varkas108

[varkas108]

Doesn’t matter which side of the bars you’re on…

You know what they say: Jail changes a man.

[varkas108]

Ah, I’ve had this exact kind of fantasy. Kinda wish I’d gotten “adopted” by the jocks back in school

Desserts

Hey, guys. This here is a quick story I came up with on the fly for a story exchange between a user named Casualpatrolperfection and myself. I refined the content a little from the initial draft that I wrote in our chat room and am now ready to transfer it on to here for others to read. I hope you all enjoy it!

You weren’t sure what you did to deserve this. One minute, you were cringing back from some douchebag bullies. The next, Devon Capernick, Cap for short, was sitting next to you at the principal’s office, while the bullies were being treated at the nurse’s office. The Senior towered over you as he smiled reassuringly. The chair creaked under his weight, and you could practically hear the thick wooden arms splintering against his broad frame. 

“It’s all good,” he assured you. “Everything’ll be fine.” His face darkened. “And if they come after you again….” You could practically hear the splinters crying in pain as he clenched the edges. “I hate bullies.”

You weren’t sure what you did to deserve this. You’re sitting at the jocks’ table, surrounded by behemoths of muscle chowing and joking with each other, even wrestling from time to time. Nothing serious enough to get in trouble with the aides, but enough for them to get their messages across. You note how they all keep smirking or grinning, despite the pain or humiliation that might be involved.

Devon is smiling down at you as he watches his friends and cheers them on. He takes the time to introduce you to everyone on the team, tells them you’ll be hanging with them for lunch from now on. You half expected them to want to pummel you. Instead, they grin and welcome you with hearty smacks to the back that almost burst your chest.

You want to object to the treatment, say you’re not worth it. Devon won’t hear of it. He won’t even let you address him formally.

“It’s Cap, bro.” He huffed a deep guffaw of a chuckle. “Just think like you’re calling me your captain, all right?”

It wasn’t like you could argue with him, so you did.

You weren’t sure what you did to deserve this. Your gym teacher stared across at you from his desk. Cap is grinning as he lays a heavy hand on your shoulder from his place next to you.

“You’re sure about this, Devon?”

“You bet, Coach. Lil'bro’s got spark, and he’s super smart.”

“I’ll have to set it up with the rest of the school, but I don’t see why he can’t tutor you boys, if you need it.” He smiled. “And maybe you can teach him a thing or two, while you’re at it.”

“That’s the plan.” He laughed again.

You weren’t sure what you did to deserve this. Hard music thumped over the speakers of the weight room. While the rest of the football team worked on their exercises, you worked with each of them on the bits of homework they didn’t understand on shifts.

Breakthroughs were heralded with, “Oh, now I get it,” or, “Dude, that’s so fuckin’ simple. Why didn’t I see that?”

Their enthusiastic thanks and effusive praises left you feeling warm and happy. Sure, they had a few problems with school work, but they weren’t the jerks the stereotype made them out to be. They were almost like a family. It was … nice, to be able to see that, and experience maybe just a little part of it.

You weren’t sure what you did to deserve this. Sweat beaded your brow, and your lungs felt like they were ready to explode. Everything felt so heavy and swollen. Your arms trembled as you struggled to hold them in place. Cap beamed encouragingly at you from above.

“C'mon, lil'bro. You can do it.” His strong hands grasped the bar that hovered dangerously over your chest. Together, you lifted it. He didn’t make it easy, but he made it bearable. Cap, … really was a great guy.

You weren’t sure what you did to deserve this. Practice was over, like usual. Since the team had to perform outdoor exercises, you cycled through teammates as they finished a certain number of practice runs. On scrimmages, you watched them scramble and play against each other, hard walls of muscle colliding like savage beasts.

Now you found yourself surrounded by your friends as Cap wrapped a sweaty arm around your shoulders. You enter the locker room and pass the lockers in favor of the door marked STRATEGY.

The chairs are soft and form-fitting. You try to decline, but Cap pushes you down into the chair.

“You helped us with school, so I figure you can help us here, too.”

You couldn’t resist his grin, even if you could break out of his grip. Still, the room struck you as oddly equipped for a strategy debriefing. Why make it so comfortable? Why the soundproofing boards? Why stack the chairs with adjustable controls to ensure everyone could see the front?

Coach gave his usual spiel of the need to pay attention and focus on the video. Then he stepped aside and a familiar whirring sounded. Someone must have been adjusting their chair.

Images flashed over the screen. The whirring became more pronounced. You felt a little dizzy, sort of like the room was moving. But … no, not the room. You were. Up and down and side to side and spinning and SIDESTEP! DASH! CATCH! RECEIVE! RUN! TOUCHDOWN!

“Fuck yeah!” the room screams. You’re panting in the rollercoaster, the heady excitement of it all. What … what just…?

And then you feel a familiar hand squeezing your arm reassuringly. “Just watch, lil'bro.” He grins. That same grin. And then that chuckle. The whole room is filled with it.

And suddenly, you’re laughing, too. And it feels … good. Words like BIG, BUFF, MUSCLE, SWOLE, and GROW, echo over the whirling sea. The churning increases, and you find it harder to focus.

“Just a BIG, DUMB FOOTBALL JOCK. Want to be a BIG, DUMB FOOTBALL JOCK for coach. Gonna be a BIG, DUMB FOOTBALL JOCK for coach.”

The words are like a mantra. You hear the familiar husky chuckle, and something inside just … sort of snaps. Your mouth widens into a grin. Your teeth are bared. You laugh as everything fades into the darkness, and Cap is laughing right beside you. And it’s RIGHT.

You weren’t sure what you did to deserve this. The crowd roared around you as you hunched down and called out the secret code every quarterback seemed to know for their teammates to notify the play and run down the clock at the same time. Besides, sometimes, the lugs had to be reminded.

You take the snap. You spot the opening. The receiver is open! You crank your arm back and throw for all it’s worth. The ball hurls like a bullet. You know immediately that he’s caught it. He’s running. Nobody can touch him. Dodge. Sidestep. Lunge. Dash. TOUCHDOWN!

You roar with your fellow teammates, and rush up to join your bros at the end zone. You all just scored the game-winning touchdown. Chestbumps, shoulder smacks, dances, everything breaks out in the pandemonium that follows. You turn and see Cap’s familiar grin through the face guard of your helmet. He’s standing on the sidelines next to coach, cheering you on. Sucked you couldn’t play with him in his last season, but at least he came to cheer his lil'bro on. That’s what mattered.

