wirdtkun - Tumblr blog

wirdtkun · 5 months ago

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No. 20

This was me a week ago... before everything changed. Tbh I don't remember too much about the old me. That's part of why I'm writing this down. I get the feeling that before long this version of me will seem like nothing more than a distant memory.

What I do remember is that I used to be called Andy. I was (and still am) an architect, but that's pretty much all I could say for my career. I had the skills and the vision, but very few opportunities to do anything with them. Instead, I was in my early 30's getting by mostly on renovations and the occasional new home. I was desperate for something bigger, something more meaningful.

As for my looks and interests, I pretty much radiated the alt skater vibe... Though in truth I'd spent very little time on my board the last few years. I did have a deep interest in music, and while my tastes spanned several genres, they tended to center around alt rock and a touch of screamo. The more expressive the better. Lacking a better outlet for my own need for expression, channeling the emotions of the artists was the next best thing... And often, a desperately needed release.

So here I was on just another humdrum day. I was headed to the office to discuss some new renovation that lacked any prospect of fulfilling my need to create or having any real impact on the world. The office I worked for was in a trendy area of the city filled with an eclectic mix of high end art galleries, restaurants, chic offices, and nich boutiques. I had parked my car and was walking down the street to the lofted office space we shared with a few other small firms when I noticed an unfamiliar gold Mercedes G-Wagon idling out front. The windows were rolled up, but I could hear the unmistakable base of some trap beats pumping from inside. The custom license plate said "KNGSTN33" and from what I could see, the driver was a black guy with braids wearing a gold puffer jacket over a gold Nike hoodie. I could also make out several items of gold bling glinting in the sunlight. I figured he was here for one of the high end clothing or jewelry stores, but as I approached the bottom of the stairs leading up to our office, I saw 3 more gold clad guys exit from the door at the top. I decided to pause at the bottom of the stairs so that they could pass, and as I waited I could hear them talking...

"Damn cap! That was a total waste of time bruv," one guy exclaimed, looking rather irritated. He was an imposing blond figure and he spoke with a British accent with a chavy lit.

"It's cool Scott bro," said the second guy in a calmer tone but with a similar accent, "If they can't handle a project like this we'll just have to find someone who can."

"Whatever you say cap," the first guy retorted, calmer but with frustration still evident in his tone, "Tbh tho I don't think they took us seriously."

"Fuck it bruv! Their loss!" said the third guy also with a chavy British accent but with a slight Latino lit that differentiated him from the others and matched his honey colored skin.

"Damn right!" The other 2 responded in unison just as the trio reached the bottom of the stairs. It was at this moment that they finally noticed me standing there.

"Oh shit bro, my bad. Thanks for waiting bruv." Said the second guy addressing me directly. He extended his fist for a bump. Caught off guard I hesitated for a second before returning it.

Following our brief interaction the 3 gold clad "bros" continued in the direction of the G-Wagon which at this point I assumed was their ride. As they passed me I couldn't help smell the musky cologne they all seemed to be radiating. It wasn't a bad smell, but it was so overwhelming that it made me a little lightheaded. I took a moment to recover before finally proceeding up the stairs myself. However, I didn't get very far before I heard a voice calling back to me.

"Yo bruv. Wait up a sec."

"What now?" I wondered internally as I turned around to see which of 3 chavy gold bros it was. Turns out it was the same guy who fist bumped me moments before. He approached the stairs again while the 2 other guys waited near the car looking somewhat curious themselves.

"You work for these people bruv?" He asked, stopping near the bottom.

I wasn't sure exactly who they'd been meeting with. Like I said, we had a few different firms sharing office space so it could've been anyone. Not knowing anything about these guys, and not wanting to be too specific, I replied, "Yeah, I do work for one of them."

"You like it bruv?" He asked. I was surprised by the question, especially since I'd just met this guy, and tbh I was starting to get a little irritated by all the bros and bruvs. Not saying I never called anyone "bro," but with these guys it seemed like it was every sentence.

"It's ok I guess." I replied, not quite sure why I was willing to be so candid with this complete stranger. There was just something about him that was endearing, not to mention he seemed to exude pure confidence. His muscle tone was evident under the tight gold soccer jersey he wore, and his slightly wavy hair was in a neat quiff with shaved sides.

"Ok bruv?" he replied, "Should be more than ok if this is what you're doing with your life."

