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Frat House in the Woods

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FRAT HOUSE IN THE WOODS: SAM

It was the usual dossier. Ordinary intelligence agencies would have considered it bizarrely incomplete, except in certain areas, but the Adjustment Institute was only an intelligence agency in a very specialized sense of the word. Their assessment of their five targets was impressively completein the areas it cared about.Lawrence skimmed over it one last time.

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HOUSTON, SAMUEL TAYLOR

Age: 27

Height: 6’1”

Weight: 211 lbs

GPA: 3.91


The old-school dossiers fed you a bunch of raw data about penis length (flaccid and erect), girth, erogenous zone sensitivity, and other bits of extremely technical information. It was an impressive display of just how much raw sexual statistics the Institute could acquire without alerting anyone, but it was a huge amount of effort for something mostly useless. Lawrence had gotten this promotion by figuring out a very clever shortcut for finding the important information.

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Of the targets presented, HOUSTON will require the least work on our part, already matching a large number of requirement tags, such as MUSCLE, JOCK, LIBIDO, ALPHA, and the very important SEXUAL EXPERIENCE. His dedication to physical culture and to having frequent sex with people he sort of knows will require no adjustment on our part. However, HOUSTON is also a powerful intellect with a promising future in academia. He applies the same dedication we see in his sex life to his other passion, textual criticism. In fact, he often combines the two, and the only thing preventing him from being more prominent than he already is is his habit of sleeping with research partners and getting distracted.

We anticipate that, when adjusted into a position where academic work becomes untenable, HOUSTON will quickly fall into compliance with any plan based on his other main interest.

HOUSTON’s physical development is good to excellent all around, with no major weak points. His major glamour points are his biceps, thighs, and his ability to look surprisingly slender in clothes. His cock is only slightly above average in length and girth. His primary relevant fetishes are shower sex and group masturbation. (I redact the list of other fetishes, which are irrelevant and will soon be adjusted.)

Lawrence couldn’t help but smile a little. Clearly, whoever had written the dossiers had some opinions on how this adjustment should go. Of course, given the writers’ first-class knowledge of the subject, there were certainly worse plans. Yes, Sam Houston would be the first sacrifice on the board.

He flicked a finger and beckoned the high-tech viewing glass towards him, and called up a live view of the opening minutes of the ritual:

*  *  *  *  *

The car crossed the city line, and, shortly afterwards, another and invisible line, as it entered the woods and crossed unknowingly into a different kind of space altogether. The five young men reached their destination without incident and piled out to look at their home for the next few days.

“It’s bigger than I was expecting,” said Nathan.

“Apparently it was going to be a frat house, as part of a Greek village that failed,” said Sam.

“That is… an amazingly terrible place to build a Greek village.”

Sam shrugged. “I did say it failed. Anyway, the rental was very cheap. And there’s absolutely nothing to do here except finish our article. Is everybody ready to buckle down?”

*  *  *  *  *

And they did. Lawrence fast-forwarded through the entire weekend, which was nothing but five men working steadily on an article for the university’s quarterly magazine. This would never please the Great Ones. Lawrence rewound time back to the beginning of the weekend on the glass and went looking through his tools. He selected an option titled BREAKDOWN.

*  *  *  *  *

The car crossed the city line, and, shortly afterwards, another and invisible line, as it entered the woods and crossed unknowingly into a different kind of space altogether. But there was a hitch, and something on the road tore a hole in one of the tires, forcing four young men to wait while the fifth, the only one who knew about cars, jacked up the car and attached the replacement tire.

“Well, at least we’re here,” said Nathan, when they finally were. “Wow, that’s… a big place.”

“Man, I don’t even care,” said Sam, who was dirty, sweaty, and disgruntled. (Lawrence had assisted in this with a few presses of his DIRT and SWEAT buttons.) “I just want a shower.” They trooped in, four of them looking for a workspace and one of them looking for the bathroom.

*  *  *  *  *

“Much better,” said Lawrence, moving the glass to follow Sam only. “And now that I’ve got you alone, Mr. Houston, you’re going to need a few adjustments.”

*  *  *  *  *

Sam found the master bathroom and went looking through his shaving kit for shampoo. Lawrence deleted the shampoo. (Protocol dictated that he should have deleted it as soon as he decided on his approach, but doing it on the fly was much cooler. If you did this job without style, you were missing the point.)

Sam, finding no shampoo of his own, went to see if there was any left in the shower. Lawrence paused the weekend and put some there. This took a few minutes as Lawrence went looking deep into his menus for some of the specialized options.

There was shampoo, and conditioner, so Sam took his clothes off (SCREENSHOT, pressed Lawrence) and got in. Finally, he could get all that dirt off. He wondered if he could call someone to bring a proper tire, or if he’d have to drive the car out to be repaired on Monday. Meanwhile, he lathered the house-brand shampoo into his hair.

*  *  *  *  *

Lawrence opened a status window off to one side to monitor the progress of the adjustment. It showed Samuel Houston’s naked body full-on, along with a few important statistics like height, weight, arousal level, and, of course, IQ. The IQ bar read 120.

Then, it dropped to 119.

“Oooo-gah,” said Sam, like a moaning bull, without really noticing he was doing it. The arousal bar, and his cock, began to rise as the chemical cocktail in the shampoo did its work.