Yeah….

And you were a good lil'bro.

You weren’t sure what you did to deserve this. Your thick muscular frame towers as you pose in front of the mirror. Your slab-like pecs glisten with the sweat from your hard-earned victory. You gape at it, almost in awe, but … that’s not quite the right word.

…

Whatever. S'not important. Your compression pants hug tightly to the thick pistons that your legs have become through had work and intense sessions with your teammates. Big bro helped a lot with that. Then your eyes rest on the bulge at your crotch, and your gaping turns to a cocky sneer. Big bro had nothin’ to do with that, though.

You turn to the side and flex one of your pythons. You watch the bicep swell into a thick, powerful globe of solid muscle. You whisper a dull, “Fuck, yeah,” at the rush of endorphins and adrenaline from the victory. A low echo reverberates through the locker room as your teammates follow the ritual in front of their own mirrors. Doesn’t matter if it’s creepy. You’re a team. Teammates act as one unit. ‘Course you’re gonna do the same stuff. Your bleached hair shines in the dim lights. Your new short style helps to accent the edges of your masculine square jaw as glassy eyes stare dully back at you.

They are empty, unthinking. Just as they should be.

“Just a big, dumb meathead,” you mutter to yourself. You chuckle and flex again. “And proud of it.”

You grin and turn to the scrawny form of the new freshman water boy. You wrap your arm around him the same way your big bro did for you. “C'mon, lil'bro. Time to listen to Coach.” The numbness in your head increases as the room starts to spin and you swagger along to compensate, like a good DUMB JOCK. Because that is what you are now. You weren’t sure what you did to deserve this, but as you settle into Cap’s old chair and the STRATEGY room starts to dim, a last thought plays over your head. You’re a BIG DUMB JOCK BRO now. And even if you could, you wouldn’t change a thing.

[varkas108]

Huh, I wonder if there are any more pelts? A jarl like him needs warriors to lead, after all

THE ATTIC CLEAR OUT: THE BEAR PELT

"Old unwanted bear pelt. Good condition. Contact for details." The ad had been sitting on his saved browser tabs for days before @thisdamnedwierdinternet finally caved and sent a message. He’d been planning a Viking cosplay for an upcoming convention—something rugged, primal, powerful - and the idea of draping himself in a real bear pelt instead of some cheap faux fur had his pulse quickening. The response came almost immediately: "Come by tonight and it’s yours." The address led him to a weathered cabin on the outskirts of town, smoke curling lazily from the chimney. An old man with a grizzled beard and knowing eyes handed him the pelt without a word. The moment his fingers brushed the thick, coarse fur, a shiver ran up his spine. It was warm, soft, and the golden-brown hide was heavy in his arms. "Wear it well," the owner had murmured, before shutting the door.

The whole drive home, he couldn't help but keep thinking about the pelt, finding himself so eager to try it on. It only made sense then, that upon getting back home, he immediately ran to his room, spreading the pelt over his bed and running his hands across it. The fur was dense, strands thick and soft yet slightly coarse, and irresistibly touchable. The sensation of the skin on his hands rubbing against it was incredible, and he could already picture and feel it draped on his shoulders, the ultimate finish to his Viking warrior look. As if mad with anticipation to wear it, he stripped down to his boxers, the cool temperature of his room cauisng goosebumps to ripple across his skin, before lifting the pelt and settling it over his shoulders. The weight was perfect, grounding even. It made him feel stronger, like some mantle of primal strength. He shifted, the pelt's warmth seeping into his skin, the sensation causing him to tingle and itch slightly. At first, the feeling was just a faint prickle between his shoulder blades, uncomfortable like static electricity. But it soon slowly spread, a creeping heat sinking into his muscles, an uncomfortable sensation not unlike pins and needles. He instinctively flexed, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably. Had his shoulders... always been this broad? His reflection in the mirror against his wall caught his eye, making him freeze.

His frame was wider, or at least, the top half was. He looked bulky under the pelt, his chest clearly wider than before, looking almost comical compared to his still regularly sized lower half. His pecs were defined, a shelf jutting out above his gut. A gasp escaped him as the tingling wrapped around his sides into his core, causing his gut to solidify into a solid set of abs, defined and rock hard. "The fuck-" His voice was deeper, rougher. As he heard it, his head spun slightly, as if the sound of his own voice was doing something to his brain. Hadn't he always had a voice this deep? No, surely not, he'd remember it... right? But he did remember it, didn't he? His voice being deeper than everyone else's since high school, puberty hitting him early and causing that deep, gruff tone to be his main defining feature throughout his high school and college years. Well, that and his bulk of course.

The pelt almost pulsed against his skin, feeling like an extension of himself. It's furs seemed to wriggle into his pores, forcefully injecting him with testosterone, masculine energy, and... his hair was growing? A golden-brown carpet was spreading across his chest, looking almost seamless with the pelt against his bare flesh. It was thick, coarse, spreading in waves across his body, undulating outwards from where the pelt touched his skin. His arms darkened with the same dense pelt of fur, as they pulsed, and flexed, growing into two cannons of pure muscle. Heh, he thought. That's what you get for working out daily. Working out? He didn't go to the gym? Nah, he didn't. He lifted AXES and SWORDS and ARMOUR, like a REAL WARRIOR. The words echoed in his brain, in that same deep gruff voice he'd always had. Each one sent a shiver through him, the words cementing themself into reality, making sure they made themselves known to be fact.

His waist widened, his pelvis growing with raw power, his cock growing, pulsing, pleasure coursing through his body. It wracked his brain with even more waves of energy, thoughts, sensations, memories. His legs surged with power, becoming tree trunks of pure muscle. Perfect for carrying a true warriors weight, he thought. His feet surged, easily doubling in size to support the new pillars his legs has become. What was happening to him? He couldn't tell anymore. His jaw squared, stubble quickly growing out into an impressive manly beard (only REAL men have beards after all, he thought), and his face sharpening and growing more rugged and weathered. His hair itched, his hair thickening, worthy of a cheiftain like him. A cheiftain, he thought? But the title seemed right, as if his. He scowled, confused as contradicting memories and thoughts battled for control. Ultimately, the warrior would win, it was more worthy after all, especially with the pelt still injecting that addicting power straight into him, supercharging this new identity.

