Encore – Chapter Three

Hey guys - sorry for being so incredibly late with this one. I got kinda caught up getting the details right. -Derek

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Mark and I were sitting so close our knees touched.

We didn’t need to be that tight – but I wanted to be as close to the TV as possible, andI guess Mark had the same idea.  An hour ago I’d been dead set against watching Encore, but now…

Mark had this half-stoned look on his face – they got him good.

Me too, I guess.

The theme song started playing.  It was high energy and electric, like something I’d dance to in a club.  At least… when I used to go to clubs.  It’s been a while.

“Be More,” a breathy voice moaned as golden sparkles flew across the screen like bubbles in a champaign glass.  “Encore.”

Mark and I both mouthed along with the words.  I clinked my beer against his.

“Welcome to Encore,” the host said, speaking directly to us.  I recognized him from the episode we watched with the other guys… Josh and Liam and Jayden – I finally understood why they were obsessed.

“Over the next three weeks, our contestants will experience a life changing journey,” the host said with a mischievous look.  “And lucky you, you’re going to come along for the ride!

“We’ve gathered a dozen men from all across America, from farmhands to finance bros, each of them stuck on dead-end paths.  Our goal – to help them find their next act. They’ll become their most fabulous selves, and to, most importantly… they’ll have fun doing it!”

The camera pulled back from the hosts face and revealed an old school mansion.  It was huge, like something you’d see on a billionaire’s Wikipedia.  The host was standing dead centre at the bottom of a stone staircase, flanked by a dozen guys.

My adrenaline was pumping.  I couldn’t imagine how the contestants felt.

“Every contestant goes all the way,” the host said.  “There are no eliminations with Encore – just teamwork, camaraderie, and friendly competition.”

The camera cut to a closeup shot of a guy in his mid-thirties.

“I’m John,” he said.  “I’m a cop in Seattle and I’m looking to make a change.”

It cut to a younger guy, maybe twenty-five, wearing a checkered shirt and a black cowboy hat.

“Billy,” he said.  “I work on a ranch in Montana.”

Another cut.  This guy was buff and dressed in a grease stained t-shirt.

“Hey, I’m Chris,” he said in a deep voice.  “I’m from Detroit, so no surprise, I work on cars.”

“We’ve also got our crack team of Encore specialists,” the host said, the camera panned over a huge group of people standing off to the side.  “Stylists, trainers, coaches… all ready to work their magic!”

“Are those the same guys from the other episode?” Mark asked, pointing at the contestants.  “These guys look normal.”

“I dunno,” I said, squinting a little.  “It’s hard to tell… maybe they’re dressed different?”

“Yeah,” Mark said, taking a swig of beer.  “Liam used to be normal too.  And Josh.  Hey… you think Jayden used to be straight like us?”

“You think?” I asked.  “Does that mean we’re gonna turn… uh…”

“No way,” Mark laughed.  “It’s a great show, but I’m not some ass bandit.”

If the show was some sort of gay recruitment scheme, you’d never know.  The first episode was just shots of the mansion and guys talking to the camera.  Forty minutes passed before we realized it, and the host was back outside.

“It's time for your first AT HOME CHALLENGE!” the host said enthusiastically.  “Download the Encore app and sign-in!  Unlock exclusive Encore community features like episode discussions, behind-the-scenes clips, and daily challenges.  Download the app to BE MORE!”

“ENCORE!” Mark and I both shouted at the screen, then laughed.  I guess we got caught up.

“So… we already did the challenge,” I pointed out.  “I mean, I’ve got it downloaded.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a notification,” Mark said, tapping on his screen.  “Maybe there’s something else?”

An identical notification appeared on my screen.  I tapped it and the app opened.

“Welcome to ENCORE!”  White text on a black screen, with a rotating gold medal.  “You’re a Protégé!  Josh went first, so he knows the road ahead.”

“Weird,” Mark said.  “It says my account is linked with Liam’s… I guess?”

“Mine says Josh,” I said.  “Cuz I scanned his phone to download the app?”

“Yeah, must be,” Mark said.  “I bet this is how it gets you. You do stuff for these challenges, and it’s like… conditioning you.  Makes you a fag.”

I shot him a look.

“We’re not supposed to say that anymore,” I pointed out.  “This isn’t junior high.”

“Whatever dude, I don’t wanna be one.”

“It’s cool,” I said.  “All we’ve got to do is skip the gay shit.  I mean, I’m totally hooked on this show, but it can’t make us do every single challenge, right?”

“Yeah,” Mark agreed.  “And we can do the ones we want – like… the one where they got buff.  We’ll just skip the cocksucker bullshit.”

“Oh man,” I gloated.  “We’ve got this totally figured out.”

“Hell yeah dude,” Mark laughed, grabbing for the remote.  “Next episode?”

“For sure,” I agreed.  “It’s barely seven.”

The theme song started playing.  “Be More,” we laughed along as the golden bubbles rose.  “ENCORE!”

The second episode is where things got real.  The contestants met up wearing workout gear and got loaded into a bus to the city.  We got a few shots of them joking around and walking into a commercial gym.

“Welcome to the One Rep challenge!” The gym was shut down for filming, and the guys were gathered around a bench press.  “Who knows what’s a One Rep Max?

Pete spoke up.  “It’s how much you can lift on an exercise for a single rep.”

“That’s right,” the host said.  “In this challenge we’ll do the ‘big three’ exercises – bench press, squats, and deadlifts!  Each of you will find your One Rep Max for each exercise.  Remember, it’s a competition, but we’re on the same team!”

