Chad 3.0

My name’s Chad Carter, and yeah, I know — I’m exactly the guy you’re picturing. Former college football star, turned influencer, turned… well, whatever this is now.

Back in college, life was simple: play ball, hit the gym, party hard, repeat. But I wasn’t just coasting. I took those years of being the “big man on campus” and leveraged them into a pretty solid career as an influencer. By the time I hit 23, I had over a million followers across Instagram and TikTok. Sure, most of it was gym selfies, shirtless thirst traps, and generic 'You got this!' affirmations, but hey, it worked. Building a brand takes more than good lighting — it takes hustle, strategy, and a little bit of luck.

But being an influencer wasn’t sustainable. You ever try smiling through 50 takes of the same protein shake ad? Or staying shredded year-round for your audience’s validation? It’s a grind. So when the folks at LFTR reached out with a fat signing bonus and a shiny CMO title, I figured, why not? This was my chance to evolve — Chad 2.0.

LFTR’s a fitness app, and honestly, it’s a pretty good one. For $19 a month, it’ll plan your workouts, suggest meal options, and track your progress. It even sends you encouraging notifications like, 'Don’t skip leg day, Chad.' Not that I’d ever skip leg day. I mean, come on.

My job? Make sure everyone and their grandma knows about LFTR. And I was killing it — for a while. We had hundreds of thousands of users and a solid foothold in the fitness app market. Then HFlow dropped their new update, and everything went to hell.

HFlow’s our main competitor, and their app does the same thing as ours — at least, that’s what I thought. But since their latest update, users have been jumping ship faster than I can track. Hundreds of cancellations every day. I’m not sure what they’re offering that we’re not, but I do know this: my boss, the CEO, is not happy. And when the CEO’s not happy, I’m not happy.

So here I am — Chad Carter, once the king of my own little marketing empire, now sitting in a beige office, trying to figure out why everything’s falling apart.

------

Monday morning rolled around, and I got called into the CEO's office. When you’re summoned by Mr. Whitaker, it’s never to tell you how great you’re doing. Sure enough, the vibe in his office was colder than the AC blasting out of the vents.

He didn’t mince words. “Chad,” he said, leaning across his desk, “We’re losing ground to HFlow. Hundreds of users daily.” His voice had that 'fix it or else' tone. "I need a solution. Now.”

I tried to explain that marketing wasn’t the problem. "We’re still pulling in leads,” I said, “But the moment they see what HFlow’s offering, they’re gone.”

Whitaker wasn’t having it.

“Then figure out why. I don’t care how. Just do it.”

I walked out of Whitaker’s office feeling like I’d just been benched during the playoffs. His words were still ringing in my ears: “I need a solution. Now.” The guy’s got all the subtlety of a freight train, and I wasn’t in the mood to take it.

Storming into my office, I slammed the door behind me. My assistant, Kyle, poked his head in a moment later. “You okay?” he asked, cautiously.

“Do I look okay?” I snapped, instantly regretting it. Kyle didn’t deserve my bad mood, but hey, I was under fire. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Just… one of those days.”

I slumped into my chair and grabbed my phone. I needed a sounding board, so naturally I called my girlfriend Jess. She’s my rock—tougher than nails but always ready to hear me out.

“What happened?” she asked after a few seconds of venting.

“Whitaker’s on my case,” I said. “He thinks I can just magically solve this HFlow problem overnight. It’s not marketing’s fault—they’ve got something we don’t, and I don’t know what it is. He doesn’t care. He just wants results.”

There was a pause on her end. “So, what’s your plan?”

“Plan?” I scoffed. “I don’t even know where to start. Maybe this whole thing’s a lost cause. Maybe LFTR’s just… done.”

“Chad,” Jess said, her voice firm, “You didn’t get to where you are by giving up. You’re one of the smartest people I know. If anyone can figure this out, it’s you.”

I stared at my desk, Jess’s words swirling in my head. But all I could think about was how much easier life was back when my biggest problem was picking the right filter for my gym selfies.

“Yeah, well,” I groused, “Smart doesn’t fix everything.”

Hanging up, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling. Part of me wanted to call it a day and go home. But I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that maybe—just maybe—Jess was right. Still, taking action felt like stepping into quicksand. What if I made the wrong move? What if this really was the beginning of the end for LFTR?

For now, though, I wasn’t ready to face it. Instead, I did what I always do when I’m stressed: pulled out my phone, opened Instagram, and scrolled mindlessly through my feed. Avoidance? Maybe. But hey, it’s worked for me before.

But you can’t avoid the world forever. Eventually, I had to put my phone down and actually do my job. The team knows when I’m in a mood, and every minute I spent sulking was another minute of whispers, side-eyes, and nervous energy in the bullpen.

Our marketing bullpen isn’t your average office. It’s a high-energy mix of influencers turned professionals — basically a bunch of social media savants who know how to grab attention in a crowded space. I walked in and cleared my throat, the universal signal for “shut up and listen.”

A half-dozen faces turned my way. My crew of creative misfits. They weren’t perfect, but they were good. And right now, we needed good.

“Alright, everyone, listen up,” I said. “HFlow is eating our lunch, and they’re doing it FAST. We need to figure out how they’re poaching our users, and we need to do it NOW. This can’t wait for three-month plans or quarterly reviews. We’ve got a week to crack this. I need suggestions.”

Max was the first to speak. He’s this twinky gay guy who made his name on TikTok with hilarious comedy skits. Always practical, always thinking.

“I’d like to download HFlow and run through their onboarding process,” he said. “See if there’s something different they’ve been doing. I know we don’t just want to copy them, but…”

Kyle, my assistant, chimed in before I could respond. “We already did that. Like a year ago.”

“Yeah, but not since they released their new version,” Max countered.

“I like it,” I said, giving Max a thumbs up. “That’s your job, Max. Dig into their onboarding and see what they’re doing right. Who’s next?”

Ollie raised his hand. He’s the skater in the group, known for insane stunts on YouTube. The guy once got 120,000 views on a single kickflip, so you know he’s sharp.

