#mind change

[warping-realities]

You know those times when you’re bored out of your mind and decide to reread one of your favorite stories? Then you realize you’ve read it so many times in a row that you really need a break? But now you gotta find something else to read because you’re bored and frustrated as fuck? So you decide to check out your friend’s Tumblr, who's way more prolific and organized than you. Then you pick one of those super well-cataloged stories that you haven’t read to death yet, only to realize you just found another one to totally do that? Huge thanks @occamstfs for always being a boredom killer!

Rosa's Cafe

Here's a longer Racial TF set in a coffee shop, Best! Occam

Matthew had clocked up more hours of overtime for his company than they were willing to pay him. He assumed that their guidelines weren’t so rigid and that he would be fine to get ahead early. These days you really need to go above and beyond to get ahead and Matthew was determined to get in the good graces of the big bosses.

Unfortunately working so hard was a misplay. His direct boss was forcing him to take Paid Time Off in lieu of the overtime pay for the past year. Now he sits at home with next to nothing to do, twiddling his thumbs until he can return to the grind. He loved back when he was a barista in college? Maybe he can get back to customer service?

Reflecting on this he takes to LinkedIn to see if there are any managerial spots open for a cafe. Something needs to scratch his itch for administration and he night as well pour coffee while doing so. In a stroke of luck, or perhaps something more deliberate, as soon as he logs in to check listings he sees a manager position at “Rosa’s Cafe.”

He auto-submits his resume to the restaurant assuming he’s overqualified before even reading the listing’s qualifications. Glancing through them he sees that they’d prefer someone fluent in Spanish. Matthew struggles to recall what if any Spanish remains in his head from taking it in both high school and college. He starts to pull up a language app on his phone before seeing that, jarringly fast, he has already been advanced to an interview for this cafe. Rosa herself sending him a message to come as soon as he’s ready. 

Matthew then sprints to check himself in a mirror. He has certainly not slacked in his hygiene since he was asked to stop coming into work, partially in hopes that they’ll need him to come in any day. Today though he throws on some cologne and drives off to Rosa’s Cafe. He doesn’t stop to question how odd it is to already be on the way to an interview, minutes after submitting his resume. They must just really need someone?

As soon as he arrives Rosa is there at the door to greet him, smiling wide and welcoming him into her establishment.

“Hola Matthew! So glad for you to join us, your application was outstanding! Solamente, I was wondering why you wanted this job given your current one?”

Matthew blushes and explains his situation, struggling not to sound like a maniac for wanting to work despite the relatively cushy situation he is in. Although Rosa hears this and is impressed at his ethic, his crave to work. Rosa was more than happy to take advantage of his situation.

“Uhhh there was just one thing though, Miss. Oh uh, lo siento. Señora Rosa.”

“Sí, sí. You aren’t quite fluent en Español, are you Matthew?” He averts his eyes but before he can answer Rosa continues on, “Esta bien. You will just learn on the job sí?”

Putting on an air of determination Matthew pumps his fist “Sí, Sra Rosa! Uh claro que sí,” he attempts, stepping to the limit of the Spanish remaining in his head. Rosa gives him a look like an owner watching a pet as it tries to show off, offering an ambiguous smile before explaining her stance.

“Claro que sí,” offering a knowing nod, “I’m sure you understand why I would want a manager to speak Español, yes? En esta ciudad, in this city, there are very few places where Español is the default. I would just like my cafe to be one of them. The job is of course yours, I would be a fool not to take the opportunity. But while you’re here, mientras estás aquí, please work on su Espanol,” tacking on, “I can’t imagine it will be too long before you’re called back to your job eh? Una estrella como tu” 

To her point there are clearly not a lot of people speaking English in the cafe. Matthew would guess he is probably the only native English speaker present making him blush, although after being flattered by Rosa he was ready to accept. After all he had been meaning to practice his Spanish anyway. He puts his hand out to shake her hand, “when can I start?”

“Well, mi pequeño gerente, why not start training now?” Turning around she calls over the barista Juan to introduce the two, talking to Juan at a speed that made it clear to Matthew that she was quite dumbing down her language in their conversation. She then bids farewell to the two, “adios Matthew! Tengo que ah, cόmo se dice, file your paperwork. Hasta mañana!”

“Hola Matthew, it is nice to meet you! Rosa said to show you around,” Juan smiles offering him a cup of their house roast. “Espero que, ah, I hope you don’t mind but I added canella, cinnamon.” Matthew graciously accepts the cup. He may be a world removed from his time as a barista but instantly returns to his first coffee tasting.

It smelled quite strong, darker than he usually prefers and he can see cinnamon swirling through the cup as the cup steams in his hand. He begins to bring the cup up for a closer smell although as soon as the movement begins the allure of the drink overpowers him and he drinks almost too quickly. It was delicious. He always, almost performatively, drank black coffee at his old job. Or no, his real job?

Juan sees Matthew continue to gulp down the cup of coffee waiting for reaction, though he sees very little sign of his mind processing the drink at all. Matthew’s just staring ahead, his eyes ever so slightly glazing over as he finishes the cup. He grins as it almost looks like the coffee has stained Matthew’s upper lip, offering a napkin before asking, “te gusta hermano?”

Matthew snaps back to his senses, staring at Juan as a small ring of brown starts to stain the center of his icy blue eyes. He struggles to even find the words to describe how profoundly he enjoyed the coffee. It was a passion too great for him to even begin to capture in English. “Juan, that was, cómo se dice? Is there some word better than delicioso?”

Juan laughs putting his arm around his new manager, “Ay hermano! Maybe that’s what you should do now! You just go work on your Spanish and I’ll bring you some samples! Ah, aqui, the employee handbook is in Spanish, practica perfecta!” He brings over another cup and the handbook and Matthew starts struggling through it. 

Matthew figuratively bashes his head into the handbook, it’s not dense but it is per cierto not written with beginners in mind. Smirking as he notices he just reflexively thought in Spanish, going to get another drink only to find the cup emptied once more. He hasn’t been drinking nearly as much since he left the office, bargaining with himself as Juan comes to refill his cup. He can cut back his intake later, he needs to get this through this work.

And work at it he does, caffeine is not making him feel wired as usual but sensual as he continues to page through the booklet. He starts to stretch just to feel the strain in his muscles and the tension in his clothes. He looks down and sees his shirt is fitting much better than he thought it did. It’s not tight but anyone who looks can see there is muscle under there. He stares at his own body feeling strength he does not remember cultivating. Suddenly he notices it’s not only his upper body that’s filling out, as a growing package begins to demand attention under the table. These jeans were clearly not designed to handle this and Matthew is barely able to stop himself from flexing to see just how much he truly can fill this outfit and he attempts to switch gears back to working. Urgently feeling adverse to thinking any further about his body.

Struggling to find any way to distract himself he remembers being historically shit at actually speaking in Spanish. This is as good a chance as any to practice his pronunciation. Matthew begins to mouth the words in the handbook, feeling his tongue in unfamiliar ways that he swears he has done a million times before. Matthew attempts to raise his practice to a whisper and immediately goes into a coughing fit. Hope that coffee didn’t burn my throat he thinks clearing his throat and finding a much deeper voice on the other side. One that announces his Spanish progress to the whole cafe shockingly loud for a whisper though Matthew doesn’t notice. What is immediately apparent to him is how expertly he rolled an R. 

He knows he could never do that, and not without trying. He probably spent half an hour practicing it his sophomore year. He reflects back on how hard he worked on Spanish in the past as his eyes start to glaze over once more. Something is off here, his hand raising to his face not notice a moustache and sloppy goatee start to push out of his face. He foes feel itchy elsewhere though, scratching at his chest and stomach, averting the more animalistic urge to scratch his pits and crotch as Juan begins to walk over.

Matthew quickly tries to meet him halfway, standing to a height just taller than the one he thought he knew to be true. His bulge grazes the bottom of the table which causes his body to convulse in pleasure. His feet are caught on the table as he falls knocking his coffee all over himself and the floor. “Mierda!” He shouts before going dark.

He awakens to Juan wiping coffee off his face, his clothes now certainly stained brown and spelling of rich coffee and cinnamon. Helping him back to standing, Juan makes sure he is alright, “quite the fall amigo! Tal vez we call it a day?” Matthew hastily agrees feeling impossibly strained and weary for what little work he has actually done. Juan continues, “Rosa said the paperwork should be good for you to start tomorrow if you can!” Stumbling to his feet Matt knows he agrees but the rest of his night is little more than a blur. 

He sees Juan wink at him and knows he is going to start tomorrow. He must drive home after that since he is now looking at himself in the mirror brushing his teeth. Something seems off, he is clearly too tired to put a finger on exactly what it is. He flexes his bicep noticing he must have completely disrobed. He thought he shaved his pits recently. He scratches at his crotch realizing that his now heavier cock is also out, pawing at his pubes and feeling his bulge expand even further into his hand before forcing it into some briefs and continuing his audit. 

Didn’t he have a tan? Looking at himself up and down he feels like he isn’t supposed to be this pale right? Isn’t he from? Matthew feels lightheaded and begins to collapse once more before being jarred back to reality smelling the coffee and cinnamon scent still hugging his chest. Using this second wind he stumbles into bed, neglecting to change into his nightclothes and he quickly drifts to sleep.

Matt falls into a dream that feels realer than the reality of his previous life. It’s the middle of the rush and he sees himself working at an espresso machine with Juan. He looks down seeing his body expertly maneuver around the bar, tossing cinnamon into drinks, chatting with customers in truly fluent Spanish. He pauses in this dreamscape to notice the tan he was so sure he had earlier. He sees the tattooed arms he has known for years, he worked hard enough for them after all, might as well show them off on the clock. He raises the hairy arms to flex at Juan and say something clever in his native tongue before being jarred back to reality by a sunbeam.

Matt awakens hearing his morning wood stretch his briefs to their near limit barely able to keep himself together before seeing the time and once more shouting “mierda!” He is already so late for work, they’ve been open for hours. It’s his first real day and he has already jod- he’s already fucked it up! He quickly inspects himself once more, seeing the true version of himself he saw in his dream. Seeing his recently shaved chest he quickly realizes he doesn’t have time for a shower. He smells his pits just to see how bad the damage is. His voice rumbles in his chest, “joder…”

He smells again even deeper, it reminds him of? Oh it is just on the tip of his tongue, which he begins to reach out before remembering his predicament. He throws on a dress shirt before giving one last whiff to his pits, flexing his pecs as he does so. It is so fragrant, almost spicy. Matt postpones the mystery after concluding it should certainly be covered by the smell at Rosa’s and rushing out the door. Not seeing as his chest pops off the top button of his shirt and his neat goatee begins to grow even thicker.

Matt rushes into the door and is greeted like a regular, which he is of course to be now, as the new manager. He feels a warmth in his chest as Juan brings over his first cup of the day. “Buenos días Juan!” Matt offers before going to meet the chef, Benito, as the plan was today.

Making his way back to the kitchen he smells something even more distracting to him than his body odor this morning. Benito runs over with a plate full of arepas that Matt recognizes instantly before Benito greets him, “buenos dias jefe! Rosa said you wanted us to start serving arepas sí?” 

“Rosa? She said, I asked for these?”

“Si! Desde su ciudad natal no?”

Matt’s mouth is overcome as he starts to clearly drool for the plate in front of him. He has no choice but to tear into one which immediately brings him back. He loved these when he was a kid, but? Didn’t he grow up en los estados? Wasn’t he from? He fails to finish the thought in his head before it is wiped away as if fireworks are going of in his mind. 

He beams at Benito as his eyes glaze over and fully darken to brown. He feels an urge to burp which he chokes down with another cup of coffee. “Ay this takes me back amigo, estos son exactamente como, like the ones mi abuela había before nos pequeños…” Matt pauses as he feels a pervasive warmth starts to grow distracting in his chest as a similar itch begins on the outside.

He doesn’t notice as his inner monologue begins to entirely shift away from English, as it should of course. He may live in los Estados hoy, but he was colombiano born and bred. He remembers how hard he worked as a child learning English as his biceps start to clearly strain the already tight dress shirt.

Matt remembers fighting for his place to get a degree at a university that did not respect his native country or tongue as he feels his voice deepen beyond baritone and into a strong bass. He remembers trying to find a place in this mierda ciudad before meeting Rosa as his chest bursts open shooting any buttons remaining off his shirt. 

Rosa then enters the kitchen to see how her new hire has progressed and slyly smiles seeing his progress. She tosses a shirt at him saying in Spanish now effortlessly understood “Oi Matteo! You’re in the kitchen put some clothes on!” 

Matteo shuffles to the restroom to change as he looks one last time in the mirror and sees the flawless trajabador he sees every time he checks himself out. He puts on his nametag flexing to see just how much he can strain his shirt before returning to the cafe, ready to conquer another day in the life he has worked so hard for.

[warping-realities]

2k Special - Coach Knows Best: BACS

Hey folks, this is the third chapter of the 2k special. Speaking of special, I gotta give a shoutout to my buddy @johnbrand who once again lent me one of his concepts to help me level up my story. If you’ve read his work, you probably know what concept I’m talking about just by the chapter title. If you haven’t checked it out yet, you gotta read his amazing work along with the equally awesome @mrrharper. For those of you who’ve been around for a while, you’ll catch some throwback references in both stories, but you can totally enjoy them either way.

While the leaves were falling on the well-kept grounds of Oakwood High, mid-season arrived and the Titans football team was riding high. They were about to face one of their big rivals, the Cougars, in a showdown that promised to be epic. Everything seemed perfect until one morning, when Coach Steele received an unexpected visit. The door swung open, and a sharply dressed man entered, wearing a condescending expression and a smile that seemed forced. Mr. Jenkins, a man Steele knew wasn't exactly a friend.

“Oh, Coach Steele! What a pleasure to see you! The team is doing incredibly well this season, right?” Jenkins began, his voice dripping with subtle sarcasm.

“Yeah, we’re pretty happy with how the boys are performing,” Steele replied, keeping his tone neutral but with a hint of tension in his voice. He knew it was best not to let the animosity show.

“Only Larson and Thornton have outmatched your success story. You’ve really outdone yourself, Steele,” Jenkins continued, giving a light pat on the coach's back, which Steele merely nodded at, refusing to fall for the flattery.