He gasped, his body thrumming with raw, endless power. He flexed, feeling his new strength, his stance instinctively shifting into something more dominant, predatory. His scent filled the air, earthy, musky, intoxicating. It smelt of home, of nights spent drinking horns of mead, hours of sparring with his men on the battlefield, of proving time and time again why he was the one in charge, the chief. His hand instinctively groped his cock, taking little stimulation to coax out a load, his cum splattering the mirror before him. It was a shame to waste his superior Viking seed on mere pleasure, but he deserved it after all, being the Chief was hard work. He flexed again, feeling the new personality completely devour the old, his new identity taking over forevermore. The pelt on his shoulders shifted, puppeting his movements, controlling him. It was him, and he was it. Forever.

[varkas108]

Gotta find that channel

While flipping through the channels, Barry one day came accross the Beast Out Channel. He didn't think much of it and kept flipping. Yet, somehow, he always seemed to return to the channel. It was as if part of him needed it... craved it... fed on it...

3 MONTHS LATER

Bob didn't watch the Beast Out Channel anymore. Why should he? The Beast was out and here to stay.

[varkas108]

The Onboarding of Security Officer 124

The closing of a door can be the loudest sound in the world. For Jack, the hollow click of the lock on his old life echoed with the finality of a gavel strike. The divorce hadn't just been messy; it had been a systematic dismantling of his identity. Every shared memory, every inside joke, every piece of furniture now served as a monument to a failed future. The only solution, he reasoned, was to run. He packed what little mattered and drove until the familiar horizons of his past were just a smear in the rearview mirror.

He arrived in a nondescript city of glass towers and sprawling suburbs, a place chosen for its absolute lack of connection to him. It was a perfect blank canvas. But anonymity came with a price. His savings, depleted by legal fees and the cost of relocation, dwindled with alarming speed. The gnawing anxiety of unemployment began to set in. Jack, once a respected project manager in a bustling firm, now found himself adrift in a sea of automated rejection emails and unanswered calls. His previous life, his skills, his experience—it all felt like a story that had happened to someone else.

Weeks bled into a month, then two. Desperation was beginning to curdle into a quiet despair. It was during a late-night scroll through a second-rate job board that he saw it. The advertisement was stark, almost severe in its minimalism. "Aegis Security Solutions. Now Hiring. No Experience Necessary. Total Commitment Required." It was nothing like the corporate world he knew, but the words ‘Now Hiring’ were a siren song he couldn’t ignore. He polished his resume, stripped it of the high-level management jargon, and sent it into the digital void, expecting nothing.

To his surprise, he received a reply within an hour, summoning him for an interview the next day. The Aegis office was located in a sleek, unmarked building on the city's tech corridor. The interior was even more sterile, all polished concrete, brushed steel, and frosted glass. It felt less like an office and more like a laboratory.

He was led into a small, soundproof room where a single man sat behind a featureless black desk. The man, wore the shirt of Aegis Secuity Solutions, the inginature start against the tailored, shiny shirt, which at a glossy sheen to it, which showed of his fisique his demeanor calm and piercingly observant. After a few perfunctory questions about his work history, the interviewer leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Jack’s.

"The resume is fine," the man said, his voice a low, even baritone. "But it doesn't tell me what I need to know. Why did you move here, Mr. Taylor? Why leave a whole life behind?"

The question was direct, clinical, yet it felt like the first genuine human inquiry Jack had received in months. The dam of his composure, already weakened by stress and loneliness, finally broke. He spoke of the divorce, the betrayal, the suffocating weight of a past that haunted his every waking moment. "I just wanted a new start," Jack finished, his voice raw. "A chance to forget, to be someone else, somewhere else."

The interviewer listened without a flicker of emotion. When Jack was done, a slow, thin smile touched the man’s lips. "The desire to forget is a powerful motivator," he said, standing and extending a hand. "Welcome to Aegis Security, Jack. We can offer you precisely the fresh start you’re looking for. Your onboarding begins tomorrow at 0800 hours."

The next morning, Jack arrived feeling a flicker of hope for the first time in a year. He was escorted not to a classroom, but to a small, white cubicle containing a single ergonomic chair and a piece of equipment that looked like a futuristic motorcycle helmet. It was a Virtual Reality headset, but unlike any consumer model he had ever seen. It was a complete, glossy black sphere that would envelop his entire head.

"This is our proprietary onboarding module," the technician explained, his voice devoid of warmth. "It will acclimatise you to Aegis protocols and standards. The process takes approximately three hours. Please be seated."

Jack, eager to prove his commitment, complied without question. The heavy device was lowered over his head, sealing him in absolute darkness and silence. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, a blinding white flash exploded behind his eyes, followed by the sound of a low, pulsating hum. Intricate, swirling spirals of blue and green light filled his vision, pulling him down a digital rabbit hole. The patterns were hypnotic, beautiful, and deeply unsettling. He felt his consciousness being drawn deeper, his thoughts becoming sluggish and pliant.

Suddenly, a pair of nodes within the helmet pressed against his temples, and a sharp, intense shock jolted through his skull. It wasn't painful, but it was profoundly invasive. A voice, calm and disembodied, echoed in the virtual space. “Commencing personality defragmentation.”

The programming began. First, his name. Jack Taylor. The words appeared in his mind's eye before shattering into meaningless pixels. Then came his past. The image of his mother’s smile, the smell of his childhood home, the feeling of his first scraped knee—all were isolated, analysed, and dissolved into static. The process was brutally efficient. His education, his friendships, his career—all erased. The face of his ex-wife, once the centre of his universe, flickered and vanished without a trace of sorrow or anger. He was being hollowed out, his entire existence systematically deleted until he was nothing more than a blank slate, an empty vessel waiting to be filled.

“Defragmentation complete. Subject is receptive. Commencing data upload.”

New information flooded the void. Not memories, but directives. Protocols. A new history, fabricated and sterile, was installed—an upbringing in a corporate-sponsored institution, a life dedicated to training and discipline. The core directive was uploaded, burning itself into his nascent consciousness with immutable force: Total and unquestioning loyalty to Aegis Security Solutions. His personal identity was now a liability. His name was no longer important.

“New Designation: Security Officer 124.”

Three hours passed. When the machine finally powered down with a soft click, the person who removed the VR headset was not Jack Taylor. He stood up, his posture ramrod straight, his movements economical and precise.

In front of him stood the man who had interviewed him, now wearing the uniform of a Supervisor, its black almost shiny uniform, reflecting the fluorescent lights above him.  The man’s expression was stern, expectant.

