Mall Rats

Hey guys -- I kinda got stuck on my second story this month, so I pulled this from my 'in case of emergency' queue. Hope y'all enjoy it! Happy Halloween!

PS: Encore should show up sometime this weekend.

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My name's Evan, and if you asked me two months ago, I would've said I had my shit together. Twenty-six, living in downtown Vancouver, entry-level project coordinator at Pulse Communications. Not flashy, but stable. Respectable. The kind of career that would eventually, finally, get me somewhere.

Or so I kept telling myself.

In reality, I was trapped. One of a dozen junior staffers crammed into fabric cubicles. I spent my days updating spreadsheets no one read, getting micromanaged by middle managers who couldn't tell a deliverable from a deadline, and sitting through "team-building" exercises.  Bright-eyed HR ladies chirped about "synergy" while we rotted from the inside out.

Every morning, I swore I'd get out. I had a plan. A five-year roadmap. Networking events, personal brand development, maybe an MBA if I could stomach the debt. The stress gnawed at me, a constant low buzz behind my eyes. I couldn't sleep, couldn't think, couldn't stop replaying every minor mistake I'd made at work.

It didn't help that every time I looked across the floor, I saw *him*.

Matt.

God, Matt was unbearable.

Somehow, he did the same job I did — technically — but spent most of his day leaning back in his chair, grinning at his phone, or joking with the girls in Accounting. His cubicle was a shrine to bad taste: tacky motivational posters, bobblehead toys, a photo of him flexing shirtless at the beach.

And everyone *loved* him. Clients, coworkers, even our boss. They called him "chill," said he brought "good vibes" to the office. Meanwhile, I’d bust my ass triple-checking project timelines and get a polite nod, if that.

It was like Matt lived in a different universe — one where showing up late with a protein shake and a dopey smile got you further than actual work. Watching him skate through life made something hot and bitter burn at the back of my throat.

*How the hell was that fair?*

I hated him. I hated how easy everything seemed for him. How he just... existed, carefree and effortless, while I ground myself to dust trying to be perfect and still felt invisible.

When I thought about Matt, when I watched him laughing too loudly by the elevators or getting clapped on the back by the boss, a single word floated up unbidden in my mind:

*Idiot.*

But God, sometimes...

Sometimes I'd catch myself staring at him a little too long. At the casual curve of his arms, the way his faded jeans clung low on his hips, the lazy sprawl of his legs under his desk. And when I caught myself, I'd flush and turn away, scowling even harder.

I wasn't jealous. I wasn't curious.

I wasn't...

*Whatever.*

Another notification pinged my phone. Another task, another deadline. I flexed my hand—the tendons ached from too many hours clutching the mouse—and told myself that today, *today*, I'd finally start pulling my life back on track.

Maybe even on my lunch break. I'd seen something new set up in the mall food court downstairs. Some kind of "Self-Improvement Booth" installation. Shiny black pods, a bright logo: **New You ™**.

Maybe.

Maybe I'd check it out.

-------

The food court smelled like french fries. My sneakers squeaked on the over-waxed tiles as I wandered past the usual suspects: burger joints, bubble tea kiosks, a sad salad bar.

And there, at the far end, near the escalators, was the "Self-Improvement Zone."

It looked slick. Black mirrored pods lined up in neat rows, each about the size of a walk-in closet, glowing faintly from within. A tall, gleaming sign arched over the setup: **New You ™ — Become the Best Version of Yourself.**

A few people were already milling around. A guy in a rumpled business shirt tapped the touchscreen outside one of the pods, looking bored. A girl in gym clothes emerged from another, her ponytail bouncing, her face lit up with the kind of fresh, bright energy you usually only see on fitness influencers.

I drifted closer.

Each booth had a screen outside showing before-and-after images. The "before" shots were always a little sad: hunched shoulders, bad posture, dull expressions. The "after" shots practically radiated light: perfect smiles, taut bodies, confident poses. 

The screens cycled through options: **Confidence Boost. Physical Fitness Upgrade. Enhanced Charisma. Style Refresh. Positive Thinking Reboot.**

It all looked... harmless. Harmless and *very* tempting.