“What’s the prize?” James asked.  He was a preppy guy, dressed in clothes from the Nike catalog.

“A challenge is it’s own reward,” the host joked.  “But we’ll also crown the ‘King of the Gym’.”

“Cool,” Mike drawled.  He was a construction worker from somewhere down south and looked smug.  “I can beat any of these guys.”

“That sounds like a volunteer,” the host chuckled.  “Mike, get on the bench and show us what you’ve got”

“Uh... start me at two plates,” Mike said.

“Two hundred and twenty-five pounds,” the host said with amazement.  “Mike isn’t fooling around.”

The labourer managed a clean rep, but he got up looking flushed.  His pecs were pumped up, straining under his Fruit of the Loom tee.

“Is that your limit?” the host asked.

“Throw on twenty-fives,” Mike said, hyperventilating for a second and then getting back on the bench.  Trevor and Pete hurried to add a twenty-five on each side of the bar and watched as Mike steadied himself.

“Huuuuuuuuunfffff,” Mike grunted pushing as hard as he could.  The bar lifted a half inch, then clanged back down.  “**BLEEP**,” Mike swore, panting hard.

“That’s 225 for Mike,” the host announced.  Some random production assistant – short, blond, and obviously gay – wrote it on a whiteboard.

“Mike, who’s next,” the host asked.

“I wanna see Dylan try,” Mike said, pointing at the thin grad student from Vermont.

“Uh oh,” Dylan gulped.  “Maybe just the bar?”

He managed the bar, and then another ten on each side, but when he tried more he almost dropped it.

“That’s 65 pounds for Dylan,” the host said.  “Don’t worry Dylan, we all have different skills.  Who should go next?”

Dylan picked Chris, Chris picked Alan, Alan picked Pete.

The software developer stretched his shoulders back and cracked his neck.

“Gimme 275,” Pete said.  “I mean… if I’m gonna beat Mike.”

Everybody watched closely.  Pete wasn’t the biggest guy in the room, but he wasn’t the smallest either.  He slid under the bar, arched his back, and grunted out a rep.  The bar landed smoothly.

“Holy **BLEEP**,” Mike swore.  “There goes my lead.”

“Add another fifty,” Pete said confidently.

He let out a bigger grunt this time, but the bar landed just as smoothly.

“Another twenty,” Pete said.

The show cut to a shot of Pete standing outside the gym.

“Yeah,” he said.  “I got this.  I know there’s a couple big guys here, but I workout four times a week and I lift heavy.  I’m only worried about the farm boy.”

They cut back to Pete struggling with the bar but still landing it.

“Let’s call it there,” Pete panted, climbing off the bench.  The guy was pumped – his chest was fucking huge, and his triceps were swollen too!

It turns out he didn’t have to worry about Billy.  The farmhand from Montana topped out at 180.  Pete won the challenge by a mile.

Despite the competition, it reminded me more of a frosh week event than a reality show.  The contestants were all having a great time, clapping and cheering each other on.  Everyone was so supportive – I love that about Encore!

“Congratulations Pete!” the host shouted, leading the cheer.  “You’re been crowned KING OF THE GYM!”  He took a tacky plastic crown from his assistant and placed it on Pete’s head.  “Let’s give it up for BEAST!”

“BEAST!” the other guys chanted.  “BEAST!  BEAST!  BEAST!”

Pete was the strongest, but they’d all lifted heavy.  You could see their muscles swollen under their shirts.

I found myself chanting along with them.  Mike locked eyes with me and grinned.

“BEAST!  BEAST!  BEAST!” we chanted, laughing at how corny it was.  But it felt so good to forget about the weirdness with our roommates and indulge.

“Weightlifting is great for you,” the host reminded us.  “Pull up the Encore App ‘cause it’s time for todays challenge.  And remember – we’ll see you tomorrow to Be More!”

“ENCORE!” Mark and I shouted at the TV.

The credits rolled and I felt euphoric.

I thumbed over to the app.  We had our own One Rep Max challenge to complete.  I was supposed to head to the gym and find my numbers.

“Do you know any of yours?” I asked Mark.  “I mean, I go to the gym and all, but I just do whatever.  I always figured those guys carrying notebooks are insane, y’know?”

“Uh… I don’t,” Mark admitted.  “I’ve never gone to a gym.  My job keeps me fit.”

“So we’re a no on this challenge, right” I asked.  “I don’t feel like sweating.”

“Yeah, let’s skip it,” Mark agreed.  “Liam didn’t get buff til after he got gay, so this isn’t the challenge that gets you swole.”

“Cool,” I said.  “I don’t see the point either, but… one more ep?”

“Sure,” Mark grinned.  “What the hell.  It’s a fun show.”

Mark headed towards the kitchen to grab us beer while I loaded up the next episode.

I hit play, but some error popped up.  I tried hitting play again.  Dammit, same error.  Maybe Josh was getting back at me and fucking with the wifi?  I hit play a third time just as Mark returned.

“What’s up?” Mark asked, seeing the pissed off look on my face.

“The damn thing won’t play,” I said, hitting the remote like it had a loose part.  “I keep getting some error.”

“What’s the error message say?” Mark asked, handing me a beer.

I pressed play again and actually read the words this time: “CHALLENGE PENDING,” the error said.  “Complete the One Rep Max challenge to unlock your next episode!”

“Well that’s bullshit,” Mark laughed, taking a long pull from his beer.  “But I wanna watch the next episode… we can fake it, right?”

He tapped on his phone for a few seconds, then frowned.