Again, I was taken aback by how this guy was talking to me. We'd just met, and now he was trying to give me life advice. Still, I couldn't deny what I already knew to be true, and so I just sort of looked down towards the floor.

"I'm sorry again bruv. I can see I struck a nerve. Didn't mean to make you feel bad or anything. Lemme ask tho, you any good at this stuff? I mean like, we came here today looking for an architect for our new stadium, and it just seems like they weren't about it."

"Stadium?" Definitely sounded interesting, but stadiums weren't the kind of work any of the firms here did. Guessing that's why they got turned away. Still I was curious...

"What kind of stadium?"

"A 50,000 seat soccer stadium for our team the Golden Army Knights bro." He replied.

My immediate thoughts was WTF? How could they be building a 50,000 seat soccer stadium for a team I'd never heard of before... And where? I mean I know I hadn't followed soccer recently as closely as I did in college, but still... Maybe this was the other reason they got rejected.

Before I could ask any of the 100's of questions in my head, the guy continued.

"Listen bruv. Don't got much time today but we need a good designer to lead up this project. If you got the skills you should hit me up and we can talk."

I looked at him somewhat incredulously as he whipped a card from the pocket of his shiny gold trackies and handed it to me.

"My numbers on there bro. Text me so I have yours and we'll talk later."

Still majorly taken aback by the entire interaction I extended my own arm and took the card from his hand. I felt a slight tingle in my fingers as I grabbed a hold of it but I dismissed the sensation as your typical static discharge (especially considering the amount of polyester this guy was wearing).

Then the guy extended his other arm for another first bump, which I returned mostly on autopilot at this point, and said "Later bruv." before proceeding back towards the G-Wagon and hoping in the front passenger seat. The other 2 guys started to hop in the back, but the Latino guy stopped for a second right before closing the door and looked right at me. His aloof expression from before had transformed into a smirk that sent a shiver down my spine. It was like he knew something I didn't.

I looked down at the card in my hands as they drove off. It was metallic gold, and printed in embossed lettering was the name Richard and his title, "Team Captain" apparently. His phone number was on the back. I quickly texted my name to the number and headed the rest of the way up the stairs. I wasn't sure yet if I was interested or even capable of doing this project, but I was going to give myself more time to think about it at the very least.

I entered the office, and no one mentioned anything about the golden bros. I expected a comment about their flashy appearance at a minimum, but there was nothing. Still, as I sat there throughout my meetings I couldn't get them off my mind. I wasn't even thinking about the project yet. My mind seemed to be focused on the way these guys looked with their matching jerseys and sportswear drip... and the fact that everything seemed to be gold. Their exact styles had varied, but it was obvious they were part of a group, a collective. Despite being the total opposite of my style I found myself admiring their looks and even wondering what it would be like to be part of a team like that.

Eventually I did manage to refocus on my work, and by the time I got home the golden bros had been relegated to the back of my mind.

------

The next day was Saturday. I woke up around 10 to a message from an unknown number.

"Yo bruv. This Kingston. Didn't meet u but I wuz the guy driving cap nd the other bros yesterday. Cap he said he wants to meet w u today 2 talk about the stadium project. I'll scoop u @ 1. Text ur address"

Even in my groggy state this text left me feeling a little suss. I met these guys for like 10 seconds, and I'm supposed to hop in a stranger's car to go God knows where to discuss a project I haven't even agreed to work on yet... and I've gotta give them my address too. I wasn't crazy about any of this, but my mind went back to my brief conversation with Richard. Something about him was just so endearing. I really wanted to at least see what the project was about so I begrudgingly texted back with my address.

When I'd gotten home Friday evening I swapped my clothes in favor of a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt, so I decided to just toss back on what I was wearing yesterday for the meeting. Sometimes I'd throw on a button down for the sake of looking a tiny bit more professional, but I decided against it today considering the bros I was about to meet with looked like they just walked out of a sportswear catalog. "Whatever I go in will be fine," I told myself. "It's not like they're gonna care."

1 o'clock finally rolled around and I heard a horn blare out front along with the familiar thumping of traps beats rattling the front windows. I hurried to get outside before any of my neighbors could complain about the bass, and I saw the guy I now knew to be Kingston gesture towards me from the driver's seat of his G-Wagon. I cringed a bit at the thought of getting in. I liked my music loud, but if I was hearing that bass from inside my house I could only imagine how loud it would be once I was in the car. I'd come this far, and I wasn't about to let that stop me though. Worst case I could always ask Kingston to turn it down a little.