The shampoo, as altered by Lawrence, had effects that were both complex and very simple. The chemicals immediately went to work on Sam’s powerful brain and began sealing shut neural pathways having to do with higher rationality, complex reasoning, and the superego. It was a very intricate process just to achieve the simple result of turning Sam stupid. About three minutes after getting into the shower, the IQ bar read 87.

Sam didn’t notice himself getting dumber, partly because the parts of his brain that could make that kind of observation were turning into goo, but mostly because the secondary effect of the chemicals was to make him much hornier. Since Sam was already quite horny naturally, this served to focus his attention completely on the arousal bar between his legs. By the time he turned his thoughts back to thinking, he’d have no thoughts left to think about.

“That’s a… blue-steel boner I’ve got,” he muttered to himself, soaping his hand up to pump it more easily. God, the hot water and his hot cock felt amazing. He could feel his cock inside his head as he stroked it, as if he were building a model dick in his imagination and watching it fill more and more of the available space with pure pleasure.

“I feel… feel… fuuuuckkk…”

What Sam felt was, indeed, fuck. As the heavy dose of pharmaceuticals completed its mission, he came, and a tidal wave of an orgasm washed across his mind and drowned it. He moaned loudly, exactly like a stupid, horny bull, and his fuckstick (which was now also his only working brain) fired ropes of cum across the shower, then continued throbbing in ecstasy for a full minute after his balls were empty.

Slowly, slowly, the golden ocean of pleasure receded from his brain. When it had gone, there was not much left. Where there had once been a shining citadel of knowledge, bedecked with hopes, dreams, and a few naked selfies, there was now nothing but a giant dick-shaped skyscraper, permanently erect.

Sam’s ejaculate, and most of his doctorate, went down the drain. He did not miss them. “Uh!” he said, still drunk with bliss. “Guh!” That sort of expressed how he felt, but even with his drastically-lowered intellectual capacity, he thought that his world-record orgasm deserved better. The former English major struggled with his words as though he was herding kittens, but finally came up with:

“Man. Perfect man. I am the perfect man.”

And that, he felt, pretty much summed it up.

*  *  *  *  *

“Damn right you are,” said Lawrence, admiring his handiwork. Sam’s glazed eyes, heavy torso, and his swollen cock all spoke to a magnificent thickness that was the Institute’s one and only product. “Adjustment complete.”

He paused the flow of time, removed his clothing, and knelt down in front of the glass to pray. As he spoke, the image slowly stretched out into full-screen mode until it covered the space from floor to ceiling like a stained-glass window. He stroked his own cock and called out to his gods:

“Oh, Great Ones, I offer unto you this, the first sacrifice of many! This man’s body was as solid as a rock, and his lust was mighty, but his mind was displeasing unto you, for it was powerful and full of thoughts. I offer that mind to you in sacrifice, that you may see him as he is now, a dumb-ass horny jock, and be appeased!”

The giant image of Sam, which looked more like stained-glass than ever, flexed its giant muscles and moaned. “I’m such a fuckin’ dumbass!” it bellowed in a voice that sounded kind of, but not really, like Sam, even the new stupid Sam. “I got a head full of muscles and I fuckin’ love it!” The glass giant jerked itself off, and the Great One’s pleasure poured itself into Lawrence’s own cock, letting him share in the divine orgasm. In theory, this shared pleasure helped to cement obedience in the brains of Institute executives, but the money that was even now flowing into the Institute’s bank account was a powerful incentive as well.

Lower-level members were taught that the Great Ones were offered sacrifices of human potentialthat the men whose bodies were enhanced and minds numbed became symbolic offerings to the controllers of reality so that the rest of humanity could be spared. Executive members knew the truthultimately, the Great Ones wanted to see nerds turned into jocks because they thought it was super hot.

As the moment of communion passed and the glass returned to its normal mode, Lawrence stretched. “Now the first sacrifice will be made obedient unto us, that he might bring further offerings unto you. Except, first, I need a shower.”

“Or,” he said, “maybe later…”

Lawrence went looking into the submenus under BREAK WITH REALITY.

*  *  *  *  *

Sam flexed. God, his body was hot. It was amazing that he ever wore clothes; he could look at himself all day.

Actually; he wasn’t looking at himself. He could have admired himself more efficiently if he’d stepped out of the shower and in front of the mirror, but he was no longer good at having ideas like that. Besides, he could picture himself perfectly, and that was what counted, and the hot water felt so good

He was surrounded by warm rain and steam, almost like he was in six showers at once. He opened his eyes and found that he was, and that the shower had expanded into an enormous, circular room with many shower-heads blanketing him from all sides. In between the showerheads were exactly the mirrors he hadn’t realized he needed.

“Mm,” he said. He was no longer curious about things, but this was nice. He flexed at himself in the mirror, good and hard.

“Fuckin’ sick, bro,” said somebody’s voice. This matched so perfectly with what he was thinking at the time that he didn’t realize he hadn’t spoken. “You’re as ripped as hell. You’re like a god among men. You are a sex machine. Your cock is…”

The stream of narcissistic admiration went on and on, and as it continued, Sam, still unable to tell the words apart from his own thoughts (so similar were they) began to repeat the things it said out loud. “Your cock is the key to happiness. Mymy cock is the key to happiness.”

Overhead, the room lighting began to pulse and fade into many different colors. They fell on the eyes of the many reflected Sams, causing them to change hue over and over as Sam stared into them, mindlessly repeating the thoughts he was given.