“It’s geo-locked or something,” he said.  “Let’s me pick the exercise, but I try to put in a number and it says we’ve got to be at the gym.  I guess we’re done for tonight.”

“What about tomorrow?” I asked nervously.  “I mean, I don’t care about the challenge, but I’m totally hooked on Encore…  My gym is just down the block.  Let’s walk down, punch in some numbers, and boom!”

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“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Mark said as we approached the gym.  “For a stupid show?”

“What?” I laughed.  “Dude, it’s a gym.  It’s weird you don’t go to one.”

“Real men don’t need this shit,” Mark sighed.

“Real men aren’t hooked on Encore,” I joked.  “Dammit, the app’s not unlocking.  Maybe we need to go inside?”

I headed to the door without waiting for Mark to agree.  He trailed after me.

“Hey Ryan,” the gymbro at the desk waved.  “Good to see ya – using a guest pass today?”

“Uh… yeah,” I said, just to avoid explaining why I was actually there.  “This is Mark.”

“Hey Mark!” the gymbro said.  He pulled a cloth bag out from under the counter.  “Everything you need is in there.  Guest lockers are on the far wall in the change room.  Just dump it in the towel bin when you’re done.”

I handed the bag to Mark. He reacted like I was handing him slime.

“I don’t need this stuff,” he hissed at me.

“Yeah,” I nodded.  “But did you wanna tell the guy you’re here for fake TV points?  Let’s just go into the locker room and unlock the app. Then we’ll leave.”

Mark bitched the entire time, but I got him into the locker room.  Unfortunately the app wouldn’t unlock there either.

“Maybe this gym’s not on the map?” he suggested.

“Nah,” I said.  “This is the same gym Josh uses.  The tech must be really specific, like maybe we need to actually stand near the machines… c’mon, throw on those gym clothes, we’ll do a quick walk around and get this thing done.”

“Dude, I’ve got work in the morning,” Mark moaned.

“Five minutes…” I promised.

I unlocked my locker and pulled out basketball shorts.  Mark rolled his eyes, but he slipped into the gym-branded loaner clothes anyhow.  He was making a fuss, but I knew he wanted that next episode.

We stood beside the bench press.  The damn thing still wouldn’t unlock.

“Is there a chip in the machine or something?” Mark asked, staring at it.  “Maybe it needs to sync?”

“Dude, it’s a bench press,” I laughed.  “These things haven’t changed since the crusades.  But sure, maybe…”

I lifted the empty bar off the rack and the app lit up.

“YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT!” it blazed in shiny gold text.

“Okay,” I swallowed.  “Apparently you’re right.  It’s connected.”

“Yeah…” Mark said.  “Mine’s still locked.”

“Look dude… I really want that next ep,” I said.  “Just… toss a forty-five on the bar, I know I can do that.”

Like I told Mark, I just do whatever at the gym, and the bench press was super intimidating.  I’d done it maybe twice that year?  Three times?

I pressed out a rep and landed the bar crashed down.

“YOU CAN STILL DO BETTER!” my app blazed in gold text.

“You want more?” Mark asked.

“I guess I do,” I said, rolling my eyes.  “Ten more on each side.”

Mark hurried to get me more weight while I breathed on the bench.  I was glad the gym was empty.  I must have looked like such an idiot, checking some app after every rep.

Still, it was right.  With the extra weight, I barely managed to land the bar, but… I did it.

“GREAT JOB!” the app showed.  “155 ONE REP MAX!”

“I guess I gotta do it too,” Mark said, hopping onto the bench.  “It’s just grab the bar and push up, right?”

“Yeah,” I said.  “Uh, try not to flare your elbows out like that, makes it easier to hurt your shoulder.  Maybe start lighter?”

“Nah dude,” Mark grinned.  He pushed up and handled out my max without breaking a sweat.

“Ten more?” I asked, already adding the weight.  His app was encouraging him in that shiny gold text now too.

He lifted that with only a little trouble.  Fuckin’ beginners luck.  Another ten on each side and he was starting to breathe heavy.

“Just five more,” he said.  “I dunno if I can do it.”

“YOU GOT THIS!!!” the app said.

“Uuuuuggggnnnn…” Mark grunted, pushing the weight up towards the ceiling.  It crashed down on the bar.  “Okay…” he gasped.  “Please tell me that’s enough…”

“CONGRATULATIONS!” the app showed.  “205 ONE REP MAX!”

“Seriously?” I asked while I wiped the bench down.  His pecs looked seriously pumped, and I was jealous mine still looked flat.  “205 and you’ve never been to the gym?”

“I work construction,” Mark shrugged, wincing at the tiredness in his chest for the first time.  “It’s real strength, not this gym stuff.”

“Don’t get cocky,” I said.  “We’re gonna do deadlifts.  I’m the fuckin’ king at deadlifts.”

“Don’t tell me… pick it up, put it down?”

It’s more complicated than that, at least if you want to do it safely.  I’m not gonna tell you – if you wanna learn to deadlift, go watch some YouTube.  You’re not gonna learn from porn.

I loaded up the bar with my usual 250, then added fifty for good measure.

“Okay, here goes,” I grinned, grabbing and trying to straighten up.

“Show me how it goes oh king,” Mark teased.

“Urf…” I grunted.  The bar hand’t moved.  I blushed red while Mark laughed at my failure.

“GO A LITTLE LIGHTER!” the app suggested.  I managed 280 and it awarded me my score.  I’d have to do deadlifts more often, I thought… I shoulda been able to break 300…

“Let me at it,” Mark said, reaching down for the bar.  The fucker lifted 280 no problem.

