#olsc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

persuasivetfs · 1 month ago

Text

A Concerned Friend

Funny thing about churches, for all their talk about faith and trust in their fellow man, they always locked their backdoors, at least all of the different churches Carlos used to attend with his parents did. The back door of Our Lady of Sacred Contentment church seemed to be an exception to the rule. Not only was their backdoor unlocked, but unmonitored by the barest of security systems. It was almost as if they were daring someone to break in. Thankfully Carlos wasn’t there for anything malicious, he just wanted information.

The lanky youth still struggled with the door though. It was heavy, made of a thick wood that required his whole weight to push open. Once inside though he was alone. Carlos made sure to pick a time when, according to the bank’s outward facing security cameras across the street, there was little movement in and around the church.

Slinking through the carpeted back rooms and hallways of the church, Jeremey stealthily made his way into the back office. Closing the door quietly behind him, he then drew the blinds, before sitting down at the office computer. While Carlos would have been ill-prepared to deal with a locked door due to his low physical strength, he was more than ready to tear into the church’s firewall. He had arrived with his flash drive, connective cables, his laptop, and years of experience hacking into the security system of his old high school. Except, like the back door of the church, the computer was left practically wide open to infiltration. Private files, including that of financial records and the personal notes of pastors were all helpfully labeled and the computer didn’t even require a password to access. Only a slight movement against the mouse.

Shaking his head with disappointment, Carlos nonetheless began pouring through documents. At first, he started with a broad scan of words including “testosterone”, “hormones”, and “steroids” but came up empty. So he broadened his search to include “body-building”, “strength”, and “masculinity” which brought in new results but not the kind he hoped. What he was expecting to find was a miracle drug, not articles encouraging “sportsmanship” in church league basketball and notes for sermons around “healthy masculinity” based on the life of Jesus. So, desperate, he broke the one rule he set aside for himself. He looked for information on Dwayne.

Before the church, Dwayne had been his best-friend since high school. Two nerdy non-white boys in a sea of white faces that ruled over AP courses like their own exclusive club. Carlos had even been excited that they were staying in town together, even if Dwayne himself didn’t have plans beyond high school. He always hoped that as soon as his programming career took off, that he would convince Dwayne to join in on the gold mine with him. Then the two of them could move to Silicon Valley and live comfortably, maybe even together, Carlos had hoped together. Then Dwayne suddenly joined the Church and everything changed.

It was like his whole personality changed. Everything was about Jesus, and when it wasn’t about Jesus it was about basketball, and when it wasn’t about basketball it was about Keyon.

Keyon said this, Keyon said that. As if Keyon hadn’t stopped hanging out with them the second he realized he could get more respect playing sports than he ever could on the mathletics team. Dwayne, too, had become a stranger. An extremely attractive stranger, but one who wouldn’t even look at Carlos anymore. It frustrated him to no end.

All this time Carlos had assumed it would be him and Dwayne against the world, but now he didn’t need him anymore. He had Keyon and his girlfriend and his sports, and Carlos had what? His computer? His ability to peer into any security camera system he wanted? The hope of a well-paying career in the face of climate collapse?

At that point, Carlos had even floated thinking of joining the church outright. Homophobic or not, he had seen the church’s results on his former friend and all the bizarrely muscular and attractive Christian men in town, and God did he want that same body for himself. At least if he was in the Church, he could likely fuck all the hot sexually repressed men he wanted, but then he thought, why give them the satisfaction? At least by taking the information directly, he might find a way to look that good and not have to join a cult.

As he searched for any information on Dwayne, he was surprised to find not only detailed notes on his former friend, but many other active members of the Church. Hidden in a file labeled “mental evaluations” Carlos found scores of information detailing people’s personal lives.

Under Dwayne he found notes like, “Subject remains content and blissful in the Lord’s love, but his attachment towards Keyon may require further conditioning. Seems to have no recollection of his former life. Pastor Carter is supervising his continued development but requests advice from a more experienced pastor.” This by itself suggested a level of emotional manipulation and control that Carlos feared but partially expected from Christianity, but there was also a list of all of Dwayne’s personal relationships including those he had before he joined the church, but none of those names were his own. Carlos scoured the list. Identities included second and third cousins and that time Dwayne signed up in a robotics competition with that girl from their AP British Literature course, but not Carlos.