As I got closer to the car I could see there was someone in the front passenger seat too, so I went to the back on the driver's side and opened the door. As I did, I was instantly struck by 2 things, the deafening volume of the music and the pungent smell of the cologne from yesterday, the latter of which was practically enough to knock me off my feet. Kingston shouted, "Hop in bruv," not in an aggressive way but loud enough that he could be heard over the rap. I took a big gulp of air from outside the car, held my breath, climbed in, tossed my hoodie down next to me and closed the door. "Click," I heard as the doors locked immediately afterwards, and though I couldn't have known it, in that moment I sealed my own fate...

After situating myself in the expensive leather and buckling my seat belt, I looked up to see another familiar face staring back at me. It was the Latino guy from yesterday, and he was wearing the same unnerving grin. "Ricardo bro," he offered, extending his hand for a dap and first bump combo which I awkwardly returned.

Whereas yesterday it has been Kingston wearing a gold Nike hoodie, today it was Ricardo rocking one. "These guys must all shop at the same stores." I thought, "Kind of weird, but kind of... cool, I guess." The idea of that kind of camaraderie was growing strangely more alluring. I could also see the collar of a gold soccer jersey poking out from the neck of the hoodie.. Most likely the same shiny gold jersey he and Richard were wearing yesterday. I knew enough to assume that these were probably their team jerseys, though I thought it a little weird that they seemed to wear them around all the time. It was almost like each of them was a walking billboard for this team of theirs.

I didn't have a good view of Kingston from my position in the back seat, but what I could see was the top of a gold Gucci tracksuit jacket across his expansive shoulders. The arm resting on the center console was clad in a chunky gold Rolex. Combined with the Mercedes we were riding in, it was clear this guy had some serious bread. Despite the fact that I was still holding my breath against the smell of the noxious cologne I was starting to feel a little better about my decision to come along. Maybe these guys did have the resources for this kind of project after all.

I couldn't hold my breath forever, so I switched to the subtlest mouth breathing I could manage as Kingston drove off and Ricardo continued.

"Seems like you made a good impression on cap hommie. Think you got the skills for a project like this?"

I thought for a second before responding. I wanted to be honest, but at the same time, I didn't want to screw myself out of a rare opportunity.

"Not gonna lie, I've never done a project exactly like this, but I'd still like to see if maybe I can help. I'm a good project manager and a quick study."

"Hmmm," replied Ricardo "Skills pay the bills, but if cap thinks you're golden you must be. Cap's never wrong bruv."

I wasn't quite sure what he meant by golden, but I took it as a compliment.

"You play bro?"

I looked at Ricardo confused. I guess he could see it on my face, so he continued.

"Football bruv. You play football?"

Yet another question I wish I could've answered a little differently. The accent and jerseys tipped me off to the fact that he probably wasn't talking about American football... Which was good since I hadn't played American football at all (unless you count flag football, and I don't). I knew he meant soccer, and at least with soccer I did have some experience.

"Well, last time I played on a team was when I was a kid, but I played pickup games on the quad in college."

Ricardo looked at me quizzically before asking, "Why'd you quit bro?" His expression seemed to indicate a lack of understanding as to why anyone would willingly quit his beloved sport.

"Liked playing, but I didn't really feel like a valued member of the team bro." I replied, noticing my use of the word "bro" but thinking little of it. "I definitely regret quitting though."

Ricardo's face lit up at that last part, and that same toothy grin returned. "Orale bro!," he exclaimed, "Thought I could see the heart of a footballer in you. Don't worry about those shitheads you played with before. We gonna show you what it's like to play on a real team bruv."

With that Ricardo turned back around, and I was left wondering what he meant. Unfortunately I didn't have long to think about it as Kingston, I guess sensing the end of our conversation, cracked up the music even higher.

The bass seemed to shake me to my very core, and the raps and melodies were starting to drown out my very thoughts. It didn't help that in the course of conversation I'd gotten several powerful whiffs of the cologne, and I was starting to feel light headed again. I looked out the window and pulled my senses together enough to recognize that we'd gotten on the interstate. I didn't bother to ask where we headed because I knew there was no chance of being heard over the music.