“YOU CAN DO BETTER!” the app glowed at him.

“Tens?” I asked, but the text on the screen started pulsing.

“Better make it twenty,” Mark said, staring at the screen.  “It doesn’t think ten is enough.”

“Fine,” I snapped, loading up the bar.

Mark grunted pretty hard that time, but he managed it.

“GREAT JOB MARK!” the app praised him.  “320 ONE REP MAX!”

Of course he was filling out that tee they lent him.  His back was looking extra wide and thick.  I glance in a mirror and frowned.  I wanted some of that magic pump.

“There’s one more, right?” he said, posing for himself.  “Damn… maybe there is something to this gym stuff.”

“Yeah,” I grunted, and headed off for the squat rack.  “You’re always welcome.”

I’m more regular on my squats.  I usually hit them at least once a month.

“Throw on 45s,” I told him confidently

Mark slid the weights on and locked the collars.  I grunted under the bar, but managed a decent squat and clanged it back onto the rack.

“YOU CAN DO BETTER!” the app sparkled at me.

“Okay,” I growled.  “Another forty-five.”

We loaded the bar with another pair of plates, then I carefully lifted it and took the step back.

“Unf…” I moaned as I sunk my butt so it almost touched the floor.  I struggled, but I managed to raise the bar all the way up again.

“YOU GOT THIS RYAN!” the app encouraged me.  “YOU CAN DO MORE!!!”

“Uh... ten more,” I said, glancing at the app.  It didn’t pulse the text at me, so I guess our Encore overlords must have been satisfied.

Mark slid on the weights and watched me go down.

“Dude…” he gasped.  “I think your ass is growing…”

“What do you… ooh,” I moaned as my ass bounced off the floor.  I grunted and drove my heels into the ground.  I barely landed the bar.

“Ryan… look in the mirror,” Mark said, his eyes wide.  “You’ve got… uh…”

I turned and looked.  Normal enough.  Maybe a little pump on my quads, but nothing out of the ordinary.  I certainly wasn’t hulking out like Mark.

“Dude… turm…”

I turned slightly to the right and saw my ass emerge from behind my body.  I kept turning until I was looking at my profile.

Oh god, it was ridiculous.  My ass was jutting out proudly.  Massive and muscular.  It rounded out my shorts, sticking out so far… I looked like I might lose my balance.  Hell… if I flexed, I might lose the shorts!

“Holy fuck,” I hissed.  “There’s no way…”

I glanced over at my phone.  “CONGRATS!” it seemed to gloat.  “235 ONE REP MAX!”

“Uh… maybe I’ll skip this one,” Mark said.  “We can watch Encore at your place.”

“No way dude…” I laughed.  “If the app can do… this?  It’s not gonna let you cheat on a challenge.”

“Bro…” Mark said.  “You look hella gay.  And I’ve been swelling up too… but way more!  My ass is gonna look like a beachball!”

“Okay,” I said, putting up my hands in surrender.  “Your call.  Go cold turkey on Encore.”

Four hours ago we’d been sitting down to watch ‘just one episode’ at Jayden’s place.  Now, even with my massive ass as a warning, I could tell he was torn.

“Okay, whatever,” he scolded me away from the bar.  “Let’s get this over with.”

He got the bar off the rack, but as he started to drop he called ‘HELP!’  I had to jump in before he collapsed.

“YOU CAN’T LIFT THAT!!!” the app shone out.

“Maybe take off the forty-fives,” Mark said.  “I mean, one set of em.”

He managed to lift that.  I stared at his ass as he dipped towards the floor, waiting for it to explode into a giant peach.

But… nothing.  His ass stayed normal.  A tiny pump, but not the makeover I got.

“GREAT JOB!” the app said.  “145 ONE REP MAX.”

Then both of our phones buzzed and a gorgeous golden animation went off.

“Episode 3 – UNLOCKED!”.

“Okay, let’s go,” I said, trying to ignore the unfairness of it all. He gets pecs and back, I get ass?  What the actual fuck.

“Aw come’on,” Mark complained, looking around.  “Let’s do biceps.”

“You can come back tomorrow,” I groaned.  “Let’s go back to my place, watch the ep.  We worked for it.”

“Fine,” Mark laughed.  “But I was wrong about gyms.”

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I walked home in my gym shorts because my fucking jeans didn’t fit anymore.  Meanwhile Mark just looked amazing in his plain white tee.  He stopped on the way out and signed up for a membership.

“I can’t believe I never tried this before,” he told the gymbro at the front desk.  “Crazy, right?”

“You’ll fit right in,” the guy chuckled.  “See you soon!”

I trailed behind on the way back – I didn’t want Mark making ass jokes the whole time.  He looked huge – his back was doing a “V” thing, and his waist was nice and tight.  I was so jealous.

Not like I was checking him out or anything.  I’m not gay.  Not even a little.

Speaking of gay though, Jayden and Josh were on my couch when we got back to the apartment.  They were making out like a couple of teenagers.

“Hey boys,” Jayden crowed as we walked in.  “You get a good pump?”

He laughed and moved his fist in the air, like he was pretending to jerk off.

“Uh… yeah,” I said, trying to ignore it.  “We were hoping to watch TV…”

“Yeah, no problem,” Jayden said, giving Josh a slap on the shoulder.  “We’ll take this to the bedroom.”

That pissed me off, him telling us what’d happen.  It wasn’t even his apartment!  But they retreated towards Josh’s room, which suited me fine.

“Damn girl, nice ass,” Josh flirted.  He gave my cheeks a slap as he squeezed by.  It hurt.