“Thanks, but we know success is a result of the hard work from the players and the coaching staff,” Steele replied, his words laced with half-truths but also a touch of disdain due to Jenkins's attitude, who was well aware of some of the means employed by Steele and the other mentioned coaches, as he was, after all, a member of the shady board that governed those transformations to ensure a constant influx of young players for the colleges and was always hungry for more.

The board member tilted his head, as if evaluating Steele's response. “That's true, but you know the board is always looking for ways to support the team, especially when success is in sight. We’re here to ensure that all necessary resources are available,” Jenkins said, his tone now insinuating that he had other interests in mind.

“If the board were really interested in supporting the team, we’d have more resources and less bureaucracy,” Steele shot back, his gaze steady. “But let’s get to the point. What do you really want here, Jenkins? Don’t tell me this visit is just to compliment my work.”

Jenkins smiled, but not genuinely. “You’re perceptive, Steele. Actually, the reason I’m here is to discuss the team’s upcoming goals and the need to ensure everything is in order for the rest of the season. We know the pressure is mounting, and expectations are high.”

“High expectations are part of the job, and we didn’t need you to remind us of that,” Steele responded, his voice carrying a touch of indignation. He had no patience for Jenkins's arrogance.

“Of course, of course! But you know how it works, right? To maintain the level of success, we need to ensure that all aspects are covered. The board is here to help, but we also need assurances that you’re committed to maintaining that high standard,” Jenkins continued, his posture becoming more authoritative.

Steele took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “I believe I’ve made it clear that my commitment to this team is unshakeable.”

“Without a doubt, sure… Still, there seems to be a strange gap, so to speak, in your group, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Oh, but it’s something right in front of you, or should I say at the end?” said the man, laughing at his own joke as Steele frowned. This couldn't be what he was thinking.

“Be clear, Jenkins.”

“Yes, yes. Sorry, sometimes I get carried away with my middle-school humor. I’m referring, of course, to your Tight End. Tyler Dawson. The kid is decent and clearly trying hard, but he’s not up to par with what you’ve got in the rest of the offense. Trey Mathews, Connor Walsh, Adam Trent, Brock Bennet, Gabe Brackman, and Brad Williams form a cohesive and unstoppable unit, and you still have the Sanchez twins flying in to catch all the balls. So I wonder how a man like you lets someone mediocre like Dawson play on this team?”

“Dawson isn’t mediocre; he’s an excellent player and the brother of Lee Dawson, who you surely remember plays the same position for a college team.”

“Lee is an amazing player, I must agree, but unfortunately, the brother doesn’t seem to be on the same level as him, and you should have noticed that some time ago. Added to certain things I’ve been hearing around the halls… I’m concerned…”

“What things would those be?”

“That the kid isolates himself, doesn’t go to team events, that maybe he’s… gay.”

“And what would be the problem with his sexuality?”

“None, of course, as long as it’s in the board’s interest to have someone like that heading to the NFL, which given the current political climate is quite unlikely. But you’re dodging my questions, Steele. Why hasn’t Dawson been improved? With you having played in that position yourself, I imagined you wanted someone who was an absolute standout to fill it!

Coach Steele let out a long sigh before responding.

“Because of Lee. I’ve trained Lee since day one, and my greatest pride was the fact that I didn’t have to use any shady methods to make the kid shine, just good old natural talent combined with a lot of practice, as it was with me and so many others before the board opened the door to the advanced enhancement methods so many years ago. But I digress. Lee is a smart kid, much smarter than people give him credit for. Almost four years ago, on the day he left for college, he came to me and said that Tyler would try out for the team and that he trusted me to do for his brother what I did for him. The right way. I have no idea how much Lee knows about our… alternative methods. But he made me promise that his brother would remain the same, and I’ve kept that promise ever since.”

“Who would have thought that the old brute would have a heart? A commendable attitude, truly commendable. However, I fear that such a promise will have to be broken.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Board has decided to reactivate the BACS protocol, and Tyler was chosen for the demonstration, I’m sorry Steele.”

“You must be joking with me!”

“Unfortunately not, you and I don’t always agree, but I can say that after hearing you, I understand your reasons; unfortunately, that doesn’t change anything, orders come from above, and we must obey.”

“But does it have to be BACS? I can fix Tyler in a more subtle way; besides, the glitches, Lee might notice something!”

“Unfortunately, it’s a risk we run. I don’t think BACS is the best solution either, but orders are orders. I can leave you out of the demonstration if you prefer.”

“No, I’ll accompany the kid all the way. It’s the least I can do.”

….

Tyler adjusted his cap while entering the locker room, the familiar aroma of sweat and deodorant welcoming him as always. He looked around, watching the other players getting ready for another day of practice. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and teasing, an energy pulsing with the camaraderie the team cultivated. But for Tyler, all of it felt a bit distant. He felt like a spectator in a show that wasn’t his.

While the players joked about who made the best touchdown in the previous practice, Tyler stepped back a bit, focusing on his routine. He knew his teammates were competent and dedicated, but the jokes and the way they teased each other made him uncomfortable. Tyler always found their antics somewhat immature, but he didn’t want to be the type of guy who ruins the fun. So he preferred to remain silent, listening to the laughter echoing while he prepared for practice.

He sat on a bench, putting on his cleats and listening to the conversations float around him. Rafael and Miguel were in a corner, making jokes about everyone, while Trey, the most extroverted teammate, was telling a funny story about a sexual conquest. Tyler smiled to the others, but the truth was he didn’t feel part of those conversations. There was a certain apprehension in his heart, a fear that if he tried to get involved, the truth about his feelings might be revealed.

He looked in the mirror, seeing his reflection. He was a good player but he always felt like he was a step behind the others in terms of skill. The pressure to stand out made him anxious, and the idea of not meeting his teammates’ expectations consumed him. Moreover, there was something else that worried him: the attraction he felt towards some of them. He didn’t know how to deal with that, especially in an environment that seemed so filled with raw machismo. The fear of being rejected or ridiculed for his feelings isolated him even more.

As he prepared, Tyler remembered how he got to this point. Since he was little, he had always been passionate about football, but the difficulty in fitting in made him feel like an outsider. Now, in his final season, he found himself trapped between the need to stand out as an athlete and the internal struggle of accepting who he really was. He wanted to be part of the team, but the fear that his sexuality could be an obstacle kept him on the sidelines, watching instead of participating.

As the players got ready, Coach Steele watched closely, the expression on his face mixing determination with a hint of worry. But he had a task to fulfill, no matter how unpleasant it was. After a few minutes, he called Tyler over to talk.

“Tyler! Can you come here for a minute?” Steele said, gesturing for the young man to approach.

Tyler felt a chill in his stomach. He didn’t know if this was good or bad. “Yes, coach?” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

“I’ve chosen you for something important. This weekend, we’ll have a meeting with some out-of-state football coaches, and I want you to come with me. I think this could be a great opportunity for you,” Steele said, his voice full of expectation.

Tyler was surprised. “Really, coach? I... I don’t know. Why would you choose me? I’m not as good as … well as everyone else…” His insecurity shone through his words. He felt like he had always been on a lower level than the rest of the team.

“Don’t think like that, Tyler. You have great potential. I see the effort you put into every practice, and that’s what matters. Don’t worry about comparisons. There’s a reason for this choice, and I want you to remember that,” Steele replied, with a strange look.

Tyler nodded, feeling a mix of happiness and anxiety. He knew this was a rare chance and he should seize it. “Thank you, coach. I’ll get ready!”

“Great! Now go change and join the practice. We’ll need you on the field,” Steele said before turning his attention back to the other players.

Tyler hurried to change, his heart pounding with new energy. He was excited, but doubt still lingered in his mind. As he dressed, he looked at his reflection in the mirror and tried to convince himself that he deserved to be there. “You got this, Tyler. It’s just football,” he murmured to himself.

On the field, Steele’s instructions echoed, and Tyler tried to focus. However, during breaks, the gossip and discussions about the trip and how amazing it would be distracted him. He heard his teammates commenting on other teams while some questioned why he had been chosen to accompany the Coach. The pressure to stand out grew, and Tyler began to feel insecurity creeping into his mind.

During practice, he made mistakes that left him frustrated. As he tried to position himself correctly, he lost focus and instead of blocking properly, he ended up leaving an open space multiple times an Connor the quaterback, who used to be so confident, suffered several sacks because of his failure. With each mistake, Steele's and his teammates' disapproving looks became more evident, and Tyler felt the weight of disappointment.

Finally, in a critical play, Tyler failed again, resulting in a fumble that the opposing team quickly turned into a touchdown. The silence that followed was deafening. Tyler froze, his mind spinning, unable to process what had just happened. The look from his teammates, usually friendly and upbeat, was now filled with disapproval and discontent.

“Tyler, to the bench, you’re not fit to continue today,” said a visibly disappointed Steele.

Feeling crushed, he walked away from the group, seeking a secluded spot on the field. He leaned against a wall, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to escape. “How did I let this happen?” he thought, the guilt weighing on his shoulders. He felt like a failure, a dead weight for the team that was counting on him.

As practice continued, he heard the voices of the other players blending together, but he couldn’t understand the words. All he felt was the pain of disappointment and a growing fear that if he couldn’t overcome this, he would never be accepted as part of the team. He wished he had the confidence of his teammates. But at that moment, all he felt was loneliness.

After practice ended, the players headed to the locker room, the atmosphere still tense after Tyler's mistakes. He felt like a burden, and the last thing he wanted was to face his teammates' gazes. Conversations about the upcoming game and the team's performance echoed around him, but Tyler was lost in his own thoughts, struggling against frustration and humiliation.

As soon as he entered the locker room, Tyler distanced himself from the group and quickly headed to the shower, determined to wash away the emotional weight he felt. He adjusted the water temperature and, instead of making it warm and comforting, decided that a cold shower was what he needed. As the cold water hit his skin, a shiver ran through his body, but he didn’t care. The cold was a necessary contrast to the storm of feelings enveloping him.

Meanwhile, his teammates tried to cheer him up, but their words only heightened Tyler's anguish. “Hey, T-Dawg! Don’t be like that, bro! You’re a fucking football player! There are definitely a bunch of girls wanting to hook up with you!” Trey shouted, laughing, as if that were the solution to Tyler’s problems. God he really hate that nickname!

“Yeah, dude! You gotta go out more, enjoy the fame! There are tons of girls at school who would go crazy for you!” Connor added, giving a wide smile. But each word felt like more pressure on Tyler, who knew he would never date any of those girls.

As the other guys continued to discuss the different girls at school, their conversations quickly turned into a competition of who could impress the girls more. They talked about who had the biggest cock, who had the best body, and who would make the best girlfriend while Tyler felt invisible. Their laughter and happiness only made him feel more isolated.

Taking advantage of the group’s distraction, Tyler decided it was the perfect moment to slip away unnoticed. He turned off the shower, dried off quickly, and threw on a t-shirt and a pair of pants. As soon as he felt at least somewhat decent, he peeked through the locker room door, watching his teammates still immersed in their superficial conversations.

With one last glance at the group, Tyler made a quick exit, avoiding any interaction. He headed to the parking lot, his heart racing but relieved to escape the locker room pressure. The freedom of the fresh air hit him like a balm, and although the anguish was still present, he felt a bit lighter, far from the expectations and the need to be something he wasn’t.

Tyler walked to his car, sitting in the driver’s seat. He let the steering wheel slip between his fingers, gazing at the school in the distance. What he really wanted was a place where he could be himself, away from the jokes and comparisons. If only there were a way to feel accepted, maybe he could find his own voice within that competitive world. Filled with anxiety, Tyler did what was his instinct in that kind of situation: called his brother, Lee, while the car engine purred softly. He always felt more at ease talking to Lee, especially in moments like this. Lee, the starting Tight End for the Virginia Tech football team, had always been a source of inspiration and support for Tyler, and he needed that now more than ever.

After a few rings, Lee's familiar and encouraging voice echoed on the other end of the line. “Hey, Tyler! How’s it going?”

Tyler sighed, relieved to hear his brother's voice. “Hey, Lee. Oh, you know how it is. Practicing, trying to fit in, but I’m feeling a little... out of place, I guess.”

“Out of place? Why?”

“Oh Lee, I messed up and made a bunch of rookie mistakes in practice today. I’m a… incompetent… a fraud!”

“Never say that, Tyler! You’re a good player; Steele would never put you on the field if it weren’t true! You have no reason to feel that way. The team needs you, and you’re doing a great job,” Lee replied, immediately trying to lift his brother's spirits. “Just keep pushing yourself. Remember that every player has their own time to shine.”

“I know, but everyone else seems so confident, and I... well, I don’t know if I’m good enough. Sometimes I feel like I’m just ‘Lee’s little brother’ and nothing more,” Tyler vented, his voice heavy with frustration.

“Hey, don’t think like that! You’re you, and that’s what matters. Coach Steele believes in you, and you need to trust him too. He knows what he’s doing. Soon, you’ll be in college, meeting new people and fitting into some group. You just need to give it time,” Lee encouraged, his voice full of conviction.

Tyler felt a little of the weight on his heart dissipate. “Yeah… you’re right. I just need to keep working hard and, if all goes well, maybe I can finally feel like part of the team.”

Lee chuckled lightly. “And don’t forget, next year I’ll be graduated, and you won’t have to worry about facing me on the field. I just have to worry about not getting tackled by you when we’re both in the NFL!” he joked, making Tyler laugh for the first time since he left the locker room.

“Ah, that would be a nightmare, having to face you! But seriously, I really appreciate you always being there for me, Lee. You’re the best.”

“That’s what brothers are for, right? Now go out there and show them what you’re made of. I’m rooting for you, Tyler. And don’t forget to keep me updated on everything. I want to hear about your accomplishments, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll do that. Thanks, Lee. You always know how to cheer me up,” Tyler replied, feeling renewed by the conversation.

After hanging up, Tyler felt a new wave of determination. He knew he still had a long way to go, but with his brother’s support and the certainty that the future held new opportunities, he felt a bit stronger. With one last look at the school, he turned on the car and decided he would return for the day’s classes, determined to give his best, regardless of the insecurities that haunted him.