“I got so horny that my brain bust a nut and now I am stupid. I like being dumb. I have big muscles and a big cock. I don’t care about finishing the paper. Instead I will…”

Sam hesitated, as some small remnant of his own personality objected to the commands being transmitted to him.

The mirror-Sams, grinning dumbly at him, reached for their cocks.

“Uhh! Yeah! Uh! I’ll fuck all my friends this weekend! Yeah! I’ll help make them into muscle morons! I obeyuh!all commands! Anything you say! Uh! Yes! Yes, master!”

Sam came again, and his last traces of resistance were wiped away.

Sam smiled.

“I will fuck Nathan first,” he said, dreamily. “I will lure him here and bring him into the shower. I will help you to adjust him. Yes.”

He blinked, and the shower was again an ordinary shower. He turned it off, found a towel, and dressed himself. “Fuck machine, engage,” he said. He was happy, as men are who have found their one purpose in life and set out to do it.

He went in search of Nathan.

*  *  *  *  *

“Nice to have some reliable help,” said Lawrence. Sam, no longer capable of much introspection, was helpless to resist his hypnosis. It had taken only a few minutes to make him willingly, happily obedient, even to the point of betraying his best friends. The Institute could transmit its orders directly into his dick, which now performed the bulk of Sam’s thinking. Now, he would bring the next sacrifice to them himself.

Of course, with his superior strength, Sam could easily manhandle Nathan into the shower, rub shampoo into his hair, pump his cock until his brains blew out, and then hold him in place for another round of hypnotism. It would take less than ten minutes to make Nathan into one more zombie just like his friend.

But that would never do.

The Great Ones had been much pleased with the turn-smart-horny-jock-into-dumb-horny-jock-in-the-shower-with-brain-damage-shampoo-followed-by-shower-jerkoff-with-hypnosis scenario, but they wouldn’t be pleased by a repeat of the same performance, or even a mild variation. The Institute had not achieved its prominence by giving its gods less than constant innovation. The second adjustment would have to be something completely different. This, Lawrence was prepared to provide.

He reached to the glass and pulled up his second dossier.

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FRAT HOUSE IN THE WOODS: NATHAN

“Hey, Nathan? Could you help me with something?”

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NATHAN EMMANUEL REED
Age: 25
Height: 6’0”
Weight: 178 lbs.
GPA: 4.0

Modern research into animal behavior indicates that the idea that wolves naturally divide themselves into alphas/betas/etc. is based on faulty research. Unfortunately, nobody told REED, who has been HOUSTON’s beta ever since his freshman year. REED, a gangly nerd, has faithfully worshipped his superior roommate and has mostly received only amused tolerance in return.

        REED longs to be more like HOUSTON, has attempted to mimic his idol’s dedication to bodybuilding and casual sex, but lacks the necessary follow-through. His favorite sexual fantasy is that HOUSTON will take him under his wing and mold him into his image as a cocksman, but so far HOUSTON has had better things to do than run REED’s life for him.

        REED matches none of our requirement tags except for LIBIDO—very disappointing all around. However, his overpowering desire for precisely what we have to offer should make it easy to achieve his compliance with almost any adjustment scenario.

Lawrence shook his head, sadly. What could you do with someone like this, too weak of will to achieve their goals even when they knew exactly what they wanted and how to get it? Lawrence had achieved his own perfectly-muscled frame through old-fashioned hard work, by kidnapping young men, twisting their minds and bodies in order to sexually satisfy ancient and unknowable gods, and receiving big muscles from those gods in payment.

        Some people just didn’t want to put in the effort.

        Of course, this was all rhetorical. He knew exactly what he could do with someone like that, and he was doing it right now. He’d teach this Mr. Reed the incredible value of hard work, and also make all his wildest dreams come true.

        This job gave you a lot of opportunities to be generous—within certain limits.

*    *    *    *    *    *

“I think I made a pipe mistake,” said Sam.

        Nathan wasn’t exactly sure what that was. He tried to figure out exactly what Sam was getting at. Was “pipe mistake” a pun, or a reference to some obscure piece of Elizabethan drama? Sam loved both.

        It was hard to do serious figuring because Sam had not put a shirt on after leaving the shower. His back muscles rippled back and forth as Nathan followed him down one of the building’s many overly-twisty hallways, making concentration difficult.

        He had done it on purpose, of course. Sam had never returned his roommate’s intense sexual interest in him, but although he never actually said so, he seemed to derive considerable satisfaction from having a dedicated hopeless worshipper. Nathan did not actually do Sam’s laundry, but he would have done if Sam had asked him, and that had always been enough to make Sam happy.

        It was also possible that Nathan had imagined all this, and Sam simply thought of him as a friend.

        “I might need you to hold it for me,” said Sam, gesturing into the bathroom. “It’s gone all—you see?”

        Nathan did not see, because the bathroom was essentially a giant cloud of billowing steam, which was, come to think of it, probably the problem Sam was referring to. He wondered what the hell Sam had done to make that happen, but not for very long, because Sam had come up behind him, clapped one arm over his mouth, and with the other carried Nathan into the bathroom.

        Nathan didn’t bother trying to shout or struggle. It wouldn’t be the first time Sam had indulged in pranks that involved manhandling his roommate (this kind of humor was another thing he had in common with the Elizabethans). Also, the manhandling brought him into direct contact with Sam’s chest. He had very little time to think about this, before Sam threw him into the shower, where he vanished.