Without hesitation, the new officer snapped his heels together and delivered a smart, military-style salute, his arm cutting through the air with practiced perfection.

"State Designation!" the Supervisor barked, his voice cracking like a whip.

"Security Officer 124," the reply came instantly, the voice flat, clear, and devoid of any prior inflection.

The Supervisor gave a curt nod of approval. "Report to the Quartermaster for your uniform and kit. You have fifteen minutes."

"Yes, sir."

Security Officer 124 moved with a silent, determined purpose through the sterile corridors to the quartermaster’s station. There, he was issued a set of all-black tactical gear, identical to what his Supervisor was wearing —combat trousers, a moisture-wicking compression shirt, heavy-duty boots, and body armour. He dressed methodically, the unfamiliar clothing feeling entirely natural on his frame. The uniform was a second skin, a tangible symbol of his new purpose.

Fully dressed, he checked his reflection in a polished steel panel. The face staring back was his, yet it was not. The eyes were cold, alert, and empty of history. There was no pain, no love, no lingering ghost of a man named Jack. There was only an asset.

He returned to the Supervisor's office and stood at attention.

The Supervisor looked him up and down, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. He handed over a data slate. "Your first assignment. A perimeter sweep of the R&D wing. Standard protocol."

Security Officer 124 took the slate. "Understood, sir."

"Report back after completion of task."

"Yes, sir."

He turned and marched out of the room, his new boots making crisp, rhythmic sounds on the polished floor. Jack Taylor had wanted to forget his past. Aegis Security had granted his wish, and in doing so, had acquired a perfect soldier, unburdened by memory and bound by absolute loyalty. He was no longer a man running from his life; he was a function, a number, a weapon waiting to be aimed. And he was, for the first time, completely at peace.

[varkas108]

Huh…I might need to book a vacation room there…

Exactly 3 years ago, Brent and Chris had met each other. It had been love on first sight. To celebrate this joyful ocassion, they had decided to book a weekend in a new hotel in the city, The Bear Inn. According to the advertisment they had seen, it would be a unique experience.

When they entered, they were welcomed by the owner, a friendly big, hairy man, wearing a black shiny shirt with a bear's head on it. The man introduced hinself as Papa Bear. Brent and Chris thought it was an odd name, but they were mostly annoyed by the fact that the guy was smoking a cigar. Indoors! This was so going to end up in their review!

They didn't know any other hotel in the area and thwybwere both tired of the trip, they decided to check-in anyways. After check-in Papa Bear handed them a welcoming drink. He called it Bear Essence and he said it was home made. It was a weird black liquid, that smelled a bit odd, like sweat and cigars, but it could also be that it was simply Papa Bear, as he was very.... musky. They decided to take the plunge and they both emptied their glasses in one go. The liquid was bitter, but it didn't taste bad. As they both put their glasses back on the counter, they started to feel sleepy. They both couldn't surpress a yawn.

Papa Bear saw it and smiled: "Seems like you two boys are tired of the journey. Let me bring you to your room." The two men nodded meekly and followed Papa Bear. They walked behind him in the trail of smoke, but for some reason it didn't bother them. They actually thought it smelled quite nice.

Papa Bear stopped in front of one of the doors and ooened it. "Here you go, boys." He then took a deep drag and walked to Chris. He planted his lips on his and gave him a smokey kiss. He then did the same to Brent. They werw dumbfounded, but then they started to giggle. "Good night, boys, tomorrow you will feel like new!" "Good night, Papa Bear," the men answered in unison. They then entered the room.

The room looked odd, with a large shiny black bear head directly above the bed. But Brent and Chris didn't really pay attention to it, still flaberhasted by what just had happened. They stripped out of their clothes and slipped under the covers. As they lay in each other's arms, Brent said sleepily Chris: "Well, that was something..." "Yeah," Chris replied, while yawning again, "but it felt good, don't you think?" "Yeah... Papa Bear is a sweet guy... and pretty hot too," Brent answered. "Let's spend some more time with him tomorrow," Chris suggested, but he didn't get a reply. Brent had fallen asleep and Brent followed suit quickly after.

They slwpt dep that night, dreaming both strange dreams, with Papa Bear involved in all of them. Thwybslept sondeep, that theybdidn't notice, that at midnight the eyes of the bear's head above thwm started to emit a red light and cigar smoke was coming out of its mouth.

The next morning, Chris and Brent stepped out of the hotel, puffing proudly on their third cigar of the day. Papa Bear had been right. They felt like new. Especially after Papa Bear had come to give them special room service. After that, they had decided to prolong their stay indefinitely... as Papa's Cubs,. They were now heading out, hunting for new potentials. Papa Bear's orders.

[varkas108]

Superman, Spider-Man and now Iron Man…one by one the heroes are succumbing. Who’s next? I’m sure eventually heroes that many rally around like Nightwing or Captain America will be targeted to then bring many in line…it should be interesting to see

A few weeks ago, Iron Man had been fighting in Big Tobacco HQ. He wanted to make an end to the company once and for all.

He didn't know that they had prepared for him.

When he came out again, he wasn't the same anymore. He now calls himself the Steel Fist. And he was ready to crush all that stood in the way of the company's ultimate goal of world domination.

[varkas108]

Free To Play

James was bored. He lives a fairly incomplete life, with few hobbies. Usually he invests his time into his studies, reasoning that any hobbies would just end up being a distraction for him. He only just moved to university, however, so he has no projects or work to be doing just yet. He's finished organising his new class schedule into his laptop's various softwares to ensure he is well prepared for the year ahead, but after looking through the google classrooms he's been newly added to to find them empty, he was stuck for things to do.

Most students newly at uni go out and socialise, but James is much more of a hermit. Though he can already hear drunken hollers from outside his window he just looks down on those responsible for being in such a state in the middle of the day.

James decides to download Steam on his laptop. He almost never plays video games, not out of dislike but judgement, believing them to be a leading cause of unproductiveness. He's never bought a video game on Steam but occasionally, when he truly has nothing better to do, will browse the free to play section for a shovelware game he can waste a couple hours in and never play again.

Usually free to play games have mixed reviews at best, but James is surprised to discover a free to play game trending in Steam marketplace. It has overwhelmingly positive reviews, despite its basic name and branding. It's just called "Life Simulator Game", and there are no screenshots of its gameplay or graphics or anything. The game's store page description explains that this game is free to play because it's in early development, and they want to use the data gathered from players to guide their future development. Though James is instinctively skeptical of most things he comes across in life, that rationale checks out to him. Plus, the reviews are excellent, so he decides to download it.