….

On Saturday morning, Tyler felt more excited than he had in recent days. The practices had gone much more smoothly, and the absence of a game the night before left him relieved. He had the chance to focus, improve, and prepare for the next challenge. Everything seemed promising, and the conversation with Lee still resonated in his mind, giving him an extra boost.

When he arrived at the airport where he would board for the trip, Tyler was surprised by the opulence of the private area. Luxurious jets were parked side by side, and the reception was filled with well-uniformed staff, ready to cater to the whims of the passengers. He had never been in a place like that before and felt a bit out of place, yet enchanted by it all.

While he waited, Coach Steele approached him, his serious gaze softened by a slight smile. “Tyler, good to see you. Are you ready for the trip?” he asked, with a firmness that always instilled confidence in the young man.

“Yes, coach! I’m excited!” Tyler replied, trying to hide the anxiety still lingering.

“Great. I want you to know that this is an important opportunity for you”Steele said, placing a hand on Tyler’s shoulder, guiding him toward the jet.

Tyler nodded, although he felt a twinge of nervousness. “I know, coach. I’m trying to soak up everything I can,” he commented as he entered the aircraft. The interior of the jet was even more impressive than the exterior, with luxurious leather seats, ample space, and even a small entertainment area.

As they settled in, Steele turned to Tyler, interested in learning more about him. “So, Tyler, how are you feeling about the team and football? What are your plans for the future?” Steele asked, trying to engage the player in a more meaningful conversation.

Tyler smiled, feeling valued to have the coach’s attention. “I’m feeling good, coach! I want to keep working hard, and if all goes well, I hope to get a scholarship for college. I’m thinking about following Lee’s path; I know my chances of going pro are slim, but I’m thinking about studying something related to sports, maybe even becoming a coach like you!” he replied, excited to share his dreams.

“That’s excellent, Tyler. You have a great future ahead of you. The important thing is to keep dedicating yourself and not let difficulties discourage you,” Steele said, his serious yet encouraging look making Tyler feel at ease.

As they talked, Tyler didn’t notice the strange and heavy glances Steele was casting at him. Steele was genuinely interested in the kid's aspirations, but he also felt conflicted. He knew the board’s pressure to reactivate the BACS protocol still loomed over him, and the thought of what was about to happen to Tyler left him uneasy. The young player was filled with hopes and dreams, and Steele wondered for the first time in a long time if he had made the right choices throughout his career. Then the kid went and stomped on his heart.

“I really appreciate your support, coach. That means a lot to me,” Tyler said, his radiant smile reflecting his determination.

“Thanks, Tyler. Remember that you’re not alone in this. We’re all here to make sure you succeed,” Steele replied, trying to hide the concern that consumed him.

As the jet landed next to a large sports complex, Tyler couldn’t help but be impressed. The structure was imposing, with training fields, courts, and state-of-the-art facilities. He disembarked the plane alongside Coach Steele, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. As they walked towards the main building, the air was charged with energy and anticipation.

As they entered, they were greeted by a sharply dressed man who emanated an aura of authority. It was Mr. Jenkins. His condescending smile widened upon seeing Steele and Tyler. “Ah, Coach Steele! Good to see you here! And you must be Tyler Dawson, the young talent everyone’s been talking about!” Jenkins said, his melodious voice full of flattery.

Tyler felt a bit embarrassed by the sudden attention. “Yeah, that’s me, but I’m nothing special,” he murmured, trying to look away.

“Don’t be modest! You’re about to have a great opportunity. We’re very excited to have you here,” Jenkins continued, making a sweeping gesture with his hands as though presenting a grand attraction. “Come, I’ll take you to see some of the facilities. You’re going to love it!”

Steele watched the interaction with a stern look, his expression reflecting the concern he felt. He knew Jenkins wasn’t being genuine, and that his intentions were much more sinister than they appeared. But Tyler was excited, and unknowingly, he had already been ensnared in the board's web of interests.

As they walked, Jenkins continued to talk about the importance of college football and how Tyler could stand out. They passed various facilities, from a complete gym to a sauna for players to relieve fatigue after practices. Throughout the tour, the man treated Tyler like a celebrity, praising him at every turn. “You’re exactly the kind of player we need to ensure our future success. College is full of opportunities, and I’m sure you’re going to shine,” he said while leading them to a room with a large mirror.

When they arrived, Jenkins turned to Steele, his voice becoming lower and conspiratorial. “This is the moment; if you want to change your mind, Steele,” he said, casting a meaningful glance at the coach. There was something there; Jenkins had never been his friend, there had to be some trap. The kid's fate was sealed, and there was nothing to be done.

Steele maintained his composure, but the tension in his shoulders was palpable. He knew the decision had already been made, and there was no turning back. “I think there’s nothing more to discuss, Jenkins. The choice is made,” he said in a firm voice, but a shadow of hesitation crossed his eyes.

Tyler, oblivious to the whispered conversation, looked at the mirror absently. It was then that Steele approached him, his expression now more solemn.

“Tyler, I need to step out for a moment. I’ll send you a message as soon. Stay here and trust me,” Steele said, his voice low but filled with a weight Tyler couldn’t comprehend.

“Sure, coach,” Tyler replied, a bit confused but still trusting in the coach's words.

“You’re going to do well, kid,” Steele added before leaving the room, resigned and accompanied by an eager Jenkins.

“Showtime!” the man exclaimed enthusiastically, while Steele remained silent as both headed to an adjoining room. In this room, there was also a large glass panel, essentially a window into the room where Tyler was innocently fiddling with his phone.

Steele sat in one of the comfortable chairs, observing the men around him. He recognized some of the attendees nodding in acknowledgment. Then Jenkins began with the formalities.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen, thank you all for coming with enthusiasm, especially to Coach Steele, who provided us with today’s specimen. Without further ado, let’s get to the point. We believed the best way to explain our product was to show how it works. Before us is Tyler Dawson, a mediocre player on a team far superior to his skills. Originally holding potential, being the brother of an elite player, he has not yet conformed to our standards. Therefore, he was chosen to reactivate an old protocol otherwise known as BACS for short.”

Four words were then flashed in red on the glass, obscuring Tyler's distracted figure as he innocently fiddled with his phone. A silly acronym, but one that worked nonetheless.

Beefy Aggressive Cocky Straight

“It is my understanding that many of you have already utilized our more subtle tools; however, among you are some insecure beginners, or even among the more experienced there are those who prefer a direct approach, with no need for catalysts or such. That is why BACS was created; due to some minor flaws, it was taken off the market but now returns with renewed strength as you will soon see.”

The men present in the room exhibited a variety of reactions to Jenkins’s speech. Some appeared visibly interested, their eyes gleaming with a nearly predatory expectation. Others seemed slightly uncomfortable, likely questioning the unorthodox methods. But most in attendance seemed eager to partake in the new and improved BACS protocol.

Jenkins smiled broadly, clearly pleased to present this “opportunity” to his colleagues. Steele watched it all in silence, his expression grave. He knew there was no turning back; Tyler’s fate was sealed. Still, a part of him questioned whether he had made the right choice by accepting this deal. The kid had so much potential, so many dreams. Did he really need to go through this radical transformation?

As the other men animatedly discussed, Steele sighed heavily. “What’s done is done,” he murmured to himself, resigned. Now everything depended on what would happen to Tyler on the other side of that mirror.

In the other room, Tyler continued to be distracted by his phone, oblivious to what was happening around him. He only frowned when a bright light and a deafening sound emanated from the device.

Suddenly, a wave of heat began to spread through his body. Tyler felt his muscles contracting as if they had a mind of their own. His skin seemed to tingle as his physical structure began to alter.

He watched, agape, as his arms thickened, the muscles hardening and swelling. His shoulders broadened, giving him a more imposing presence. Tyler could feel the tension of his clothing against his chest, which seemed to expand with the growing muscle mass.

His legs also transformed, the thighs becoming thick and defined, the knees and calves becoming more pronounced. He felt taller, his proportions changing dramatically. Even his face seemed different, with sharper features and a more prominent jawline.

As he observed his own metamorphosis, Tyler felt a mix of fear and euphoria. His identity seemed to merge with a new personality, more arrogant and competitive. His doubts and questions replaced by an inflated ego and a mentality focused solely on vanity and conquest. The homosexuality he had yet to fully experience faded away, replaced by a dominating straightness.

On the other side of the mirror, the men watched Tyler’s transformation with eager eyes. Some smiled, clearly impressed with the results of the BACS protocol. Steele, on the other hand, watched with a somber expression.

As quickly as the change began, it completed, and Tyler stared at himself in the mirror, his new self looking back with a confident and predatory gaze. He was no longer the insecure kid but rather one of the typical jocks that abounded on so many teams. Bored, he casually scratched his junk and let out a fart, bursting into laughter.

“Damn T-Dawg, you’re rotten inside you dumbass.” He said loudly. “Good thing there’s no chick around. “ Although that’s all it takes for them to forget you are an asshole and go wild,” he added, grabbing his huge dick over his clothes and grinning at himself in the mirror, laughing without knowing what lay behind the immense structure.

“So, who wants to be next?” Jenkins asked, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction as he observed the other men in the room eagerly raising their hands.

When Tyler and Coach Steele boarded the private jet after the event, the atmosphere inside the aircraft was laden with a silent tension. The kid could barely contain his excitement. He settled into his seat, quickly grabbing his phone to check social media. Comments and reactions to his posts started pouring in at a steady rate.

“Look at this, Coach!” Tyler exclaimed, showing the phone screen to Steele, who was seated across from him. “People are loving the video I posted on TikTok. I caught some amazing balls during practice, and now everyone is commenting about me. Look at all these likes!”

Steele forced a smile, but his concern was evident. “Tyler, that’s great and all, but we can’t forget what really matters. Football is about teamwork, discipline, and personal growth. You need to focus on that and not just on social media,” he said, trying to draw the young man’s attention.

“I know, coach, but it’s awesome to see how people are reacting. I finally feel like I’m part of something bigger,” Tyler replied, scrolling through the screen as he checked the views on his video. “Look, there are already thousands of views! This is just the beginning. The girls are going crazy, and a lot of guys are praising me!”

Steele felt a knot in his stomach. He remembered Tyler’s insecurity before the transformation and how much he had struggled to feel accepted.

“As long as you don’t take your head out of the game…”

“Relax, coach! I’m focused. And I’m going to crush it for the rest of the season. They’re going to remember me,” Tyler replied, flashing a confident smile as he took more pictures to post. He was so involved in his new self that he didn’t notice the coach’s strange look.

Steele decided to change the subject, attempting to connect with the player on a more personal level. “And what about your plans for the future? Have you thought about where you’d like to play in college? Or what you’d like to study?” he asked, trying to pull a more meaningful conversation.

Tyler looked at the coach, but his mind was elsewhere. “Oh, I don’t know, coach. I’m thinking about a bunch of things. But nothing concrete at the moment, I just want to enjoy this phase. You have no idea what it’s like to grow in the shadow of someone like Lee, knowing that in reality, I’m way better than him. And now I’m finally getting the attention I’ve always wanted. Speaking of which, let me post this dope photo I took on the trip. This is going to blow up!” He said, while starting to edit the image.

The trip then continued amidst almost total silence, interrupted only by the sound of notifications from Tyler’s phone. He was in his own world, while Steele gazed out the window, lost in thought.

…..

Steele arrived home, the imposing mansion reflecting the light of the full moon. The place was silent, except for the soft sound of his footsteps echoing on the dark wooden floors. He headed to the living room, where he poured himself a generous glass of aged Bourbon. The intense aroma filled the air as he served the amber liquid. Bringing the glass to his lips, he felt a momentary relief, but the tension building in his chest didn’t dissipate.

With the glass in hand, he sat in the grand living room, where the walls were adorned with photos of his accomplishments as a coach, but also reminders of tough times. Steele's distant gaze fixed on one of the walls where the three team jerseys he had worn throughout his career were framed: the high school one, the Ohio State, and finally the Philadelphia Eagles one, where he had played for two years before deciding to become a coach. Looking at those, he remembered when his passion for the sport made him feel alive, not just as a coach but as a mentor and guide.

The solitude of the space began to weigh on him, and in a spur-of-the-moment decision, he opened his fake Instagram profile—a account he used to monitor his students without them knowing. Samantha Jones, a college student from across the country with huge tits, who was extremely interested in high school kids who thought they were big players. Boys were so easy to manipulate…

As he scrolled through the feed, he saw posts from a huge party, the boys laughing and having fun, surrounded by cheap beer and vodka bottles. And then, the image that hit him like a punch in the gut: Tyler, the previously timid and insecure kid, now with two girls on either side, kissing his cheeks before downing whiskey straight from the bottle amid cheers and animated shouts from his teammates.

Turning off his phone, Steele looked at the bottom of the glass. He would make the boys pay dearly for those excesses on Monday, that is if he didn’t call for a surprise practice on next day just to see them sweat out all that alcohol. He felt extremely irritated by the whole situation. Logically he knew that this new Tyler, once he had his wings clipped the right way, was the best thing for the team; still…

“Sometimes, I really hate this job,” he murmured to himself before slamming the glass down on a table and starting to prepare the most exhausting practice he could think of for that bunch of idiots.

[transformation4life]

Looking The Part

Jerome wasn't know what he was expecting when he was dragged into attending a costume party in the middle of December. His friend Jake, practically begged him to come and he couldn't say no to his puppy dog eyes. The theme was weird too. "Dress up as the Job you wanted as a kid." For Jerome, he wanted to be a doctor. The thought of saving lives was really appealing to the young child, before reality hit him with all its down and the thoughts of constantly being around dying people became way less appealing once he experienced real life. Even so, he felt obligated to follow the theme and bought some doctor's outfit that even came with some work appropriate hat and shoes off some online store. It was crazy cheap too and here Jeremy was, staring at the uniform on his bed right before he needs to head to the party. "Let's get this over with..." He starts stripping down into just his underwear and starts putting the clothes on.