        Sam, happy with a job well done, took off all his clothes, checked his abs in the mirror (a failure, because of all the steam), and stepped into the shower. He fell into an inch of water and vanished beneath the surface as though it had been a mighty lake.

*    *    *    *    *    *

Nathan struggled to the surface of the water and found himself at the edge of what seemed to be an underground pool. This room, like the bathroom, was shrouded in steam, and he couldn’t make out any walls or ceiling as he climbed out onto the floor.

        There was a splash as Sam dropped into the water behind him. He turned to his buddy and tried to look delighted instead of just flabbergasted. “This place has a basement pool? And they closed it? This weekend rental wasn’t cheap at all, was it?”

        Sam pushed himself up out of the pool and into a handstand on the edge, then flipped himself backwards onto his feet. He was completely naked.

        Nathan had seen this before. Like many outgoing people with really good bodies, Sam would occasionally be “accidentally” seen around the apartment without anything on, or appear in Nathan’s room in tight briefs demanding an evaluation of his latest “gains.” This, however, was the first time Sam had appeared in front of him mother-naked and fully erect.

        The grin was all Sam, though.

        “It was cheap as hell,” said Sam, waiting.

        Nathan refused to say “You’re naked,” because Sam would obviously have thought that sounded dumb and obvious, which would make the prank even more embarrassing. He summoned up one-hundred-percent of the savoir-faire he possessed and said, instead, “I was thinking you’d made some progress on your quads. Those pants were going to have to go sooner or later.” Quads were a pants muscle, right? You could burst your pants if your quads got too big… probably.

        Sam kept grinning, and being naked. “You like what you see?”

        Nathan flashed through all the possibilities in seconds. Was this a prank? If so, it was crueler than anything Sam had ever been known to do. Was he hallucinating? Surely a bump on the head wouldn’t cause hallucinations this specific. Had the love of his life, finally, and now of all times, suddenly decided to seduce him here and now?

        He couldn’t bring himself to believe in any of them, but his brain, now that someone else had set the terms of the engagement, kept inventing things for him to say.

        “I love it,” he said. “And you look happy to see me.”

        Nathan realized that he was flirting with Sam. Was it really this easy? Could you just think of ways to tell people you wanted to sex them and then say them out loud?

        “I am, bro,” said Sam. “I am.” And he took Nathan and kissed him.

        It was so impossible, so perfect, that Nathan didn’t let himself think about the reasons it really was impossible. Like, Sam didn’t call people “bro.” Or lure them into secret underground swimming pools. Or take their hands in his and wrap them around his bare, throbbing member.

        “I got something for you, bro,” said Sam, squeezing Nathan’s unresisting hand into the link of hot sausage. “But first, I got something else.” He stretched out one amazing arm and snapped his fingers.

        There was a noise of hydraulics and metal and motion, and and a great stone throne began to rise from the pool, sending water cascading as it emerged from the depths. It was such a massive and pointless erection that Nathan thought he understood why this place had gone bankrupt. Sam, on the other hand, saw what Nathan was too smart to notice, which is that the thing was shaped like a large, crude erection itself.

        Sam carried Nathan lightly over the shallow water and set him lightly down upon the throne. Nathan only had time to say “Is this—” before the restraints snapped into place.

        Nathan found that he could not move his arms or legs or turn his head. He seemed to have receded slightly into the warm stone. “This is going to be so hot, bro,” said Sam, staring into Nathan’s eyes with obvious arousal. “Do you feel it yet? Are you getting dumber, bro? Are you horny to obey?”

        Nathan just wanted to get away. He didn’t know what was going on in Sam’s head. He didn’t even know what was going on in his own.

*    *    *    *    *    *

“Let me explain what’s going on in your head,” said Lawrence.

        Nathan found himself standing on a platform hovering in the darkness of what Nathan instinctively recognized as his own mind. Hovering around him were the pieces of his thoughts and memories, and also, the intruder, Lawrence, hovering in the air. He had slick black hair and designer blue jeans, and wore nothing else over his wickedly-ripped chest.

        “Our reality is under the control of certain ancient and unknowable beings,” said Lawrence. “If they wished it for even a second, everything we know would vanish like a web forum when the bills aren’t paid. And so it is my job to appease them, to give them what they want, and what they want is something very specific.

        “What they want is to see a bunch of nice, smart young men like yourselves turned into stupid, muscular fuckboys, and set loose to have a wild, mindless orgy. Your friend Sam was first. Now you’ll be next.”

        “This is gross,” said Nathan calmly, much more calmly than he felt. But if he wasn’t in control here, he wasn’t in control anywhere.

        “No, it’s totally hot,” said Lawrence. “Just look at your buddy out there.” He waved a hand and opened up a window on Sam, who was engaging in an impromptu muscle worship routine for Nathan’s unconscious body. Nathan’s body was glassy-eyed and smiling, so apparently it liked the show. “Hey, man, are you dumb yet?” said Sam. “Hurry up and get stupid so we can fuuuuuuuck.”

        “See, now that is hot as hell,” said Lawrence. “Pure muscle and sex, one hundred percent man. Of course, you missed the show. It was pretty awesome; I tricked him into using shampoo made mostly of aphrodisiacs and a little lead, and watched him jerk his own brains out and love it. You don’t even know hot until you’ve seen that.”