As I sat there in a state of sensory overload I felt movement on my wrist. I looked down in time to watch the black band of my G-Shock watch change from black to metallic gold. My draw dropped. I'd had this watch for almost 10 years, and there was no way I'd forgotten what it looked like... not to mention I saw it change before my very eyes. WTF just happened?!

I was about to try to get the attention of one of the bros up front when I saw more changes happening across my wrist, and this time it wasn't just a change in color. The actual face of the watch began to pop, twist, and contort. It doubled in size as gold hour, minute, and second hands tore through the digital display. Plastic seemed to become metal, and I could feel the weight of the watch become heavier. The reconfiguration came to an end, and while I was still wearing a G-Shock, this one was a totally different style and flashy as hell.

At this point I was really starting to panic. My mind struggled to pull coherent thoughts together, but I started to wonder if maybe these guys slipped me something. I know what I witnessed just wasn't possible, and the only explanation I could come up with was that I was high and hallucinating.

Before I could do much of anything I felt more movement, and this time it was around my feet. I looked down with a growing sense of fear, and what I saw I struggled to comprehend. Gold laces ran through my skate shoes, and the Nike swoosh had replaced the logo of the skate company on the tongue and sides. A spot in each toe turned gold before spreading like an infection across the entirety of each shoe. As it spread, it transformed black suede into gold mesh and synthetic leather. Both shoes seemed to grow a couple sizes as I felt my toes pull away from the fronts. My feet were now clad in a pair of gold Nike Air Max that looked to be around size 12. Not my style and not my size. This didn't make any sense.

I knew I needed to get help before things got any stranger. The problem was we were driving in a locked car at 70 mph, and the only 2 people I who might've been able to help me were also the ones I suspected to be responsible for my predicament, whatever the cause.

I looked up to see Kingston and Ricardo were now rapping along with the music. They seemed completely unaware (or at least unconcerned) with what was happening to me in the back seat. I shouted the first word that came to mind, which was "Bro!" before realizing that there was no hope of being heard over the trap beats pumping from the speakers.

More movement, this time around my crotch and waist. I pulled up the top of my shirt in time to watch the waistband of my Volcom briefs get wider as the name changed to Ethika. The fabric got silkier while also more form fitting, and gold started to "leak" from beneath the waistband into the black fabric below. This time it didn't completely eradicate the black, instead forming a kind of filigree pattern across the material. I felt the briefs extend further down my legs as they finalize their change into a pair of Ethika boxers briefs.

Like a virus continuing to spread, my jeans were next. The belt loops disappeared, and I jumped when I felt the sensation of something worming its way through the waist. The culprit turned out to be a draw string the ends of which popped out the front of my jeans a few seconds later. The waistband became less restrictive as it shifted to elastic. The bottom of my jeans, which had been rolled into a cuff a few inches above my shoes, started to morph and fuse becoming elastic themselves. At this point it looked like I was wearing a pair of black denim joggers, but that wouldn't be the case for long. The waistband and cuffs went from denim to gold polyester in an instant, and then the gold started to bleed into the rest of the fabric from both ends. The individual threads changed from dull black to shiny gold as I watched, and almost every trace of black was eliminated save a Nike logo that appeared on the thigh.

This was beyond weird, and the clarity of the transformations had me wondering if these were hallucinations at all. Everything felt so real down to the silky polyester now hugging my legs. From the waist down I was dressed exactly like one of these golden bros, and from the waist up I was still dressed like me (with the exception of the gaudy gold wristwatch). I needed to do something, anything, so I went back to trying to get help from my 2 companions.

"Brooo!!" I shouted again, this time even louder, "Some weird fuck shit is gonna on back here. I need help bro!" Again it was no use. They were still rapping along with 30 Deep and my voice just couldn't cut through.

"Wait a second," I thought, "Who the hell is 30 Deep?" The name had come to me without really thinking about it, but now that I was thinking about it, I realized I knew a lot more. The rapper's name was 30 Deep Grimey. I knew he was from St. Louis, and I knew he was doing a stint in prison.

How the fuck did I know this stuff? Rap wasn't really my genre, and even though I was familiar with some mainstream stuff, I was pretty sure I'd never heard the song blaring out the speakers until today.

I felt more movement, this time across my shoulders and chest. I yelled a couple expletives as I looked down again to see my baggy white t-shirt getting smaller. Black letters appeared on the front forming the words "Fly Emirates." At this point I didn't have to guess. I knew that in a few seconds I was going to be wearing a soccer jersey... The same one worn by members of the team. As if confirming my suspicions the white cotton shifted all at once into gold polyester and spandex. The shirt felt much lighter and airer despite fitting tighter to my frame. The change was finalized with another black Nike swoosh appearing up near the top of my chest.