There was a polite knock at the door.

His heart dropped. The door opened and Carlos threw himself to the carpeted floor, facedown. Hoping out of a bizarre strain of luck that the stranger would see the darkened office and then leave. He struggled not to breathe.

“Find what you’re looking for?” a male voice asked from above him.

Spitting out carpet fibers, Carlos raised his head to find one of the pastors looking down on him. A white guy. Fuck.

Instinctively he smiled.

“No hablo inglés,” Carlos tried sheepishly. He went to gather his things while keeping his head down. If the pastors were as trusting as they were with their building’s security, maybe they wouldn’t suspect him if he pretended not to speak English. The pastor cocked his head to the side and smiled warmly.

“Saludos mi amigo de habla Hispana? ¿Qué estás haciendo aquí?“

Fuck. Carlos stopped gathering his things.

“I’m about to be arrested, aren’t I?” Carlos asked, his voice tipped with dread.

“No, but I would like to have a chat. So if you wouldn’t mind, let's take this conversation to the sacristy. Away from the computer,” the pastor said with barely concealed snark.

He stood in the doorway like a teacher as Carlos walked past, the older man following him with his eyes as the pastor shut the door behind him. He led them to the brightly lit room that Carlos had first entered on breaking into the church, then bade him to take a seat in one of two uncomfortable looking purple chairs. Carlos took the one on the left, closest to the office. There was no real chance of escape with his laptop that held all his personal information in the next room. The pastor took the second chair, stretching his limbs like a sleepy cat before he sat down. He crossed his legs like a girl, then leaned forward, his smile wide and unnerving.

“I’m not undocumented,” Carlos blurted out.

“That’s good to know, but if you or anyone you know are, we have many services focused on supporting immigrant communities. I know I have some pamphlets somewhere,” the pastor said, searching his jacket pockets.

“I’m fine. Thank you. If anything I’m just surprised, considering your church’s conservative politics,” Carlos said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Our Church is a place of God and we welcome all people. Part of our church’s mission in worldwide evangelization is a world free of borders and man-made oppression,” the pastor informed him, cheerfully.

“Right, the only acceptable oppression is the kind ordained by God,” Carlos said, sarcastically.

“Correct,” the pastor answered without a trace of irony.

“Okay, cool,” Carlos said, sinking into the back of his seat.

“So let’s talk about why you broke into the church’s private office today, but first an introduction. My name is Pastor Agosti, and you are…” the pastor trailed off.

Carlos wanted to tell him a fake name. Something cool like Big Papi or Axel Steel. Instead he said, “I know about your church’s mind control program!” He slammed a hand to his lips before he could say anything else asinine.

The pastor blinked.

“How much did you…” he trailed on and at that Carlos immediately cracked. He told Pastor Agosti everything he knew. The secret personal files, the surveillance of church members, the church’s terrible security, the blatant attempts to control people’s personal relationships, the obviousness in which the Church was changing men’s bodies and minds to be more pliable for the church. By the time he finished, Carlos was exasperated. To his surprise, despite the pastor not having left his spot and there being no one else in the church Carlos found a glass of water next to him on a coffee table. Not thinking too much about it, he drank quickly, grateful it was there. As he spoke the Pastor had merely listened attentively, staying quiet and nodding his head every once in a while.

“What do you want, Mr. Rodriquez?” the pastor asked, dropping into a thick Italian-American accent that hadn’t been so prominent as when Carlos began rattling off what he discovered.

“Money? Your friend back? Please, blurt it out at your nearest convenience,” the pastor mocked, leaning back into his chair, folding his hands across his chest like he was a Sicillian mob boss. Carlos gulped.

“I want to be hot,” Carlos admitted to the floor, unable to meet the pastor’s eyes. He felt so stupid speaking it aloud to someone.

“Excuse me?”

