Jaime had a broad smile as he accepted the enormous box from the UPS deliverer. After being carted in by a dolly and three men, the box sat in the center of the living room. Too excited to pay much attention to the signing sheet, he drew a line where his name should be and proceeded toward the box with a box cutter.
The sides collapsed with a shuffling whisper. He then proceeded to slash the layers of plastic that engulfed the package.
“I’ve been waiting to get this for years,” he said aloud. "Wish they weren't so damn expensive and hard to find."
A large, usual looking weight lifting machine was now installed next to the sofa and TV. With a bar that reached nearly to the ceiling for pull ups, it also had arched spines for arm movements, and moveable seats along with a vertical column of weights for leg-press exercises. Jaime took off his shoes and shirt and slapped his hands together eagerly.
After lifting at the local weight-training club for nearly two years, he had had enough of the air conditioning units dying. Now he could weight lift on his own time in the comfort of his air-conditioned home. In Arizona, this was considered good.
He noticed the complex machine, which had the grand name of “Champion of Ardashir” had some writing on it he didn’t recognize. At first he thought it might be some form of arabic, but then as he kept looking, it didn’t seem right. The script was all along the bars, inlaid into the structure of the machine. It looked square and strange, like symbols, ancient maybe. He swore he’d seen this kind of script before but he didn’t recognize where it came from. Must have been part of the design aesthetic, he guessed. He had heard wonders about this brand of equipment, that it was highly saught after, so he was very surprised when he found (After years of searching for something suitable) for fairly cheap online. It came with rave reviews online. One video testimonial was by some particularly jacked middle eastern dude - must have been a bodybuilder - who spoke in an odd accent, but insisted that you buy it to join “Ardashir’s Strength Army”... whatever that was.
Laying on his back, he gripped the bar till his knuckles were white and proceeded to push upward, feeling gravity push his arms back. With a heavy exhale he shoved the bar forward and felt his arms quiver.
“200 pounds, not bad.” Just over his weight. He studied his long, muscular arms and stood up doing mock poses. He chuckled at how blatantly vain his admiration of his strength was. Then again, the pictures and trophies on the TV indicated he had earned that strength.
His stomach growled and he walked toward the kitchen.
Turning around, he felt something strange inside him—a craving. The weight lifting device stood silently as if daring him to come back and give it a second try.
“Why not,” he muttered. “I can do a few more repetitions.”
Adjusting the resistance to 225 pounds, he got down on his back and stared at the wood-paneled ceiling. Lifting up the bar, the squeal of metal tendons pulling against the force of his arms gave him a curious thrill. He did several reps before setting the bar on the supports. Though breathing heavily, he wanted to keep going.
His stomach growled in rebellion so he made his way to the kitchen a second time. The muscles in his arms burned as he rubbed at them. The sun-bleached hairs on his tan skin seemed darker than usual. Shrugging it off, he opened the fridge to see what was inside. Grabbing two health shakes, he popped the lids and quickly downed both.
His gaze kept wondering toward the living room. “It’s so nice to lift whenever I want without people taking my stations,” he said.
Walking over to the machine, he sat in nothing but his shorts and wanted to give his arms another workout. He longed for the feel of tense muscles, the massive weights being controlled by his strength alone.
This time he adjusted the weight to 250 pounds. Shoving the bar upward, the weight felt like less than his previous lift. Doing a dozen repetitions, he found it took more effort to tire out his body despite the heavier weight. Once his muscles quivered in exhaustion and his fingers were about to lose all strength and slip, he reluctantly set the bar down. The hair on his arms seemed darker still, almost black.
He stretched his arms but they seemed more taught than usual.
Again his stomach growled. “What the hell? I haven’t been this hungry in ages.” Walking into the kitchen, he opened the fridge, reaching in and he grabbed another shake. A pack of twenty-four and three of them were gone within half an hour. They were supposed to last for the whole week but at this rate, they wouldn’t last till the end of the day.
Again he walked over to the weight-lifting machine. This time, though, he sat down and pressed his feet firmly against the rubber “pedals.” He adjusted the weights to 400 pounds and slowly pushed his legs forward, feeling them tense and react to the weight. He did several reps before frowning.
He adjusted the weight to 500 pounds.