“How about we talk to some new HFlow users?” Ollie suggested. “Especially the ones who came from LFTR?”

“Let’s do it,” I said. “Work with Nathan on that.”

Nathan’s our data guy—an analytics wizard with a knack for making political predictions on TikTok. He’s the kind of guy who can tell you why you lost before you even know you’re losing. Every so often he ends up on CNN.

“Anyone else?” I asked, scanning the room.

Dead silence. I probably shouldn’t have hired the guy whose claim to fame was launching Diet Coke and Mentos rockets.

“Okay,” I said, clapping my hands. “In the meantime, let’s start pushing new content. Highlight the long-term benefits of LFTR. Let’s remind people why they signed up in the first place. Now let’s move.”

And just like that, the room snapped into action. For the first time all day, I felt a sliver of confidence. We weren’t out of the woods yet, but at least now we were moving in the right direction.

With a plan in motion and a flicker of energy reignited, I headed back to my office. Max was already deep-diving into HFlow’s onboarding process, Ollie was pinging Nathan for user cancellation data, and the rest of the team was brainstorming fresh content ideas. It felt like, for the first time in weeks, we were finally on the offensive.

I buried myself in my computer, scrolling through HFlow’s latest social ad campaigns. Their whole angle was this “holistic health” thing—body, mind, soul, the works.

“Here at HFlow, we believe in transforming both your body AND your mind!”

It was slick. Too slick. The kind of ad that made you roll your eyes but still think, Damn, I should probably check them out. The longer I watched, the more annoyed I got.

Because the face of those campaigns? Wes Taylor.

Wes was an old buddy of mine from my influencer days. We used to collaborate all the time—joint gym sessions, dual sponsorships, the works. A year ago, I’d even reached out to see if he wanted to work with LFTR. “Fitness promotion isn’t really my thing,” he’d told me.

That lying bastard.

To be fair, Wes looked good. He’d leaned out a bit since I’d last seen him, and he was nailing the chill, approachable vibe they were going for. He made HFlow look fun. Meanwhile, LFTR’s social campaigns? We just looked... useful. Practical. The “eat your vegetables” of fitness apps.

I stared at my phone. I could call him, right? Just pick it up and demand to know what HFlow had offered him that we couldn’t? But no, I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was under my skin. Instead, I tossed my phone onto the desk and called in Shane.

Shane’s our content guy—a wild card who knows how to push boundaries without going too far. If anyone could make LFTR look more fun, it was him.

“Shane,” I said the moment he walked in. “We need to talk. LFTR needs a vibe check.”

He grinned, already knowing where I was headed. “Say no more, boss. Let’s make this thing pop.”

For the first time in a long time, I felt like we had a shot.

---

The next morning, I opened Slack to find a message from Shane. It was labeled “First Draft: New Promo.” My stomach churned before I even hit play.

The video was stilted, painfully forced. Sam, one of our influencer partners, stood in a brightly lit gym, flashing his perfect teeth and flexing a little too obviously. “LFTR makes every workout FUN!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. “It keeps me motivated, tracks my progress, and even suggests exercises I’d never think of on my own! Try LFTR—the FUN way to work out!”

I wanted to crawl out of my own skin.

But it wasn’t just in my DMs—Shane had already shared it in the public #marketing channel. And our CEO? The guy loves to lurk there. Sure enough, I didn’t even get time to comment before my phone buzzed.

“Chad, my office. Now.”

Whitaker beamed as I walked in. “That new promo? Genius,” he said. “Exactly the energy we need. Have it posted today.”

Walking back to my team, I felt like a dead man. Shane’s grin widened when I relayed the news. I gritted my teeth and muttered, “Post it.” It was going to be a long day.

------

Max was late. That threw me off more than I’d like to admit—Max is usually the most dependable guy on the team. If he says he’ll be somewhere, he’s there, five minutes early, coffee in hand. But today? Nothing. No message, no explanation. I decided not to wait around and jumped ahead on the schedule, bringing in Ollie and Nathan instead.

The two of them shuffled in, looking a little worse for wear but clutching their laptops like lifelines. “Alright, hit me,” I said, leaning back in my chair.

Nathan adjusted his glasses and started. “We managed to get in touch with about two dozen former LFTR users. And, uh, here’s the thing: every single one of them jumped ship to HFlow.”

Ollie chimed in, his skater energy barely contained. “We even did a Zoom call with one of them last night. Dude wouldn’t shut up about how ‘fun’ HFlow is.”

“Fun,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Great. Did he say what made it fun?”

Ollie shrugged. “Not really. We asked if it gave him better workouts, and he just said, ‘Depends what kind.’ When we pushed for more, he just told us we had to try it ourselves.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “So, nothing useful.”

“Not exactly,” Nathan said. “One thing stood out.” He pulled up a screenshot of their Zoom call. The user was young, fit, dressed like he was headed straight to the gym.

“So?” I said. “We’re shocked that gym bros use apps now?”

“Here’s his profile picture,” Nathan replied, clicking to the next slide. The man in the image was older—mid-30s, maybe—and dressed in business casual.

“Fuck,” I groaned, slumping back in my chair. “And he just switched?”

Nathan nodded. Ollie grinned. “Too bad. Would’ve made a killer ad campaign.”

I shook my head, waving them off. “Get back to the interviews. Figure out what makes HFlow so damn fun.”

“On it,” Nathan said as they left.

------

It was well after lunch when I finally gave Max a call. The guy was usually solid as a rock, but today he’d gone AWOL. The phone barely rang twice before he answered.

“Chad! Hey, bro. Sorry I didn’t come in this morning. I just… had to hit the gym first thing, y’know? Just got home.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Max, we’re in the middle of a crisis, and you bailed to go to the gym?”

“Bro, you don’t understand,” Max said, his voice practically vibrating through the receiver. “HFlow? They’ve made some big changes. It’s, like, so much fun now.”

“That’s what we’ve been hearing,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “But what does that mean, exactly?”

“Bro, it’s like… so hard to describe. You gotta try it for yourself. C’mon, you know you wanna.”