“I want whatever you did to Dwayne, minus the Christianity. The beautiful face, the muscular, well-toned body, the confidence. Every man walks out of here looking like a sports model and I want that. Desperately. To be honest, I’ll even take the exact same route you had for Dwayne. Put me on the church intramural basketball team, I don’t care. Hell, I’ll even sit through whatever Church service you want if it means I’ll have a body every gay man drools over. Please, that’s all I want, please just help me,” Carlos practically begged. Just the thought of Dwayne or Mr. Khan or that Bulgarian preacher with the swimmer’s body was getting him hard.

“You know, maybe you’re right, Carlos. Maybe our church has been playing fast and loose with its security. I suppose, us pastors have been so convinced of the Lord’s protecting grace that we foolishly believed we didn’t need to lock our doors or hide the personal changes we’ve brought to some of our followers. Maybe we need to adjust our tactics because if a boy fresh out of high school can soak up so much information behind our backs, we may be in danger,” Pastor Agosti said, nodding his head in thought. Then his gaze fell back upon Carlos who shivered.

“But then again, Mr. Rodriquez, you haven’t been that boy for some time,” Pastor Agosti said and Carlos could only watch as his body began to inflate from underneath him. His fingers, once long and nimble, perfect for fast-paced computer work became short and stubby, more accustomed to holding a pen than they were to typing on a computer. His t-shirt, baggy on his wiry frame, started to strain and tear apart as Carlos’s stomach and pecs pushed outward. His bony ass and narrow hips that had been so easily contained to the cushioned chair, soon became restrained by them as his ass cheeks sagged outward from under the plastic handrests.

“This isn’t what I wanted!” Carlos yelled, breathing heavily. “I wanted to be muscular and athletic!”

“Oh there’s definitely muscle under there, Mr. Rodriquez, just atrophied. Age will do that to a man,” Pastor Agosti said with fiendish delight.

Carlos in a panic felt his hair and sure enough it began to recede under his touch. His hair, once covering his eyes, was shrinking away, his hairline moving back across his skull inch by inch until it nearly disappeared entirely. By the time it was done, only a small pool of hair was left at the very top of his head, and even that was starting to thin out. Yet as his head hair receded, his nose twitched as facial hair grew out over his chin and under his nose.

Carlos wanted to scream again, to thrash and throw the chair at the foul creature that had done this to him, but seeping into his brain came a strange and debilitating calm. He tried to fight it, he tried to resist, but his own body was betraying him, relaxing him, easing him into the changes. He released a deep breath against his own wishes and sighed with relief, his thoughts slowing down. With his increased age and bulk, Carlos was feeling tired, worn down when he should have felt energized and full of fear.

“You no longer have the body you once did, old man. Accept it,” came a thought and on great urging from his body, he did. Maybe when he was younger, Carlos had the luxury to be so wound up and full of nervous energy. It was how he did so well as a wide receiver back in high school and college, but in his middle-age, he no longer had the energy to get too worried about things. Still, as tired as he was, this chair was so uncomfortable.

It was nothing like his own office chair. His office chair was double wide and properly cushioned, allowing Carlos to sit for hours without complaint. Not that he didn’t have much time for sitting during the day. Carlos was far more used to striding across the air conditioned interior of his private car dealership, shaking hands and smiling at prospective clients as they came looking for good prices on new and used cars.

He tried to shake himself out of those thoughts, to focus on what he loved about computer programming and hacking and all the nerdy things he loved all his life, but that sounded just so needlessly difficult. Carlos worked at a car dealership because he was born with a silver tongue so it was easy, he loved sports because everyone else he knew loved sports, he joined the Church because everyone he knew loved Jesus, he hated homosexuality because-

At this his thoughts stopped, confused. He looked down at the shreds of his former life, evidenced by his frayed shirt and tattered shorts.

“What am I even doing here?” Carlos asked himself in a daze. From his straining boxer briefs, his dick was hard at full mast, his balls significantly larger and pressing up against the fabric. It left him tremendously horny, deisiring men, but why would he be doing that if he hated homosexuality?