What the hell was this? And what would people think if they saw me dressed up like one of these golden bros? They'd probably think I'd lost my mind. I grabbed at the hoodie I tossed next to me in the hopes of covering up the jersey, but I was met with yet another surprise. My black band hoodie was gone, and in its place was a shiny gold Nike hoodie that looked like a perfect match to the track bottoms on my legs. I really was fucked.

Despite the stress caused by my situation I was still feeling a little cold in the car thanks to the top notch AC blowing at full speed. This was remedied in the next moment as a gold puffer jacket, again identical to the ones worn by members of the team, appeared across my back, shoulders, and arms. It was left open in the front showing off my new jersey.

This was officially too much. There's no way I could walk around looking like some football wannabe. I didn't have the body for it or the look, and I couldn't imagine running into someone I knew and trying to explain my gaudy attire. The last (somewhat) clear thought that crossed my mind was, "I needed to get out of this car."

I could see we'd gotten off the interstate, so I pulled at the door handle hoping for some sort of escape. Kingston and Ricardo were still too preoccupied by the music to notice, but it was no good anyway. The doors were locked, and they wouldn't release from the back seat. The music itself had switched over to a Lil' Wayne track (which again I felt like I shouldn't have recognized), and they were rapping along just like before.

I was really starting to feel off, and my brain wasn't firing on all cylinders anymore. I knew there was something I needed to do, but the sensory overstimulation from the music and the smell combined with the mindfuck of watching my clothes transform before my very eyes had left in a fog. There was something, it was important, I needed to... "train."

"WTF?" I thought, "Who said that?" Kingston and Ricardo were still doing their thing, and there's no way I would've been able to hear them anyway.

"You gotta train bruh."

This voice was... unfamiliar. It wasn't Kingston or Ricardo or any of the golden bros I'd heard speak before, but then who was it?

"You gotta build bruh."

Well, that part sounded right at least, but I still didn't know where the voice was coming from. It sounded close, like really close. It was coming from...

"Gotta get golden brah."

"Oh God." The realization hit me like a ton of bricks... It was coming from inside my own head!

Despite the cold air still blowing from the AC, a warmth had started to build within me from the moment the gold puffer materialized across my shoulders. It was more than just the insulation of the puffer though. In fact, the warmth seemed to radiate from every inch of skin in contact with my new gold drip.

When the word "golden" left the mouth of whoever it was that was speaking to me inside my head, it was like some sort of trigger. The warmth became a blazing heat. It didn't feel like I was being burned alive or anything, more like standing in the pitch in the middle of a sunny day in the summer. I shouldn't have even known what that felt like, but I was somehow certain that I did.

My feet cramped for a moment before they experienced a massive, sudden release of pressure. I felt my toes jet forward in my new size 12 Nikes, and moments later they were a perfect fit.

"Noice bro!" The voice said, "Way better for action on the pitch."

My legs were next, I felt my calves and thighs cramp before they experienced the same sort of release. This time the result was muscles doubling if not tripling in size. For the first time in my life I had runner's legs! Calves and thighs protruded from the formerly loose track pants. When I reached a hand out to touch them I felt a firmness that was entirely new, no fat and very little give, just tight, taught muscle. The bottom of the trackies creeped slightly higher as my very bones lengthened, taking me from an average 5'-9" to a respectable 5'-11".

The heat moved up higher nearing my waist. Two things happened at once this time. My undersized rear end cramped and then exploded into a granite shelf that left me sitting up noticeably higher in my seat, while simultaneously a bulge became extremely noticeable in the front of my gold pants. The growth of my tool wasn't like the other changes though, this one was pure pleasure. The sensation was akin to getting fully hard and then feeling your junk continue to grow... and grow... and grow. Every second was orgasmic, and I was pretty sure I was leaking into my new Ethika boxer briefs. I just couldn't help it. It was too much. Any sense of self control had been lost to the cacophony of sensations wracking my body and mind.

At this point I could still hear the voice, but the words and phrases were more disjointed. Some even seemed to layer over each as if multiple words were being spoken at once...

"The team is life..."

"Bruh..."

"Golden kit, golden drip..."