“You’re at home?” I asked, ignoring his pitch.

“Yeah,” Max said, sounding entirely too satisfied. “Just makin’ lunch. I’ll be in the office soon. Two, maybe three hours.”

“Three hours?” I barked.

“Whoa, lighten up, bro,” Max laughed. “Guys like me need a lotta food.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” I said, already grabbing my keys. “I’m coming over.”

The drive to Max’s apartment was short, but my mind was racing the entire way. The whole conversation had been bizarre. Max wasn’t a gym guy — not even close. And he’s always been Mr. Reliable, the guy you could count on when everything else fell apart.

It couldn’t be a coincidence. Max tries out HFlow, and now he’s acting completely out of character. My mind spiralled: what if the app wasn’t just good — it was dangerous? Subliminal messages? Mind control? It wasn’t impossible. We’d made LFTR addictive to use, but maybe HFlow had taken it too far.

My stomach churned as Max buzzed me up.

When Max opened the door, I almost didn’t recognize him. He was at least thirty pounds heavier than he’d been yesterday — all of it muscle — crammed into a pair of short shorts and a tank top so tight it looked like it might burst at the seams.

I’d never seen Max show this much skin before. I mean, I knew he was gay — not a problem, half my fans are gay— but Max had always been kind of a prude. Now, here he was, practically in his underwear, a glazed look in his eyes, and his muscles impossibly pumped.

“Oh my god!” Max cheered, his voice as bubbly as I’d ever heard it. “I can’t believe you came all the way over!”

Before I could respond, Max stripped off his tank top, giving me a full view of his chest. Pecs. Max had pecs now—pecs he absolutely didn’t have yesterday. And I’ve spent enough time in the gym to know muscles like that don’t grow overnight.

“We gotta get you on HFlow, baby,” Max said, bouncing his newly grown muscle tits at me. “We could have so much fun…”

Then, to my horror, he hooked a finger between two buttons on my shirt and leaned closer.

“Together.”

I stumbled back, my brain struggling to process the situation. “Max,” I said, holding up a hand like I was trying to calm a wild animal, “Get it together. I’m your fucking boss.”

Max just grinned, his eyes flicking down for a moment. “Whatever you say… sir.” His tone was playful, but his gaze landed somewhere it absolutely shouldn’t have.

“Jesus, Max!” I barked, moving to cover myself as I backed toward the door.

“Don’t be like that,” Max laughed, taking a step forward. “C’mon, Chad. Just give HFlow a try. It’s like... so much fun!”

I didn’t wait for more. Turning on my heel, I bolted for the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest. Whatever was happening to Max, I wasn’t sticking around to find out.

------

Back at the office, I walked straight to my desk and shut the door behind me. My head was spinning. What the hell was going on? Whatever just happened with Max—none of it was right.

I sank into my chair and pulled out my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I found Wes’ number. My fingers hovered for a second before typing out a quick text: Hey, it’s Chad. Gimme a call when you can? Tossing my phone onto the desk, I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. What the hell had Max gotten himself into?

The knock at my door snapped me out of it. Nathan and Ollie stepped in, looking equally shaken. “This is weird,” Nathan started. “We’ve talked to six people who switched from LFTR to HFlow, and... they’ve all been like that first guy.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, sitting up. “They won’t stop talking about how much fun it is?”

My mind flicked back to Max, the way he’d grinned, his gaze lingering a little too long. My stomach turned. “Exactly what kind of fun are these guys talking about?”

“Yeah,” Ollie said, crossing his arms. “That’s the thing. But it gets weirder... Look, we do before-and-after marketing campaigns with plenty of our users, right? One of these guys, we actually did a photoshoot with him a few weeks ago. Two years on LFTR, he gained about ten pounds of muscle, shaved off a little fat.”

“But on today’s call…” Ollie trailed off.

“The guy is shredded,” Nathan finished. “And way bigger than in our photoshoot. Like someone waved a magic wand. You work out, Chad, you know that kind of growth is impossible.”

Nathan leaned forward. “We can keep doing interviews, but honestly, maybe we just need to try the app ourselves. See what’s going on.”

“No!” I barked, louder than I intended. I softened my tone. “I mean, don’t worry about it. Max has that angle covered.”

My phone buzzed on the desk. Wes. I snatched it up. “Sorry, guys. I’ve got to take this. Keep going on the interviews, and whatever you do... don’t touch that app.”

I answered the FaceTime call, and Wes’ smirking face filled the screen. “Chad Carter! Long time, man. What’s up?”

“Hey, Wes,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I’m having a weird day.”

“Yeah? What’s going on?”

I hesitated for a moment. “Well, you know the HFlow app?”

Wes laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Of course I do. I’m doing their ads. Sorry about that, by the way. They just pay more, y’know?”

“I get it,” I said with a shrug. “It’s business.”

“Exactly,” Wes said. “So, what’s the deal? You looking to swap over to HFlow?”

“Not exactly,” I chuckled. “I’m trying to find out more about the app. We’re noticing that guys who use it… I don’t know how to say this…”

“Don’t tell me,” Wes interrupted, grinning. He put on a ridiculous voice and screamed, “‘OH MY GOD, IT’S SO FUN!’”

I laughed despite myself. “Yeah, that’s it. We’ve got guys quitting LFTR left and right, and then they end up shredded and… weird. I’ve got to figure out what they’re doing over there.”

Wes leaned forward, intrigued. “You think they’ve got some secret sauce?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Any chance you could sneak me in? Give me the tour?”

Wes raised an eyebrow. “Dude, you know they’d recognize you, right? You’re like a celebrity over there. They talk about you all the time. You want me to lose my gig?”

“Come on, Wes,” I said, trying to play it cool.

He sighed, tapping a finger against his chin. “Alright, look… I’ve got a keycard. Gets me into the studio, but it works everywhere. I could sneak you in at night. The janitors won’t recognize you.”

My heart jumped. “You’d do that?”

Wes smirked. “It’s risky, though. I’d be putting my neck on the line.” He paused, letting the moment stretch. “Ten grand?”

“Cash?” I asked, already calculating if I could pull that much from my savings.