Upon noticing his confusion at his current state, Agosti willed it so Carlos’s clothes began to shift as his body had done. His torn apart graphic t-shirt depicting a Japanese cartoon, blurred until it became a white collared shirt. His cargo shorts lengthened and widened as they became a pair of black slacks, fastened by a leather belt. His dirty sneakers shifted into a pair of brown loafers while a scarlet tie slithered and tightened around his throat. Meanwhile, his underwear, once the freest piece of clothing on his changed body became its tightest, shifting into a pair of ball clenching white briefs that kept him hard and pent up throughout the day. Then to finish his outfit change, a black Apple watch materialized on his wrist, full of message notifications from his employees at the dealership. He smirked. They were helpless without him.

“Mr. Rodriquez?” Pastor Agosti asked. The heavy set man blinked.

“Right, I forgot. We were talking about faggots weren’t we, pastor?” Carlos asked, his newly deepened voice unsteady.

“I believe we were, yes. You had an observation about them I believe,” Pastor Agosti said, curiously, watching him like a cat playing with a ball of string. Carlos, not picking up on this, smiled at the pastor confidently.

“Yes,” Carlos said, voice rumbling. “I find that the sin of homosexuality stems from a lack of stable Christian parenting, yet even this can be corrected with the right instruction and guidance. It's unfortunate that so many could grow up so confused. A secretary of mine, unmarried, has a son she suspected of such confusion, a man I see like one of my own sons, but after a man to man conversation with the boy I found that all he needed was a slap on the ass for him to return to the path of the straight and narrow.”

“That’s a beautiful story, Mr. Rodriquez. I’m sure it must be difficult with such feminine temptations at work with your own wife working in another state.”

Carlos reflected on the gold ring on his finger, and the precious 16 year marriage he shared.

“Don’t you worry about that pastor. She’s spreading the word of God just as you do. Besides, we find ways to reaffirm our love to one another, even if at a distance,” Carlos said smugly and the pastor nodded.

“I’m glad to hear that, though I have to admit that neither I or to my knowledge any of my fellow pastors, have any need for a new or used vehicle. Your input however is greatly appreciated,” Pastor Agosti said formally, his accent pulling away like a 2008 Jeep Cheroke.

Blinking again, Carlos came to accept the pastor’s words as true. It would make sense that he would corner the priest in private where there would be no one and no pressing responsibilities to take him from Carlos’s pitch. He was a shark, he never gave up on a sale. It would be like fumbling the ball inches from the touchdown line.

“I understand your point of view, Pastor, and I respect it, but as a fellow Christian I feel it would be dishonorable for me not to tell you what I’ve heard from others in town about your choice in vehicle. Some erroneous negative opinions, but if you don’t want to hear it I’ll just leave,” Carlos said, getting up from the chair. He took a few steps and entered the church’s private office. There he gathered his open briefcase full of car listings, and his old laptop, an aged device he barely used anymore and went to leave.

“What possibly could people in town be saying about me? What could you possibly know about it?” Pastor Agosti asked, incredulously. Carlos smiled but wiped it away before the priest could see it.

“Talk is that you're a repressed homosexual yourself, pastor,” Carlos said, quietly.

“What did you say to me?” Pastor Agosti fumed, his left eye twitching.

“Now you didn’t hear it from me, but some people here think that with your rundown sissy Lexus-“

”Rundown Lexus? It's called humility. It’s a good thing, I don’t buy a brand new car every year. So what if it's a Lexus? People won’t think that makes me gay, does it? Does it?” Pastor Agosti asked, displaying an anxiety Carlos didn’t know the normally in control priest had.

”Now, I defended you, truly, swear on the Bible, honest to God, said you were a good Christian and that you practice what you preach, but your choice in vehicle certainly made it… difficult,” Carlos said expressing his unease. His memories were loose in his head, but he could at least piece together a narrative about the priest that he could exploit even if it wasn’t true.

“Then what am I supposed to do? I don’t want the congregation to believe I’m spending their donations to the church on materialistic frivolity,” Pastor Agosti opposed, shaking his head and wiping away sweat. Carlos put a firm, confident hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Pastor, come down to my car dealership whenever you get the chance. I’ll see you in the best used modestly priced car that will finally put those sissy rumors to bed. Here’s my card,” Carlos said with a carnivorous smile, handing him a business card that appeared just as he reached for it. The pastor nodded and took it, eyeing him nervously.