Jerome slid the pants over his legs, pulled the shirt over his head, put on some bracelets and put the cap on. To his surprise, they were a bit big on him. "I thought I got this in my size... Ugh whatever time to get to the par-" Jerome froze. It felt like his body just stopped moving and it felt like he couldn't move his body at all besides his face. "What the hell?!?!" He said to himself. But that's when the fun began. Jerome felt a quick jolt of pain hitting his entire body as his face scrunched in pain. It subsided eventually and that's when Jerome saw it. Jerome's body was... growing. Jerome could hear the snaps of his bones as he looked to his left arm bulging. growing. becoming much more meatier than it used to be. Now it looked like one thick tree branch with veins visibly covering the arm. He looked to his right and saw that his right arm now mirrored his left. "I-Is this making me muscular? W-Why?" Jerome spoke out. He still couldn't move and the transformation kept going. Jerome's torso underwent its own transformation as any fat on his stomach was evaporated leaving a flat stomach that gained six sexy bulges. Jerome's flat chest was flat no longer as two massive chugs called pecs adorned him now. To top it off, his torso gained a v-shape. Next up was Jerome's lower half as it instantly gained a lot of bulk. His legs becoming thick and beefy and his feet growing a couple sizes larger. It's a good thing he wasn't wearing the shoes yet. The next to last change was Jerome's ass becoming bigger and much more bouncy. What seemed to be the final piece of the transformation was Jerome's face as it became much more Brazilian in appearance while his skin gained a minor tan. The transformation stopped by thickening his vocal cords and letting Jerome free.

Jerome looked down at himself. He couldn't believe his eyes. He just turned into a brazilian stud in mere minutes. "O que havia nestes-" (What was in these-) He put his hand over his month. Did he just speak Portuguese?

"Como vou explicar isso para Jake?" (How am I going to explain this to Jake?) Jerome certainly couldn't go to the party looking like this. But how how would he change back?

But before Jerome could think further, he subconsciously lifted his right arm, flexing it. That instantly gave Jerome a hard on, which in turn made his cock grow inches longer. The fabric on the shirt even started to rip.

"Eu poderia me acostumar com isso..." (I could get used to this…) While pointing at the rip.

After Jerome said this, the final changes began. Small little hairs appeared on Jerome one by one until a thick forest on his torso and pecs. Tattoos above his left pec and left arm sketched themselves onto Jerome and for the piece of resistance, a luscious beard of facial hair grew onto Jerome's face as well as his hair becoming more professional. There even seemed to be some greys sprinkled in, giving him a much more older appearance. And that's when the memories came flooding in. Jerome was no longer jerome, he was Ademir Pereira, a brazilian doctor. He started bodybuilding at a young age and it showed. Years of medical knowledge entered Ademir's mind as his apartment quickly changed into a luxurious house with multiple rooms and his bedroom became much larger to boot. Jerome was all but gone. Ademir settled into reality, looking around his room, wondering why he was in his hospital uniform so late at night, but then he heard his phone ring. He picked it up and saw a text from someone named "Jake" "Hey man, still coming to the party?" Ademir was confused. From what he could string of his limited knowledge of english, he never said he was going to a party with this "Jake". he had an early morning workout before work. He had no time for parties. "eu não falo inglês" (I don't speak english) he typed before putting his phone down again. The phone promptly changed into something much nicer than the dingy one he had before. With that morning workout in mind, Ademir was ready for bed. He threw off his uniform, bouncing his pecs before promptly sleeping.

The next morning at the gym, Ademir was ready to get his workout on. He spotted his workout buddy and waved. "Vamos trabalhar meu amigo!" (Let's get to work my friend!) He said before showing off his pecs to them.

"Nossa, Ademir, com esses peitorais, você realmente precisa de um sutiã!" (Geez Ademir with those pecs you really need a bra.) "Haha! Você realmente acha isso?" (Haha! You really think so?) Ademir laughed with confidence as he took his shirt off.

"Definitivamente. Mas chega de falar disso, vamos colocar seus representantes!" (Definitely. But enough about that let's get your reps in!) His friend said before reaching for his arm.

Ademir nodded, as they got to work on their routines for the day. After a couple hours. Ademir did a good flex in the mirror for all to see. This was the life! But he better get to work soon, those patents need him.

This was Ademir's daily routine. Work hard, workout hard, flex hard. He wouldn't any other life. Not to mention the upkeep on his social media which he also enjoys. Just recently he bounced his pecs to his viewers and they cheered, sending him hundreds of donations. Ademir was happy and that's all the mattered.

[butterscotchpiesandguys]

Acting The Part

I was a film student, that means I had to play a lot of roles. Mostly, however, I remained the one behind the cameras. Why? Well it was simply because I was pretty humble... in my own words, others would call me shy and reserved.

I had a project coming up, a final film for the semester. Had to be within the genre we were working for an unfortunately for me that was romance. I was not good with romance, obviously of course. I was shy. So... that was why I partnered up with a few buddies, Chris, Tony, Danielle, and Skylar. It was an optional group project due to how big it was. Unfortunately one guy who was left out was Brian. A total douche, called himself a sigma and everything. Totally full of himself.

Saw himself being the star too, always was in the movies... although with his ripped abs, jawline, and general physique... it was obvious why he thought he would be in the group... so we started scripting. It went well at first, that was until Brian started butting in. Asked if his girlfriend could be the love interest. This was supposed to be a group project and so we said no, Danielle would be covering that part. He whined about it until Skylar came up to me to ask something. "Do we need Brian here?" He asked softly, so he didn't actually hear. He was off arguing with Tony again, Go figure.

"Well... I did have an idea..." I admitted. Of course this idea was also a bit rude. We would simply do the script without him. Meetup some times, make excuses. It worked for a while until he started to get suspicious. He was stupid but he wasn't that stupid.

About a week into scripting, everything was coming out well. We almost had it done and we even had a role for Brian! Now we weren't going to tell him until the day of, and seeing how he needed this for a good grade... he'd have to go along with it. Well that was what I thought until he stopped me on the way to a class. "Hey [Y/N], how's it hangin." He put his hand beside my head as I leaned against the wall. He asked a simple question, quite friendly too... if it wasn't for his threatening tone. "Been a while, started to think my film partner died. That would have been bad." He chuckled and let up a bit. "Why don't we talk about the script for a bit. "I uh..." I tried to speak up but he put his hand on my back as he walked me away from the class I had next.

"You say somethin? No? Okay well good, we're goin someplace nice and comfortable." He started to walk me out of the building and through the campus. Some people stared at us, I mean a star football player and some film student would draw some eyes. Eventually we got to the bleachers of the football stadium. It was super empty and due to Brian having a part time job cleaning the place he had keys.

We sat down on some metal bleachers near the announcer's box and he had me get out my laptop. "So, run me through the script. Last I heard I was going to be the star?" He smirked a bit. This would be hard to break.

"Well uh... I'll just uh... we made some changes but everything's still very flexible!" I tried to assure him. I started at where it would begin, a nerd getting bullied. The bully was played by... Brian. he wasn't too happy but was willing to hear me out. Then I went through the story slower, more cautiously to not offend the giant oaf. Stuff about the nerds banding together... having a fun time and ultimately the nerd getting the nerdy chick. Danielle was supposed to play the nerdy girl, Skylar wanted to be the main character. I would be the camera man and director. Brian looked annoyed. "So... this sucks."

"Wait what? What about it sucks? Is it just because you're not the main star? You know what'd be weird." I tried to fight back. It was partially my script.

"Lemme guess, your buddy Skylar wrote a lot of it." I looked down and did have to agree... so I nodded, Skylar was a great writer though! "Look man, I know you don't like being in front of the camera and stuff but this might be your last little movie, why not have fun with it? How is this fair to you at all?" Wait was Brian sticking up for me?

"I uh... I guess it's not... But I don't really like being the star." I looked at the bigger guy who was now being oddly nice.

He sighed. "Yeah, and I'm not sayin you have to be. I mean you gave me a pretty raw deal." Brian looked oddly sad.

I was always the one to make peace... god damn it... would I really do this? I had to... "Well uh... what would you propose to change that stuff?" I asked, nervous to what he would propose.

"Well, here's my idea. We swap some roles around. Make it better for all of us. Skylar can run the camera this time, he always gets to be in front of it." I nodded, Skylar could be a competent camera man... "Glad you agree, then I can take his role as a nerd and you can be the rival... hell maybe you can get your own babe out of it."

"Wait, what?" I looked at the big guy confused. Him? The nerd? No way. And me as the rival? How the hell would I do that? "I don't think that'll work. I mean we should cast for what we're good at and..."

Brian cut me off, "Yeah and I'm pretty nice, right?" I looked at him, he was looking me right in the eyes. I nodded, not wanting to be rude. "Exactly! So I should be given the chance to play a fun nice guy!" His smile was reassuring but I still had issues.

"Yeah but I really don't think people will buy me as a douchebag..." I sighed and scratched my head. It was true. I was smaller, weaker, and dorky as hell.

"Well, sure, right now you don't but trust me! I got some ideas that can help you! But it's what someone would call... method acting. Probably heard of it."

"That sounds like a dumb idea, I'll be honest. I mean... that'll just get me bullied.... more than usual at least." I sighed, feeling like this was going nowhere.

"Nah, trust me bro. I mean if you stick with me I'll vouch."

"But I barely have any classes with you aside from film related ones." I looked a bit confused. How would that work.

"Well here's the deal. I can talk to my professors, tell them you wanna do some stuff and I'm sure with a little flexing of my status... we can get you in for the few more weeks or months we have left of class this semester. It's not gonna be much, mister straight As." He was going to do that for me?

"I guess... I could see how this goes... I could use a break before my other finals..." I chuckled a bit nervously, which made him pat my back, almost flinging me out of my seat.

"There we go! Here's my phone number and..." He grabbed my phone and put his number and contacts in, "We should be good to go, send me a link to the script btw! Gotta work on that thing!

That night I sent him the link, and felt oddly nervous about this. I mean... it was like starting a whole new life! I hadn't been in front of the cameras in a while so that would be nerve racking too! Brian's advice was to "Not think about it." Seemed he could go his whole life without thinking about much.

The next day we spent working out, and working on attitude. His girlfriend Tori came over during some of it and Brian said it would be a great time to practice confidence. I didn't nail it. He had a good laugh though and she took it in stride. Overall a good Saturday.

The day after that we worked on some more muscle, while also just hanging out again... this time some of his douchey friends came over. He was saying this was both confidence and some experience training. Like being in job training. Eventually I somewhat grew accustomed to them. They all were charismatic and handsome too. I felt oddly at home near some of them, hell I even threw some insults back at them when they came my way. I wasn't great at it yet.

Day three of this shit and I was now walking around with Brian and his little group. Seemed most of them had the same classes. I got stopped in the hall though by a classmate. He tried to direct me to class but... as per a whispered instruction... I mocked him and his shit haircut. After classes we worked out, seemed like this was something I had to do... Brian and Tanner, one of Brian's friends who was more in on it, said this was to make me not sound like a dork when referencing sports and shit. Good reason...

My the next week I was already feeling the burn. Skylar and the others were a bit pissed at me for blowing off our group meetings for hangouts with Brian and his crew. I told him I was method acting and he should get off my case. Well he didn't take it too well. "Well maybe you should stop being in our fucking shit if you like Brian that much!" That was a bad insult.

I yelled back. "Well, maybe if you didn't try to hog the limelight all the time I wouldn't be doing this shit!" It kind of just came out of me. For some reason... Skylar looked a bit... weaker and smaller than me. "Besides, not like you could even carry a movie with that fuckin acne." I may have went too far, he looked pissed and I felt awful. He stormed off leaving me alone...

I had a party that night, at the frat. Brian noticed me looking down the entire time. Came to comfort me. "Bro, trust me. He deserved it. I mean he's always been pushing you back and the moment you try and get out there and have fun he tries to put you back down? Not cool, you know that."

"Yeah but... I don't wanna fuck shit up with my friends and all that." I said with a red solocup in my hand.

"Well... maybe you're better off without them. I mean the only one I see potential in is maybe Danielle." I nodded.

"Yeah, Tony is a nobody, Skylar is a pussy... And I was both. Still feel bad for Danielle." I had a crush on her before.

"Well don't go around pussyfooting. I'm sure we can change the script and as her to method act too! I mean how much fun has it been for you, Oliver."

"Oliver?" I laughed and looked at Brian, "Why'd you call me that?"

"Oh! Well I had an idea. Just a small one. I mean why not go by your character's name? You are supposed to be method acting!"

"Yeah... Oliver... that... works well." I smiled. I mean I did look like an Oliver now... or at least the character! I didn't know how but in retrospect god my body was wimpy. Now I looked fire as hell!

The next few days would be painfully awkward. Skylar would try and salvage the script, much to the annoyance of Brian and I. There were two sides clashing and I knew which one sounded better, Skylar was just doing this for himself. Eventually Brian and I started a secret document, included Danielle in there too. Got them over Discord on a call to talk about the newer idea. By now we had enough of the nice guy act. Brian thought it was way too soft... he pitched the new idea. "Why don't we, instead of doing whatever that little soy boy wants, do our own thing. Like... Why don't we do something where the bullies got some character."

Danielle was hesitant. "Well what about the others? And what would my role be?"

I had an answer already. "Well we need a camera man and Tony, by far, is the best of Skylar and him. I mean I could do it but I've worked pretty hard."

"[Y/N]..." Danielle sighed, She was getting tired of this.

"Dani, it's Oliver or Ollie. I'm taking it pretty serious as you can see." I smiled. into the webcam which I never used before... hell my whole profile changed. Near daily pics of me were my banner and icon instead of some anime boy.

Brian nodded a bit. "So, we want you in this film too Dani, you're a great actress but we want you to practice your new role. You'll be Ollie's bitchy GF, like a mean girl kinda thing."

"But that isn't...." She got cut off by me again.

"Look, Dani... I know it ain't your style but this isn't mine either. To be a star you have to make sacrifices, and playing the part is the thing. I already asked and Tori can help you get into role. And hey, we can hang more if you do... I mean if you want my place is pretty open." It was an invite to fuck. By now I was still a virgin, even if Brian tried to change that many times.

"Okay..." She finally agreed. Thank god this was getting annoying.

Eventually we got our crew together. Some guys from the soccer team for scrawnier nerds, some guys from Brian's crew to be our friends and... Danielle was coming along fine. My type had shifted a bit, especially now that I could have options... they were molding her real nicely.