It doesn't take long to download, and soon James starts the game for the first time. As it does its first time installation, the game has several pop-ups. The first explains that in order to access the game, James needs to download an app with the QR code that appears. It states this is so they can receive the data of James' gameplay, using cellular networks to ensure the game still works without an internet connection. This leads James to quickly check the game's reputation on Reddit, but everyone on there swears it's not only safe but an awesome game, so he downloads the app before returning to the game.

The first task in the game is to create the avatar. The game has three ways to do this: random, character creator, or rigged character creator. An explainer opens in the game: The character creator takes the form of a quiz; the player can end the quiz at any time, and the answers to the quiz will change the avatar's stats in positive or negative ways. The rigged character creator acts the same way, but the player can select some general traits or character archetypes they want the quiz to ask them about. This gives them a little more control over its outcome, but also usually leads to more specialist character builds, since the questions cover fewer topics.

James decides to just go for the standard character creator, aiming to build a well-rounded character, at least for his first playthrough. The character creator begins, and seemingly asks some basic, foundational questions to begin with, though its effects can be a little strange.

You're chilling on a Sunday and have the day off. Do you: A) go to the gym and work out, B) play video games, or C) read a book?

James answers "read a book" immediately, and the game flashes up with a number of stat changes. Some make obvious sense, like intelligence and focus increasing, but James is also surprised to see his body fat percentage decrease. He also gains a point towards the "nerd" archetype, which James supposes is why the fat percentage decreased. He's a nerd in real life, but for a game like this he doesn't actually want to just play as a nerd, so he will bear that in mind for some of his future answers. The already intelligent and slender James doesn't notice that his answer changes him in real life to fit the answer.

2. What kind of hairstyle do you have: A) Short with crew cut, B) Medium-length shaggy, C) Long and greasy?

James isn't sure what a crew cut means, but he does want has avatar to have short hair, like he does in real life, so he chooses A. James expects this to send him down the nerd route further, but the stat changes actually involve boosts to his masculinity, confidence, and follower mentality. The phone in his pocket vibrates at a precise, imperceptible frequency, sending signals to his brain to reflect these stat changes.

3. Do you currently have any facial hair: A) Yes, a beard B) Yes, a moustache, C) No?

James answers no, and the game's only effect is decreasing his avatar's body and facial hair in the game. The dusting of a treasure trail on James' torso vanishes beneath his shirt, unknown to him.

4. When you're having a conversation with friends, do you: A) Dominate and lead the conversation, B) Contribute and actively participate, or C) Observe and mostly listen?

James answers C, observe and mostly listen, since he is a more withdrawn person in real life. This boosts the follower mentality attribute for a second time, while increasing his empathy. These personality changes are again instilled in his brain, but since the boosts aren't used by this game at all, James remains unaware.

5. How do you feel about authority: A) I hate it, B) I respect authority for my own benefit, C) Learning from authority is valuable?

James considers the options. A might result in his character being some kind of punk, and B might make them selfish, so he decides to choose option C, which most reflects his real world view anyway. This decreases his free thought and rebelliousness while increasing his curiosity and, for a third time, follower mentality. The game has a pop-up:

Trait Earned: Follower Mentality. For the rest of the character creator, you will be able to see how many other players chose each option. Furthermore, the least popular option will be disabled.

It surprises James that he is excited about this. The James that began playing this game sneered at most people around him, believing himself superior to them. James' new brain, however, is keen to learn how others answered the questions, thinking it may help him get a good result. He doesn't notice that this is a change in his personality, forgetting how judgemental he used to be.

6. How often do you brush your teeth: A) After every meal (5%), B) Once a day at night (35%), or C) When I remember or feel like it (60%)?

In real life James does brush his teeth after every meal, hygiene being important to him. However, with that option disabled, he's fine going for option B for his character. The game gives a slight reduction in his hygiene, but increases his desire for routine. The change in James' hygiene doesn't really happen in real life yet, instead manifesting as an attitude change, where taking care of hygiene feels like more effort than it did to James before.

7. When you're given a task, do you: A) Rush it and get it out of the way (10%), B) Start and work on it at a steady pace (4%), or C) Procastinate on it and do it last minute (86%)?

Despite the changes so far, James still hates lazy people who procrastinate. While he would usually answer B, he answers A as the second best thing. The game increases his decisiveness and efficiency, but a few negative stat changes happen, such as reducing his responsibility, care, and he takes a slight hit to his usual grades. Internally, James can feel himself becoming rasher and a little lazier. While he's far from dumb right now, his priority shifts away from being as based around education as it usually is.

8. How often do you exercise: A) Daily (36%), B) A couple times a week (31%), C) Never (33%)?

James' mind thinks back to the answer to that first question. He got a nerd attribute point, and if he answers never to this question he'll definitely get another one. He thinks that'd suck, who wants to play a video game as a nerd? Being unable to answer B, he decides to select A to ensure his character isn't too much of a nerd.

Upon selecting this option, the game's appearance changes slightly. It gets a little more colourful and begins playing music, while having more animations to keep James' attention focused on the game. A pop-up appears:

Trait Earned: Gym Focus. You care more about the gym than reading or numbers, so for the rest of the character creator you won't get to see how your answers change your stats. Your questions will become catered to your gym focus.

9. At the gym, your favourite exercise is: A) Lifting (88%), B) Cardio like running (4%), C) Bodyweight exercises (8%)?

James doesn't really know what bodyweight exercises are, and everyone else chose lifting. Lifting's weights and stuff, he knows that, so why not? James chooses option A. His head is feeling a bit strange, a bit slower than normal, maybe he's coming down with a cold or something. His whole body feels kinda warm, actually, so he must be getting sick. Before he can think about it too much, the game quickly gives him the next question.

10. What's your favourite music: A) Rock (25%), B) Rap (53%), C) Country (22%)?

James is definitely feel weird now, and the weird thing is he's not even sure. He's struggling to remember what music he used to listen to. Most people chose rap though, so he chooses rap too.

The game presents a new popup:

Congratulations, you have finished the character creator! Now it's time to play the game, James. Live a full day in this life to finish tailoring your character. You can do pretty much whatever you want, but the game will occasionally give you choices, and your answers to these choices will have a particularly high impact on your stats.