His legs worked harder to keep the pedals at bay. As they shook from the strain, he looked at his long legs and felt a sharp prickling sensation around his knees. He jumped as the weights slammed down, making him wince as he thought about how expensive the machine was and his poor treatment of it.
Looking at his knees, new thick, black hair had appeared out of nowhere.
Mystified, he pulled one of them out, wincing at the sharp pain. Standing up, his legs were straining his shorts and were now rubbing together. They felt huge, bloated and exhausted and throbbing. His whole body felt strange…heavier.
He did feel much stronger though, and that feeling alone nagged at the back of his mind. He wanted to give the machine another run.
Laying on his back again, he grabbed the bar and pushed upward. His arms moved effortlessly. He adjusted the weight to 300 pounds. Much more difficult. For a heavier weight, it took even more repetitions than the last set to tire his arms out. This time he could feel his arms tingling as hairs began thickening on them all over his wide forearms and up his triceps, tickling his skin as they spread outward.
Sitting up, he watched them.
“This is so bizarre,” he grinned, looking down at the machine. He felt even stronger than before! Whatever was happening to him, maybe it would give him the edge in next month’s lifting competition.
Sitting down, he adjusted the leg lifts to 450 pounds. Too heavy. He tried 400 pounds but still struggled to lift them. Dropping to 300 pounds, he found his legs were able to manage that.
After two dozen repetitions, there was a sharp pain on the side of his thigh and lower leg as he stopped and rubbed at them sorely. Standing up, his thighs appeared thicker and longer. Smooth skin began to yield to thick black hairs. His legs wanted to bend to the sides even more now, making him appear short. Rubbing at his burning thighs, the pain slowly subsided.
“Maybe I should just stick with arms for awhile.”
He looked down at the thick hair that protruded from his knees and his now wide gait, then at his hairy arms. It looked quite awkward. “Maybe I’m turning into a monkey,” he chuckled. He definitely looked hairier.
He sauntered on his thick beefy legs over to the couch, the fluorescent glow from the TV preoccupied his attention as he channel surfed. Every few seconds his gaze would divert to the lifting machine. His heart began to race as he tried to force himself to focus on the TV, but he wondered what would happen if he continued to lift. His legs, noticeably beefier than earlier in the day, and his arms felt thicker, very tense and muscular. The weight lifting machine glared at him through the reflection of the television screen.
“Alright,” he muttered, stepping over to the machine to give his arms another workout. Gripping the bar, he did several reps of bench pressing before he had to struggle. Gritting his teeth, his face burned and his muscles twitched as he struggled to keep the bar above him. His chest hair grew thicker and more of the dark hair began to appear over his shoulders and upper arms. He fought gravity as the strength was sapped away from his muscles, evaporating in spasms and breath as he struggled to keep the bar afloat. His entire body quaked from the effort before he lost all strength in him and bar slammed down.
“Whew!”
Jaime let go of the bar and struggled to stand. He was light-headed. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he felt the beginning of a thick heavy brow.. Jaime ran into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. His nose had grown, gaining a strong curve that gave him a vaguely middle-eastern appearance, and his hair was totally black now and he looked like he had a bit of a tan. His beard was coming in thick, rising up higher on his cheeks than he remembered.
His heart raced with excitement. Something was definitely happening to him!
He ran back to the machine and sat down, pressing his feet flat against the pedals and pushing his legs forward. He did it slow at first, then slowly built up speed, allowing his muscles to become tired and warm. As he started to struggle, he felt the muscles become warm and twitch with his tendons. His legs began to grow even thicker, their proportions becoming massively overgrown.
He went to stand but had to spread his legs far apart. His hairy quads were so thick.
Once again he lifted with his arms, and just as before, the more he drained them of energy, the bigger they became, the more muscular his shoulders became, and the thicker the hair on his whole body became, swirling over his pecs and up over his shoulders. His whole body shook from the adrenaline rush of what was happening to him. He could feel the muscles in his face strain as he threw his whole body against the force of gravity to hold up the bar.
His six-pack disappeared into a wall of a smooth, hair covered muscle. His whole body felt like it was being filled with air and becoming wider, only instead of air it was muscle. His torso lengthened and his buttocks and thighs changed shape as well. Out of breath, he rested on the bench, feeling very tired. His skin crawled and his body twitched as he felt the changes travel through him. He could feel his back tingle as if covered by ants—that was becoming thickly-haired too.