“Just ignore them,” Mark told me.  “Come’on, we’ve got a fresh episode, remember?”

“I dunno,” I said, staring at Josh’s closed door.  “Maybe we should call it before…”

But Mark had already clicked play.  The Encore theme swelled through the apartment.

I stuttered one more time and took a seat on the couch.  I couldn’t say no.  I’m totally hooked.

It felt funny sitting down – my ass was so pumped I felt like I was sitting on a trampoline.  I tried to ignore the weird feeling and watch the show.

The contestants were gathered around an ominous looking door.

“Today is our Surrender to Style challenge,” the host said with a charismatic grin.  “A lot of guys say style is girly or gay, but you’ve got one already.”

“For example,” he pointed at Harper, the security guard from Jersey.  The guy had opted for a black t-shirt and blue jeans.  “Harper is wearing the uniform that tells you all he’s a no frills kind of guy.  Straight, conventional, and not into rocking the boat.”

“I mean…” Harper said, shifting uncomfortably.  “I wouldn’t say it like that…”

“Right,” the host grinned.  “Because it’s not who you really are, but it’s the costume you put on for the world!  Or Trevor,” he said pointing at the retail worker.  “Trevor’s sweatpants tell you he doesn’t care what you think of him, but image matters!  Right Trevor?”

“I guess so,” Trevor said nervously.  The guys were all looking a little nervous at the critique.

“Encore Boys follow one of four styles,” the host lectured, clicking a remote and lighting up a screen on the wall.  “There’s the flirty himbo, who’s light and colourful.  Or there’s the dazed muscle boy, in case you’re a hunk like Beast over there!”

Pete… or Beast, I guess… had dressed in a pair of gym shorts and a painted-on tank top.  My heart sank – his pump hadn’t gone down at all.  Was my fat ass here long term?

But Beast liked his muscles.  He broke into a double bicep pose and grinned proudly.

“Of course, it’s not a given,” the host said.  “Maybe Beast is an obedient jock – an all-american look with an all-submissive attitude!  And some of you are alpha eye candy – dominant and handsome.”

The guys all glanced at each other.  Except Beast – he was staring at the screen.

“Who’s ready to go shopping?” the host teased.  The double doors swung open, revealing a room the looked like a thrift shop.  “You have one hour to pick your signature look – then we’ll compete to see who wins each archetype!  Remember guys – keep it fair, keep it cooperative, and most of all… BE MORE.”

“ENCORE!” Mark and I shouted along from the couch.  It was so fun, I forgot about my ass.

There was a montage happening on screen.

Tony, scoring a leather jacket from the bottom of the pile.

“Sweet,” he said to the camera.  “I’ve got the Alpha archetype locked up!”

Chris looking through an entire truck of clothes, only to emerge with a pair of plain white pants.

“I figure this can go with anything,” he said nervously.

Alan tugging on a letterman jacket and checking himself out in a mirror.

“I always wanted one of these,” he admitted.  “I was never that cool in school.”

The hour flew by and the host started counting down.  “Sixty seconds left,” he called out.  “Get those last picks and meet at the doors!  Fifty-nine!  Fifty-eight!”

The guys got frantic, tearing apart racks of clothes for the perfect last minute addition.  An old girlfriend made me watch Sex and the City – they were like Carrie at a shoe sale.

“TEN!” the host called as guys ran for the door, fabric clutched in their hands.  “NINE!  EIGHT!  SEVEN!”

Pete swaggered out the door with an armload of workout clothes.

“SIX,” the host called.  “FIVE.”

Reese was wearing hot pink shorts and a mesh t-shirt.

“FOUR!” the host counted.  “THREE!  TWO!”

Dylan emerged from the room in an oversized tank top.

“ONE!” the host shouted, just as Billy was the last one out.

“Alright guys,” the host said.  “Everyone hit the bar for a drink, hit your bathroom for a mirror, and then we’ll meet in the backyard.  I think you’ll enjoy this part!”

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The backyard was setup with a long stage like a fashion show.  I was shocked to see how many people they had there.  I thought we’d see the crew watching, but there had to be at least two hundred guys waiting for the show… every one a cocksucker.

“Here’s how it works,” the host announced from the stage.  “Each of our contestants will strut the catwalk with their favourite look.  Our beautiful audience will rank each category.  Once the scores are in, we’ll see who’s the king of each archetype!”

The crowd cheered and the lighting crew put on a show.

“First thing’s first,” the host spoke into a microphone.  “Four of our Encore Boys have picked the FLIRTY HIMBO look!”

Music started blasting – a riff on the theme song.  The crowd was going wild, and evening was starting to set.  It felt more like a rave than a fashion show.

Not like I’ve been to either.

“Give it up for Chris!” the host announced.

The curtains at the back of the catwalk parted and Chris walked onto the stage.  He looked nervous in a pair of white cargo pants and a red tank top.  Instead of strutting his stuff, he just kind of… walked on the stage.

“Chris is a mechanic from Detroit, Michigan,” the house told the crowd.  “He’s a natural blond, and the newest member of Team Himbo… isn’t that right Chris?”

Chris stopped at the end of the catwalk and stared off into the distance like he’d forgotten to turn the oven off.  His eyebrows pressed together in concentration and something inside him seemed to break.

He shook his head and his shaggy blond hair fell over his forehead.  He brushed it back and there was a new look on his face.  Confusion… or lust?  Maybe both.

Lights played over him and I realized his outfit was way sluttier than I’d thought.  His tank top was made out of a fine mesh, and I could see the outline of his nipples underneath.  His white cargo pants hugged a muscular ass that rivalled my own.