Skylar soon got wind of our plan but by now it was too late to stop. I was getting ready for the first day of filming. I had my body in peak performance, all done up by one of Tori's friends. And he came over to yell at me. Not congratulate me. By this point I just had Alex, one of Brian and I's friends walk him off the little set we staged. Students would be happy to actually get in this film. I mean we were big stars around campus and we knew it.

People loved how I changed. I became a star. I mean... with my now blonde hair, scuffy facial hair, ripped abs, giant body... who wouldn't. Brian helped me realize something. I was made to be in front of the cameras. I was made to be a star. Danielle would realize that in time too.

As for the filming... it went spectacular. We all got great grades, hell... we started helping Tony out with getting better himself! I mean... we'd need it if we wanted to make more of these. It was a fun parody film... even if it was meant to be serious. The audience didn't get it but whateves. Wasn't my problem. I just didn't have to think too hard about it.

Within months I asked out Danielle, she said yes... of course. We became a new power couple. I urged her to join a sports team like I was doing. I started football like Brian. We did well as a team... also started power lifting and by god I was great! Danielle did gymnastics and by god was she flexible. Eventually I had my name changed. I was welcomed into Brian's family pretty easily too... so I adopted his last name. We were the Greene brothers.... started small with acting and sports but soon, through some modeling and commercials... we started getting big.

As for Skylar... who knows what became of that no name wannabe. He didn't take his shot. Maybe if he was more eager he could have ended up as a male model like Tony. Eh, not my problem. I just played my part and helped everyone around me. That's what being a star is for... you play your part and you like it... And I love it.

[magicalgardenofhypnosis]

My Favorite Toy

“Hey Henry! Over Here”

“Oh! Can I help you?”

He is hit with a blast of light coming from my camera the flash stuns him as he stood still in the middle of the street.

“Thank you! I’ll take it from here”

“YES SIR!”

“Into the car Henry”

“Wwwwwaaaaaaahhhh”

“NOW!”

“Yes Sir”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes”

“Of course you do”

“Driver let’s go”

“Yes sir “

“We have time to keep “

“Kiss me! Henry”

“Yes Sir”

“Mean it, love me and show me”

“Oh God!”

“You feel so good”

“You are gay”

“No I’m not”

“Yes you are “

“Oh! I am of course “

“Hey babe”

“Sit on my lap”

“You are hot sir”

“Time to fuck”

“Hell yeah sir “

“Fuck me”

The end

[peaceposts]

Eat and drink but do not waste. The world produces enough food to feed billions of people, yet 830+ million people go hungry daily. Hunger is not inevitable but it is always man-made driven by a combination of armed conflict, economic shocks, climate extremes, poverty & inequality.

[eeeeeskckfr]

It’s for You! (Commander Tartar Tf) Mc FtM Anthro

(TW!: Needles)

Kacy held her head, trancing her hand over the stone wall next to her. Why did she agree to explore this stupid place with her friends? So far, she had gone down multiple hallways, read over multiple maps and so on. About an hour in this dumb place and still no sign of her friends.

Felt like the walls were twisting around Kacy actually.

It weirdly already felt like she had been there for years. How was that even possible??

“Come…on guys…! Where are you!?” Kacy shouted as loudly as she could. “HARRY! Mary! WHERE ARE YOU GUYS!?” Kacy yelled as loudly as she could and even smashed a random glass bottle to make a loud noise.

No response…

“Arrrgghhhh! When I get my hands on you guys for–!!” Ring…ring…ring…

Kacy paused. “Huh?” Kacy looked over. Sounded like a…a really, really old phone ringing…

Kacy wandered further into the subway, following the sound. It was rather distant.

As she walked, she came across multiple…what looked like blood bags full of a strange, bluegreen ooze that reminded her heavily of the mutagen stuff from an old show she used to watch. If that meant anything, she knew not to touch it. The sight of the needles sent heavy shivers down her back though. Never liked needles…

Soon enough, after passing through some turnsdials and a few empty railways, she found a completely empty platform. Climbing up, she found an old phone. A..really, really old telephone like she had expected the noise to have been coming from.

It was a large, metal box supported on a thin pole bolted to the ground. It had a large horn (possibly for speaking into) and a dispenser at the bottom that a paper was attached to. “Missing: Kacy Daniels”. Hm, strange, she had only been gone for an hour. It had a lever on the side and two, tiny bulbs that looked like eyes.

“Huh, almost looks like it has a face,” Kacy chuckled slightly, poking the middle of the telephone’s face. She grabbed the paper afterwards and quickly tore it up. “I’ve also only been down here for an hour…” Kacy grumbled, trying to think over the sound of the telephone still ringing extremely loudly.

“..You’re not going to stop ringing until I answer, hm?” Kacy grabbed the telephone’s receiver and put it to her ear. She didn’t…really know how she worked but she could try.

Kacy leaned slightly against the telephone (quickly discovering how sturdy it was) and listened.

“[SEARCHING FOR USER ID…] [USER 10,009 CONFIRMED]” Kacy raised a brow, “...what the…?” Kacy shook the receiver a little, asking it, “Hello? Who are you?” It didn’t answer her question, “Greetings, 10,009. Your current location is: Deepsea Metro Central Station.”

That wasn’t the name of the metro she entered…

“Who are you?” Kacy asked it again, hearing a slight rumbling in the back of the call. “INGREDIENT ACQUISITION COMPLETE” The end of the receiver started to rumble a little louder now, the end shaking in her hand. “REFORMING MATTER…” Kacy glanced into the receiver and tapped it a little. “What’re you talking about?? Why won’t y–!” A large stream of the bluegreen ooze shot into her face suddenly, covering her whole head in seconds.

“AUH!!” Kacy fell back, almost hitting her head on the platform.

The receiver hung down, bluegreen ink leaking out onto the platform.

“Y-YOU MEASLY PIECE OF METAL!” Kacy shouted at the phone and held her head. “Fuck! Oough…this’ll never wash off, will…” Kacy groaned, noticing a strange feeling overtake her nearly instantly.

Kacy lifted a hand, cupping her cheek. “Wh…What is this stuff d..doing to me??”

Kacy noticed how light headed she felt. She felt sick to her stomach.

Metal started to slowly spread over her body, starting at where the slime originally hit. A strange tingling sensation spread over her body as well. Kacy’s head began to pound as it started to take on a more rectangular shape.

“Mrrgh??” Kacy patted her nose, watching it turn into a large, funnel-like horn on her face. The metal kept spreading down her back. Kacy grabbed some of her hair. The strip she grabbed rapidly changed into a lever that Kacy wasted no time in spinning as the transformation continued.

Kacy could feel her insides change to robotic components. Blood into that strange, bluegreen slime that covered her head, veins into wires, and guts into batteries and gears. Strangely, it didn’t hurt. Not even slightly. In fact, Kacy felt calmed by the whole experience.

Her pink coat and purple shirt began to deepen and turn into a blue button up and white undershirt like one you’d find a train conductor wearing. A black bowtie wrapped itself around Kacy’s neck lightly. S…Snazzy? Point is, it looked nice.

The change reached Kacy’s hands, coating them in that ooze and hiding the hands underneath. Sh-...He would need gloves to cover those. It can’t have people connecting the dots between those blood bags and him. It couldn’t let those octarians figure out their fate before his blender was remade!

Kacy, what are you talking about? You don’t own a blender! …What’s an octarian?

[DELETING USER 10,009]

Installing Com.Tartar.exe…

“Rmmghh–! Blah…bllaahhh…” It tried to talk, noticing how dizzy it was.

The change continued further down as his blue button up gained coattails and his bland, normal jeans became short, deeper blue capris. His boring shoes became tall, black boots that his pants tucked into.

Booting up Com.Tartar.exe…

Tartar…?

Commander Tartar groaned, rubbing his head as it stood up and almost immediately fell back over. “Ggrrbbbrh–...blah..blaah…something’s wrong with…with my memory drive…and probably my circuits too…” Tartar cranked his switch slowly, grumbling as he did.

[RECALIBRATING]

“hello? hello? …hello?” Tartar started, testing his voice. Full of static.

[RECALIBRATING]

“Hello? Hello? Testing testing, 1, 2, 3!” Tartar moved his lever a little more until most of the static faded from his voice. “Good. Good. That’s much better..”

Commander Tartar stared up at the roof of the metro. Even from under the sea, in this cold metro, he could hear the sound of the fireworks outside. “..Happy New Years, Professor…” Tartar murmured, slowly sitting down against one of the support beams of the metro. “And to you, 10,009…” A cruel smile came to his face, “Thank you so much for supplying yourself to my cause…” He chuckled, adjusting his bowtie.

[chequerootlurks]

I love the additions! This is so informative; thankyou!

[warping-realities]

2k Special - Coach Knows Best: Tight Ends

So we’ve come to the end of the 2k special. I’d like to thank again @johnbrand and @mrrharper for letting me borrow one of their ideas, but especially the great @callmecallmecrazy who I’ve been following for almost 20 years (I was underage and shouldn’t have been, but still). The Jocking has been and still is one of the most impressive things ever written in our niche; it’s not just about transformation, there’s a plot, character development and a cohesive story, and it’s something I’ve always tried to follow while writing my own work. Here, I made a little homage to his seminal work and to Clifton Jocks, which I’ll say for the thousandth time is my favorite story of all time and an impressive demonstration of developing writing skills.

Lastly, there’s a pun (or more) in the title of this story. 🙃

Just two days before the final game of the season, Steele sat in the stillness of his home, the weight of his thoughts pressing down like a heavy fog. The transformation of Tyler had been a double-edged sword. On one hand, he had become the player Steele always knew he could be. On the other, the pressure of the BACS protocol loomed ominously over everything. As he contemplated for the millionth time how to navigate the challenges ahead, his phone buzzed violently against the wooden surface of the table in front of him shattering the quiet.

Startled, he reached for his phone, glancing at the caller ID. It was Jenkins. The feeling of unease settled deeper in his gut as he answered. “What’s up?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with tension.

“Steele, we’ve got a situation,” Jenkins said, his tone serious. “Lee Dawson has gone missing from his dorm at college. He was supposed to hit up a study group and now no one’s seen him.”

Steele’s heart raced. “What do you mean missing? How long has it been since anyone last saw him?”

“Just a few hours, but it’s enough to raise alarms. From what I gathered from my guys on the team, he’d been complaining about his brother’s behavior for days, saying Tyler was acting weird. At my request, they pressed Lee for any major signs that a glitch was popping up in the BACS protocol, but whenever pressed, he backed down. There was nothing to suggest any major failure or need for intervention so far.

“I told you Lee is smart and you know why BACS has fallen out of favor, and yet you insisted. What the hell do you expect me to do now to clean up your mess?”

“What I want is for you to keep an eye out. It seems like Lee is gonna go searching for his brother or even come to you. In that case, you need to find out what’s going on. This could have serious implications,” Jenkins urged, his voice quickening.

“Implications? What the hell are you talking about?” Steele shot back, a sense of dread creeping into his thoughts. The last thing he wanted was to be linked to the board’s experiments or Tyler’s recent transformation if shit hit the fan.

“Let’s be real, Steele. If the government finds out what we did with BACS, we could all be in deep trouble. You need to act fast. In the worst-case scenario, you’re authorized to use BACS on the older Dawson.” Jenkins warned, urgency unmistakable in his voice.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m on it, but I warned you, Jenkins, you idiot!” Steele replied, his mind racing. He couldn’t let this situation spiral out of control. As he hung up the phone, he felt the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. He had to find and protect Lee, and somehow make him understand the whole program before the kid, who was Steele’s greatest pride, ended up consumed by it like his brother had.

Steele woke up before dawn, the clock reading 4 AM. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, battling the heavy feeling that seemed to have settled in his mind. The morning darkness enveloped the room as his thoughts churned about Lee and Tyler. It was a constant struggle between the determination to keep his legacy as a coach intact and the guilt that consumed him.

He got up and started his morning routine. The first task was to run. He laced up his running shoes, threw on a simple T-shirt, and headed out, feeling the cold morning air against his face. Each step took him further away from his worries, and he tried to keep a steady pace. Running had always been his way to release built-up tension, but today felt harder. His thoughts kept drifting back to Tyler’s situation and what he could have done differently.

After 30 minutes of running, Steele finished his routine with calisthenics. Push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups; all done in silence, but his mind was far from what he was doing. He felt like a robot, following a routine without really being present. The joy he used to feel while working out was missing, replaced by a sense of emptiness.

With sweat dripping down his face, he returned home and made breakfast. He brewed a strong cup of black coffee, letting the dark liquid fill the mug. Coffee, once a comforting ritual, now tasted bland, as if bitterness had seeped into his life. He served himself an absurd amount of food: eggs, bacon, toast, and fruit. But even while eating, he couldn’t savor the meal. Each bite felt like an obligation, a meaningless ritual.

After breakfast, he shaved, staring at his reflection in the mirror, noticing the deep circles under his eyes. “What the hell happened to me?” he thought, doubt creeping into his mind. He had been a passionate coach, someone who inspired his players to become the best versions of themselves. Now, he found himself trapped in a cycle of manipulation and politics that was corroding his soul.

After getting ready, Steele finally left for school, his car cutting through the quiet morning. But upon arriving at the school parking lot, he hesitated. He stopped the car and sat there, watching the students arrive, the laughter and chatter floating in the air. He felt like a spectator in his own world.

“How did I end up here?” he murmured to himself. He remembered when everything seemed so simple, when his love for football was pure and genuine. He had a dream: to turn young athletes into champions, to guide them through hardships, and help them shine. But over time, he became obsessed with winning, accepting the machinations of the board, believing it was all worth it. He convinced himself he was offering insignificant kids the chance to experience the same glories he had. But now, after what happened with Tyler, those certainties were crumbling. The kid had been the kind of athlete who, with the right encouragement and training, could have been for the Tight Ends what Brock Purdy was for quarterbacks: a last pick with seemingly no shine but whose effort and skill landed him a spot on one of the big league teams. Now? Sure, the kid was great, almost perfect. No doubt he’d shine, but it’d be an artificial shine, risking being marked more by a influencer life than what he did on the field, more like a Garoppolo than a Purdy. And then there was Lee, the incredible Lee, Steele’s greatest victory, shaped just right, now at risk of going through the same shit as his brother. Thinking about that made Steele’s gut churn, and a new determination surged within him. He could lose everything, but he was going to make sure Lee wouldn’t get caught up in this, even if it meant making some subtle tweaks, a little memory alteration… maybe something to boost his stats before the Combine… Then, without realizing the hypocrisy and contradiction in his own way of thinking, the coach let out a long sigh and headed off to start the day’s work.