        “He was plenty hot before,” sulked Nathan.

        “What, you don’t like the musclehead type?”

        “No.”

        “That’s your story,” agreed Lawrence. “But what’s this?” With another wave of his hand, he pulled one of the stars from the sky and extracted a folder full of papers from it. The folder was labelled “NATE.”

        “Oh, no. No, no, no,” said Nathan, and made a grab for the folder, but Lawrence simply drifted lightly out of his reach, idly browsing through the documents.

        “Dear me, this is a find,” said Lawrence. “No matter how much you protest, it looks as though you and I have something in common…”

        He let the papers spread out across the sky, revealing in humiliating clarity Nathan’s secret fetish. Not just his wish that Sam would take him under his wing and teach him how to be a man, but other, darker fantasies. Crude drawings of fantasies where Sam had pinned him down with a pocket watch and subjugated his mind, transforming him into just the kind of muscle-minded jock that Sam had now become. He had built up an imaginary masculine persona for himself, who called himself “Nate” and didn’t wear shirts. Most shameful of all was the very last memory, which showed his own treacherous boner swelling up in his groin as he became aware of Sam’s fate.

        “Now this is just too good to be true,” said Lawrence. “See, isn’t this just the right place for a guy like you?”

        “No,” said Nathan, trying not to sound dramatic or heroic, which he didn’t think he could back up right now. He just said it because he wasn’t going to say “Yes.”

        “Well, that’s your choice,” said Lawrence. “For now, I mean. Shortly you will stop making choices forever, but sure, you can tell yourself you made an important choice not to give in to my wicked wiles.”

        Lawrence frowned and added, “But really, that’s what makes you so pitiful. You’ve never chosen to do anything, have you? You never told your friend how you felt about him; you just hoped that one day he’d spontaneously invite you to ride his hog. You wanted to be a real man, but not enough to actually make any changes in your life; you just hoped that somebody would pick you up and tell you what to do and carry you to the gym like a little baby. Well, little baby, today is your lucky day. You’re going to become a new man.”

        He clasped his palm and fingers together, instantly snapping all the papers and memories back into the folder. “Here are your marching orders. From now on, this fellow Nate is the real you. You’ll live his life, deliver his lines, and think his thoughts, and never let anybody know the old you was ever here.”

        He dropped the NATE folder off the platform and let it fall into space; or rather, he let it drift upwards towards the sun, which Nathan dimly recognized as being himself. In some part of himself, he recognized that his stupid fantasy about being controlled and reshaped, about being remade as a male sex object, was falling deep down into some part of himself that should have been cordoned off. It was becoming part of his ability to make decisions, or to tell right from wrong. He struggled, but had nothing to really struggle against except empty air.

        “Just let me massage this into your brain a little,” said Lawrence, approaching him ominously. Waves of dark, oppressive force came off his body like breath and beat against Nathan until he could he could no longer see. Nathan’s last, defiant thought before losing track of himself was that this creep was a poser, unlike Sam, the real Sam, who would never, ever skip leg day.

*    *    *    *    *    *

He awoke, unsure of whether he was still trapped in his own mind or not, before realizing that he was back in the stone throne, with Sam leaning over him. He tried to speak, but Sam shushed him. “Are you there, bro? You understand me?”

        “Fuck you,” Nathan did not say. “Never!” he also didn’t say. “Let me go!” also did not get said.

        Nathan realized with a sinking feeling that Nathan… no longer got to say things. His traitor mouth would only respond to commands that came from Nate. He fought to force his body to speak, to resist—but nothing happened. Only Nate had access to the driver’s seat.

        With infinite reluctance, because his only other option was to sit there forever, Nathan came up with something for Nate to say. He said “Nah, bro. I don’t understand anything. That shit’s for nerds.”

        It was an infinite, humiliating defeat, and immediately after he’d done it he was instantly, gratifyingly horny. It was his most secret dream coming true, and all he had to do was submit.

        He had to escape. But he couldn’t escape, because he could only obey. More importantly, he couldn’t escape because he had to help Sam, and their other friends. There had to be a way.

        Nathan did not think any more about the way then, because Sam was kissing him. He kissed him back, urgently, mindlessly, and whether his brainwashed self was obeying Sam’s unspoken command or whether he was simply doing it because he’d also wanted to, he was unable to say.

        “Fuck, yeah, bro,” said Sam when it finally ended. “You stupid like me now?” Sam’s cock sharked upwards into Nate’s thigh as he spoke, aroused by the idea. Nathan realized with a sinking feeling that Sam was completely enthralled. He’d be no help at all.

        “I’m way dumber than you, brah,” said Nate. “And hornier.”

        “It shows, man,” said Sam. Nathan had, in fact been doing his best to figure out an expression that would signify a combination of mental vacancy and physical arousal, which was apparently working. It took a lot of brainpower to be as dumb as Nate. “You look as hot as hell,” said Sam, leaning in close for another kiss before adding “except for being tiny and weak.”

        He held back on the kiss, grinning nastily. His body held Nathan’s (admittedly gangly) frame in place so securely that the restraints (if they were still there) were unnecessary. He had all the power, and he liked to feel his tiny friend’s weakness. He always had.

        Nate didn’t understand this. Nate had no sensitive feelings to hurt. He showed no sign of offense.