“Of course,” Wes said, his smirk widening. “I’m not messing with Venmo for this.”

“Done,” I said, nodding.

Wes grinned. “Alright, I’ll drop you a pin. Meet me there at eleven. And, Chad? I’m not staying out all night. I need my beauty sleep, y’know?”

“Understood,” I said, cracking a smile. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Wes said, winking before hanging up.

I stared at the blank screen for a moment. Whatever was happening with HFlow, I was about to find out.

------

I met Wes on the corner, a block down from the HFlow office. We were both dressed in identical black outfits—jeans, t-shirts, and black leather motorcycle jackets. Wes gave me a once-over and smirked.

“Well,” Wes joked, “Now one of us has to go change.”

“Shut up,” I snapped. “Sorry, I’m just… stressed. This whole thing, we’re bleeding users every day, and I think I’m about to get fired. Unless I can figure out HFlow’s secret.”

“Anything for a friend,” Wes sighed, sliding the keycard to let us into the building. We walked into the elevator, and Wes hit the button for the 22nd floor.

The elevator gave a soft ding and the doors opened. I flinched.

“Relax,” Wes whispered. “These guys are strictly 9-to-5. The place should be totally empty.”

I nodded, but my nerves were still on edge. Wes led me down a long, dim corridor. “R&D is down here. Whatever you’re after, they’ll have it,” Wes said, swiping his keycard again to unlock the door.

Inside, we stepped into a sleek room lined with half a dozen high-tech computers. The door clicked shut behind us. I turned to Wes. “What now? Can you hack into this stuff?”

Wes laughed. “Yeah, right. C’mon, dude, I do gym videos. Hacking is someone else’s department. His, actually.”

He pointed across the room.

I stepped forward, my heart racing as a figure emerged from the shadows. Instinctively, I turned to run, but the door was locked tight behind me.

The lights flickered on, revealing a man in his fifties, dressed all in black—not for fashion, but for functionality. The kind of stuff nerds wear. He was flanked by two massive security guards, their arms crossed like stone sentinels.

“Chad Carter,” the man said, his voice calm but dripping with satisfaction. “I’m Alex Denver, founder of HimboFlow.”

My breath caught in my throat. HimboFlow? I didn’t know whether to laugh or panic. All I knew was that I was in way over my head.

“What the fuck is HimboFlow?” I demanded, pressing my back against the locked door, my chest heaving as adrenaline coursed through me.

Alex Denver, the man behind all of this insanity, leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk like he owned the world. Maybe he did, in his own twisted way.

“Oh, you know it as HFlow,” he said with a grin. “HimboFlow’s just my pet name, but it’s cute, right? Besides, himbos have always been my thing, and you’re going to be a great one.”

I stared at him, my mind struggling to process his words. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Alright,” Alex said, glancing at his watch like he had somewhere better to be. “It’s late, and I don’t have all night. Let’s do the elevator pitch, shall we?” He leaned forward, his grin widening. “I’m gay. I’m horny. I’m smart. I wanted to make the world’s easiest workout app so I could fill it with buff guys. Just my kinky fantasy, you know? But somehow, it actually took off. Three hundred thousand users and counting.”

I blinked. “But something changed,” I said, trying to make sense of his words.

“Don’t interrupt me,” Alex snapped, his playful tone vanishing for a moment. “I’m doing my pitch. Yeah, something changed. A couple of months ago, we made a research breakthrough — one of those AI things that just happens, you know? Nobody really knows how it works, but we figured out how to use it. And now, we can rewrite reality.”

“Rewrite reality?” The words felt like they belonged in a bad sci-fi movie.

“Kevin, that’s the engineer who cracked the code,” Alex continued. “He showed it to me first, and I saw the potential immediately. I spent the next two weeks hacking all night, and boom — the new version of HFlow was born. It doesn’t just track your workouts anymore. It reformats you into a whole new version of yourself. Gay. Horny. Dumb. And don’t forget the muscle.”

My stomach twisted as I tried to keep my composure. “And when people try your app…”

“That’s the hook we need,” Alex said with a shrug. “I wish we could be subtle about it, maybe run the process over a year or two, long enough that people wouldn’t ask questions… but you know AI. Nobody really knows what it’s doing.”

“And the guy who invented it? Kevin?” I asked, my voice barely steady.

“Oh,” Alex said with a chuckle, sitting up and folding his hands on the desk. “I used it on him first. Didn’t really have the process refined yet, but he’s happy enough. Retired, actually. I’ve got a place in Malibu, and he makes a decent pool boy.” Alex leaned back again, his grin returning. “I’ve got to say, I’m thrilled you’re here. I’m a big fan, you know. I’ve been following your socials for years. All those thirst traps… they’ll be even hotter once you’re a himbo.”

“Wes, we’ve got to get out of here,” I said, my voice low and urgent. My eyes darted to my friend. “I don’t know what this guy promised you, but—”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Wes said, cutting me off. He stepped closer, his hand resting on my shoulder. It was a casual touch, but the way his thumb began to rub small circles against the back of my neck sent a chill down my spine.

“I ran a custom program on Wes,” Alex said, his tone brimming with pride. “He’s gay now. Horny. And totally at my command.”

Wes grinned, his expression utterly unrecognizable. “I’m the bait,” he said, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Your way inside. And now that I’ve delivered on my side of the bargain…”

“Right!” Alex said, snapping his fingers. “A deal’s a deal. And I can see Chad still doesn’t believe me. Not really.” He pulled out a sleek black phone, tapping on the screen with practiced ease. “Wes, why don’t you stand in the center of the room, where we can all enjoy the show?”

Wes eagerly hurried to the center of the room, his movements filled with a strange, exaggerated energy. He shucked off his leather jacket, tossing it aside without a second thought.

“Pose for me,” Alex instructed.

Wes grinned and went into a double bicep pose, flexing his arms with precision. “Good boy,” Alex said, nodding in approval. “And good boys get what they deserve…” He tapped a button on his phone.

