a little harder I know they'd be a lot better, but it doesn't make any difference in my life.”

“No, education is important!”

“Of course it is, that's why I studied at the best schools and went to college, but those things only get you so far, when you want to go further your name and your contacts do more for you than any major. ”

Speaking of contacts, Chad and Topper were perfect fraternity material. The two made it through Hell Week and all the prank unscathed, quickly rising within the organization.

Now, about to end their Junior Year, the two held positions on the chapter's board, being strong competitors to assume the presidency.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Topper knew that one day he would have to assume responsibility for the family business, but he had no interest in taking on any real responsibility before it was necessary, and he wouldn't let his best bro do it, Archibald would certainly put pressure on his son, having been president in his day, even if the sour old man never understood anything about what fraternal life really was. No, it was Topper's duty to make sure his friend had some kind of fun. Helping in the organization of the parties, the routine of the house and guiding the newcomers, showing them the path to follow, was more than enough. Man, how he liked to see the frightened looks of the pledges when the blindfolds were taken off and it was his face the first thing that bunch of kids saw, not knowing they were looking at the guy who would make them men, the right kind of men. They were a family, after all, and he took great pride in being the cool big brother role model.

“It would have been nice to have so many friends, to feel part of something.”

“Yeah, man I love this.”

However, not everything had been perfect in the last year, unexpectedly the angel of death struck the pair of friends again. Sybil, Chad's mother, died of a sudden illness. And suddenly Topper found himself in the opposite position from so many years ago. Chad was a grown man and not a boy, yet Topper saw his long-ago image reflected in his friend's sad eyes on the day of the funeral.

Knowing the power of a helping hand, Topper stayed by Chad's side the entire time. This being a pain that could only be improved with time, Topper decided to anesthetize it the best way he knew how. That night he took Chad to a bar with the intention of drinking until put his friend into a drunken stupor.

"Thanks bro. I don't know what I'd do without you by my side.... Oh, god I'm sounding like a crybaby.”

“Chad, your mother just passed away, today you have the right to look like a crybaby, dude. Which doesn't justify you being one for all the years we've known each other, bro.” replied Topper smiling.

"Asshole…". Answered the friend with a sad smile.

“Speaking of asshole, how is Uncle Archie doing?”

“Being himself, if you know what I mean? You'd think his wife's death would soften the old man, but no, he didn't even give me a hug..."

"I would hug you brother if it put a real smile on your face, but I think I have a better solution." Said Topper pointing to a pair of beautiful girls standing on the other side of the bar.

“Oh man, I don’t know…”

“They are hot, brothers. Look, your mom would want you to get on with your life and right now you need a distraction, soooo…. blond or brunette?”

“Both!” Chad responded with his first real smile in a while.

That was a wild night, to avoid the unwanted attention of the parents, they took two women to one of the apartments that Topper had in the city and there, washed down with a lot of alcohol and a little cocaine, the four of them ended up in bed in a foursome.

“That was fucking awesome”

“Yeah, dude, fucking awesome”

Chad spent the next few months in a mood that ranged from depressed to euphoric, in the latter case usually with a little help from Topper, but with gradual improvement. Until a new blow hit the pair of friends. On a sunny afternoon less than a week ago, during a college recess, as the boys were riding through the huge Hawthorne property, they were called by Carol for a chat.

“Boys, an announcement will be made soon, but both Archibald and I would like you to know in advance. In the summer he and I are getting married.”

“What the fuck is this, Mom? Are you kidding?

“Language, Christopher. And no, I'm not kidding. I would like you to think of it as a… business arrangement, a very beneficial arrangement for both parties.”

“A benefical arrangement? Mom, we have more than enough money.”

"Cristopher, my dear, I raised you better than that, there's no such thing as enough money."

“And Aunt Sybil? Your best friend's body has barely cooled down and you're ready to snap up her husband. Sorry bro!” Concludes Topper when he remembers who he was sitting next to. But the friend did not answer him. Preferring to direct his attention toward Carol.

"How long? How long have you two been planning this…arrangement, Carol?” The “aunt” left unceremoniously aside.

"Archibald and I have been discussing this for some time, and it's really going to be very profitable."