Maybe this was what I needed. Not a total overhaul, just a tune-up. A little more polish. A little more *presence*. Something to make people—bosses, clients—finally *see* me.

I took a few steps closer.

Inside one of the pods, a guy in khakis and a dress shirt grinned as the door slid shut behind him. I heard a faint hum, a flash of blue light. A minute later, the door hissed open again. He walked out taller somehow, his shirt fitting just a little tighter across his chest, his hair looking fresher, more styled. He winked at a passing girl, who giggled.

I swallowed.

*No way it’s that easy,* I thought. *There’s gotta be a catch.*

But a tiny part of me whispered: **What if there’s not?**

I glanced around. No one seemed worried. Just a high-end, perfectly marketed experience, promising a better me for the price of a fast-food lunch.

My fingers twitched at my sides.

Maybe—maybe I should just try it. What's the worst that could happen?

I took another step closer to the pod, close enough now to see the faint fingerprints smeared across the glossy black touchscreen. And then I froze.

*This is stupid.*

What kind of serious adult buys into this crap? Real success didn't come from flashy shortcuts. It came from grind. From discipline. From sharpening yourself against the whetstone of hard work, day after day, year after year.

I turned on my heel, shoving my hands into the pockets of my blazer. I wasn't desperate enough to fall for a mall gimmick. Not yet.

Besides—what if it didn't just "enhance" me? What if it… changed something fundamental? Dumbed me down? Hollowed me out? I couldn't afford to lose any part of what little edge I had left. In a world that rewarded the loud and the pretty, brains were the only thing I had that gave me a fighting chance.

The thought of losing that — of losing myself — made my stomach clench.

"Pfft," I muttered aloud, as if scoffing at the booth would erase the fear.

As I walked past, a girl in a "New You" branded polo handed a smoothie to a guy who'd just exited one of the pods. She beamed at him like he’d climbed Mount Everest.

"Feeling amazing?" she chirped.

"Dude, I feel unstoppable!" he laughed, flexing his arms playfully.

They made it sound so easy. So effortless.

Maybe for them. People like Matt. People who never worried about looking stupid. People who didn't grind themselves into dust second-guessing every move.

But me?

I tightened my jaw and marched back toward the escalators. I wasn't going to be one of *those* idiots chasing quick fixes. I'd find a real way to fix my life. One that didn't involve magic pods or shiny promises.

Still...

As the escalator hummed beneath my feet, carrying me away from the "Self-Improvement Zone," I couldn't help glancing over my shoulder one last time.

Just for a second.

Just long enough to wonder.

"Rough day, son?"

The voice startled me.

I turned to see an older man standing near the food court's railing, sipping from a bright orange smoothie cup. He wore a tailored blazer over a t-shirt and jeans, somehow managing to look both stylish and comfortably casual — like he belonged on a magazine cover for "successful retirees." His hair was silver, thick and neatly combed back, his skin tanned and smooth. His eyes — a sharp, unsettling blue — glinted with a kind of amused wisdom.

"Uh, yeah," I said, automatically. "Something like that."

He chuckled, the sound rich and easy.

"I saw you looking at the booths," he said, nodding toward the Self-Improvement Zone. "Thinking about it?"

"Not really," I said too quickly. "Looks... kinda scammy."

He smiled like he knew better.

"Everything's a scam if you think hard enough," he said. "Or it's an opportunity, if you know what you're looking for."

I frowned. "I'm not looking for magic fixes."

"Good," he said, nodding approvingly. "Smart man. Magic fixes are for fools."

Relief flickered through me—finally, someone who got it—but then he continued.

"But incremental improvements? Those are for the wise."

He gestured toward the pods with his cup.

"You don't have to change who you are," he said. "Just smooth out the rough spots. Stand a little taller. Smile a little easier. What's wrong with being the best version of yourself?"

I hesitated.

"I'm just..."

"Afraid it won't work?" he asked, his tone gentle.

"Afraid it'll work," I muttered, before I could stop myself.

He laughed again, but not unkindly.

"You're not alone there," he said. "Real change always feels risky. But think about it: what's riskier? Staying exactly where you are, or taking a small chance on yourself?"

I shifted uncomfortably.

"Just something to think about," he said, giving me a wink. "Booths are open. First session's free."