The transformation began immediately. Wes’s body started to grow, his muscles swelling and shifting in ways that defied logic. His biceps ballooned, his chest expanded, and his thighs thickened. It was like watching a time-lapse video of someone’s bodybuilding journey—compressed into an instant.

His clothing didn’t stand a chance. His jeans shrank and shifted until they became a neon green poser, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. His shirt disappeared entirely, leaving his glistening torso on full display.

In a matter of moments, it was over. Wes stood there, his body now tipping the scales at what had to be 260 pounds of mostly muscle. He flexed again, his grin wider than ever.

“A little bigger than I normally like,” Alex mused, inspecting Wes like a sculptor admiring their latest masterpiece. “But it’s what he begged for. At least… after I made him a cockslut.”

Wes giggled, running his hands over his bulging chest. “All the dudes wanna fuck me…” he moaned, grabbing at his crotch. The neon fabric was already soaked with precum.

“Not quite yet,” Alex said, his tone casual, like he was discussing the weather. “But soon. The way our user base is growing…”

“You can’t do this!” I shouted, my voice cracking as I took a step forward.

“Yeah, I can,” Alex said, his smirk returning. “And you’re going to help me. I’ve got a custom program for you too.” He tapped a few more buttons on his phone, his eyes locking onto mine. “Ready?”

Alex Denver’s finger tapped the button on his phone, and it felt like a bolt of lightning ripped through me. My vision blurred, my muscles tensed, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Then, everything froze.

Denver was frozen mid-smirk, his finger still resting on the phone. Wes stood in the center of the room, his hands running over his impossibly pumped body, a glazed grin plastered on his face. The two security guards stood like statues, poised to pounce — if time hadn’t stopped altogether.

A shrill, piercing tone filled my ears, and a mechanical voice spoke, its intonation eerily flat. “Prepare for phase one. Subject Chad Carter. Kinsey rating set to seven, fully homosexual. Execute.”

The world twisted, bending and shifting in ways I couldn’t comprehend. When it settled, everything looked… different. Wes wasn’t just standing there like some broken puppet; he was a beast. Big, buff, and beautiful. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed it before.

The two security guards—damn, how had I not seen it? They weren’t just musclebound brutes; they looked like swimsuit models. Perfectly chiseled, rugged, and hot.

And Max… I clenched my fists, heat rushing through me. How could I have passed up on him earlier? Next time, I wouldn’t miss my chance.

The shrill tone rang out again, piercing my mind like a blade. “Prepare for phase two,” the mechanical voice droned, cold and unfeeling. “Subject Chad Carter, sex drive set to eleven, overdrive. Execute.”

My body convulsed as the world twisted around me once more. My vision blurred, colors bleeding together before snapping back into focus. This time, it wasn’t just different—it was overwhelming.

A moment ago, I thought I wanted Wes. Now, it was all I could think about. No — need was the only word that made sense. I needed him. His ass. His body. Everything. My gaze locked onto him, frozen in his flex, and my breath hitched. God, the way his poser hugged his massive, perfect physique…

My cock throbbed painfully against the confines of my black jeans, desperate for release. Every nerve in my body was screaming, begging to close the distance between us. To touch him. To taste him. I couldn’t think about anything else. I didn’t want to think about anything else.

If time started again, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d drop to my knees, rip that poser off, and devour him. God, I wished time would start again.

I needed him. Now.

The tone returned, sharper than ever, cutting through my mind like a siren. “Prepare for phase three,” the mechanical voice intoned. “Subject Chad Carter, devotion to Alex Denver set to 100%, absolute. Execute.”

The twisting sensation hit me again, more forceful this time, pulling at every fibre of my being. The world blurred, stretched, and then snapped back into focus. But this time, it wasn’t Wes who held my attention.

It was Alex.

Wes was beautiful, sure—big, buff, and perfect in every way. But Alex… Alex was more than that. He was irresistible. A force of nature. A creator. He wasn’t just remaking me; he was giving me purpose, shaping me into someone new. Someone better. How could I say no to that? And why would I want to?

A flood of warmth rushed through me as clarity settled in. Whatever Alex wanted, I would give it to him. Whatever he needed, I’d make it happen. He was the most important person in the world, and I knew it with every fibre of my being.

Alex deserved my devotion. My loyalty. My everything. And I’d give it to him, no questions asked.

The mechanical tone returned once more, this time almost deafening in its intensity. “Prepare for phase four,” the voice droned. “Subject Chad Carter, desires remapped to himbo kink. Execute.”

The twisting sensation hit me like a tidal wave, crashing through my body and reshaping everything I thought I knew. When the world righted itself, everything seemed brighter, clearer. And oh my god—HimboFlow. HimboFlow was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen.

An app that transforms guys into slutty gay himbos? That molds them into perfect, muscle-bound, horny works of art? I couldn’t believe I was lucky enough to witness it firsthand. And Alex Denver — the genius behind it all — was standing right in front of me. I felt like I’d met a god.

It all clicked. I totally understood why Wes helped set me up. He wasn’t betraying me; he was giving me the chance of a lifetime. He knew I needed Alex to finish the job, to unlock my full potential. How could anyone turn down that kind of offer?

I didn’t blame Wes for a second. This was how the world was meant to be. And now, it was my turn. I couldn’t wait for my muscles to swell, my brains to drain. Being a himbo was going to be the hottest thing ever.

“Release,” the mechanical voice intoned. “Subject Chad Carter, release. Release. Release.”

Time jolted back into motion. Everyone moved like nothing had happened. Alex stood calmly, Wes flexed in the center of the room, and the security guards loomed silently.

“Holy shit,” I gasped, realizing I could move again. The overwhelming desires surged within me. “Something… something went wrong! I wanna be a himbo like Wes! Like Max! Please!” I dropped to my knees, my voice desperate. “Please, sir! I’ll make such a good himbo. Make me dumb and slutty and huge!”

“Not yet,” Alex said with a smirk. “I can’t have you walking out of here looking like Wes. I need you to do me a favour… and then we’ll finish the job. Deal?”

“Yes, sir,” I gushed, bowing on the ground before him. “Yes, sir! Whatever you say!”