…..

The locker room was in a state of controlled chaos. The boys on the team were undressing and getting ready to put on their practice uniforms. The distinct smell of deodorant mixed with male sweat hung in the air, and the atmosphere was filled with laughter and teasing.

“Look who’s here! The king of farts!” Trey shouted, letting out a loud fart. The room erupted in laughter, and the boys started mimicking fart sounds.

“For God’s sake, dude! You need a deodorant for your ass!” Connor teased, making everyone laugh even harder.

Rafael, always ready to stand out, raised his hands as if he was about to make a speech. “Attention, attention! The champion of burps is here!” He then let out a burp so loud it echoed through the locker room, causing another wave of laughter.

“You and your special talents, Rafe. One day you’re gonna win an award for that!” Miguel joked, while getting dressed. “Most retarded award!”

The boys continued to talk nonsense, sharing stories about weekend parties, the girls they had hooked up with, and the drunken escapades they had. The vibe was carefree, a celebration of the brotherhood that existed among them, but also tinged with machismo and arrogance.

“Dude, did you see the new cheerleader? The transfer girl, blonde with blue eyes?” Miguel commented, winking at the others. “She was totally checking me out during practice. Bet she’s in love with me!”

“Probably out of pity for your malnourished state!” Adam replied, laughing. “But it’s true, she’s hot. I’d hit that too.”

“Malnourished? I’m ripped, you fatass!”

“That’s just jealousy of my muscles, scrawny boy?”

“Jealousy is what you have of my abs, fatty!”

As the chatter continued, Tyler, sitting a bit further away, looked at Brock with a frustrated expression while tying his cleats. “Man, my brother’s been an ass lately. Lee’s always been a bit too uptight, but lately, he’s just straight-up unbearable,” Tyler said, trying to keep his tone light, but irritation was evident.

“Like, he keeps nagging me about my grades, and I can’t deal with it anymore. I stopped replying to his texts. I’ve told him Cs get degrees,” he vented, his voice dropping lower, almost lost in the locker room noise.

“Well, the problem is you hardly ever get Cs, do you?”

“As if you’re any better, you dumbass. You know Coach is gonna sort this out and we’re all gonna get into college with football scholarships. But for Lee, that’s not enough; it’s like he wanted another brother instead of me.”

Brock looked at Tyler, sensing his frustration. “Dude, I get it. It’s tough when you have a brother who seems to be trying to control you. But at the same time, he just wants what’s best for you, right? Maybe he’s just worrying too much.”

“Maybe… but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s being a total pain. He doesn’t know how to have fun. It’s like he thinks life is only about training and studying,” Tyler replied, shaking his head, visibly irritated.

“Man, you need to put him in his place then. One day, he’s gonna realize life isn’t just about work. You gotta enjoy the journey too, just like we do here on the team!” Brock said, trying to encourage Tyler to feel better about the situation.

“Whatever, maybe I should try talking to him again, but just thinking about it makes me tired,” Tyler mumbled, crossing his arms.

What the boys didn’t realize was that Coach Steele had entered the locker room just as the conversation was heating up.

“Is that what I heard, Tyler?” Steele asked, his gaze fixed on the young man. “You’ve been ignoring your brother?”

Tyler hesitated before answering. “Uh… I’m just tired of hearing the same old shit, coach. He just wants me to fit into the image he has of me. I just wanted some space,” he said, trying to justify his behavior.

Steele shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “Look, Tyler, you might not like what Lee has to say, but he’s your brother. What he wants is what any brother wants: the best for you. Ignoring his texts isn’t the solution. You might not realize it, but he cares about you,” Steele said, his voice firm.

“Yeah, I know. I just… I just need some space, that’s all,” Tyler muttered, a bit frustrated.

“I get that you need space, but that doesn’t mean you should push him away. Promise me one thing, if he tries to reach out again, don’t ignore him, but more importantly, I want you to tell me right away,” Steele said, with a serious look. “Now, let’s go, finish getting ready. It’s almost time for practice.”

The boys nodded, and the conversation quickly dissipated as they hurried to get ready. When everyone was ready, they headed out to the field. The sun was shining brightly, and the energy of the team was palpable. Steele watched as the players lined up, each carrying a confidence that was contagious. He felt a little lighter, even knowing the precarious situation he was in.

“Today’s the last practice before the finals,” Steele began, capturing everyone’s attention. “That means we need to give it everything we’ve got. Remember, the opposing team is gonna come onto the field wanting to take us down. But they’re gonna face the Titans, and we’re gonna show them what that means!”

The players shouted in response, adrenaline coursing through their veins. The practice began and Steele moved around the field, watching every move, every play. The boys were in sync, their skills at their peak and their energies channeled toward a common goal. Steele watched it all with a satisfied smile. The hard work and dedication were paying off. He remembered his own experiences and what it meant to form a cohesive team. “Great job, boys!” he shouted, as the players regrouped in the locker room after practice. “You’re ready to face the Knights! What we saw today was magnificent. Each of you gave your best. Remember, tomorrow is the big day. You have a chance to show everyone what it means to be a Titan.”

The players shouted in response, the spirit of unity filling the air. “One last thing: rest up! I don’t want to hear that anyone partied or drank alcohol before the finals. If you do, I’ll skin you alive!”

Laughter and shouts spread through the locker room, but Steele’s seriousness conveyed the message that he truly cared. The boys knew he was there to guide them and protect what they had built together.

With practice wrapped up, the players dispersed, ready to rest up and prepare for the big game.

…

Night fell, and as the city prepared for the game the next day, Tyler lay in bed, heart racing and mind full of expectations. He knew he had a role to play, and he was determined to do it to the best of his ability. In the darkness of his room he was lost in thought, recalling the day’s practices and what awaited him in the big game.

At that moment, Lee walked into the room unannounced, his expression serious. “Tyler, we need to talk,” he said, looking intently at his brother.

Tyler frowned. “Lee? WTF? What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”

“You. Something’s not right with you,” Lee replied, worry evident in his voice. “I can’t pinpoint what it is, but I feel like something’s changed.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tyler asked, confused and a little irritated. “I’m great! I’m about to crush it in the game tomorrow!”

Lee shook his head, frustration growing. “It’s not that, Tyler! It’s like you’re… different. Like you’re not really you. I… I’m worried.”

“What the hell, Lee? Who else could I be? And worried? You don’t know anything about me! I’m never good enough for you, right? You’ve always been the favorite, the family talent!” Tyler shouted, anger boiling over. “But I’m gonna prove to everyone that I’m better than you, that I’m the best player!”

Lee looked at him, pain in his eyes. “Tyler, I’ve never cared about that. For me, there’s never been a competition between us. I just wanted you to be happy in your own way. You don’t have to try to be what I am or what you think everyone expects from you. What matters is that you’re yourself.”

“You don’t get it! I can’t just be me, with a Mr. Perfect brother I always have to be the better! And now that I’m finally getting attention, I can’t let it slip away!” Tyler shot back, his voice filled with frustration.

“I… I think I understand more than you realize,” Lee said, sadness weighing on his words.

“You’re not making sense, Lee! I just want to be recognized, and that involves winning! For me, that’s everything!” Tyler replied, anger replacing insecurity.

“I really thought I could trust him… I don’t know what I can do to help you, but I’ll try. Just know that I love you, little bro. I hope that next time we see each other, we can recognize each other for who we really are.”

Tyler sat there, alone, frustration and confusion flooding his mind. Until a memory popped into his head. He grabbed his phone and called Coach Steele. “Coach, I… I need to talk to you,” he said as soon as the call connected.

“Sure, Tyler. What’s up?” Steele replied, his voice calm and attentive.

“It’s about Lee. He was just here… and he doesn’t seem right; he said a bunch of nonsensical things… he thinks something’s wrong with me, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I act all tough, like I’m the best Dawson, but the truth is, Lee is my biggest inspiration, and seeing him like this… please help him!” Tyler poured out, tension evident in his voice.

“Tyler, I need you to try to remember what else your brother said. Did he say where he was going?” Steele asked, his voice now more concerned.

“I don’t know, coach. No, he didn’t say. He just mentioned he thought he could trust someone and that… that he’d try to help me… and that he hoped next time we met, we could… recognize each other. I have no idea what he meant by that.”

“I do. Try to calm down and get some sleep; tomorrow is the big day, and I promise everything will be alright. Better yet, Lee will be there to watch you shine, trust me!”

“Always, Coach!”

…

Steele hung up the phone, poured a generous shot of bourbon into two glasses, and waited for Lee. It seemed the time had come for him to answer for his choices in front of one of the few people he cared about in this world.

….

Lee walked toward Steele’s mansion, his heart racing and his mind a whirlwind of emotions. The worry for Tyler consumed him, and his brother’s words echoed in his head. “What’s wrong with him? Or is it me? Ty is right; I’m not making any sense! Still, I know… that’s not who he should be!” Lee thought, feeling frustrated for not being able to understand what was happening, but he knew there was someone who understood and worse, could be responsible for it all. As he walked, fear and frustration overwhelmed him. For it wasn’t the first time he felt that way; if he had done something sooner… maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to go through this with his own brother.

As Lee walked through the familiar streets, he couldn't help but remember those times he felt that same awkwardness when he was on the team. Not in the same creepy way as now, but it was there, this uneasy feeling, as his teammates came and went. He figured it was 'cause he never really clicked with the others off the field; his life was all about discipline, totally grinding to improve. His body was a temple, and football was his religion. Of course, there was the Pastor: Steele. They had a tight bond, with the coach filling the gap left by his dad when he bailed on the family. Maybe that’s why Lee ignored what his gut was telling him every time a new player joined the team. It’s also why he asked Steele to treat Tyler the same way he treated him. Now, Lee felt like a total fool for thinking Steele would keep that promise. The coach was the one who drilled into him the idea of winning at all costs... he just chose to overlook that to Steele “at all costs” also included everyone else. And now, his brother was paying the price for that mistake.

Standing in front of the big mansion gate, Lee felt a chill in his stomach. Without doing anything, it opened, and he walked up to the porch where the imposing figure of Steele awaited him.

“Lee, I was expecting you,” Steele said, his expression serious. “Sit down and grab a glass.” The man settled into a magnificent leather armchair and pointed to a glass of bourbon.

“You know I don’t drink. My diet is strict to not affect my performance. Besides, I need to know, what did you do to my brother?”

“To explain what happened to Tyler, I need to tell you a very long story. And I know you don’t drink, kid, but trust me, with what we need to talk about, you’re gonna need it.”

Lee complied, but the tension in the air was palpable.

“Coach, I don’t need a story; I need to know what happened to my brother… more than that… I need to know who my brother really is… or I think I’m gonna lose my mind… I need you to reverse what you did.”

“It’s not that simple, kid. What you’re asking isn’t impossible, but highly unlikely. So I need you to understand. And to understand, I need to tell you everything from the beginning, so please take a sip and listen.”

Still reluctant, Lee conceded and positioned himself to hear his former coach, feeling the drink burn his throat and warm his stomach.

“Good, good. The story I’m about to tell you starts way before Tyler, you and even me. Back in the mid-2000s, a decline in the number of young men dedicating themselves to contact sports, notably football, began to be noticed. You might question this info due to what came shortly after, but trust me, it’s real. Continuing, due to this decline, a group formed that is now known as The Board, whose goal was to find ways to prevent this decline from becoming irreversible. And thus, the so-called Enhancement Protocols emerged. Due to the shady nature of such protocols, it was established that the test fields would be some schools across the country and always with individuals over 18. Colleges would be a highly unfeasible field, and the NFL, with all its scrutiny, would be unthinkable. What happened next was… revolutionary but also opened the doors to a true hell.” Steele said, pausing to take a long sip of his own drink before continuing.

“In one location where I have no access, one of the coaches responsible found gold. A way to alter the very fabric of reality and turn insignificant kids into perfect players. The techniques used were multiple as long as there was a catalyst; clothing, food, even the presence of another altered player was enough to modify an unsuspecting target. It was groundbreaking. But there were two problems: it messed with things that shouldn’t be messed with. A bunch of mumbo jumbo occult stuff whose details are better left unsaid. The other problem is that he went rogue. The modified players of his spread like a wildfire, hitting colleges and schools all over the country to the point that the fabric of reality became so thin it allowed certain things that should’ve stayed out to come in. At that time, I was already playing for the Eagles, and I’d like to believe the NFL wasn’t affected, but I can’t know, the man’s insanity was that great. The Board can’t say for sure, nor can the government, because the one who finally ended that coach’s megalomania was an apparently ordinary individual, but whom I believe is still imbued with more power than any man should have. But thanks to him, reality got back to how it should’ve been, that is, more or less…” Steele let out a long sigh before continuing.

“The kid had no way of knowing about the board’s existence, and it reestablished itself, and from what was left of that mad coach’s work, developed the current protocols.” Steele continued with a serious air.

“I discovered the protocols in my first year as a coach. At that time, the board was still being inconspicuous, the group that took down the coach I mentioned was still active. Initially, I was against using such methods. But the decline of the 2000s was nothing compared to the mid-decade past. Suddenly, kids became these delicate little flowers that can’t handle anything, snowflakes is the term you’ll hear the most. A lot of people associate this with sexuality. Frankly, I don’t give a damn who you fuck with. But watching a bunch of crybabies dominate the school hallways while my team, a place where real men were being formed, dwindled to the point of risking disappearing? I couldn’t accept that. So I let the board into my life and my Titans. Initially only to fill some gaps, cover some deficiencies. I justified it to myself. But over time I used the protocols more and more to the point of having no justifications. Not that I cared anymore, because the Titans had become the team I always thought it should be…

“You… I… did you do something to me?” Lee asked, his voice trembling.