He turned and sauntered away, blending into the mall crowd like he’d never been there.

I stared after him, my heart thudding.

*First session's free.*

My fingers itched again, the same way they had at the booth's touchscreen.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to just... look.

Just look.

-----------

I found myself drifting back toward the Self-Improvement Zone like a moth to a flame.

No commitments, I told myself. Just a look.

The pod doors whispered open as I approached, releasing a faint scent of ozone. A young woman in a tight black "New You" uniform manned a podium near the entrance. She smiled brightly.

"First session?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," I said.

"Go ahead and step into any open pod," she said. "Touch the screen to begin. Just follow the prompts."

Easy.

Too easy.

My heart thudded against my ribs as I found an empty booth. The door hissed shut behind me, muffling the noise of the food court. Inside, the pod was dimly lit, with a touchscreen panel floating in the center of the far wall. The seat beneath me was cushioned, almost... inviting.

The screen flickered to life.

**Welcome to New You ™!**

**Choose Your Enhancements:**

- Confidence Boost

- Physical Fitness Upgrade

- Charisma Surge

- Style Refresh

- Positive Mindset Installation

I hesitated, thumb hovering over the options.

*Confidence Boost.* That seemed safe. Practical. Who couldn't use a little more confidence?

I tapped it.

The screen pulsed.

**Customizing Confidence Enhancement Package...**

**Please relax and close your eyes.**

Every nerve in my body screamed at me to bolt. This was stupid. This was reckless. This was—

A low hum vibrated through the seat, soothing and warm. My eyelids drooped involuntarily.

I tried to fight it, but the pod seemed to seep into my skin, a heavy, comforting presence wrapping around me like a weighted blanket.

The hum deepened.

A strange tingling spread through my chest, down my arms, into my fingertips. My breath hitched. My heart raced.

Was it working? Was it safe? Was I making a huge mistake?

The hum shifted, almost like a purr. I felt my muscles loosen, my shoulders roll back, my chin lift slightly.

And—

And something else.

A ripple of warmth pooled low in my belly. A lazy, golden feeling that made my clenched thoughts unwind.

I blinked groggily as the hum faded.

**Session Complete!** flashed across the screen. **Thank you for choosing New You ™.**

The door hissed open.

I stumbled out, blinking into the harsh mall light.

The world felt... different.

Lighter.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflective pod surface. My posture was better. My expression — usually tight, guarded — was loose, easy. There was a faint smirk curling my lips that hadn't been there before.

And inside, something crackled — a dangerous, electric sense that maybe — just maybe — things were about to get interesting.

---------

The next morning at work, something felt... off.

I slid into my cubicle and powered up my computer, but I wasn't hunched over like usual. I sat straighter. My chest felt broader somehow, my breathing easier, deeper. I caught my reflection in the black screen—the same reflection as always, and yet...

Different.

More alive.

Matt sauntered past, a coffee in one hand, giving his usual lazy smile and finger guns. Normally, the sight made me want to crawl under my desk in secondhand embarrassment.

Today?

I snorted, rolled my eyes, and smirked right back at him.

Matt did a double-take—an actual, honest-to-god double-take—and gave me an approving nod.

"Lookin' good, dude," he said.

I blinked. "Thanks," I said, surprised at how casual and smooth the word felt rolling off my tongue.

Throughout the morning, little things kept happening. People actually *listened* when I spoke up during meetings. My jokes landed. Even my boss gave me a weird, almost proud smile when I submitted my status report.

It was intoxicating.

At lunch, instead of scarfing down a sad sandwich at my desk, I found myself drifting back toward the mall.

Toward the pods.

I told myself I just wanted to see if the booths were still free. No harm in looking, right?

The same attendant smiled at me as I approached. "Back so soon?" she teased.

I grinned back—actually grinned—and shrugged. "Guess I’m hooked."

The door slid open. I stepped inside, heart pounding a little less this time.

The screen lit up.

**Welcome back to New You ™! Ready to continue your journey?**

**Choose Your Enhancements:**

- Physical Fitness Upgrade

- Charisma Surge

- Style Refresh

- Positive Mindset Installation

I hesitated for a second, then tapped **Physical Fitness Upgrade**.