------

I strolled into the office, trying my best to keep my eyes forward and not check out every ass in sight. It wasn’t easy — temptation was everywhere. But I reminded myself why I was here. Focus, Chad. You’re undercover, on assignment, doing exactly what Alex told you to do. Nothing else mattered.

Breaking up with Jess had been rough. She didn’t take it well — lots of yelling, tears, and slamming doors. She called me selfish, accused me of losing my mind, said I wasn’t the man she fell in love with. Maybe she was right. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was Alex Denver.

The marketing bullpen was buzzing with its usual energy. I tried to walk through it like everything was normal, but my attention kept slipping. Max was back at his desk, looking like the definition of effortless confidence. He was wearing a tight tee that hugged his pecs perfectly and these ridiculously slutty little shorts that showed off his thick, muscular thighs. I swallowed hard, my fingers moving to loosen my tie. A look couldn’t hurt, could it?

God, I wished I was as comfortable as Max. He caught my eye, and before I realized what I was doing, I gave him a flirty wink. His face lit up, his lips curling into a grin as he shifted in his chair, looking like he was about to get up and come over. I kept moving, pretending like it was nothing.

I checked my phone as I slid into my office chair. Half an hour until my meeting with the CEO. I sat perfectly straight, my hands folded neatly in my lap, my pulse steady. Alex needed this. Alex trusted me to deliver. I would wait patiently, no matter how long it took.

The timer on my phone buzzed, pulling me back to reality. It was time. I stood, adjusting my tie, gripping my phone tightly. This was it—the moment Alex had prepared me for. I strode to the CEO’s office with purpose, each step solidifying my resolve.

“Carter,” he greeted, his tone curt as usual. He motioned for me to sit. “You’ve had time to analyze the HFlow problem. Let’s hear it. Are we dealing with marketing failures, or is it the product?”

I sat across from him, keeping my composure. “It’s neither, sir,” I said, my voice steady. “HFlow has a new onboarding process that’s... remarkable. Revolutionary, even. I’m not sure we can replicate it, but I think you need to experience it for yourself. That’s the only way to truly understand.”

The CEO raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “You want me to download the competition’s app? On my phone?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “I’ll walk you through it step by step.”

He hesitated for a moment but then relented, pulling out his phone. “Alright, Carter. Let’s see what this is all about.”

He followed my instructions, downloading the app and working through the onboarding process. I watched him closely, every step unfolding as planned. When he reached the final screen, something shifted. He gripped his phone tightly, his body tensing, and then—

It began.

His eyes widened as his frame stiffened, and then he groaned, his voice deepening. His suit strained against his shoulders as his body began to expand. Muscles rippled under his clothes, his chest broadening, his arms thickening. The seams of his shirt tore, revealing skin stretched tight over bulging pecs. His stomach flattened, abs emerging like they’d been carved from stone.

His pants didn’t fare much better, splitting at the thighs as they swelled into powerful columns of muscle. What remained of his trousers shrank, morphing into a pair of snug shorts that barely contained him. His tie unraveled and disappeared, leaving his neck and chest bare.

When the transformation stopped, he was enormous—every bit as sculpted and stunning as Michelangelo’s David. He blinked, his sharp, authoritative demeanour replaced with a more relaxed, almost dazed expression.

“Damn…” the CEO muttered, his voice now slower, softer. “Like… I knew you were a total thirst trap, but damn…” His gaze roamed over me unabashedly. “You wanna suck my cock?”

I grinned, adrenaline coursing through me. My job was done. Alex would be pleased. Now it was time for my reward.

I dropped to my knees without hesitation, my hands moving to his waistband. Whatever Alex needed, I would deliver. And whatever this new version of the CEO wanted? Well, I was always happy to help a fellow himbo.

I took the CEOs phone and punched in the most important number on Earth. Alex picked up after the first ring, his smooth voice coming through loud and clear. “Chad,” he said, “I trust everything went according to plan?”

“It’s done,” I said, trying to keep the excitement from spilling into my voice.

“Good,” Alex replied, satisfaction dripping from every word. “Meet me at the Hotel Georgia on Howe in one hour. You did well, and I always keep my promises.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, my heart pounding.

I handed the phone to the newly transformed CEO. He took it without hesitation, his massive hand dwarfing the sleek device.

Without another word, I turned and walked out of the office, down the hallway, and out of the building. My pulse quickened with every step. I couldn’t wait. Alex had promised, and I knew the reward would be worth everything.

------

When I arrived at the Hotel Georgia, my heart was racing. The lobby was elegant, buzzing with quiet energy, but my eyes found Wes instantly. He stood near the grand staircase, dressed in a sharp, tailored suit. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, teasing his perfectly sculpted chest. And his ass — God, it was impossible to hide, even in a suit.

“Chad,” Wes greeted, his smile lighting up the room. He leaned in, and before I knew it, we were kissing. It felt natural, electric, like this was where I belonged. When he pulled away, he took my hand, leading me toward the elevator.

We stepped off on the third floor and walked into a room that could only be described as luxurious. Plush furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a bed that looked big enough to fit a dozen people. Alex was there, casually lounging on a velvet armchair, his attention fixed on his phone.

“Chad,” Alex said, looking up with a warm smile. “I’m glad you made it. I just wanted you to know that everything is going according to plan. That stunt with the CEO? You’ve opened up LFTR like a tin can. It’s mine for the taking—and so are its users. Thank you.”

“Thank you!” I gushed, my voice trembling with excitement. “I’ll do anything you want!”

“Well,” Alex said, standing and setting his phone down, “Now it’s about what you want.” He stepped closer, his presence commanding. “And you want to be a himbo, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” I said eagerly, my pulse quickening. “I wanna be a braindead cock slut. A muscle beast. Happy and horny and hunky!”

“Then that’s what you’ll get,” Alex said with a grin, tapping a button on his phone.

I barely had time to process his words before I felt it begin.

The room froze, just like it had back at the HimboFlow office. Time seemed to stop, leaving everything and everyone suspended in place. Wes stood mid-smile, his hand still resting lightly on my arm. Alex was poised with his finger hovering over his phone, his smirk locked in place. Even the air felt thick, like the world itself was holding its breath.