James grins, finally the character creator's over. He scratches his pec, thinking about whether he should continue playing right now. He's got nothing else to do this evening though. He just moved to university, but he doesn't know anyone here yet and doesn't know what the best places to go out are. So he can continue playing for now.

James clicks start, eager to get to the proper gameplay. He hasn't noticed any change in real life at all, but is impressed at how well the game's avatar matches him already. It's got exactly the same build as he worked hard for. He's a straight B student, retaining some of his intelligence thanks to his nerd attribute point. The changes to his personality are extensive but subtle for now.

The game assigns a world catered towards his character, particularly the Follower Mentality and Gym Focus traits. The game includes a vast number of different worlds, and assigns one to each player at the end of the character creator based on what it thinks the player would enjoy, though this can also mean that players get railroaded towards a certain path of transformation. The world features a mix of other players and NPCs, though this isn't stated anywhere and James assumes everyone here is an NPC for now.

The game loads and James wakes up in his bed. The flat he lives in is pretty unfurbished, only having essential gameplay items. He quickly follows his new instincts for his morning routine. Thanks to his answer in the character creator, showering or brushing his teeth doesn't cross his mind, so he heads straight to the kitchen. There are a variety of food options here, but he instinctively makes some chicken and a protein shake.

While consuming breakfast, James checks the in-game phone. The game presents him with a number of opportunities, but the one that captures his attention is the "gym" opportunity. James browses the gyms included in the game world. The gym he chooses to attend will impact his stats and the types of people he meets, but he only has access to one of them:

Elite Gym (unavailable: James is not upper class)

Budget Gym (unavailable: James is too muscular to benefit from this gym)

As Rocks Gym (available)

As Rocks Gym? James wonders what that name could hint at, but not for very long since it's the only option for him anyway. Plus, he looks up the address and discovers it's on his street. He finishes his breakfast and heads there right away.

James walks in and heads to the reception desk to sign up for the gym. He's greeted by the first NPC he's interacting with in this game. The NPC talks pretty slowly and has a vacant face, but James figures that's probably a limitation of the programming, and all the NPCs will be like that. He finishes signing up for the gym and is given a membership card. The card has a large number on it, which is currently 118. James assumes this is his membership number or something.

He heads deeper into the gym to start lifting. He' spends a while inside, before eventually being's quickly approached by another character. At first James assumes this is a NPC, but he receives a message on his screen.

Klingime3: yo, u new? u luk new. wana tour?

James14214573923: Oh, this is online? You're another player?

Klingime3: yh bro im a player. dis gyms awsum, cmon

James14214573923: Uh ok, yeah.

James begins following this other player. His avatar isn't a muscle god or anything, but he's wearing damp gym clothes so James assumes he's just finished a workout anyway. There's no option to see his stats or anything, though James can see some traits. The list of traits Klingime3 has is pretty long, he must have played this game a lot, but some highlights James spots from a quick look are "Sweat Waterfall", "Dropout Dumb", "Horned Up", "Sheep Herder", and "Gym Dedicated". This gives him a decent idea of who he's dealing with here. Since James' avatar matches his own personality so well, he figures the same is probably true for Klingime3, and the spelling would seem to support that theory.

James briefly hovers over himself and sees that his own traits are displayed. He's still only got the two of them, "Gym Mentality" and "Follower Mentality". He realises that that's probably how this Klingime guy knew he was new, because he didn't have many traits yet. He doesn't realise that the Herd Mentality trait is an advert for other players to influence his stats, though.

James14214573923: So thanks for showing me around. This was the only gym I could go to, the others were locked.

Klingime3: dose other gyms suck fr dw, dis got da best shit. like ere. luk.

Klingime3 stops in front of a bar.

Klingime3: dis dude makes drinks for us, deyre rly gud. u got cash yet?

James14214573923: Uh nah, not yet, I think. Unless you start with some. I just booted up the game and came here. What's special about a drink?

Klingime3: deyre jus good. ill get u my faves. da rocks shake is rly gud, it boosts happy stat and stuf. n it boosts mussel gains from da liftin we boutta do. ill get u dat.

James receives an item in his inventory. Klingime3 has given him a "As Rocks Shake", seemingly the speciality item for this gym, though other shakes are available. Still not understanding the wordplay at hand here, James quickly chugs it. It tastes really good, and somehow consuming it in the game makes him feel happy in real life too. His phone in his real life pocket vibrates, not only to administer the effects of the shake, but also to provide a small jolt of happiness that will make him want to buy that kind of shake again.

The NPC at the drinks stand offers James free drinks today, and he quickly buys another "As Rocks Shake" while browsing the menu for more variety. He figures he can consume them from his inventory whenever his hydration decreases from the gym session. The NPC says the free drinks can count for their loyalty scheme, and asks for James' gym membership card. He gives it to the NPC, noticing the number on it now says 108 for some reason.

Klingime3: u like it yh? u got rocks shake agen dats cool. u shud get da water too. n da hazer.

James looks curiously at the items available in the bar, just "water" doesn't seem to be available. He realises Klingime must mean the "Water(fall) Can". No stat changes are displayed, but James vaguely remembers waterfall being in one of Klingime's traits. James can't remember what it was though, for some reason his memory seems a bit worse than normal. He also takes his advice and gets the hazer.

James and Klingime3 spend a few hours in the gym together. James takes Klingime3's guidance on the best ways to lift, while Klingime3 keeps encouraging James to restock on drinks frequently. It doesn't take James much convincing though, he's still trying to manage his needs and for some reason he's constantly thirsty. Since drinking the Water(fall) Can he's been sweating a lot, which is making his thirst pretty extreme, but James doesn't realise it's the effect of that can. He's trying to pay attention to the game, but there's a lot going on and it's becoming pretty hard to follow.

James14214573923: i'm gettin hungry, there good places to eat round here?

Klingime3: da gym got gud food. ill show u.

Klingime3 takes James to small stand in the gym. It has a very limited menu, but Klingime3 immediately orders for James anyway.

Klingime3: i got us horndogs w da rocks sorce n da brainfries. deyre rly gud, ull like.

James shows his gym membership card to receive the food, the number on it now saying 88 for some reason. Klingime3 definitely seems like an expert in this game, so James happily follows his lead. Especially as James' brain slows down thanks to his activities here today, he doesn't have the capacity to question Klingime3's decisions much anymore. He happily chats to his new friend while eating the food.

As they finish their meal, James realises his sleep meter is almost empty.