“That’s right,” Chris shouted, moving his hips for the crowd.  He turned with a flourish, then started sashaying back up the catwalk.  “I’m team himbo like… all the way!”

The crowd loved him.  They went fucking wild… and he was only the first.

“After Chris, we’ve got BEAST!” the host shouted into the mic.  “He won the One Rep Challenge, and now he’s trying out to be the biggest baddest himbo!”

Beast strolled out from behind the curtain, strutting onto the stage.  He looked every bit the pumped up bodybuilder, right down to a turquoise stringer tank and a pair of baggy black workout shorts that went down past his knees.  As he neared the end of the catwalk, he popped a bicep flex and a weird look crossed his face.

The camera cut to a confessional shot of him later.

“I dunno bro,” he laughed.  “It was so weird… one sec I’m like… nervous or whatever, the next… I owned it, y’know?  I fuckin’ belonged!”

Back to the catwalk.  We were watching Beast up there in his stringer tank and a tiny pair of black shorts that barely contained his junk.  He was eating up the attention, running pose after pose, until finally he spun around and flowed back behind the curtain.

“And now, let’s bring out Reese!” the host cheered.  “He teaches high school social studies in San Diego, California, and tonight he’ll learn a thing or two about being a himbo!”

Before he even got through the curtain, the show cut to a confessional scene of him from earlier in the day.  Reese was a skinny guy, even after his pump from the One Rep Max challenge.

“Look at me,” he said with a self-deprecating grin.  “A muscle boy?  A jock?  There’s no way I can pull off those looks.  And that alpha stuff is just dumb.  But I googled what a himbo means – and I like it.  After all, in a world where you can be anything, you should be kind.”

The camera smashed back into his catwalk debut.  Reese had gone all out on the himbo vibe – he walked onto the stage wearing a black mesh tee, cropped to hang above his waist.  His thin frame worked in his favour, with the line of his abs peeking out underneath.  A pair of hot pink running shorts sat down below, while a Raybans and bright orange high tops completed the look.

“Wow!” the host laughed as he watched Reese strut his stuff.  “Could he be any more of a himbo?”

The remark struck Reese like lighting.  He paused at the end of the catwalk – his grin doubled in size, and so did his biceps.

“Whoa, girl…” Reese laughed.  He squatted down til his ass hit the floor, then hooked his thumbs around his shorts and pushed them down to reveal his dayglo orange thong.  It matched his hightops.  “Like… maybe I can!”

He swished his way back up the catwalk, blowing kisses the whole way.  Every step made his package bounce in the thong, and you could see him getting harder as he went.

“What the actual fuck,” Mark laughed, his eyes wide.  “There’s no way…”

“Dude, I think this show’s magic,” I gasped.

“No shit,” Mark said.  “Your ass is huge, I’ve got muscle tits, and that guy on TV just doubled in size!”

“Give it up for Reese!” the host cheered, leading the standing ovation.

“Let’s see what our last himbo’s got going on,” the host said, giving a moment for the crowd to settle.  “Give a big round of applause for… Mike!”

Mike stepped through the curtains, looking incredibly nervous.  His outfit was practically a parka compared to Reese – Mike wore a plain white tank top and a ripped up pair of jeans.

“Mike does construction down in Alabama,” the host was saying.  Mike walked stiffly towards the end of the catwalk.

He must have been watching from backstage – he seemed like he knew what would happen, but was absolutely powerless to stop it.

“What do you say Mike?” the host joked.  “Want to build a new life?”

Mike’s feet wouldn’t stop moving forward, but he used the time he had.

“Look, dude…” he shouted out at the host.  “I didn’t sign up for this shit!  I figured make some money, maybe meet some girls… get famous, y’know, but –“

He reached the end of the catwalk and a wave of bliss passed over his features.  Mike’s angry scowl was wiped away and replaced by mindless enthusiasm.

“But… like… like…” he said.  The expression on his face said he couldn’t even think of the next word.  “Uh… like… I’m gonna be… like… so famous!”

“I’m in your DMs!” somebody in the crowd shouted.  Mike looked even happier.

As he pirouetted around, his tank turned lavender and it seemed he’d tied the bottom hem into a bow to expose his flat stomach.  His ripped up jeans were getting more ripped by the second, more air than denim by the end.  The formerly tough-as-nails man skipped backstage.

“That’s it for our Flirty Himbos!” the host announced, drawing a wave of applause from the audience.  “Next up, we’ve got three guys who think they personify… the dazed muscle boy.”

The applause didn’t end for a good ten seconds.

“Our first muscle boy comes to us from the ranches of Montana,” the host said.  “Give it up for BILLY!”

The farmhand stepped on stage wearing an oversized football jersey and a pair of shorts.  He’d messed up his hair a bit, trying to make it look like bedhead.  Unlike Mike, Billy wasn’t afraid – he strolled down the catwalk with an unhurried look.

I wondered if my fate was as sealed as his.

He reached the end and the magic kicked in.  His oversize jersey shrunk down, clinging to his bulky body.  It looked at least 5% spandex.  Those white shorts shrunk too, turning into rugby gear.  His favourite word had to be ‘tight’.

Confusion passed over his face and got stuck there, leaving him with a permanently glassy expression.

“Dude,” he chuckled.  “Awesome.”

“Awesome indeed,” the host cheered for him.  “Give it up again for Billy!  And here comes John!”

John was in his thirties, but his outfit was meant for someone at least ten years younger.  He’d gone for a fratbro look – jeans, a loose t-shirt, and a backwards ballcap.