        What Nathan was feeling, Sam couldn’t see.

        “First you say you want to fuck, now you say you don’t,” said Nate, who was quickly figuring out how to pitch his voice a bit deeper. “Don’t be a cocktease, bro.”

        “It’s all good, little man,” said Sam. “I’m not gonna leave my favorite guy hangin’. You just need a few more adjustments.”        

        Sam pointed. The fog parted enough to reveal a door in a far wall. “Just go through that door,” he said. “And don’t come back until you’re as big as me.”

        This was ominous, but Nate had been told to go through the door, and Nathan was carried along for the ride. He spent part of the trip trying to practice how to swagger, but he just didn’t have the build for it. At the door, he paused for a moment and pretended to struggle with the concept of doorknobs, sending an erotic shiver through his body—his new programming would evidently reward him for any display of stupidity, no matter how ridiculous it was.

        Then Nate went in.

        And then Nate came out.

        The door was only closed for about two seconds before it opened again, to reveal Nate, a lot of Nate. It would have been nearly impossible to recognize Nathan in the stud who had suddenly replaced him. This man was ferociously muscular—in fact, true to Sam’s demand, he was exactly the same weight as Sam, which meant that he was a bit bulkier due to the height difference. Someone had taken away his glasses and given him a decent haircut, and found a pair of jeans that could cling tightly to his much-increased legs. Moreover, he swaggered—he had the build for it. He looked prepared to fuck a tiger if there was nothing better to do. But there was something else...

        Sam’s grin grew ever-wider and greedier as his new old friend marched towards him.

        Then Nate got distracted by the pretty lights on the surface of the pool, and forgot what he was doing. He stood entranced and forgot about Sam altogether.

        This was the something else. Nate looked as dumb as hell. Someone like Sam, who actually was now quite stupid, could never hope to look as dumb as Nate, who was putting his back into the performance. He didn’t do anything as crude as drooling, but he was so believably stupid that even Sam felt like the smart one in his presence.

        “Over here, bro,” said Sam. Nate’s massive body complied. Eventually, his mind appeared to catch up, and he seemed to notice Sam’s presence.

        “Hey,” he said.

        “You got ripped, brah,” said Sam. “And you look dumber than ever.”

        “Been waiting a long time to hear you say that, man.”

        “It’s been five minutes, stud.”

        “Three years, man,” said Nate. “It took three years to build this,” he repeated, slapping his pecs. “I’m twenty-seven now. You owe me some birthday presents.”

        (This simple math mistake was a completely unnecessary part of the performance, since even if Sam remembered Nathan’s age he was in no condition to error-check (25 + 3), but even after all this time being egregiously wrong still sent a shock of heat through Nate’s balls.)

        He slipped his arms around Sam’s naked body and clasped his hands around his firm rear end, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

        “I got you something,” said Sam. “I hope you like it, bro. It’s…”—he paused, as though he were about to say something extremely clever—“...my cock.”

        Nate looked genuinely upset. “Oh, no, man! I got you the same thing!”

        He reached down to the waistline of his jeans and ripped them off his body. They split directly in two and fell to the floor, revealing Nate’s “present” in all its glory.

        (The jeans were specially made to tear cleanly in half, for dramatic effect. Attention to detail is important.)

        “I love it, brah,” said Sam, entranced.

        Responding to the same urge, they grasped each other’s dicks at the same moment and began stroking as Nate brought his face close to Sam’s. “I’ve wanted this for years, man,” he murmured.

        “I’ve wanted this for twenty minutes,” said Sam, who clearly thought he had suffered more. “Don’t keep me waiting, bro.”

        Nate obeyed, coming in for a long, deep kiss. Nathan, embedded inside his powerful new body, was filled with emotions. He couldn’t escape the fact that he was watching his own body make love to the horny zombie who had once been his best friend. It was horrifying, degrading for both of them. But these feelings were overpowered by stronger ones. It’s difficult to remain on a moral high horse while fucking the hottest stud in the entire town, especially when your brainwashing requires you to enjoy it very much. His body writhed with pleasure, and Nathan’s brain was still attached to it.

        “Worship me, bro,” moaned Sam. “Worship this body!”

        Nate had no choice but to obey. Nathan went along for the ride.

*    *    *    *    *    *

The sex seemed to go on for years, possibly because Nathan had spent three years waiting and preparing for it. That hadn’t been a lie.

        Nate had gone through the door and found himself in a large, well-appointed gymnasium. It had everything you could want in a gym, except for exits. There were windows, but they were just elaborate fake vistas included to make the place look nicer. One door led into a kitchen that was always full of food. The other led into a bedroom that was, apparently his.

        The door he’d come in through would not open. There was a sign on the back that read 211 POUNDS. Nathan realized with growing dismay that he really was not going to be allowed to leave until he was as big as Sam. That could be… years.

        Sam and Nate spent their first year just making out—getting to know each other’s bodies and becoming comfortable with shared nakedness. It was all Nate’s dreams come true, to feel every inch of the body that had obsessed him for years, and to feel that body all over him, growing hot with lust. With lust for him, firmly squeezing his own massive, tight ass. God, he was so huge, so ripped, and it was real. In these moments, there was no space at all between Nate and Nathan—they thought the same thoughts and felt, for once, alone in his own head.

        At the end of that first year—although it was probably not quite as long as that—Sam and Nate had become very good friends indeed.