"Bro..."

"Bruv..."

"Football is life..."

"Bro..."

"Build for the team..."

"Gotta hit the gym..."

The heat started to build in my stomach, and I felt my "abs" (if you could've called them that) contract involuntarily. This time the pressure didn't release. Instead my middle section seemed to contact more and more until 6 distinct shapes began to push out like bread rising in an oven. These were abs, real abs, not just a flat stomach with a little muscle buried underneath. No, this was a bonafide six pack complete with cum gutters at the waist. If I hadn't been so brain fucked at the moment I would've been ecstatic, but I did feel an unmistakeable sense of something. It was pride, the kind of pride that only comes from having earned a body like this through years of hard work and dedication.

The words and phrases continued, getting louder and faster as the seconds passed...

"Bruv..."

"Bruh..."

"Gold..."

"Brother's for life..."

"Bros..."

"A home for the team..."

"Football is life..."

Ascending further, the heat then spread to the entirety of my torso. Every remaining muscle tensed and then released. My back became ripped as my shoulders cracked and widened, and my spine lengthened leaving me at an even 6'. My pecs seemed to consume what little fat was on my chest before making up the difference with solid muscle. Soon, they grew beyond that, and for the first time in my life there was an actual shelf on my chest, not huge, but big enough to noticeably stretch the top of my new jersey.

"Golden bros..."

"Bruh..."

"Gold..."

"Training..."

"Studium for the team..."

My biceps cramped before exploding out and almost stretching the sleeves of my jersey to the breaking point. Big biceps weren't necessary for the sport, but clearly I, or whoever I was becoming, really liked my vanity muscles. My forearms grew taught and muscular as my fingers started to pop and lengthen and my palms widened. The delicate artist's hands I'd grown up with were replaced by the confident hands of an athlete, many a gym sesh evident from the callouses that appeared.

Following along as best I could in my semi-dissociative state, I half expected the heat would spread to my head next. Instead it seemed to spread across my entire body, but this time the sensation was only skin deep. Years of sun exposure baked themselves into my skin in a matter of seconds. My very genetics changed allowing for deeper tan from head to toe than I'd ever been able to attain from sunning on the beach.

I managed a single thought, "I look... good," and then it happened... Images of a life I'd never lived started flashing before my eyes. The voice was still there, but now there were pictures and scenes too. Faces I didn't know, places I'd never been, it was all coming so fast. I could see myself partying with a whole team of bros, each of us clad head to toe in flashy gold sportswear. I looked confident... I looked like I was having fun... I looked like I belonged. I could see myself on the pitch playing defense. I could see myself running and sliding, knocking the ball from my opponents control and into the waiting feet of my teammate. It felt natural, like something I'd been doing since I was born. I could see myself in architecture school, but the experience was very different. Instead of excelling at both my architecture studies and my general studies, in this world it seems architecture was one of my only academic fortes. I scrapped by in other classes, in part because my extra time was consumed entirely by football. I saw myself playing for our college team, I saw myself make the varsity squad as a freshman, and I saw myself playing pickup games on the quad every chance I got.

The voices and now images continued as the full-body heat withdrew to my head alone. The first thing I felt (beyond just the heat) was a pulling sensation across my scalp. My beanie was gone, and there was movement around my shoulders as my long hair began to pull shorter. THIS was the part I had dreaded. My hair had become such a part of my identity over the years, and despite all the other changes, I wasn't ready to let it go. With what little mental strength I had left I grabbed at the ends of my hair with both hands and pulled back. Unfortunately whatever force was guiding this transformation was significantly stronger. My hands rose higher until I was finally forced to let go as the sides of my hair shaved down to a fresh fade. I couldn't see it anymore, but the shade changed to a darker brown as what was left on top began to curl. Blond highlights appeared throughout the curls, and what remained was a cut that screamed fuckboi football player.

The style didn't really work with my beard, and as if on cue, most of the hair on my face disappeared into nothingness and only the shortest of stubble remained. I felt pops and cracks across my face as my bone structure adjusted leaving me with a wider chin, a slightly more pronounced nose, and a bigger mouth. My lips plumped out as I licked them with my wider tongue and my eyelashes became thicker. My teeth straightened to perfection and whitened until I had a smile that could make just about anyone swoon.