The hum started almost immediately, sinking into my muscles. I felt my chest expand, my arms thicken just slightly, a pleasurable burn tingling under my skin like I'd just crushed a perfect gym session.

A low, contented groan escaped my lips before I could stop it.

The pod purred its approval.

When the door opened again, I stepped out feeling like I'd just levelled up. My dress shirt pulled a little tighter across my shoulders. The sleeves clung faintly to my biceps. It wasn’t cartoonish — but it was *noticeable*.

And when I walked past the mirrored pillar near the food court…

I liked what I saw.

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

The next few days blurred into a giddy, golden rush.

Every morning I woke up feeling sharper, stronger, hungrier for more.

I still did my job—technically—but the old anxious buzz was gone. I cracked jokes in meetings, leaned back in my chair like I owned the place, felt people gravitate toward me without even trying.

I was becoming someone new. Someone better.

But it wasn’t enough.

By Thursday, the itch was unbearable. I needed another hit.

At lunch, I all but sprinted to the food court. The Self-Improvement Zone looked even glossier now, like it had been waiting for me.  The attendant smiled like we were childhood friends. 

"Welcome back," she said.

I picked a booth without hesitation.

Inside, the screen flickered.

**Choose Your Enhancements:**

- Charisma Surge

- Style Refresh

- Positive Mindset Installation

This time, I tapped **Charisma Surge**.

The hum started, deeper and sweeter this time, like a bassline thrumming right against my bones.

My mouth parted slightly, and a lazy, satisfied smile tugged at my lips.

Images flashed across the inside of my eyelids: confident handshakes, bright white smiles, easy laughter. I felt my voice deepen, warm and rich, my expressions loosening, my body language smoothing out into something relaxed and magnetic.

When the session ended, I sauntered out of the pod feeling like a goddamn rock star.

People looked at me differently. Women smiled. Men nodded approvingly.

Even the teenage cashier at the juice bar stammered when I ordered.

Back at the office, Matt swung by my desk, grinning.

"Bro," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "You’re killin' it lately. What’s your secret?"

I shrugged, letting my new, easy grin do the talking.

"Just living my best life, man," I said.

Matt laughed, shaking his head. "Whatever you're doing, keep it up."

I watched him walk away, the old irritation replaced by something warmer. Something curious.

Maybe Matt wasn't so unbearable after all.

Maybe he was onto something.

Maybe he could even use a little… upgrade himself.

The thought slid into my mind like a warm blade, thrilling and a little dangerous.

---------

By Friday, the changes in me were *undeniable*.

Tight polos replaced my stiff button-downs. My slacks hung abandoned in my closet, swapped for jeans that clung just right. My hair had gotten a little longer, a little messier, somehow always falling into an artful tousle.

And I loved it.

I loved the way people looked at me. I loved the easy smiles, the casual touches on my arm, the way conversations seemed to orbit around me without even trying.

But there was still something missing.

At lunch, Matt slid into the seat across from me at the café downstairs.

"Dude," he said, flashing that lazy grin. "You’re a whole new man. Seriously."

I chuckled, flexing my arm a little just for the hell of it. "Just decided to stop stressing so much."

"Whatever it is, it's workin'," Matt said, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Tell me your secret."

I grinned wider.

"You saw those New You pods in the food court?"

Matt's eyebrows shot up. "Those things?"

"Yeah," I said. "Changed my life, bro. First session’s free. You should try it."

He laughed, shaking his head. "I dunno, man. Sounds kinda sketch."

"C'mon," I coaxed. "One little session. Worst case, you feel like an idiot for five minutes. Best case?"

I leaned back, spreading my arms to gesture at myself.

Matt laughed again, but this time there was an edge of consideration.

"Alright," he said finally, grinning. "You’re on. Show me how it's done."

We headed toward the pods together. The attendant gave me a knowing smile as I approached, and for the first time, I noticed—really noticed—how her eyes lingered on my chest, the way her smile warmed.

I led Matt to an empty booth, clapping him on the back. "Just relax and follow the prompts," I said. "You’ll kill it."

He disappeared inside, and I lingered nearby, heart pounding with a strange, electric anticipation.

When he emerged, a few minutes later, something was already different.

Matt’s smile was wider, goofier. His walk had a little more bounce, his shoulders looser.