“No, you, Lee, you were a gift to me, a perfect player with no need for intervention, totally focused and dedicated, even not fitting into certain specifications of the board. Specifications I never cared about, by the way. But even the board never dared to ask me to intervene with you given your impressive stats. And I don’t know if I would’ve done anything, even if they asked. The truth is, you reminded me of myself, and I would’ve never had the guts to do anything to you. But then came Tyler. Tyler was a younger version of you, unfortunately without the same impressive talent. Not that the kid lacked talent, but it just wasn’t enough. And the board intervened in the worst way possible. Right before you left for college, taking advantage of the calm environment after so many years acting in the shadows, the they became bold. They developed a method that traded the elegance and subtlety of the previous ones for a much faster and seemingly just as effective one. They called it the BACS Protocol, a stupid acronym that doesn’t matter right now. What’s important is that with this protocol, all it takes is a signal sent by a simple smartphone to a previously exposed individual to a catalyst that can even be dispersed in the air around him, and out of nowhere you have a perfect player ready under all the specifications of the council. To avoid a bunch of clones walking around, the signal uses the player’s own perceptions of what each of the acronym’s specifications represents and uses the individual’s genetic base to update him. For someone like you or Tyler, this can be… disturbing, a change so fast and radical in the fabric of reality without a safer catalyst, an anchor. See, with a stable enough catalyst even the transformed's family members can be modified to better fit their new narrative. BACS has no such capability, which in retrospect may have been a blessing, just thinking about what could have happened to you... sorry, I lost focus. The truth is that unlike safer methods this absence leads to some glitches. Like the ones you’ve been feeling.”

“You mean to say that Tyler…?”

“Yeah… the protocol was shut down due to failures, but for some obtuse reason, the board decided to pick it back up and Tyler was chosen as an example.”

“And you didn’t do a damn thing???” Lee asked, outraged. “You just let my brother be taken like a pig to slaughter? And turned him into this?”

“That’s still your brother, just like many of your teammates with whom you sweat and bled for victory. They’re still people, Lee, with dreams and desires. You might even disagree with their way of life, but don’t treat them like things.”

“I can’t believe the size of your hypocrisy!”

“Yeah, I’m a hypocrite. But I’ve always treated my players the same, the naturals and the modified ones; to me, there’s no difference between them. Except for you, like BACS has its glitches, you were mine.”

“Then help me, help revert what happened to Tyler!”

“It’s harder than you can imagine, Lee. There’s someone out there with that capability, but you don’t want to get in his way!”

“Why not?”

“Because he would destroy everything I’ve built, everything you know too, because that’s his mission. And I can’t allow that.”

“And what’s stopping me from going after this guy on my own?”

“The fact that you ingested a high dose of the catalyst compound and are in the presence of a very strong physical catalyst right next to you, namely me. I swear I’d rather not do this to you, but after letting what happened to Tyler happen, it’s better this way. I promise the only thing that will change for you is accepting reality and Tyler as they are now!”

Upon hearing that, Lee tried to move, but it felt like he was glued to the chair, as if trapped in an invisible trap. While Coach Steele, the man he considered a substitute father, betrayed him a second time.

Seated, paralyzed in that armchair, Lee felt a strange pressure in his body, followed by a wave of heat, and then the first transformation took over his arms, which began to swell, the muscles expanding under the skin. He looked down, perplexed, as his biceps became so bulky with muscles and fat they seemed ready to burst through the shirt he wore. Seeing that, Steele’s eyes widened, and he shouted: “That wasn’t supposed to happen!” But as he tried to get up and somehow intervene, he found himself glued to his own seat. With nothing left to do, the coach watched in growing panic as what came next unfolded.

As he struggled to comprehend what was happening, Lee's legs began to change too. His already huge thighs swelled even more, becoming the size of tree trunks, while a layer of fat started to accumulate, softening the sharp lines he had worked so hard to achieve. Lee felt a mix of horror and a strange pleasure as that transformation unfolded, as if his body were rebelling against his will.

“Lee, you need to resist!” Coach Steele shouted, but his voice sounded distant and powerless, for he knew there was nothing that could be done.

The pressure in his abdomen intensified, and Lee could feel his belly protruding. The famous eight-pack he valued so much was disappearing, replaced by a still firm belly, but now with a more robust appearance, a true muscle gut. He felt as if he were in a nightmare, struggling against the waves of transformation that dominated him. As he attempted to speak, a loud burp escaped involuntarily… buuuuuuurp…

“This can’t be happening!”, Steele repeated, thrashing in his chair. As the change reached Lee’s face, his jaw became more square momentarily only to be hidden by a layer of fat, and then by a thick, scruffy beard. The straight, well-kept hair he always sported now fell in messy locks, giving him a wild look. Lee tried to protest once more, but another burp escaped, and he felt even more frustrated. “Why is this happening?!” confusion dominating his thoughts.

The changes reached his feet, once slender, now starting to expand, going from a respectable size 11 to a gigantic size 15, ripping the sneakers he wore, each thick toe covered with a layer of dark hair. His firm, muscular backside turned into a big cushion. Coach Steele, watching in a mix of horror and despair, shook his head. “No, Lee! Please, no! What have I done?!” he shouted, his voice trembling. The horror of the situation enveloped him, and he felt powerless, unable to help.

As the transformation peaked, Lee found himself in a more muscular and robust body, more like an offensive guard than a tight end. Not that he could think of that, for at that moment, his mind was invaded by conflicting information. The strict diet with complex carbs and high-quality proteins and zero alcohol was replaced by a ogre diet and occasional binge drinking, nothing that would harm the team, but off-season is off-season for a reason. The obsession with being the best remained, but the way of looking at it shifted from almost military-level self-demand to the belief that he would be the best because he always had been; it was inherent to him. The serious and even somber demeanor was replaced by a carefree joy and an unshakeable teenage humor. As a smile spread across his face, it was all over. There was nothing else Steele could do, even if he managed to move, which was still impossible for him.

Lee’s worried and quick thoughts were replaced by an almost absolute relaxation; he was someone who knew his place and what he had to do. Anyone looking from the outside would have the impression of a big teddy bear, but once against him, they’d see he was, in fact, a raging grizzly bear when on the field.

With a carefree attitude, he looked at himself. His clothes were bursting at the seams, the fabric struggling to keep up with the growth of his new body. His shirt was stretched so tight it looked like it could rip at any moment, while his shorts looked more like strips than actual clothing. What the hell had happened? But before he could even think of worrying, his gut acted up, and Lee let out a loud and uncontrollable fart, while the room echoed with the sound he burst into laughter, any trace of horror turning into a moment of pure joy.

As Lee reveled in his new form, patting his powerful gut with a goofy grin on his face, Coach Steele just watched, horrified and powerless. “What have I done...,” he murmured, his mind whirling around the implications of his pupil’s transformation.

Without either man noticing, Jenkins entered the room just as Lee’s transformation completed. He observed the now-imposing young man with his muscular and robust body. A satisfied smile spread across his face. “What did you do?” Jenkins said, with a tone of disdain, startling Steele, who hadn’t seen the sly man but realized at that moment who was truly behind what had happened. “Just what you should’ve done a long time ago. But the specifications weren’t yours.”

Jenkins then turned to Lee, who now looked like a true giant. “Hey, Bull Dawg, how’s it going?” he asked, the provocation evident in his voice.

Lee, exuding the chill vibe that now surrounded him, smiled back. “I’m feeling kinda funny,” he replied, as he stood up and admired himself in one of the mirrors in the room.

“Must be all the whiskey you’ve been drinking,” Jenkins remarked, laughing. “You’ve always been the type to not miss a chance to have fun.”

Lee shot a quick glance at Jenkins, winking playfully. “You know me too well,” he replied, flexing his huge arms and biceps, completely ruining the shirt he wore and exposing his powerful pecs and exuberant muscle gut covered in wild hair.

"Alright, alright. Now, if you’ll excuse me," Jenkins said, turning to Lee, "Steele and I need to hash out some big kid stuff."

"Whatever," Lee shot back, all nonchalant. "But I’m taking the whiskey with me." He turned, the power of his new, impressive body filling the space around him as he grabbed the bottle of bourbon but no glass.

Jenkins and Steele watched as Lee strutted out of the room, one with a smug grin and the other with a dead-serious look. The giant’s heavy footsteps echoed on the floor, his muscular back and well-defined glutes becoming a spectacle in their own right, while the shorts several sizes too small threatened to rip with every step those powerful bare feet took.

“A true masterpiece.” Jenkins said, settling into the chair where Lee had been sitting moments before, the leather still warm from his presence. He crossed his legs, a satisfied smile forming on his lips as he looked at Coach Steele, who still seemed to be digesting what had just happened.

“So, Steele,” Jenkins began, his voice calm and controlled, “what do you think of all this?”

Steele, unable to move, finally found his voice. “What did you do, Jenkins? Why make such a drastic decision with a talented athlete like Lee?”

“Oh, Steele,” Jenkins replied, shaking his head almost condescendingly. “You yourself pointed out that BACS has its glitches. And Dawson became a problem. We needed a solution; he was a valuable asset, but the market is changing, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone. What you need to understand is that even though there’s always room for the disciplined athlete like Tom Brady, that’s so 2000s… no, no, with Jason Kelce’s retirement, a niche opened up, that of the wild giant who turns out to be a cute clown. Men identify with him thinking illusionarily that a body like his is more easily attainable than a “more fit one”, and women see the figure of a future husband, someone not so worried about having a sixpack. Which reminds me that I need to find a good girlfriend for the kid and maybe twin boys in a year or two… So, a big teddy bear with a younger, more rebellious bro? All that's left is to find a pop diva to make that winning combo happen again, right? I wonder if I still have Olívia Rodrigo manager's phone number. I’ll have to figure that out too… So the boring, regimented and suspicious Lee needed to go so that the fun, lovable yet aggressive when necessary Bull Dawg could emerge. Ahh the amount of profits these brothers will bring!

"I believed the board wanted the best athletes possible," Steele said, his voice thick with anger.

"The board wants profits. And believe me, someone like the old Lee doesn't do a tenth of what Bull Dawg promises. The public wants their idols to be close to them. They want to feel like they're part of their lives. They want them to be fun. Trust me, Lee Bull Dawg Dawson is someone who knows how to have fun, especially with the products and facilities of our sponsors."

"You and I have very different opinions of what a football fan wants."

"And so we come to the real reason I'm here today. Dawson was just an appetizer, the main course is you, you and your damn insubordination."

Steele took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure as Jenkins’ words echoed in his mind. “I’ve always been loyal to the board’s guidelines, Jenkins. You know that. I’ve always put the rules first.” His voice trembled slightly, but he fought to maintain a firm tone.

Jenkins leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and disdain. “Loyalty? Is this what you call loyalty? The admiration you feel for Lee Dawson blinded you, Steele. You didn’t see that the younger Dawson needed enhancement. Your focus was so fixated on your precious Lee that you ignored what was right in front of you.”

Steele felt the blood rush to his head, indignation forming like a storm inside him. “I didn’t hide anything from the board! I always did what was best for the athletes, not just for one of them. You can’t just…”

“Can’t just what?” Jenkins interrupted, an ironic smile forming on his lips. “Hide the truth? Like you did? Since the incident years ago, you know the board can’t allow any coaches to go rogue. And you, my friend, have crossed the line. Your romanticized vision of what Lee and Tyler could be became a trap, and now you’re gonna pay the price.”

Steele tried to stand, but found himself glued to the chair, as if an invisible force kept him there. Panic began to spread through his body, and he turned to Jenkins, his expression turning to desperation. “Jenkins, please, I beg you!”

“Oh, but I have no choice, Steele,” Jenkins replied, his voice now wrapped in a chilling tone. “Did you really think we wouldn’t have a way to deal with types like you? You’re gonna go through the COACH protocol. Complete Overdrive and Assimilation to the Command Hierarchy. It’s what the council decided. On the field, your attitude is impeccable and should continue that way. But you have no idea how happy I am to be free of your stiffness and bitterness, of your unbearable righteousness.” Jenkins said with a mocking smile that showed all his satisfaction before continuing to speak.

“But cheer up, after the step taken with Lee today, the board decided it’s finally time to expand to college, and you, my future and less uptight best friend, are gonna be the pioneer of this. A spot coaching your old college team awaits your new media approved showman self. A self that will pave your way back to the NFL when the board deems it necessary.”

With one last effort, Steele tried to break free, but the pressure was unbearable. He looked around the room, searching for an escape, but everything seemed to fade around him. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Jenkins’ smug grin, a smile that symbolized both triumph and betrayal, as darkness enveloped him.

….

The celebration at Coach Steele's house after the championship was epic. The Titans, once again, showed their power on the field, snagging the title with an impressive victory. The atmosphere was filled with euphoria, and the players were ready to party. Steele’s house was packed with food, drinks, and laughter, with the guys from the team having a blast while reminiscing about the best moments of the season.

Brock, Adam, Connor, and the rest were all there, laughing and making toasts. Lee, who had been given a break from classes until after the Christmas holidays thanks to Mr. Jenkins, was in his element. He moved through the party like a king, surrounded by friends and admirers. Upon finding his little brother, he couldn't help but smile.

"You really gave it your all this season, T-Dawg!" he said, raising his cup. "I’m so proud of you!"

"Thanks, big bro! And this is just the beginning! I’m ready to head to college and show everyone what I can do!" Tyler replied, his smile shining even brighter.

Lee looked at Tyler, a satisfied grin on his lips. "You know, I’m really glad I won’t have to face you on the field. With you playing like a beast, I’d be in trouble!" He laughed.

Tyler smiled back but couldn't help thinking about what that meant. "Oh, but who knows, maybe one day we’ll meet in the NFL? You could still be my rival on the field or worse, we might end up competing for the same position on a team."

Lee gave Tyler a pat on the shoulder, his smile turning into a rare serious look. "Listen, don’t worry about that. The truth is, when I come back from break, I’ll probably be moved to another position, maybe as a guard or center. I’ve outgrown what a Tight End should be.” He said with a grin while giving a little pat on his muscular gut. “So, if all goes well, we’ll never have to compete for the same spot, better we can be an incredible duo on the same team."