The images were coming so fast now that I couldn't really comprehend most of it, and it seemed like the words were building to a crescendo. The skin across my face started to tighten, and the few wrinkles I had on my young looking visage disappeared. To an onlooker it might've appeared as though I were being thrown back in time as I went from early 30's (looking like I was in my late 20's) to early 20's (looking like I was in my late teens)... A decade of life washed away in moments.

"GOLD..."

"TEAM..."

"BROTHERS..."

"FOREVER..."

A sharp pain unlike anything I'd experienced during my transformation struck my left ear. A gold diamond stud had pierced my lobe, and in that moment it felt like something pierced my soul. My vision was consumed by a blinding golden light, and then... nothing...

------

I came-to standing in a dark space. There was no sound and very little light, but I could see what looked like clouds overhead. A single ray of sunlight broke through the dense ceiling, and my eyes traced its path down to the ground where it illuminated another figure standing near me. It was him, or rather, it was me… It was the person I watched myself become during the course of that hellish car ride. Across his broad shoulders was the name Dylan and below that the number 20. The sunlight peeking through the clouds seemed to shimmer across the jersey in an almost ethereal way. He looked like a football God, which is to say, nothing like me.

He turned to face me as the sunlight continued to beam down on him like a spotlight, and my jaw practically hit the floor. It was still me, or at the very least there were still characteristics of me, but it was like a genetically perfect fuckboi version of me. His gaze was enchanting, and I couldn’t look away.

Gesturing downward towards his muscular body and gold fit, he asked, “What do you think bruv?” His voice was the same voice I’d been hearing in my head. It sounded deeper, more relaxed, and more confident than my own.

I didn’t exactly know what to think, but I knew this wasn’t right. For the moment I had two sets of memories rattling around my brain as well two personalities that seemed fundamentally incompatible. My old memories and personality were screaming at me to fight this, to find some way to get back to the way things were.

“This is all wrong. You gotta change me back bruv!”

I stopped cold when I heard the sound of my own voice. I sounded exactly like him down to the “bruv” peppering the end of my demand. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get my voice to go back to normal.

“Wha… cough… What is this bro?”

“This is you brah,” he replied as he stretched his arms wide and started to flex.

“No way brah! It can’t be!” I pleaded.

At this he looked at me curiously as if truly failing to understand the source of my distress.

“I know ya like what you see, bruv, so what you so afraid of?” he asked.

“What do YOU think bro?!” I replied, both fear and anger evident in my tone despite the new broish lit to my voice, “This ain’t me! This ain’t my style, and this ain’t my life!”

“Should be, innit?” He asked, “I mean brah, ain’t dis everything you ever wanted?”

“No way bro! I mean I… I… “ I trailed off. Suddenly I wasn’t sure. I searched through both sets of memories for some sense of truth. I could remember a life full of hard work with little to show for it… a life full of both love and heartache… but also a life that felt fundamentally unfulfilled. At the same time I could remember another life. This one was also filled with hard work, but in this life I was much more physical. In this life I had an outlet for my feelings, and that outlet was football. In this life I had a sense of fulfillment that came from both my success on the pitch and my success in my design career. I could see stadiums, and parks… places that seemed very real… places I had built.

“What exactly WAS I afraid of?," I asked myself, "What I am afraid of losing?" The old me seemed to reply with images of friends and bonds forged over the course of my life. Those people were very important to me… The bonds of love and friendship were very important to me, but then, why did I still feel so alone? The truth was that loneliness had been my constant companion for as long as I could remember. There was a need still unfulfilled… a sense of brotherhood and belonging I so desperately longed for.

“The team brah,” the new me spoke again rousing me from my thoughts, “Once you part of da team you part of da family bro, and that shits for life.”

I had to admit, that did sound good. The more I looked over the memories that came with Dylan’s life the more I realized that sense of loneliness wasn’t his companion the way it had been mine. What I saw were bros. Not always the brightest tools in the shed off the field but that shit didn’t matter. What did matter was having bros that acted like you and thought like you… Bros that liked the same things and were loyal to a fault.

My face and body relaxed from the tense posture they'd taken as my anger and fear started to subside.

"See bruh. No reason to be afraid anymore. You're lukin at your gold ticket."

He was right. I couldn't deny it anymore. I was still sad at the prospect of giving up the life I'd know, but there was something I needed. It was the warmth I first felt in the car, it was the sun bearing down on me on the beach or on the pitch, it was a golden ray of something I wanted more than anything in the world... It was... happiness, and it was standing right in front of me.