"Bro," he said, blinking like he’d just woken from a great nap. "That was… awesome."

I clapped him on the back again, feeling a spark of triumph.

*Perfect.*

We grabbed smoothies and sat outside, basking in the afternoon sun. Matt laughed more freely than ever, his jokes a little dumber, his muscles looking just a bit more pumped beneath his stretched t-shirt.

I leaned back, sipping my drink, and let the warmth spread through me.

--------

Saturday hit like a fever.

Matt texted me mid-morning: **"Bro let's hit the pods again then gym after 💪💪"**

I grinned at the screen. A week ago, I never woulda said yes.  Now I couldn’t say no.

We met by the food court, both of us in athletic shorts and tight tanks that showed off our muscle.  Mine wasn’t tight, but it wasn’t loose either.

Matt looked amazing. His arms were pumped, his skin tan and glowing, his grin wide and easy.

"Dude," he said, clapping me on the back so hard it rocked me forward. "We’re gonna be fuckin’ monsters."

We headed straight for the pods.

Inside, the screen lit up:

**Choose Your Enhancements:**

- Style Refresh

- Positive Mindset Installation

I hesitated. I'd already tackled confidence, fitness, charisma... Style was the next logical step, right?

I tapped **Style Refresh**.

The pod hummed to life, wrapping me in a gentle, pulsing light. I felt my clothes shimmer, shift — tightening and brightening. My sneakers felt lighter, my shorts clung just a little higher up my thighs. My tank seemed to shrink slightly, framing my chest and shoulders perfectly.

When I stepped out, Matt was waiting, his mouth hanging open in a wide grin.

"Bro!" he said, laughing. "You look fuckin' *sick!*"

I glanced at my reflection.

God damn.

Gone was the buttoned-up, anxious little office drone. In his place stood a golden-skinned, gym-cut dude who looked ready to hit the beach, flex for the 'gram, and maybe—probably—forget what a spreadsheet even was.

Matt dragged me toward the gym next, where we crushed a casual two-hour lift. We flexed and joked and checked each other out in the mirrors, trading dumb grins and bro-slaps between sets.

Afterward, sweaty and high on endorphins, we grabbed protein smoothies and wandered the mall, feeling invincible.

When we passed a store window and caught our reflections—all bulging arms, wide grins, and pumped-up chests—we just laughed.

"Fuck," Matt said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "We look *awesome.*"

"Hell yeah, bro," I said, smirking.

It felt *right*.

---------

Sunday morning, I woke up hard and aching. Not from the gym.

I stumbled to the bathroom, catching my reflection in the mirror—and froze.

The man staring back at me wasn’t the Evan I'd known.

Broad shoulders. Thick arms. Sharp, chiseled jaw. A tangle of golden hair that practically begged for someone's fingers to run through it. My skin was bronze and smooth, my expression loose and cocky without even trying.

I turned, flexing instinctively, watching my muscles bunch and shift under my skin.

"Fuck," I whispered, a stupid grin spreading across my face.

My dick throbbed in my gym shorts, straining the fabric.

I didn't even think. I stripped down and snapped a couple selfies, flexing, smirking, posing like the dumb gym bros I'd always secretly judged.

And God help me—it felt amazing.

Matt texted a few minutes later: **"Bro let's hit the pods then the beach 💦🏖️"**

I practically sprinted to get ready.

When we met up, Matt looked just as transformed—hair sun-bleached and messy, muscles thick and taut, his board shorts riding low on his hips. His grin was lazy and inviting.

We hit the pods again, laughing like kids.

This time I chose **Positive Mindset Installation**.

The hum inside the pod was sweeter than ever. I felt all the lingering doubts, the last scraps of tension, the annoying little voice of self-criticism just... melt away.

Who needed to worry? Life was good. *I* was good.

When I stepped out, Matt was waiting, bouncing slightly.

"Bro!" he barked, pulling me into a crushing bro-hug. "Let's fuckin' hit the beach, dude!"

We spent the day tanning, flexing, splashing around like idiots. Girls giggled and waved. Guys stared. And we soaked up every second of it.