Another alert on Carlos’s Apple watch came up.

“I hate these newfangled things. I need one of my sons just to use my Ipad,” Carlos said with a sigh. He patted the priest’s back.

“Well, I should be off. They can’t do anything without me down there,” Carlos said with a chuckle. He headed for the door.

“Wait, Carlos- Mr.Rodriquez-“ he corrected, “what do you know of Dwayne Taylor?”

Carlos frowned, scratching his head. His life was mostly solidified but there was that last loose end that left him untethered. A vague sense of wanting the two to work together in California of all places but then it hit him.

“Why, he’s a brilliant young man on and off the court. I’m hoping he considers my offer to sell cars for me. He might rival my eldest in terms of natural charisma, though neither of them come close to me,” Carlos said with another proud chuckle, his wide stomach jiggling.

“It's good to hear, Mr. Rodriquez. I was just working on a hunch. I’ll see you down at your dealership real soon. Promise,” Pastor Agosti said, his smile not faltering until he watched Mr.Rodriquez leave the church, step outside, and drive off in his sleek luxury car.

Panicking, Pastor Agosti immediately called Lawrence on his private phone.

“Yes?”

“We have a problem. Multiple ones in fact, but first I need to know. Does driving a Lexus make me look gay?”

Carlos didn’t go to the office. At least not right away. He had some husbandly duties he needed to handle first.

At home, at midday he had the house to himself. There he shed his recently acquired clothes and took a series of nude pictures for his wife. His dick ached at the thought of filling her up with another one of his seed. He hoped it would be a boy, their fourth. Thinking of a world full of big, burly Christian men got Carlos hard in a way that could compel him to rip out the bathroom sink.

“Tell me how much you want to fulfill God’s plan?” Carlos asked in text along with the pictures. After he sent them, he leaned against his office desk and moaned in desperate want. A world full of big men, that’s what he wanted the world to be. Muscular, fat, both, he didn’t care.

All he had to do was keep the faith and surround himself with like-minded men like Dwayne. Then maybe, just maybe, Carlos could see the Lord’s vision fulfilled.

#mental change #male transformation #gay to straight #jockification #age change #olsc #gay jock #christian #gay transformation #male tf

90 notes · View notes

persuasivetfs · 6 months ago

Text

Our Lady of Blessed Contentment Part 3

There were many things in Amir Khan’s life that he was not pleased with. His shoestring apartment, his perpetually aching knees, his deep sense of loneliness.

Unmarried, elderly, and as one of the few Muslim residents in town Amir had to make do with what he did have. He had his job as an accountant, his books, his routines and his close personal relationship with God and maybe that was enough.

So it was with sudden disturbance that the elderly Mr. Huang, Amir’s boss at their accounting firm, made a very sudden and public conversion to Christianity. Now this by itself wouldn't have been cause for alarm.

Mr. Huang had been a Buddhist in all the time that Amir had known him, and beyond the statue of Guan Yin he kept on his desk and the occasional day off on Buddhist holidays, Amir hardly would have noticed. He had hoped that little would change, with Mr. Huang’s conversion beyond maybe what days he would have off next.

With this new religion however, came a zealousness that Amir neither expected or wished for. In truth, it scared him. The man had taken to peppering every inch of wall with Bible passages, crucifixes, and artistic scenes from the New Testament.

It made Amir feel as if he’d been kidnapped in the once familiar office, forced to work in the house of a Christian extremist rather than a secular accounting firm. It made him so uncomfortable that Amir was even hesitant to pray as he usually did, fearful that Mr. Huang or somebody else would force him to stop.

And he wasn’t alone in his discomfort either. Several other co-workers, two Buddhists and an atheist, felt similarly about the crowding of Christian imagery in their workspace and met privately to discuss their options.

In time it was decided, that Amir as the most seasoned and loyal employee would meet with Mr. Huang over their concerns. He didn’t like it, but he was willing to do whatever it took to make things bearable at work again.

So it was with quiet trepidation and trembling heart that Amir knocked on Mr. Huang’s door.