Then came the sound. That shrill, mechanical tone that sent a chill down my spine. “Prepare for phase one,” the flat, emotionless voice intoned. “Subject Chad Carter, pectoral muscles set to maximum. Muscle-tits. Execute.”

The words barely registered before it hit me—a twisting, pulling sensation that started deep in my chest. My heart raced as I felt a pressure building, an intense heat spreading across my torso. My shirt stretched impossibly tight as my pecs began to expand, pushing outward with each heartbeat.

I gasped, my breath catching as the transformation took hold. My chest grew heavier, fuller, until I could feel the weight of it pulling against my frame. I glanced down and saw them—two massive, perfectly sculpted mounds of muscle where my merely average pecs used to be.

They were glorious. Heavy. Perfect. And they were mine.

The mechanical tone returned, piercing the stillness of the frozen room. “Prepare for phase two,” the voice intoned, as emotionless and commanding as ever. “Subject Chad Carter, gluteus maximus set to maximum. Squat king. Execute.”

Before I could even process the words, the twisting sensation began again. This time, it wasn’t in my chest—it was lower, deep in the core of my body. A heavy pull tugged at my hips, and I felt my balance shift. The weight distribution of my entire frame was changing.

Then came the heat. My thighs burned as if I’d just finished an endless set of squats, and my glutes... Oh god, my glutes. The sensation was almost overwhelming as they grew, swelling outward with a relentless force. I heard a loud rip as the seams of my pants gave way, splitting down the back to make room for what had become an absolute masterpiece.

I reached back instinctively, my hands meeting the firm, impossibly round contours of my new ass. It was huge, undeniably juicy, and utterly perfect. There was no ignoring it. The weight, the shape—it demanded attention.

As I stood there, my ruined pants hanging in tatters, all I could think was how right it felt.

The mechanical tone sliced through the frozen room again, cutting through the silence like a blade. “Prepare for phase three,” the voice announced. “Subject Chad Carter, body type set to Thicc Icon, 100%. Execute.”

The familiar twist hit me, but this time it wasn’t confined to a single area—it consumed my entire body. A rush of heat coursed through me, and I felt my frame begin to shift. My shoulders broadened, my arms thickened, and my legs became solid pillars of strength. Every part of me seemed to expand, filling out into a new, fuller version of myself.

I clenched my fists, feeling the raw power coursing through my veins. My torso widened, my waist cinched slightly, and every muscle on my body seemed to pop with definition. I felt massive, solid, complete. My skin stretched taut over my new form, smooth and flawless.

I craned my neck, desperate to see the transformation. The room didn’t have a mirror, but in the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. My heart raced as I took in the outline of my newly sculpted body. Broad, thick, and powerful.

I couldn’t help but feel a growing heat within me, a sense of pride that bordered on arousal. I wasn’t just big—I was thicc, a walking monument to perfection. And I wanted to see more.

The mechanical tone returned, louder and more commanding than before. “Prepare for phase four,” the voice intoned, its flat delivery somehow echoing in my head. “Subject Chad Carter, intelligence set to loveable doofus. Execute.”

The twist hit me again, but this time it wasn’t my body that shifted—it was my mind. A strange sensation washed over me, like a fog rolling in and blanketing everything I thought I knew. Complex ideas unraveled and faded into the background, replaced by simple, easy thoughts. It wasn’t scary or painful—it was freeing.

Why had I spent so much time overthinking everything? All those worries, all those plans—they didn’t matter. What mattered was what I wanted. And right now? I wanted Wes.

My eyes drifted to him, his massive, perfect body frozen in place. God, he looked so good. My cock throbbed, straining against what was left of my pants, and I couldn’t stop myself from grinning. Yeah… Wes. Wanna fuck Wes. The thought was so clear, so obvious, like it had always been there, waiting for me to realize it.

I finished the thought, but instead of my mind moving to the next thing, it just… stopped. Sat in silence, peaceful and content. No noise, no clutter. Just me, standing there, knowing what I wanted and feeling good about it.

Everything felt lighter, easier. I giggled to myself, barely even noticing. What was there to worry about? Nothing. I was happy. And horny. And big.

And Wes… oh man, Wes was right there. I could hardly wait for time to start again.

The mechanical voice returned, wrapping around me like a command I couldn’t resist. “Prepare for phase five,” it intoned, steady and unyielding. My mind perked up, eager to hear what came next. “Subject Chad Carter, personality set to cock slut. Execute.”

The twist this time was subtle, almost gentle, like a whisper slipping into the core of who I was. But its impact was instant and undeniable. A need sparked inside me, small at first, but it grew — fast. It consumed me.

Wes was standing just feet away, frozen in his perfection, and my gaze locked onto him like a magnet. God, Wes was so fuckin’ hot. His muscles, his stance, even the little smirk on his face — it all screamed take me. My mouth watered, my lips parting as I imagined what it would feel like to have him.

And then there was Alex. Cool, composed, in total control. He wasn’t just hot — he was irresistible. My body ached at the thought of him, my mind buzzing with one singular need. I wanted him. No—I needed him. Them. Both. All.

My mouth watered, and I licked my lips. My body hummed with hunger. Cock. I needed cock so bad. I couldn’t think about anything else.

“Release,” the mechanical voice intoned, firm and final. “Subject Chad Carter, release. Release. Release.”

The world snapped back into motion, time resuming its natural flow. I blinked, grinning stupidly, my body and mind buzzing with contentment. Everything felt so good, so right. I didn’t have anything to say—there was nothing to say. I was happy.

Alex stepped forward, his sharp gaze sweeping over me. “That’s better,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “Don’t ever say I don’t keep my deals.”

“Huh?” I muttered, tilting my head. The words felt confusing, tangled in their meaning.

“Don’t worry about it,” Alex said with a chuckle, placing a hand on the side of my head. His fingers slid through my hair, ruffling it playfully, messing it up just enough to look perfectly imperfect. The touch sent a warm shiver down my spine, and I leaned into it, smiling.