“John hails from the rainy streets of Seattle,” the host said.  “As a police officer, he usually wears a different uniform!”

John stepped heavily down the stage.  He had that cop vibe, where he was making direct eye contact with people in the audience.  If he was undercover, you would have clocked him instantly.

At least, until he reached the end of the catwalk.

“Whoa,” he gasped as something new gripped him.  Everything – including the empty look behind his eyes – became authentic.  Before he’d been a copy dressed as a frat boy… now he was one.  “Bro…” John chuckled.

“Looks like someone hit the bong,” the host joked.

The crowd laughed and cheered as John moved off stage.

“That brings us to Harper!” the host announced.  “Harper’s a security guard in New Jersey, but tonight he’s headed for the coast!”

Harper strutted out from behind the curtain confidently.  He was wearing a pair of board shorts and a puka shell necklace, but not much else.  He looked ready for a day at the beach.  Unlike John and Billy, he owned the outfit.

Still, when he reached the end of the catwalk, he changed too.

The board shorts shrank, getting smaller and smaller until they were nothing but a bright red speedo, hugging his bulge.  As he spun around, his hair grew out, long and shaggy and brushing against the top of his shoulders blades.

“Braaaaah…” he moaned, squeezing his bulge through the speedos.  “Gnarly.”

“Let’s give it up for Harper!” the host yelled into the mic.  “Give all our dazed muscle boys one more round of applause!”

The crowd hooted and hollered as Harper made his way off stage.

“Now… it’s great to have himbos and muscle boys, but someone needs to be in charge!” the host teased.  “These next three guys are competing to be the best ALPHA EYECANDY!  Everybody check out… Trevor!”

Trevor came through the curtains looking anything but alpha.  He was dressed up like a cowboy – jeans, a checkered shirt, and a ten gallon hat – but the way he walked showed a complete lack of self-confidence.  I could understand that – who knew what was waiting for him at the end of the catwalk?

“Trevor works retail at a clothing store in Ohio,” the host announced.  “So it's no surprise he knows how to style!”

The fake cowboy blushed underneath his massive hat, but when he reached the end of the stage, he straightened up like he’d been struck by lightning.  Instead of a slouch, Trevor held himself like a real man.

He reached up and tipped his hat with one hand.

“Howdy boys,” he growled in a surprisingly deep voice.  His clothes barely changed – maybe his shirt fit a little better, but the rest was attitude.

Trevor turned on one heel of his cowboy boot and strutted off the stage.  The crowd loved him for it.

“Our next contestant is James!” the host said cheerfully.  “So give it up!”

James burst through the curtain, looking confident in a three piece suit.  It was a dark navy blue with subtle pinstripes.  He gave the crowd a toothy grin.

“James is a quantitative analyst on Wall Street,” the announcer told the crowd.  “It isn’t his first time wearing a suit – and you can tell!”

The show cut to an interview with James, sometime during the hour while they were putting together their outfits.

“Honestly, I’m just picking something I’m comfortable in,” James shrugged.  “The alpha thing – it’s whatever, but it lets me wear a suit.”

They cut back to the catwalk just in time for us to see the change pass over his face.  James went from looking comfortable to cocky.  His suit vest seemed to dissolve right off him, while his tie unravelled and the first two buttons of his shirt popped open.

“Thanks,” he said, flashing a charismatic grin at the host.

James put his hands in his pockets, turned on one heel of his polished dress shoes, and strolled off the stage.

“Our last Alpha Eyecandy is Tony,” the host said enthusiastically.  “Tony comes to us from Florida, where he manages a family dining restaurant!”

Tony peeked through the curtain, revealing a neutral face and aviator sunglasses.  As he walked down the catwalk, he was giving ‘terminator’, from the leather jacket to the deadly serious expression.

But when he reached the end of the catwalk, his whole vibe shifted.  His face went from serious to mischievous, like he knew you’d do anything he said.  He dropped the leather jacket down behind him, revealing a chest that was bare except for a harness.

He smirked and walked back down the catwalk.  A PA hurried and cleared the jacket off stage.

“Give it up for Tony, James, and Trevor!” the host amped up the crowd.  They didn’t need much encouragement.

“Last up, we’ve got two men competing to be the best Obedient Jock!” the host said.  “My personal favourite archetype.  Let’s give it up for DYLAN!”

The skinny student stepped out from behind the curtain.  He looked ridiculous, dressed in an oversized stringer tank and a pair of three inch shorts, but he had a gleam in his eye.  Like he just had to make it down the runway and he’d be free.

“Dylan is a grad student from the University of Vermont,” the host announced.  “And I love his look!”

He made it down the runway in record time, then paused for just a moment before taking the last step.

“Thanks for this,” he said, looking directly at the camera.

As he started to change, the crowd went wild.  Dylan had barely managed to lift the bar during the weightlifting challenge, but now his body was exploding with muscle.  Pecs that had barely existed were swelling into big round mounds. His legs were sudden tree trucks.  Even his jawline got heavier.

“FUCK…” he moaned in a deep bass.  “YES!!!”

He burst into a most muscular pose and his face shone with joy.

“Oh shit!” he gasped, his hands jumping to his package.  “There’s like… bro… there’s like… a thingy on my dick…”

“That’s your cage!” the host explained casually.  “You’ve got the jock part down – now it’s time to learn about obedience!”

The crowd went absolutely nuts when he said that.  Dylan looked around with worry, but when his eyes landed on the host, he couldn’t help but say two shaky words.

“Yes… sir?”