“Profitable and convenient, isn’t it?” You stil are a young woman, not even forty years old yet. And I must say you hid it wonderfully well, but now looking closely I can't help but notice the signs. When can Topper and I expect our brother or sister to be born?”

“Chadwick! How can you say…”

“Drop the acting, only something like this would make sense!”

“Okay, I really am pregnant, I never imagined this could happen. Boys, you must understand, nothing happened between me and Archibald while Sybil was alive. Chad, his parents were my biggest source of support after Topper's dad passed away , Sybil was truly my best friend and when she left I felt… empty. Imagine how you would feel without each other? Archibald may seem cold but he also felt her loss and in our grief we ended up supporting each other and one thing led to another and one night after a few glasses of wine we ended up...

“Fucking.” Interrupted Topper!

“Cristopher, that’s enough, I am your mother and I deserve respect.”

"Respect? How can you speak of respect after telling us this?”

“Topper, it's okay, she's right, there's nothing more to be done, taking the baby out is not an option, the scandal if this story gets out… I imagine the wedding will be soon, to allay suspicions, although it still should raise some eyebrows...

“Yes, it's still the best arrangement we could come up with. Christopher my dear, I'm really sorry, but it's for the best. Besides, you always wanted a brother.”

“I already have a brother.” He replied looking towards his friend.

“Yes, Christopher, and now you will indeed be brothers for real. Think about it. And you Chad, Topper told me all about how you feel about Archibald and I'm no idiot despite what anyone might think, I see the way he treats you. I can be a very powerful ally, never underestimate my powers of persuasion, even more so when I carry Archibald's son with me. You may not believe it, but all his behavior comes from the hopes and expectations he has, it will be very good for you to have someone to share that weight with.”

“Just think about it brother, we will be real brothers, on paper and in life, and with one more of us on the way. Doesn't look so bad. Even more so if that way you can get your dad off your back.” Said Topper letting himself be carried away by his mother's notorious power of persuasion without realizing it.

"Yeah, that wouldn't be so bad, not really, brother." Concludes Chad smiling back at his friend.

And so the two ended up at that event at the Club where they had spent most of their lives. Commemorating the future union of the parents, which would formalize the status of the two as brothers. Topper arrived late, and accompanied by his friend, goes to the locker room to put on appropriate clothes before going to the ballroom. And now the two of them were there, face to face. Topper looking down at his friend's distorted hand, the glowing red stone emanating constant waves.

“quite a.... quite a story....but....it's not real.... none of it is....real.” Cris reappeared, gathering what was left of his energy.

“Dude, of course it's real. If you want it, it's real, I want it, and I'm you, so it's real!”

“No....I'm not you.....you're a.... invention, you're nothing but...a rich asshole....who thinks he owns the world...... who thinks… has… the world at his feet..... your life is all about money....and...parties and..."

“And fun, and not worrying about tomorrow, and friends, real friends, and a mother who does whatever I want and a brother, a real brother who was always there for me… how could that be? something bad?"

“No…no…no…it wasn't real…no…it could…be real…” still, new memories came streaming towards him, like a giant wave. red, flooding every inch of his consciousness until there was no empty space left.”

…

Chad studied the face of the young man with glazed eyes and a empty expression sitted in front of him.

His hand burned with heat as he gripped the stone and he couldn't help thinking that maybe it was too much, that maybe he had fucked up beautifully.

“It has to work, it has to work…” he muttered. Then the stone emitted its most intense glow, momentarily blinding him. Upon regaining his sight he found himself in front of a completely different man. Sitting naked before him was an example of male perfection. A face that looked like it was carved from marble, golden hair in beautifull curls, with the broad, defined musculature of someone who could easily be a fitness model. If at some point Marvel decided to reboot Captain America the man in front of him wouldn't be a bad choice, except for the fact that he would never put himself in that position… unless he thought he would have fun with it.

And how did Chad know that? He knew this because he suddenly remembered a whole new life, which made his previous life look pale and gray and all thanks to that man in front of him, Topper, his best friend, his brother! And with a smile on his face he woke him up to reality:

"Hey bro, are you okay?"