*    *    *    *    *    *

Nathan spent his first year learning his way around his new home. It wasn’t very large, but there were so many activities that he needed to master if he was ever going to get out. Fortunately, there were books. Nathan decided that Nate was willing to read books if they were about things he liked. The books here were about things Nate liked: guides to weightlifting and bodybuilding, books on healthy cooking, and plenty of magazines about sports and “men’s interest.” There was also plenty of outright pornography.

        In one corner of the bookshelf was a complete Pelican Shakespeare. Seeing it gave Nathan a ray of hope, but his hand would not move to take it off the shelf. Nate hated that nerdy shit.

        Eventually Nathan realized it was only there at all so that he would know he could no longer read for pleasure.

        He spent some time thinking about ways to escape, but he didn’t have a lot of time to do this, because Nate didn’t allow him to do a lot of thinking. Nate had been told to get huge, and Nate wanted to get huge, and Nathan had to make Nate do what was necessary to get big. That meant that every day, Nathan had to prepare three nutritious meals for Nate’s body, then go through a brutally rigorous training routine—not just as rigorous as Nate wanted, but as good as Nathan’s intelligence could make it without damaging him.

        In between and after this work, Nate also insisted on masturbating frequently, and Nathan had to pleasure himself every day until his sex drive (always overactive) was spent. In between these extended jerkoff sessions, Nate wanted to read the sports magazines, to keep his mind active.

        After all these activities were done, Nathan could think Nathan’s own thoughts, provided he pretended to be thinking something else.

        Being Nate was a full-time job, and on top of everything else, it was a job he was inventing for himself even as he slaved at it.

        Sometimes, men would come into the gym and teach him. They were always handsome, and they never wore a lot of clothes. They didn’t know a lot of things, but they knew how to build muscle. They would show him proper form, and measure him, and touch him. They had names like Trevor, or Jake, and they seemed to enjoy touching him a lot. Nate writhed under their touch. He didn’t know how to behave when attractive men put their hands on his body. So he simply did as he was told.

        He made progress. It was slow, but it was there. His body grew firm, so that instead of being a stick of nothing, he was a firm stick of nothing. His abs felt like tiny abs, instead of just things that were there because there was nothing on top to hide them.

*    *    *    *    *    *

Sam and Nate spent what seemed like a second year sucking each other’s cocks. Nate went first, letting Sam sit up on the side of the pool while he pulled himself up out of the water to go down on him. Nate evidently knew a lot about sucking cocks, while Sam clearly knew a lot about making loud moaning noises. He made his satisfaction clear to anybody who might have been able to hear (this, Nathan thought, was another thing that hadn’t changed).

        Eventually, they switched places, and Nathan made a somewhat surprising discovery—Sam had no idea what he was doing. Then again, although it wasn’t exactly Nathan’s cherished fantasy come to life, it wasn’t that surprising. Sam had always been straight. This new, dim-witted Sam appeared to be hungry for male bodies, but he had no actual experience with another man.

        Nathan, considering how he could handle the situation without breaking character, found himself guiding Sam, teaching him to become a better lover, hopefully before his own dick got chewed off. “That’s right, babe,” he said, gently grasping Sam’s hair in his hands and leading him in the right rhythm. “I’m gettin’ so big inside you… gettin’ so fuckin’ dumb…”

        Nate really was getting a little bigger as his own moronic dirty talk drove him into a state of heightened arousal. Sam, although he couldn’t talk, evidently felt the same way.

*    *    *    *    *    *

In his second year of imprisonment inside Nate, Nathan starting really getting into the swing of things. He had become confident in the weight room and his healthy eating had gone from a new and strange experience to a habit. He could start really focusing on bulking up, instead of just doing some stuff with his pecs and hoping protein powder would close the gap. Nate’s triumphs had become his own.

        But mainly his mood changed because he’d started getting laid. One day, while Trevor was working with him on squats, he’d weighed himself and realized that he had finally hit his latest goal and was ten pounds of muscle heavier than he’d started out. He was so pleased that he almost didn’t realize that Trevor was kissing him.

        Nate was clumsy; he didn’t know what to do with his hands, or the erection growing inside his workout shorts. But Trevor was very patient, as if he’d deflowered plenty of brainwashed young men as part of their transformation process. Maybe he had. He guided Nate’s hands as they made out on the incline bench, and then carried him back to Nate’s room to take the rest of him. Nate’s first sexual experience was short, but educational. 

        It wasn’t the last. His trainers slowly became even more handsy, and one by one they all rewarded him for his progress. It drove him to work even harder, but more than that, it showed him just how much the process was reshaping his mind. Where he’d once been completely focused on finding an opportunity to escape, now he was pushing his body so that he could be rewarded with sexual access to his new friends—to Trevor, to Jake, to Malachi, and especially to Harris, who reminded him a little of Sam.

        Nathan was a little worried by the implications of this, but then, it wasn’t as if he had anything else to do. His body got bigger, and harder, and he started to get pretty good in bed. His Nate persona expanded until Nate was comfortable with the whole process, with sharing his body with other men, letting them touch him, and letting them know how much he wanted them to touch him. These guys were all so, so, ripped and so very stupid, and he felt at home in their company, sharing idiot thoughts about whose cock was biggest or about basketball.