James14214573923: damn bro my i gota sleep. how u do dat?

Klingime3: o yh so wen u sleep u cant play agen til tmrw irl. i got bufs cos i play alot so i can stay up lon but if u g2g u g2g, ill go urs n show u how to sleep n den c u tmrw on ere?

James14214573923: bet bro yh ill play tmrw lesgo mine now for sleep tho

James and Klingime head back to his in-game flat and Klingime shows James how to sleep. The game saves quickly, and then boots James out to the main menu. The phone in his pocket vibrates, the game's app has sent him a notification. James pulls it out to read it.

"First Day Complete! Thanks for playing a full day James, we've saved your data. It really helps us out. See you tomorrow! - Life Simulator Game"

James grins vacantly as he reads the notification. His dulled brain generates some basic thoughts in response, such as how awesome the game was and how awesome the Klingime3 guy was. He'll definitely play again tomorrow.

His mind struggles to come up with activities for him to do for the rest of his day until he can play the game again. As he itches his damp crotch to aid his thought, the effects of the horndog Klingime3 ordered for him in the game kick in, and he downloads another app that's never been on his phone before: Grindr.

[varkas108]

Say no more, I’m sold

[varkas108]

I’ll take it off your hands. I will make sure it gets returned…eventually…maybe…

A recall had been issued for these masks.

Somehow, the chemical composition of the fabric cause normal guys to turn into mindless muscle beasts whenever they were worn.

If you have one, please return it immediately. Do not attempt to wear it, the results quickly become addictive and, worst of all, eventually permeant.

[varkas108]

I’d like to turn myself in, Sir

Last week Yannick was captured by the Force.

Today, it was GarCop 136-e7's first day in the field.

[varkas108]

To Be One Of Many

There are those who wish to stand out, to be individuals who walk into a room and are noticed. There are those who at the end of the day want to be in the spotlight for the world to see.

Then there are those like me, those who wish to be nothing more than one of many. Remove my individuality. Remove my ability to think.

Some would say that is a death they could not handle. But to me, to be a drone or to be nothing more than a stormtrooper following orders would be a blessing.

Gone would be the chaos of being a human.

Gone would be the chaos of trying to figure out what is for dinner.

Gone would be the desire to become something more and failing every time.

But to me and others like me, becoming a drone would be a release. To be able to stand there at attention looking like everybody else around me without an identity but instead of just a designation given to me by somebody else.

To be one of many is a dream that will never be realized.

But one can dream can't I?

[varkas108]

I always wanted to play football growing up. Nowadays an invite like this would be as tempting as a siren’s song and a dream come true all at once. No way I could say no

"Our team used to suck. We couldn't win a single game. But then Coach took over. On his first day he ordered us to light up cigars. He told us it would get us into a winner's mentality. We were sceptical at first, but then the private training sessions started. In no time he had filled us with his winner's mentality. We didn't lose a single match ever since.

You know what? Come over to train with us. You might learn a thing or two. After that, we can introduce you to Coach, he is always happy to share his winner's mentality others. If you please him, you might even make it into the team!"

[varkas108]

Isn’t it amazing the difference just one day can make?

Change a day - Lucas

Lucas' life was messed up. It was a shame, but there was no other way to put it. Lucas had never really come out. Not that those around him were homophobic or anything, but he had never had the courage to come out about his sexuality. At some point, he was 40 and still a virgin. He had once jerked off in sex cinemas and had certainly had contact with real men. But that was always anonymous. And he had never fucked anyone and had never been fucked. Since the internet had become more and more dominant and places for anonymous and quick sex had increasingly disappeared from the real world, Lucas had become more and more caught up in the maelstrom of internet pornography. A conformist bore by day. A wanker in front of the screen in the evening. As I said, Lucas' life was messed up.

Lucas had some contact with one or two people in some chats. From time to time, he had been advised to go to therapy to open up his blockages. To have real sex. He didn't dare. Talking to someone face to face about his needs seemed almost as absurd and scary to him as the idea of having awkward sex as a 40-year-old virgin with a man who had already fucked hundreds of times. But he had to change something. That was clear to him. “40 years old, virgin, gay, online therapy”. That was his Google search. “changeoneday.chron” came up at the top of the list. Never heard of it. He was also unfamiliar with the domain extension. He clicked on it.

He quickly came to a list of questions. Which he was dissatisfied with. What his dreams were. Which people were close to him. Which people he had a good relationship with. With whom he had a bad relationship. Phew, that was exhausting and sometimes very intimate. Was this page even safe? After all, he was surfing on a company computer… If he could change one day in his life, which one would he choose? Lucas had to think. But he actually knew exactly which day, which moment he would change. He had been maybe 22 years old at the time. He had just started his trainee program. At the same cursed company where he still worked today. There was this one colleague. Dustin. Dustin was hot. Athletic, cool haircut, cool clothes, killer smile. Unattainable. But a good wank template. And then came this one Saturday evening. Lucas had once again plucked up all his courage and gone to a gay bar. He had entered the bar with a bright red head. And right in front of him was Dustin leaning against the counter. In a pair of tight leather jeans. With a naked upper body. Beads of sweat in his trimmed chest hair. He was flirting with the barman. Or the bartender with Dustin. Lucas turned around and walked home. God, I hope Dustin hadn't seen him. Of course he had. He asked him the next Monday, grinning, why Lucas had run off. They could have had a beer. And Lucas bit his tongue and pretended he had no idea what Dustin was talking about. He would have been at home at the weekend watching TV. Shit, if he could change one day, it would be this Saturday. Or at least Monday. Dustin had been promoted shortly afterward. Lucas had only seen him on the intranet. And at some point, Dustin had moved to some cool startup in Estonia. And Lucas had lost sight of him. So what if he changed Saturday?

Lucas had once again plucked up all his courage and gone to a gay bar. He had entered the bar with a bright red head. And right in front of him was Dustin leaning against the counter. In a pair of tight leather jeans. With a naked upper body. Beads of sweat in his trimmed chest hair. He was flirting with the bartender. Or the bartender with Dustin. Lucas summoned up all his courage. He stood at the bar. He mumbled a “Hello Dustin” as confidently as he could and ordered a beer. “Fuck! You're Lucas, aren't you? You're also with us at the company, right? Nice to know I'm not the only gay guy in the village!” He smiled his disarming smile. They had a beer together. Dustin flirted with Lucas. He took Lucas to a leather bar. Shit, they were both really drunk. Lucas could hardly remember his first time in the sling in the darkroom. But he did remember waking up the next morning and seeing Dustin's naked ass as he went into the bathroom to piss. And when Lucas was fucked by Dustin for the second time afterwards, he was mostly sober.