"Join me bro. Let's walk this life together..."

Dylan outstretched his arm and offered me his hand. I took one final deep breath, and I grabbed it. As I did, the ray of sunlight enveloping Dylan widened to include me too. The warmth from before returned, but it was more... everywhere the sun touched my skin was ecstasy. Pure happiness and joy seem to radiate like a stream from the light above. I knew I'd made the right choice. I let go of Dylan's hand and I hugged him. He hugged back. We squeezed each other tightly as the light grew brighter and brighter. I smiled as everything faded to white…

------

A gold Mercedes G-Wagon rolled up at a large piece of empty land on the outskirts of the city. It drove towards a table near the road where three men dressed in gold were reviewing some land surveys. Two of the men wore sportswear and soccer jerseys, and the third was dressed in a dazzling suit and tie. The G-Wagon came to a stop about 20’ feet from the table, and a mixed race guy with braids exited the driver's seat wearing a gold Gucci tracksuit. He was followed by a Latino guy in Nike track pants and a gold puffer jacket. From the back seat emerged a third man. He was dressed similarly to the Latino, but he wore a gold Nike hoodie under his puffer jacket. He also carried a golden iPad in his right hand. The trio walked over to the first group at the table, and they greeted each other like bros do, namely, with fist bumps and daps, and every variation of bro and bruv imaginable.

After a few minutes of idle chatter, one of the men from the first group gave a quick whistle to get everyone's attention.

“Listen bros. This is the start of the next chapter for the golden army…”

“Fuck yeah!” a couple of the sportswear clad bros chimed in.

“... but it's gonna take a lot of work to get this thing from start to finish.”

The guy in the suit nodded, taking on a slightly more serious expression.

“To get us there I'm bringing together the two best experts our team has bros. First off, you all know Walter, our team manager,” placing his hand on the shoulder of the man in the suit before continuing, “He'll work on securing the permits and getting some incentive packages from the government. His experience in real estate and management make him the perfect bro for the job. Walter will handle the PR side of things too.”

“The other bro who's gonna be heading up this project is Dylan,” he said, placing his other hand on the shoulder of the bro who'd exited the Mercedes wearing a gold puffer over a gold Nike hoodie, “You all know Dylan's skills on the field, but what you might not know is that he's an accomplished designer too. He's got a half dozen stadium projects under his belt, and my bro's only 23.”

The guy in the puffer and hoodie blushed a bit at the comment, but it was hard to tell through the bronzed skin. His tuft of curly bro hair also cast a slight shadow across his face thanks to the sun beginning its slow descent behind the group. The diamond stud in his ear glinted in the dusk.

“I'll do my best Cap,” Dylan hesitated a moment before continuing, “but I'll be honest bro, I ain't never done anything this big before.”

Dylan had been loyal to captain Richard from the moment he'd been accepted to the team a few years ago and received his first golden jersey. That loyalty extended to honesty, and he'd be honest with Cap even if it meant shorting himself the opportunity of a lifetime. Dylan was the same way with all his bros, and it was one of the things they loved about him.

Cap replied, “Not worried about that bruv. We got faith cus you got vision…”

The other bros nodded

“Now show us what you've got.”

Dylan placed the iPad he’d been carrying on the table before loading up a rendering of the design he'd been working on for the last few weeks. Jaws dropped collectively as the 5 other men looked at the golden stadium on the screen.

Cap grinned... “Fuck bro! Grayden's gonna love this!”

Dylan smiled and looked out at the sun setting across the green grass that would one day become their new pitch. He hoped they'd all love it. After all, this was the team bros he thought of like family. These were the brothers he knew he'd have for life. They'd given Dylan so much, and now he could give back… and make his mark on the world at the same time.

------------

A BIG thank you to @ricardogold6 for all his support helping me to get this story finished! Additional credit due to Ricardo for providing one of the pics. I'd also like to thank @romangolden68, @hamza-goldenarab (aka Scott/Hercules), and @mitchgold for their support and inspiration.

I bit off WAAAAY more than I could chew when I started this thing, so apologies to everyone I've kept waiting. I've never written a story this long before, and I had to run a few hundred AI prompts to get all the pics right (and spend some time in Phototshop).

Contact our golden recruiters Scott @hamza-goldenarab and Brody @brodygold if you're interested in joining the team.

Golden army for life bros! 💛

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