"What? Chad, bro, sorry I kind of zoned out, damn jet lag. But it was worth it, you should have gone with me, Brazil is everything we were told.”

“Not everyone can afford to fly all the way to Rio and hook up with a supermodel whenever they want, bro.”

“True, but we can”

“Speak, for you brother”

“I speak for both of us. If there's one good thing to come out of this whole situation, it's that my mom will get Archie off of you, and we'll finally be able to enjoy life the right way.”

Concluded Topper while opening a closet and taking out some clothes.

After putting on pristine white briefs, which barely contained the huge python he had in place of a penis, he flexed both arms and admired himself in the mirror:

“I’m so swole, man.”

“Something had to make up for the lack of brains, brother!”

“You only say that because you're jealous of me, tiny boy.”

"I wouldn't call anything about me tiny.”

“True, but nothing that compares to my size, little brother!”

“Some of us prefer a classic beauty, Topper.”

“And some of us decided to be real men, Chad.”

Was Topper's mocking response as he walked past his “brother" and patted him in his groin.

“Dude, leave the gems alone”

"Stop being a whiner, I wouldn't do anything to hurt my future nephews." Said Topper, as he finished buttoning a white shirt more immaculate than a virgin and admired himself - again - in the mirror.

“Dude, i’m so handsome”

I didn't know jet lag caused brain damage, bro. I thought we'd already gone through this discussion about all this handsomeness of yours. Be careful, you Don’t have much brain in your head to spend.”

"Asshole, your envy doesn't reach me, try as you might." He responded by finishing putting on his suit pants, the same shade of blue as Chad's.

“So how are the lovebirds doing? I imagine the news that he’s going to have another boy to torment has given Archie a break from his usual boredom.”

“Incredibly, yes. Your mother does have a hold on my father, he pestered me a lot less than usual.” Bold choice, brother.” Finished Chad upon seeing the extravagant gold detailing on Topper's jacket.”

“I couldn't miss the chance to see Archie's eyes explode, especially since he knows he has no power over me. Soon he won't have any power over you and I promise you, he won't have any power over that baby either. When he's born, you and I together are going to show the little one how to live. Now come here brother, you may not be as handsome as I am, but we still make a great pair.

….

The two returned to the hall together, as always attracting attention from everyone around, but both were used to being the center of attention, and frankly they deserved it! They found their parents sitting together at a table, and to both their surprise, Archibald looked more relaxed than they had ever seen him in their lives, while Carol turned to both of them with a Cheshire smile.

“Hey boys, we have news. But since Christopher took up so much time, maybe we should leave it for another moment…”

“Carol, boys will be boys, so let them be. By the way, I liked the suit, Topper, a bold choice.” Archibald intervened. Making the two boys look at each other in disbelief.

“Anyway, what Carol was trying to say is we've decided to have the wedding in early summer in Malta and the good news is you're going a few weeks in advance to get everything ready. We count on you, do not measure efforts, or money.” Conclude Archibalb, not seeing the sly smile that Carol gave behind his back and making the boys' jaws drop, metaphorically, of course, since neither of them would commit such an indignity in public.

….

And so it was that in early July, Chadwick Sutterland found himself enjoying the best that life had to offer on an exclusive Mediterranean island alongside his lifelong best friend, Christopher Hawthorne IV. Turning over a small red gem in his hand, thinking of gray and fading memories of a reality that for the world had never existed. He had done very well, in his own opinion. His father was dominated, so much so that he didn't even bother with his son's much longer hair. He have a fierce ally ahead of his family business, even more so now that she was expecting a Sutherland boy, who, when the moment came, he would deliver that stone to be used in a time of need. An unforeseen but very favorable outcome, the stone indeed acted in the best interest of the wielder if its power were allowed to act freely. And the greatest proof of that was his best friend, the brother he had gained, who was at his side beside talking to him at that very moment.

“Hey bro, what a serious face, you should be enjoying your first real vacation paid with your father’s money, dumbass.” Topper said with a smile.

“True, you asshole.” Chad answered, keeping the stone safe and looking at his brother.

“Let's have some fun!”

#reality change #male tf #mind change #jockification #preppification #fratification #my work

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