Tyler looked surprised by the revelation. "Seriously? That’s amazing! But… how are we gonna figure out who’s the better player?"

Lee chuckled, shaking his head again. "Fuck who’s better, Tyler! What I really want is to play football and go pro. If it’s alongside you, even better. But enough talk, we should be having fun."

As the party progressed, the energy was through the roof. The guys started competing in an impromptu arm wrestling championship in one corner, while flip cup and beer pong dominated other spots. The music was blasting, and the drinks flowed freely. Lee, in particular, seemed to be enjoying himself more and more, his confidence soaring. His teenage behavior, despite his age, was not out of place among the Titans boys who saw him as an example to follow. He began bragging about his achievements, cracking jokes and teasing the others.

"Hey, who wants to see Bull Dawg do a backflip? Bet I can nail it!" Lee shouted, seizing a moment when Steele were momentarily absent, drawing everyone’s attention in the backyard.

"Go for it, bro!" Tyler shouted, as the crowd's excitement peaked.

As everyone gathered around the pool, Lee climbed onto a small platform, determination etched on his face. He was visibly drunk, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to impress his brother and friends. Tyler and the others watched, a mix of anxiety and fun on their faces, as intoxicated as the older man.

"Go, Lee! Show what you got!" Connor yelled, cheering on his friend.

Lee got ready, taking a deep breath before launching himself into the air. The backflip was perfect, and the impact of his massive body hitting the water was violent, soaking everyone around and sending the team boys into a frenzy.

“Bull Dawg!!! Bull Dawg!!” they all shouted in unison. As he came out of the pool laughing excitedly. Meanwhile, Tyler hugged his brother, saying, “Now I gotta do something bigger!”

“Chill, T-Dawg, you’ve already done enough! You're way cooler than I am! But you are a bit too dry for my taste!” Lee replied, shoving his little brother into the pool and falling in with him amidst laughter.

At that moment, Coach Steele approached with his usual off the field chill smile. He watched the scene, pleased to see that everyone there, just like himself, perfectly fit the board’s criteria, but he also felt the need to maintain at least a certain level of discipline. With a firm movement, he stepped closer to the group, calling everyone’s attention.

“Hey, boys! Time to stop the show!” Steele said, his voice booming over the party noise. The music faded into a whisper as heads turned to look at the coach. Lee and Tyler, still wet and smiling, climbed out of the pool, with Dawson boys striking a triumphant pose of gratitude.

“Come on, coach! We’re just celebrating!” Tyler said, laughing.

“Celebrating is great, but I need you all to remember what it means to be a Titan!” Steele began, his voice gaining strength as he spoke. “This season wasn’t just about winning on the field. It was about teamwork, overcoming challenges, and what it means to be part of a family. Each of you proved that together, we’re stronger. And that’s not just a motto; it’s our truth.”

The boys listened intently, the festive atmosphere shifting quickly to a more serious tone.

“You learned to fight for what you believe in, to support each other, and to never give up. Most importantly, you discovered who you really are. That’s what makes you Titans. And I want you to carry that with you forever. No matter where life takes you, always take with you the team spirit we built here,” Steele continued, his gaze steady and determined.

“Now, I have something important to share with you. I’ve been invited to take the position of offensive line coach at Ohio State,” he announced, and a murmur of surprise spread through the group.

“Wow, coach! That’s awesome!” Rafe shouted, clapping.

“I know many of you dream of playing at a higher level, and this is the chance I need to take the experience you had here to a new level. But that means I’ll have to leave the Titans, at least for now,” Steele said, his voice firm, but a bit melancholic. The atmosphere became heavy, the reality of his departure starting to settle in among the players.

“I want you to know that this team meant everything to me. Each of you has incredible talent, and I’ll be cheering for all of you. As soon as I get there, I’ll make sure to stay in touch. And I hope to see some of these faces in September,” he said, looking into each player’s eyes.

“And for the rest, don’t worry! I’ll personally choose the next coach for the Titans. You can trust I’ll pick someone who will continue what we started here, someone who understands what it means to be a Titan. Trust me, after all, as you all say, Coach Knows Best.”

The boys started to applaud, the energy filling the room again. “Thank you, coach! You’re the best!” they shouted in unison.

“Now, get back to having fun! Go Titans!” Steele exclaimed, raising his beer glass in a toast.

The players shouted in response, excitement taking over again. They gathered in a circle, raised their cups, and yelled: “Go Titans!”

[transformation4life]

New Year New Ford

New year's Eve, 2023. 11:55pm. You were watching your local channel that had the New York Ball Drop. Like past new year's you were alone in your apartment. All your friends had got invited to parties besides you so here you were. However one of your friends handed you something interesting last you saw them. "I heard that if you blow the candle and make a wish right as midnight hits it'll come true!" Your friend said as he handed you a star candle.

It sounded like superstition but this year was rough for you as you found yourself unsatisfied with your life and your job so hey it can be worth a shot! You remembered that right before you went to watch the countdown you enviously scrolled Instagram to where you followed a concerning amount of bodybuilders. They seemed to have the perfect lives. Big beautiful body, a loving partner, sponsorships, and getting to show off. Just thinking about it makes you a lil' hard. One bodybuilder that you saw while scrolling caught your eye in particular. He looked so perfect... so large...

"If only I looked like him..." You mutter. Then you hear the people cheering on from 10 to 9 then 8 and so on. You look at the counter with the candle and a lighter and then the tv screen. It was a mad dash to light the candle and put it close to your face closing your eyes and speaking your wish. "I wish I was a bodybuilder with big huge muscles!" You blow out the candle right as it hit midnight.

You open your eyes again and find yourself looking the exact same. What a disappointment. Time for bed though you are very tired. You grab your green blanket and settle down on the couch as you snooze. Unbeknownst to you, your life was going to get a whole lot better.

As you slept, your body started to glow as your white pale skin became that of a bodybuilder tan for competitions. Your clothes evaporated from your body leaving you completely in the nude. Your body now started to expand in all directions. Your flat chest filled with meat and become thick pecs. Your arms became thick like trees. Abs popped in, shoulders becoming bigger, back widening. Your legs became thick and juicy like a drumstick. Your hands became calloused and worn and just a bit bigger. Your small pencil dick increase to a girthy 8 inches of a beer can while your adam's apple became more prominent and neck more thick. Your flat ass became large and bounced like a bubble. Your hair was cut into it was a buzzcut as your body physically aged. The transformation was now complete as you continued to rest. snoring in a much deeper tone.

As the morning came you were still fast asleep unaware that you had a completely new body.

You yawn as you awake not yet realizing your muscular body as you scratch your ass. You seem to forget that you were wearing clothes last night as you walk to your bathroom, letting your new dick dangle. You reach the mirror in the bathroom and rub your eyes and that's when you realize. "OH MY FUCKING GOD?!??!?!" You scream. You finally realized your body changed.

It wasn't long until you started to explore your new body, commenting on your new ass and big dick. While you tested out your new body the scenery around your bathroom became bigger and much more luxurious. In fact, Your entire apartment was remade into a much more massive house not that you knew this was happening. You just let your muscles captivate you. You closed your eyes and you put your massive arms to your head as you thought about your new life. As that was happening your bodybuilder tan slowly disappeared and a cross necklace wrapped itself around your neck and some workout shorts covered your member. No underwear though.

You eventually put your arms down as you realize you should probably check your phone to see if it changed in any way so you leave your bathroom completely blissful of the changes to both your house and bathroom. You head to your new bedroom and check your phone. Much to your surprise, there are notifications from many including dating apps. Seems like the new you gets around. You rub your head as you realize the reality of your new life is going to be a doosey.

As you ponder what to do next you feel something happening in your brain. You can feel your brain processing slowing down. Most academic knowledge you ever had being flushed down the metaphorical drain as it was replace with solely the need to bulk your already large body. You space out as this was happening and a little drool came out of your mouth before you snapped back to reality. The only thing on your mind now is to go to the gym and get RIPPED. So you grab the workout gear you suddenly now have and ride in your car to your favorite place in the world.

You arrive at the gym and scent of musk overwhelmed your nose and it felt like home. With it being the new year you see many new people but that doesn't stop your grind. You walk to the gym lockers and your instincts lead you to a locker with the name "Lunsford". You put your bag into the locker and get back to the gym floor. With ease and effort you work out for hours. You always loved that pump. After working out you adjust your sweaty tank and hand to the gym area with full body mirrors.

Once you arrived you immediately stripped into just underwear and socks and flexed. God you looked so good. You loved your body. You loved your life.

A few months later...

Your life has been such a breeze and you were invited to the beach with some bodybuilder friends you made over the months. In a cocky fashion you flex on the beach before stripping into your beach attire.

was only a matter of time until someone wanted a picture or a video of you. With the first person who asks you put on some shades you had in one of your pockets and put them on, only to take them off immediately after and wink at the camera.

"it's going to be a good year!" You say to yourself as you jog to the water with glee.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hey everyone! Late new year story for ya! Hope this year brings you good fortune and fun! See you in the next story!

[butterscotchpiesandguys]

Student Becomes the Teacher

It was a familiar experience to me, getting in my car, going to class early, doing homework. Felt nice. Of course what was also familiar was the bullying. You see I had recently gotten fired and had a wake up call. I needed to do something better with my life. So what did I do? i, as someone so smart would do, joined a technical institute. I went into a more financial side though. This did not make me popular with my classmates who had been there longer, were usually older, and most of which were more hands on.

They would call me a nerd, a loser, and a geek. Of course I didn't care all too much about this. Harassment was just that, and quite frankly it was some annoying dumb ass adults who couldn't even think straight enough to get a job that was actually needed. This attitude also made me very unpopular. So unpopular a teacher complained. Why? Cause he had heard some of the stuff me and my field would say about the welders.

It was just stuff like how they're stupid, all have at least one DUI, won't amount to anything. Stuff like that. He went so far to complain to the head administrator of the school. Now he used to be an electrician so he knew how it was to be hands on. He loved hearing about all of this and hatched a plan. The workload for the welders had been pretty overwhelming for just one instructor...

It was only a few days before I heard murmurs of a new instructor coming on campus, of course it was some welder... not like my section could get anything. But that same week I was called into an office at campus. I expected nothing much, maybe an odd thing I lost, although what it was I could not imagine... what I didn't expect was the head administrator.

"Hello [Y/N], we just wanted to talk to you today." Oh god what was it about, he could see how nervous I was. It was humiliating but also I needed to try and keep cool. "We had received some complaints about your attitude towards the welders and electricians, I just wanted to go through a few questions with you, that ok?"

Without knowing what to do I nodded, "Y-yes sir." I gulped a bit.

"Good, so first... is it true you had said to Taylor that he was a... no good stoner with no future? Is that true?" I tried to shake my head no but it went the opposite way. "Ah, glad you were honest with me. Well... you know here we like to give second chances to anyone right?" I shook my head in agreement. "In that case, any felonies you have?"

What felonies? What kind of- "Yeah, actually I've had a dui or two, got arrested for a fight or two... or more." What was I saying?! What the hell?!

"I appreciate your honesty... Tom was it?" What kind of name was that? It wasn't my name at all? Wait why did I nod?! "Yeah, well that's gonna be tough but your students generally would relate. The head administrator smiled at me. "We can wave those away since your track record for your work is pretty good."

"Glad to hear that." I said again in that weird voice. What the hell was happening... why did I suddenly remember welding and shit... What the hell...

"Yeah... I think you'll fit right in, Tom." Why was he being so devilish right now?!

"Thanks man, really need this." I chuckled as I stood up and walked out of the room. "Startin next thursday right?"

"Yup! Just wear somethin like that when you come in! We'll get a shirt in your size soon!" He laughed as I walked out, the window in the door showing a new reflection.

My face was more dashing, a bit older as well. My hair was messy but in an almost purposeful way. My body had grown quite a bit of muscle now... hair as well. Tattoos had been put on my body frivolously! I looked like some typical douche bag!

I walked through the halls, trying to see on my phone what had happened. My background was a picture of a motorcycle. Jessie... what? Who the hell was Jessie? My contacts had some girls in there and some guys I had no clue who they were. Going through the messages they were my drinking buddies and some hookups.

I continued until the electrician teacher stopped to talk. "Hey are you..." I wanted to say my actual name but that didn't pop out.

"Yeah, name's Thomas Wylder. You can just call me Tom though." I smiled at her... it was like my body moved on it's own. "New teacher here, welding." Wait...

We started to talk in the hall for a bit, just about staff in the school and how the welders were. She described them as younger than me and rowdy. I would make douchey comments or state shit about my life. Where I now lived, how many years I had been a welder and in the union. It was like I wasn't even me anymore. Eventually I cut it short, needing to go do some "tasks" at my home.

I went outside to find it... the same motorcycle from the picture. Jessie. I put on a leather jacket and no helmet... I could ride it with no issue though. I was still wondering how or why this happened. It was as if I was... no... the head administrator wouldn't do that would he?

I eventually got back to wherever my home was. Beaten up shithole kinda... not in a good neighborhood either. I waved to a neighbor and went in. Smelt like shit, I reached in my pocket and took out a cig and started smoking... no... I was the worst kind of person. The kind I hated. Dumb, arrogant, douchey, and toxic! It was awful!

2 MONTHS HAD GONE BY

I was now regularly teaching the class, about two weeks into this hellish experience I had started to regain full control of my life. While I tried to actually stop these worse traits, I couldn't. By that point they were ingrained into me. Now I acted like a douchey teacher, the kinds you hate. The ones that will just tease or make fun of nerdy kids. Of course I was well loved by the staff and my students.

I worked as a welder and taught the trade now. I hated it... but it gave me money to pay the lifestyle I never wanted. I don't think I deserved this but... I'm slowly coming around to it. I feel more confident and hey, I even hang out with some of the douchebags I had teach me when I went here... god I sound so old now... I hope someday I can reverse this before it's way too late.

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[peaceposts]

VIPs have turned to alcohol as a coping mechanism for emotional turmoil. These influential figures encourage the individual to follow suit in seeking solace through alcohol consumption, leading to a cycle of dependency and negative coping strategies.

[casserpillarr]

Spy what have you done..

[canisalbus]

✦ Fashionably late ✦