“Come in,” Mr. Huang greeted, his voice muffled but much louder than he expected. Amir entered.

Mr. Huang sat calmly at his desk, filling out information on his computer. He looked vastly different than before his conversion.

For one Mr. Huang looked decades younger, his face nearly free of wrinkles, while his bald spot had been covered by a thick crown of wavy brown hair. He smiled.

“What can I do for you Mr. Khan? I hear you have a list of concerns from you and a few of your other co-workers,” he greeted, pausing from his computer with his hands folded on his desk.

“Well, myself and others have grown concerned over the overwhelming nature of Christian imagery in the office. We feel that as a secular accounting office that both employs and receives clients of many faiths that while some displays of your personal faith are acceptable, that what we have now is too much.

”We just ask that some of the Christian imagery is toned down, while asking that you promise to maintain a sense of religious tolerance among staff. I have a list of signatures agreeing to such proposals right here,” Amir explained, revealing a list of 4 signatures including his own.

“May I have a look at that, please?” Mr. Huang asked and Amir obliged, handing it to him. He nodded after examining it.

“Then, I will see to it that everyone on this list feels perfectly comfortable and tolerated working here. We’ll be a solid unit,” Mr. Huang said, getting up from his chair.

It was then that Amir noticed that Mr. Huang not only looked younger than but was slightly taller and far more muscular as well. When he gripped his hand, Amir’s own hand felt small and delicate, as his boss’s which had once mirrored his own in age had gained a flourish of youth and strength.

In the next few days, it was announced that a team building exercise would take place at the local Summer camp on Saturday.

It would consist of Mr. Huang, Amir Khan, Kelly Zhao, Tyre Blake, and David Cheng. It didn’t take long for everyone to deduce that the only people going besides their boss were those who had signed their names on the complaint letter. Amir considered lying about being sick to avoid it, but he felt it’d be wrong if he left his co-workers out to dry while he hid at home so he opted to go.

When the day came and they all drove to the campgrounds, they were all greeted by Lawrence Daniels, a stoic and smooth-talking young man who introduced himself as a kind of guidance counselor.

Also attending to everyone’s surprise was Mr. Huang’s adult son, Eric. The last any of them had seen of Eric he was arguing with his father in the parking lot of their office. Eric had been dressed in a revealing nylon crop top and pair of skinny jeans while covered entirely in body paint. From what Amir could gather, Mr. Huang had bailed Eric out of jail after being caught trespassing with an illegal homosexual night club. Apparently the hope had been that Eric would abandon such foolishness and go back to school so he could work at his father’s company but that very quickly fell through. At least that’s what Amir had thought.

Yet this Eric dressed in a white button down shirt, khaki pants, and upright posture seemed entirely different from the man Amir had known of. This Eric looked like a younger splitting image of his father, similar in rigidity and strength.

Amir followed the pair inside. It was a dining hall with connected lunch tables crowding from one side of the room to the next. As people took their seats at one of the tables, Amir struggled to move his legs, the pain in his old knees was too much.

“Try sitting on the edge next to me, Mr. Khan,” Eric’s charming voice offered. Amir, surprised, did as Eric suggested, sliding in next to him on the corner after Eric comfortably sat down.

“Hello there, welcome everyone. My name is Lawrence Daniels and I’m a pastor at Our Lady of Sacred Contentment Church,” all of them but the priest, Mr. Huang and Eric Huang looked to each other to confirm what had just been said.

Not only had Mr. Huang converted to this priest’s church, but he was most likely just trying to convert them all as well. This possibility drew collective annoyed glares and heavy sighs from the non-Christian participants.

“Alright calm down everybody, I’m only here as a secular facilitator of today’s team-building function, nothing more. Just thought I’d be honest about where most of my work experience as public facilitator has been,” Pastor Daniels admitted, not expecting such resentment.

“It’s quite alright, Pastor. Please continue on,” Mr. Huang said in an authoritative voice.

“I hope I can leave early. My knees are particularly bad today,” Amir whispered to himself. Eric nodded.

“This won’t take long, we’ll be out of here soon,” Eric said with a wink in his direction.