“I wanna suck your cock,” I said, my voice dreamy as my eyes dropped to Alex’s lean frame. He was smaller than me, but he carried himself with such control that I couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

“Maybe later,” Alex chuckled, pulling his hand back. “Wes has been a very patient boy. You’ve got the room all night. By the time you’re done… well, you don’t need to worry about that.”

I nodded eagerly, my grin widening. Worry? Why would I worry?

“Tomorrow,” Alex continued, his voice steady, “Just go into work and do what you’re told. I think it’s time you go back to being an influencer. You wanna help us sell HFlow?”

“Oh yeah,” I said, practically bouncing. “HFlow is like… SO MUCH FUN!”

Alex laughed, stepping back as Wes finally approached me, his broad smile matching mine. Tonight was going to be incredible.

The moment Alex left the room, Wes and I turned to each other, grinning like we shared a secret too good to keep. Without hesitation, we closed the distance, our lips meeting in a kiss that was pure hunger. There was nothing tentative or shy about it—it was passionate, intense, and electric.

His hands roamed my body, tracing the curves of my newly sculpted pecs, his fingers pausing to squeeze and knead them. I couldn’t help but moan into his mouth, my hands sliding down to his impossibly broad shoulders, pulling him closer. We broke the kiss for a moment, both of us gasping for air, and I took the chance to admire him.

Wes was a masterpiece. Every inch of him radiated power and beauty, from his chiseled abs to the perfect curve of his thick thighs. My hands couldn’t stop exploring him, running over every ridge and swell of his muscles. “God, Wes,” I murmured, my voice full of awe. “You’re so fuckin’ hot.”

He grinned, stepping back just enough to flex for me, his biceps bulging as he struck a pose. “Look who’s talking,” he shot back, his tone playful but laced with desire. “You’re a walking wet dream.”

I laughed, the sound carefree and light, before stepping closer again. This time, my lips moved to his neck, trailing down to his chest. I kissed and licked every inch of his pecs, savouring the taste of his skin and the sheer size of him. Wes responded in kind, his mouth exploring my shoulders, his teeth grazing my collarbone.

We alternated between kissing and worshiping each other’s bodies, our hands and mouths never staying in one place for long. It wasn’t just lust—it was a celebration of who we’d become. Two perfect, horny himbos, lost in the joy of each other.

Finally my cock brushed up against his hole. He let out a loud moan, letting me know it was okay. He wanted it. Needed it. Wes pushed back against me, loosening his hole and letting me slide in effortlessly.

In and out. Push and pull. We were two animals, lost in the heat of the moment.

I came deep inside him.

After what felt like hours lost in each other, Wes and I finally pulled ourselves together. Both of us were grinning like idiots, our bodies radiating a shared glow of satisfaction. It was a perfect moment, but Wes, ever the energetic one, clapped his hands and said, “Alright, babe. Let’s hit the gym.”

The gym? I blinked at him, confused for a second. Then it clicked. Of course, we were going to the gym. That’s where we belonged.

“Wait,” I said, looking down at the shredded remnants of my old clothes. “What am I supposed to wear?”

Wes grinned and grabbed a duffel bag he’d left by the door. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered,” he said, unzipping it and pulling out a fresh set of workout clothes. “Picked these up earlier. Figured you’d need a wardrobe upgrade.”

The outfit was perfect — tight shorts that hugged my new legs and a sleeveless top that showcased my pecs and arms. Pink, of course. My colour. It was exactly what I wanted, even though I hadn’t realized it until now.

As I changed, Wes watched, clearly enjoying the view. “Damn,” he said, shaking his head with a playful smirk. “You’re gonna turn some heads.”

“Look who’s talking,” I shot back, flexing my arms for him. “You’re the one who’s gonna have guys lining up.”

We laughed, our energy infectious as we headed out. The walk to the gym felt like an event in itself, the two of us strutting like we owned the city. I couldn’t stop grinning, and neither could Wes. We were a perfect pair, two living, breathing advertisements for everything HimboFlow promised.

When we arrived, the gym was packed, the air thick with the sound of weights clanging and people working out. Wes nudged me. “Ready to show ‘em what we’ve got?”

“Hell yeah,” I said, my grin widening. This was going to be fun.

------

Under the bright lights of the HFlow studio, Wes and I stood side by side, both of us grinning as the cameras rolled. The sleek backdrop with the HFlow logo made it feel like we were on the set of a blockbuster movie. This wasn’t just a fitness announcement—it was a declaration.

“Hey, what’s up, dudes!” I started, my energy infectious as always. “Chad Carter here, and I’ve got some massive news to share with you today. And, uh… I’m not doing this one alone.”

I nudged Wes playfully, and he laughed, stepping into the spotlight. “That’s right! Wes here. And if you’ve been wondering what we’ve been up to lately… well, you’re about to find out.”

I leaned into the camera, my grin widening. “So, as most of you know, I’ve been working at LFTR for the past two years. It’s been amazing, but now it’s time for the next step in my journey. Chad 3.0 is officially here, and Wes is along for the ride!”

Wes threw an arm around my shoulder, his biceps bulging under the lights. “And what better way to start Chad 3.0 than with some big news? LFTR has just been acquired by HFlow, the best fitness app out there.”

I gestured to the backdrop. “And let me tell you, guys, this app is FUN. Seriously. Wes and I have been using it, and we’ve both noticed a huge shift in our workouts—and the results? Insane!”

Wes chimed in, flexing his arm. “We’re not just talking about workouts. HFlow makes everything better. And, uh… we’ve got another update for you.”

I turned to him, smiling. “Yeah. Wes and I? We’re officially dating. HFlow brought us together, and now we’re bringing it to you.”

With a synchronized motion, we both peeled off our shirts, revealing chiseled torsos under the glow of the lights. Wes flexed his pecs, and I struck a pose, letting the cameras capture every angle.

“Get on HFlow, dudes,” I said, leaning into the camera. I took a glance over at Wes and we chorused together.

“It’s time to have some FUN!”