“That’s right,” the host grinned.  “Now clear the stage, we’ve still got one more obedient jock coming up!”

“Yes sir,” Dylan nodded and waddled back through the curtain.

“Last, but not least… ALAN!” the host announced…

“Dude,” Mark turned to me, staring with wide eyes.  “What does he mean cage?”

“I dunno,” I shrugged.  “I’m watching this the same as you.”

“I can’t believe I’m googling this,” Mark said, as he pulled out his phone and typed frantically.  “Cage… on… a… dick… HOLY FUCK MAN.”

On screen, Alan was gripping at his newly caged dick too.  He had a college jock look – a letterman jacket and a pair of jeans, but we could still see the heavy of his cage.

“Look at this,” Mark shoved his phone in my face.  I winced – it was some guys dick pic, but like… wrapped in metal.

“You gotta warn me before you do that,” I groaned.

Rankings were flashing up on screen.

“Congratulations Reese!” the host grinned, putting a plastic crown on the himbos head.  He’d lost his crop top somewhere and was standing there in just that neon orange thong.  “Or should I say… STRIPTEASE!”

“STRIPTEASE!  STRIPTEASE!” chanted the crowd.

“I’m just saying, you gotta think about what happened here,” Mark said.  “Liam watched this show, and now he’s posting slutty gym pics online…”

“Congratulations Harper!  You’re the best of the dazed muscle boys!” the host cheered.  He put a plastic crown on the speedo clad muscle boy.  Harper raised his hands in victory.  “Though from now on we’ll call you RIO!”

“RIO!  RIO!  RIO!”

“This is it,” Mark insisted.  “This is how they get you.  Lure you in with pumped up muscles and stupid challenges, and next thing you know –“

“Congratulations Trevor, you’re the winner for the best Alpha Eyecandy!” the host announced.  The cowboy removed his ten gallon hat to accept a plastic crown on his head.  “You’ll fit right in as COLT!”

“COLT!  COLT!  COLT!  COLT!” the audience chanted.  The cowboy did a little dance, moving his hips for them and grinding his bulge against the air.

“But I’m not doing it,” Mark practically shouted.  “I’m not getting my dick locked up,” he insisted.  “I don’t care how buff they’d make me!”

“And now for our top obedient jock,” the host teased.  “Congratulations Dylan!”

The bodybuilder waddled out to accept his crown, grinning the whole time.  He was walking weird, like he couldn’t quite figure out how.

“What’s my name?” he asked, nervous anticipation on his face.

“Give it up for… FLAME!” the host said, pointing at Dylan’s fire-engine red tank.

“FLAME!” Dylan led the chant.  “FLAME!  FLAME!”

“Turn it off,” Mark told me, grabbing for the remote.

“Dude, just wait,” I said.  “There’s only like a minute left.”

“Turn it the fuck off…” Mark raged.  He got on top of me, pinning me down and trying to wrestle the remote out of my hand.

“We’re out of time,” the host said.  “So check the app for your next at home challenge, where you’ll get to choose YOUR archetype!  Until tomorrow, BE MORE!”

“ENCORE!” Mark and I both shouted involuntarily.  He looked like he wanted to be sick.

Mark grabbed the remote and shut off the TV.

“No way I’m doing that shit,” he growled at me.  “You go ahead, dress like a gay stripper, but I’m done.”

“It’s a good show,” I protested.

“Yeah,” he said, softening for a second before his resolve returned.  “But… I don’t need this.  I quit smoking, I can quit this too…”

“It’s not like you have to dress that way,” I pointed out.  “You just have to make a pick, nobody said anything about actually changing your style.  It’s just choosing a team or something…”

With the TV off, we could hear a moan coming from Josh’s room.  Soft thumping, over and over, like…

I don’t know…?

… a headboard hitting the wall…?

“They’re having sex in there,” Mark pointed.  “Gay sex!  That’s the fucking team you’re choosing.  Look… thanks for the beer, thanks for the gym, but… I’m out.”

I didn’t even have time to get up from the couch.  Mark slammed the door behind him.  I sat there and stared at the screen.

“Continue Playing?” it asked.

But I knew it wouldn’t work.  Not until I completed the challenge.

“This show is awesome…” I said to the empty room.  “But…”

“Yeaaaaah…” I heard Josh moan.

I tried to picture myself as one of the guys on the show.  It was just an outfit, and then… then it was a lifestyle I guess.  Musclebound and slutty… would it be so bad?  It’s not like it’s a bad thing, being into guys, it’s just… not me.

But it could be, right?  I mean… it would be if I kept watching.

I pictured myself as alpha eye candy.  Confident and powerful, dominating the room.  I imagined picking Jayden up and slamming him against the wall… fucking his hole until he cried for mercy…

The thought made me shiver.

Easy sex?  Big muscles?  Would it really be so bad?

“Do it,” I heard Josh moan.  “Oh fuck yeah…”

I mean… I post on social media about dog food.  Would it be terrible if people actually cared about my pics?  About me?

I picked up my phone and looked at the challenge screen.  I should at least see what the challenge was…

“GOOD NEWS”, it said in flowing gold text.  “YOUR MENTOR HAS PICKED YOUR ARCHETYPE!”

There was an animated burst of sparkles, and a cartoon image of me rotated on my phone.  Big muscles.  A scrap of fabric for my shirt.  A jockstrap framing my massive ass, and a tellingly large bulge up front…

“OBEDIENT JOCK” it said underneath.

“OH FUCK YEAH!!!” Josh screamed from the other room.

Episode Four was unlocked.