“Now I’ve heard that we’ve had some trouble with disunity around the office. So together we’re going to work through some exercises to improve company cohesion. Now before we start I’d like you all to fill out these brief questionnaire sheets,” Pastor Daniels explained, handing out sheets and pencils to the table.

Amir stared down his questionnaire. It asked him basic questions about his age, his marriage status, his skills, his interests, his faith, his education. His whole life on a single sheet of paper. It didn’t take long for him to finish.

When all the papers were collected, Pastor Daniels skimmed each one before coming to a stop.

“Amir Khan?” Pastor Daniels asked, scanning the room. Amir’s stomach lurched like he had been called on in class.

“Yes, Mr. Daniels?” Amir refused to call him his pastor.

“I’ve noticed a few strange discrepancies on your form. Are you being completely honest with me?” Pastor Daniels asked, pointing at the papers. Amir looked around flabbergasted.

“I have nothing to lie about,” Amir answered with a shrug.

“It says here you’re 67, but that can’t be true. You look about 30,” Pastor Daniels said with the voice of a school teacher impatient with childish pranks.

Amir wanted to counter him but suddenly found that he couldn’t. Years were peeling off his face as the seconds clicked by. His wrinkles were receding, his hair was growing and his body was regaining a sense of vitality he hadn’t felt in ages. Across his face, his wispy gray mustache and well-kept beard had faded and become replaced with a dark and luxurious mustache that Amir felt the sweet urge to twirl between his fingers.

“And here, you say that you are unmarried yet you have a gold wedding ring across your finger. Or is that mere jewelry, Mr. Khan?”

A solid gold ring materialized on Amir’s finger and with it a name, Jasleen. Amir had thought they had lost touch after he emigrated to the United States and yet he remembered that they had married, that she had come with him, and that she was young as he was. In fact, they already had a son and there was another child on the way.

“Nope, proudly married. I wrote that as a joke,” Amir said, half-confused as he tried to save face. Everyone gave him looks that varied between pity and annoyance.

“Maybe try to keep such jokes between friends, right, man?” Eric whispered with pleading eyes.

“Yeah, sorry,” Amir said, awkward and dazed. He vaguely remembered Eric Huang as his boss’s unemployable gay adult son but that was impossible. Eric worked as a major consultant for his father’s accounting firm with the hope to inherit it after Mr. Huang’s retirement and he was engaged to a woman. Eric was one of Amir’s closest friends and yet he couldn’t remember the two working together. Did this mean that Amir never worked there?

“Now for what you wrote for interests, you put math puzzles and reading but that doesn’t sound like you at all. Of all I’ve heard from Eric, you only love football, nutrition, and exercise.”

Amir groaned as his whole body ballooned underneath him. His neck widened, his chest expanded, his arms and legs and torso packed on muscle. While never the most unathletic man in the world, Amir had played tennis in college, he felt larger and more powerful than he had ever felt. Memories of tennis soon gave way into football, and Amir suddenly gained a deep and reverent joy in the sport that had never died with age.

Suddenly his small tweed sweater and corduroy pants felt too small for him, too old for a muscular young man such as himself. Before he could focus too hard on his outfit, he found himself in a snug gray crop top, a pair of nylon shorts and sneakers, as if he was in the middle of a run.

“And with faith, you wrote Islam but as a non-pastor you have one of the strongest and loudest senses of devotion to our church. You’re obviously a deeply pious Christian man,” Pastor Daniels pointed out.

For much of his life Amir’s faith had always been a private matter. A relationship that was intimate and quiet, achieved through reflection and reverence. Made all the more quiet, in such a county where his religion was often regarded as a threat.

Yet in that priest’s voice, Amir felt a sense of electrifying zealotry that he never had before. A devotion that could not be contained in quiet contemplation but had to be shared with all the people of the world.

His new faith too, had come with a sense of community Amir had long craved. Every week, if not more, he could go to church and pray among the throngs of the faithful. No longer isolated, Amir could be as open about his faith as he wished and would often find others in town who shared his views.

“I’m a Christian first before anything else, Pastor. I would never write any other faith as being more important than the one we share,” Amir said, raising his eyes to heaven with the passion of a Sunday preacher.