        One night, Nate took the Shakespeare book off the shelf. He didn’t want to read it; instead, he rubbed it up and down against his cock. “Fuckin’ nerd shit,” he said, in the deep voice he’d been practicing. “I don’t need any of this shit now that my balls have dropped. God, I’m so fuckin’ dumb!”

        It was literally better than sex. Nathan’s controlled mind went absolutely haywire with pleasure as he acted out this show of dominance. Spasms of pleasure arced down his cock and into his balls, until his entire junk felt like it was full of sparks. The sparks ran straight up his spine and into his brain, making every thought feel like an orgasm, provided it was Nate who was thinking it.

        “Oh, fuckkkkk…” moaned Nate, as he fucked the book. “I’m gettin’ so big, and I turned so fuckin’ stupid. So fuckin’ stupid, and bein’ stupid makes me hot. I wanna… wanna…”

        Nathan realized with mounting horror that Nate wanted to obey. He wanted his captors to reveal themselves so that he could declare himself their willing idiot slave. This was a terrible thing for him to want, but Nate was awfully good at wanting the things that Nathan wanted, except out loud. Even though Nate didn’t really exist, Nathan was too good at pretending to be him to leave things like that out.

        Nathan changed the script. He opened the book up, jammed his penis inside it, and held it closed, thrusting himself into the paper again and again. It wasn’t really an effective masturbation aid, but something about destroying a book had become a huge, transgressive turn-on.

        “Fuck books,” said Nate. “Fuck books, fuck books, fuck books, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

        Nate fucked the book to pieces, squeezing it around his dick and tearing it to pieces with repeated thrusts. It was the most incredible sexual experience he’d ever had, but it was also part of Nathan’s strategy. He needed to destroy the book and get rid of the temptation it presented, or he’d lose his will to escape altogether. He couldn’t help being Nate, but Nate had to be his tool and not just his cage.

        He was afraid the book would be replaced the next day, but fortunately, this didn’t happen. Whoever had built this prison wasn’t perfect.

*    *    *    *    *    *

By the time Sam and Nate had gotten through the years of makeouts and the years of oral sex and found themselves ready for some serious fucking, Nate had taken control of their grappling without needing to say a word. Sam had never actually taken a man to bed, but insofar as he still thought ahead, he had expected to be on top, just like he always had. And yet, when the moment came, he found Nate straddling him, and found himself completely open to what was coming next, as naturally as could be.

        Sam and Nate were both too stupid to intentionally seduce anyone. If showing off his body didn’t make a man want to sleep with him, Sam no longer knew what to do. But Nate could seduce a man unintentionally, because Nathan was driving him, and Nathan understood what Nate didn’t. Nate could make the little gestures and expressions that were the right ones, because Nathan knew them, and his accidental movements would be correct, accidentally-on-purpose. Accidentally-on-purpose, he’d led Sam to take the receiving position, and let Sam think it was his own idea.

        He’d learned these tricks in his third year of imprisonment. Nate had started to get really buff. They were both more dedicated than ever to training their body, but they’d had to start dedicating serious time just to admiring that body in the mirror. They were both extremely proud of Nate’s body, which they’d spent so much time making. Nathan had never been turned on by the sight of himself before, and he couldn’t get enough. Some days he’d wear nothing but a red thong to work out in, and relished his freedom. He couldn’t go anywhere, or do normal things, or think his own thoughts, but he was free to fuck anything.

        He practiced swaggering in the mirror, walking like he had to detour around his own massive balls. He rehearsed Nate’s deep voice until it was perfect and even kind of attractive, aside from sounding as dumb as rocks. Most importantly, he started seducing his trainers, instead of just waiting for them to take their clothes off on their own. Some days they never technically got around to exercising at all.

        That was the year that Nathan got good at being Nate, instead of merely being very willing. Nathan almost lost himself. He had nothing to think about except the pride they both felt in their increasingly swollen body, and the satisfaction from filling the hole where his sense of sexuality had always been. Oh, and the sex. They thought about sex all the time, and thinking about so many fucks together Nathan started to lose track of the difference between himself and Nate. What was he, if not part of the life support system for this magnificent fuck machine he’d built?

*    *    *    *    *    *

It was Sam who helped him remember. Sam, who he’d always loved; Sam, whose arms he’d wanted to be in; Sam, who he’d wanted to bang like pots and pans. He was doing all those things now, but he’d also wanted Sam to love him. He’d wanted to think he was someone Sam could love.

        But the man Sam had become could never love him. And knowing that reminded Nathan that Nate wasn’t who he was.

        “I love you, man,” said Nate, just so Nathan could experiment.

        “Yeah, bro!” moaned Sam. “I love your cock—don’t stop!”

        That pretty much summed it up.

        I have to save you, thought Nathan. He had to get Sam out of there, and all their friends, before they were all turned into jock monsters. Was there a way to bring back the old Sam? There… probably wasn’t. But he had to at least get them all away from there, so he could try.

        It was basically impossible. Nathan had already been turned himself. He’d been taken. But even though he was so weak, he also felt strong. He’d learned that it was possible to change himself, to become a different man, once you figured out how. Maybe he could figure out how to be the hero.

        “Let’s get down to business,” he said, in a deep voice that was a little bit like his Nate voice, but maybe not very. And with that, and a final thrust, he came.

        Nate had lost his virginity two years before, but it would be fair to say that Nathan didn’t become a man until just then.

        ...it probably wasn’t going to be enough.

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