At some point, lying there on the hot sand, watching Matt flex and laugh in the surf, a slow, delicious thought unfurled in my mind:

*Why the hell had I ever wanted to be anything else?*

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

That night, after hours of beach volleyball, protein shakes, and flexing like idiots for selfies, Matt and I ended up back at the mall.

Neither of us said it, but we were both thinking it.

One more session.

Just one more.

The Self-Improvement Zone was quiet now, bathed in soft golden light, almost reverent. No lines. No attendants. Just us and the booths, waiting.

Matt bumped my shoulder with his. "Bro," he said, grinning. "Let's go big."

I grinned back. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so free.

We picked our pods side by side.

The screen flickered alive.

**Special Offer: Ultimate Enhancement Package — Combine All Remaining Upgrades For Maximum Results.**

**Disclaimer: Some permanent changes may occur.**

I stared at the message, heart hammering.

Permanent.

I hesitated. Somewhere deep inside, a small voice—the last flicker of old Evan—whispered a warning.

Was this really what I wanted?

I thought about the office—the endless grind, the self-doubt, the tight knot of anxiety I'd lived with for years.

I thought about how good it felt to laugh, to flex, to breathe easy.

I thought about Matt, waiting in the booth beside me, grinning without a care in the world.

*Fuck it.*

I tapped **Accept.**

The pod purred to life, and the world melted away in a flood of golden, liquid bliss.

--------

The golden light sank deep into me, saturating every nerve, every muscle, every stubborn thought.

My body throbbed, stretched, reshaped.

I felt my pecs swell heavier, rounder. My shoulders broadened with a delicious, slow tension, like thick cords pulling taut beneath my skin. My waist cinched tighter, flaring into a perfect V that practically begged to be shown off.

My hair grew longer, messier, beachier — falling into my eyes in a way that made me want to toss my head back and laugh.

But it wasn’t just my body.

Inside, something shifted.

All those heavy, anxious thoughts — the endless self-recrimination, the gnawing fear of failure — melted away like cotton candy on my tongue.

Why had I ever worried about career ladders or performance reviews? Why had I spent so long pretending to be something I wasn’t—some uptight, boring, *smart* guy?

Fuck that.

I was hot. I was strong. I was happy.

And fuck, I was horny.

My cock twitched inside my snug gym shorts, throbbing to the rhythm of the pod's pulse.

Images flooded my mind—flexing shirtless in the sun, grinding up against hot, sweaty bodies on a dancefloor, feeling hands roam my pumped-up chest and thick thighs.

I moaned softly, grinding my hips against the seat without shame, chasing the raw, stupid pleasure.

I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to *be* anything but this.

The pod's hum peaked, flooding my brain with a final, sizzling wave of bliss.

And then—

Silence.

The door hissed open.

I stumbled out into the food court, blinking against the lights, my cock still half-hard, my body buzzing.

Matt emerged beside me, looking even bigger, even dumber, even hotter.

We caught each other's eyes—and without a word, without hesitation, we grinned.

Big, dumb, perfect grins.

Fuck yeah, bro.

We were ready for anything.

---------

We barely made it out of the mall.

One minute we were stumbling into the golden evening air, laughing like idiots. The next, we were pressed up against a wall in the parking garage, our bodies crashing together with wild, hungry energy.

Matt’s hands were everywhere—groping my chest, squeezing my arms, sliding down to grab greedy handfuls of my ass through my gym shorts.

I groaned into his mouth, grinding against him shamelessly. Our cocks rubbed together through the thin fabric, and it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t nearly enough.

"Fuck, bro," Matt panted against my neck, his voice wrecked and desperate. "Need you so bad."

"Yeah?" I rasped, grabbing the hem of his tank and yanking it off over his head.

"Fuck yeah," he growled, tossing mine aside a second later.

Our bare chests slammed together, slick with sweat, muscles flexing and sliding against each other. I grabbed his hair, pulling his head back just enough to smirk at him.

"You gonna be a good boy for me, bro?"

Matt moaned, nodding eagerly.

God, it was so easy. So hot. No doubts, no second-guessing — just pure, raw hunger.

I dropped to my knees, yanking his gym shorts down. His cock slapped up against his abs, thick and leaking.

"Fuck," I muttered, licking my lips.

Matt laughed breathlessly, threading his fingers into my hair.