“Right of course, my apologies. You did write ‘Christian’ here. Never should have thought differently, though there is one other complication, Brother Khan,” Pastor Daniels said, pausing for dramatic effect before he went on. The dining hall was silent. A bug buzzed by the window. Kelly Zhao yawned.

“Why did you fill out this sheet at all? You work as a gym teacher and football coach at the local high school. I still don’t know why you even came in here.” Memories writing and rewriting themselves to fit the current situation blurred into Amir’s mind.

“I was carpooling with Eric to the school gym when he got a text to come here to act as co-facilitator from Mr. Huang. So not wanting to be bored in the car, I tagged along and wrote down some information on one of your forms. Wanted to see how far I'd get before you noticed,” Amir said with an impish grin.

“Why were you heading to the school gym?” Mr. Huang sternly asked Eric who shuffled nervously in his seat.

“It's Saturday at midday, I have the keys, and the basketball team doesn’t practice till 6. Figured we’d have the whole place to ourselves,” Amir admitted, idly twirling his mustache.

“Well Eric, while I still need you here, it should be no harm to take a few minutes to drop Mr. Khan off at the school. Please do so before we have another distraction,” Mr. Huang said, hand waving the pair away.

Both of them grunted as they slid up from their seats, their muscular legs were too large to be able to stand up and out of them.

Amir, for all his new personal history that had just become cemented in his head in the last half hour, still marveled at the fact that his knees, still the weakest part of his body, were strong enough to successfully hold up his massive new weight.

Eric let out a sigh of relief as the pair left the dining hall behind.

“Thanks for trying to make my Dad’s team building exercise interesting, Amir. Though probably not the best to make jokes when my Dad’s trying to bring people into the fold,” Eric said politely as Amir swaggered out in his muscular new form.

“You’re welcome, bro. I find that adding humor in discussions of faith, improves everybody’s mood and can help make people more amenable to the word of God,” Amir said, confidently.

“You also work with teenage boys everyday. So what works with them might not work with my co-workers, or my father,” Eric said, dreading the future argument they would have. Eric unlocked the car from a distance.

”You think Pastor Daniels is really going to successfully convert the Sinners back there?” Amir asked, twirling his mustache with deep satisfaction.

In the walk to Eric’s car, Amir noticed an old gray Saturn that felt uncannily familiar. It was a small, old car, seperate from the others, probably abandoned. Amir quickened his pace, unnerved, only satisfied until they reached Eric’s own Jeep.

“He hasn’t failed yet,” Eric answered, getting into the driver’s seat. “Honestly, I have no idea how those pastors at our church do it. It worked on my father and our family, and you know how obstinate he is.”

“They’re really building a new world. God’s heavenly kingdom on Earth and we all get to be a part of it,” Amir said with a grin and a mighty flex of his muscular arm before he got inside the passenger's seat. Eric started the car.

“We’ll have to see about that,” Eric answered quickly, so quickly he hoped Amir didn’t hear. The man didn’t seem to notice, smiling with unaware bliss as he twirled his mustache.

In the coming days and weeks, Amir quickly solidified himself as both a major aid and hindrance of Wentworth Falls Public High School. On one hand, the man was an excellent football coach, encouraging his players to victory in a way they haven’t seen all season. However, Amir was also proving to be a major source of controversy. While once afraid to do so much as pray in public as a Muslim, as a Christian in the United States, Amir was emboldened to invoke Jesus and the Church, even to the point of working to convert some of his students.

While this new Amir had come to lack the eloquence of people like Pastor Daniels or the quiet subtlety of Pastor Agosti, he was able to utilize his position to convert young wayward souls to the Church as Pastor Carter would do once the Church basketball team was set up.

Many in the school’s admin were opposed to such open proselytizing in a public school, and tried to use threats of suspension to force Amir to stop, but certain conservative religious and private interests blocked any real chance of that happening. The influence of Our Lady of Sacred Contentment was growing. It was only just the beginning.

#mental change #male transformation #hypnosis #christian #jockification #age regression #olsc

73 notes · View notes