The story with Dustin had mostly been a flash in the pan. Of course, the two of them met up in the relevant clubs and darkrooms from time to time. They had sex from time to time. They also started going to the gym together. They became friends, workout partners and occasional fuck buddies. But over time, it became clear that Lucas was too dominant to be Dustin's bottom. Lucas' cock was made for splitting asses. His ass was not made to be split. And there were enough tight asses lined up to be split by his cock, that much was clear…

It was unclear what Lucas' career was made of. Yes, his commitment to the gym had led to a tight body and healthy self-confidence. And the fact that he had once fucked a customer almost in a trance and the customer had insisted that Lucas should become his key account manager was certainly not a disadvantage either. He then met Bjorn at a leather meeting in Berlin in 2011, if he remembered correctly. The two of them had had their eye on the same bottom at the slave market. Bjorn had been financially stronger and had won. But he had invited Lucas to have fun together with the submissive pig. Well, and that had been the beginning of many years of professional and private cooperation.

Luke hadn't seen Bjorn for a few weeks. Bjorn had to run his company in Berlin, Luke had traveled the world a bit since his last successful exit. Having fun. And a bit of advice and lectures on stuff. So also to have fun. He hadn't worked for money for a long time. He'd had his new leather uniform made in Amsterdam last week. He loves it when the leather still creaks and smells freshly tanned. Whatever Bjorn had planned for tonight, they were going to have a lot of fun!

Luke's picture from Bjorn's point of view found @bargas

[varkas108]

I always wished I had a neighbor more like me. Living here felt like I was trapped behind glass — close enough to see everyone, but never quite part of it. Most people kept their distance. And the one person who didn’t? My neighbor across the street — a massive, musclebound military guy who stomped around in full gear like he was still on active duty. Always shouting into his phone, working out in the driveway. We had nothing in common. I barely even waved hello.

One night, feeling lonelier than usual, I muttered under my breath, "I just wish I had a neighbor more like me." I didn’t think anything of it. Just a passing thought. But the world must’ve been listening.

When I woke up, everything was wrong.

First thing I noticed was the weight of the dog tags clinking against my chest. I sat up, disoriented, and the bed creaked under my heavier frame. I looked down — I was wearing only a pair of tight black boxer briefs. And my body... Thick, heavy muscles bulged under my skin, veins tracing over biceps the size of softballs. My stomach was a carved six-pack, my legs like stone columns. Tattoos wrapped around my shoulders and arms — sharp black ink I didn’t remember getting.

I opened my mouth to shout, to ask what was happening — but instead, out came a calm, deep voice: "Situation normal. Good to go." I clamped my hand over my mouth, heart hammering against my ribs. This wasn’t right.

I stumbled out of bed — bare feet slapping the floor — and nearly tripped over a neatly stacked pile of folded camo fatigues. I rushed to the bathroom, gripping the doorframe like it might disappear.

The man staring back at me in the mirror was a stranger. Square-jawed, military haircut, a body like it was carved from granite. Hardened, disciplined. Unshakable. My hands — thick, calloused — shook slightly, but my face stayed stoic, calm, trained. I had to get help.

I yanked on a tight olive-green T-shirt, fatigues, and boots waiting by the door. Everything fit perfectly, like it had been tailored for this new, monstrous body. I bolted outside, desperate to find some scrap of normalcy.

That’s when I saw him. My neighbor. Standing by his truck, grinning wide, like we’d been friends for years.

"Mornin', brother!" he barked, striding over and clapping a heavy hand on my back. I tried to say something casual, anything — but my body snapped to attention, and I barked back, "Mornin', Sergeant! Outstanding day for PT!"

No. No no no. Inside, I was screaming. But on the surface, I was steady, confident, every word crisp like I’d practiced it my whole life.

We talked — about gear, training regimens, upcoming drills — and I just kept playing along, answering perfectly, even laughing when he cracked a joke about "those soft new recruits." At one point, I heard myself say, "Woke up at 0500 hours, got my warm-up set in before chow," — like it was the most natural thing in the world. 5 a.m., I corrected silently. Normal people say 5 a.m. But my mouth would never betray the facade.

"Come on, brother, we’re late for base," he barked, tossing a duffel into the truck. Without hesitation, I grabbed my own — somehow packed and ready — and climbed in.

The base was real. The ID around my neck scanned at the checkpoint. Guards waved me through. Nobody questioned it. We spent the day side-by-side, yelling commands, demonstrating lifts, pushing trembling recruits through brutal obstacle courses. And somehow, everything I needed to know was just there — drilled into me like muscle memory I never actually earned. Every command, every drill, every reprimand rolled off my tongue with perfect authority. And somewhere deep inside, the real me — the scared, confused version — shrank further and further down, screaming silently into the void.

That night, back in my strange, hyper-organized house, I tried to process it all. Photos covered the walls — snapshots of me and my neighbor on deployments, at competitions, at ceremonies. Awards lined the shelves. My inbox was full of congratulatory messages on recent promotions. My memories — my real ones — felt like faint shadows compared to the heavy, real weight of this new life.

The world believed this was who I'd always been. The world demanded I believe it too.

And no matter how much I panicked inside, no matter how much I begged for the old life back, my mouth only said, "Yes, sir." "Roger that." "Mission accomplished."

I guess my wish had come true. I wasn’t alone anymore. I had my best friend. My squad. My calling.

And deep down, under all the tattoos, the muscle, the discipline, the pride, the old me still existed. Still thrashing, still trying to surface.

But each day, that voice grew a little fainter. Each day, it got a little easier to lace up my boots, square my shoulders, and drive out to base. Adapt and overcome. That’s the mission now.

[varkas108]

Yeah, I feel great, man.

Just take the picture before I finish my smoke.

By the way thanks again for the leather.

I didn’t believe you at first when you said it would change me.

Hehe, I feel changed alright.

The last memories of my old life are fading more and more.

You know what, bro? I don’t care.

I am glad I traded this other life with this new one.

I mean, look at me.

I am the perfect biker bro that you just gotta worshipt, rite?

Gonna take my baby out for a nice spin.

Would you take that damn picture already?

[varkas108]

Yes, sir!

"Hey man, if you want to have a good time, follow us."