"Open up, bro," he said, voice thick with need.

I did.

He pushed into my mouth, and I moaned around him, loving the weight, the taste, the way his hips twitched when I sucked him deeper.

He wasn’t gentle. I didn’t want him to be.

I loved it—loved the way he fucked my face, loved the mindless, sloppy sounds we made, loved the way his praise spilled out in broken gasps.

"Fuck, bro, you're so good, fuck yeah, take it, take it, fuck, love you, bro—"

He came hard, spilling down my throat, and I swallowed eagerly, feeling a stupid, blissed-out pride bloom in my chest.

When I finally pulled back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, Matt was staring at me with wide, adoring eyes.

"Your turn, bro," he said, already tugging my shorts down.

And I let him.

Of course I did.

Because that's what good bros did for each other.

Because that's what I *wanted* now.

Because that's who I was.

And it felt fucking *perfect.*

----------

We crashed back into Matt’s place that night, still sticky with sweat and salt and sex, sprawling across his couch in a tangle of limbs.

For a while, it was perfect.

We kissed lazily, flexed for each other, laughed until we couldn’t breathe.

But eventually, reality crept back in.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table—work emails, missed calls, Slack notifications piling up like a wall I’d forgotten existed.

Matt’s did too.

I scowled at the screen, feeling a flicker of… something. Annoyance? Anxiety?

I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to sit at a desk all day while this new body, this new life, begged to be lived.

Matt sprawled out beside me, scratching his abs lazily.

"Bro," he said, frowning at his own phone. "Work shit's dumb."

I laughed, relieved. "Fuckin' right, bro."

Still, part of me knew we couldn’t just ghost our jobs forever. Rent didn’t pay itself. Life—real life—would eventually come knocking.

And when it did...

Were we even the kind of guys who could handle it anymore?

Matt caught my hesitation, bumping his shoulder against mine.

"Don’t worry, dude," he said, flashing that wide, easy grin. "We’ll figure it out."

And looking at him—big, dumb, happy—I believed him.

--------

The next morning, we didn’t even pretend to check our phones.

Matt cracked open a pair of energy drinks, tossing one to me across the couch. We clinked cans like dumbasses, chugging half of it in one go.

"What now, bro?" Matt asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

I grinned.

"Bro... we finish what we started."

Within the hour, we were back at the mall, still in our gym shorts, muscles on full display, strutting like we owned the place.

The Self-Improvement Zone was still there, almost humming with anticipation.

No hesitation this time.

We each slid into our booths, barely needing to look at the screens.

**Ultimate Himbo Enhancement Package - FINALIZATION**

**Warning: Irreversible. **

I smirked, feeling my cock twitch at the thought.

*Fuck yeah.*

I slammed my palm against the accept button.

The booth flooded with warmth, with golden light, with pure, slutty *joy*.

My muscles thickened even more, filling out my frame until I looked like a walking wet dream.

My skin took on a perfect, sun-kissed glow, hair turning even lighter, almost shining under the booth's glow.

More importantly, my thoughts—my last clever, cautious little thoughts—popped like soap bubbles, leaving nothing but soft, lazy pleasure behind.

I didn't *need* to worry anymore.

I didn't *need* to think.

I was hot. I was horny. I was happy.

And that was all I ever needed to be.

When the door slid open, Matt and I stumbled out together, laughing, flexing, bumping our pumped-up chests against each other like overexcited puppies.

We grabbed a passing guy’s phone and made him take pics of us—posing shirtless, flexing, winking, grinning like idiots.

Life was fucking perfect.

We were bros.

We were sluts.

We were home.

Matt and I strutted down the mall's central corridor, shirtless and sweaty, flexing shamelessly for every mirror we passed.

A couple of girls whistled. Some guys stared.

We high-fived so hard it stung.

I caught our reflection again—two golden, grinning himbos who didn't have a thought in their heads except looking good and having fun.

And fuck, it felt good.

I slung an arm around Matt's thick shoulders and grinned wide.

"Bro," I said, chest puffed out proudly, "being smart is, like, way overrated anyway."

We burst out laughing, the sound bouncing off the mall walls, bright and carefree and perfect.

Yeah.

Life was fucking good.