Slam!
The machine shuddered as the bar dropped. Jaime’s beefy arms slammed to his sides and he closed his eyes, exhausted. Struggling to sit up, he breathed heavily and looked down at his arms. They were heavy and massive. Sauntering to the bathroom mirror, he found his face had changed more. His beard was longer, the ridge of his brow was more prominent, and his face was looking more and more harshly masculine. He smiled, feeling with his thick fingers his luxurious black beard.
“Amazing,” he said aloud, but it came with an accent he didn’t expect.
His stomach growled again in hunger.
Jaime laughed at the tickling sensation of the hair growing thick and long over him as his voice became deeper. His throat and vocal cords tensed as his neck thickened even more.
His large feet stomped heavily against the floor as he sauntered his much larger body towards the kitchen. Since his arms and legs were so big, his walk shifted. He forced his hands around the twenty-four-pack of shakes and yanked them from the chill. His hands looked large., like huge hairy mitts, and he opened them as he moved lips, nearly hidden by his thick new mustache, over the can and guzzled down the drink.
Jaime stood on the seat and reached his large, hairy arms into the air, jumping up to grab the highest bar that was perfect for pull ups. He looked at his long arms hanging, then down at his huget legs. His tired arms struggled to lift him. He forced his body on and did even more repetitions. His muscles moved like liquid all over his body, the warm feeling causing him to shake from the pleasurable massage-like feeling of the changes taking place. His back widened dramatically, growing powerfully broad.
With the rest of the cans in tow, he moved into the living room and looked at the machine again, then down at himself. He chuckled at the thought of how different he must look, like some hulking middle eastern version of himself. His heavy bulge swung a little noticeably with each awkward step. He had to readjust his package in his very tight shorts and was surprised by how heavy and thick his manhood felt. He had never considered himself a particular hung man, but that seemed to have changed.
He also had never been a particularly hairy man, but that too had quickly changed. Swirls of thick black body hair now covered his body
“This is...diwana.. crazy...” he muttered to himself. “I don’t even know what I’m doing.” His voice sounded deep… and he definitely had an accent. That’s when he felt his mind change too. He was Jaime, yes, but he was also more than just Jaime. Something else, or someone else, was a part of him.
He sat down on the machine and stroked the metal. What if he could be as strong as steal? The curiosity of the change nagged at the back of his mind as he grumbled to himself in dismay. He should stop this madness, but he wanted it to continue,
Again, pulling his legs to his chest, he pressed his feet against the pedal. As his beefy legs moved forward he could feel his whole body beef up. His shirt grew tighter on his frame. Thick swirls of hair were spreading across his back and even at the sides of his torso.
Large flat feet widened, his furry chest pushed out further. His beard hair began running into his thick forest of chest hair. He had even grown a couple of inches taller.
He stood up to study himself. He looked like huge bodybuilder, or a strongman maybe. He was the hairiest man he’d ever seen. He had completely transformed into a different man. His black hair was longer and untamed. His brow was heavy and thick, his skin now darkly tanned and rugged.
He felt very strong now, as if he could exercise forever and never tire. Walking into the living room, the enormous brute studied his surroundings.
Jaime then sauntered back into the bathroom. The harshly masculine middle-eastern muscular giant in the mirror only had the faintest hints of Jaime’s old features. Bulging, massive, hair-covered mounds of muscle covered his enormous torso. His dick was probably twice as long and twice, maybe three times as thick, and still mostly soft. His balls were huge. He looked like a beast of a man.
Stretching his mouth in a wide grin, he knew he’d embrace his new life. He remembered it all. He knew who he was again. He was a protector, a guardian of the old ways. He came from a long line of Zoroastrian warriors. Men who were brought into the world to protect the emperor. Men whose spirits were transformed to do one thing- to be the guardians of the palace.
“I have returned” He looked at himself again, admiring his powerfully masculine new appearance. Somewhere in there Jaime was still conscious. Yet, a new hulking beast of a man had taken his place, or at least part of his place.
Furniture and house were a curious sight as he marveled at their colors, of the unfamiliar technology around him. He had come into life in a new age. ‘Where was the emperor?’. He wondered. Was this even the palace? It did not look like a palace. He did not know where the emperor was,, but he decided he would have to go out into the world and find out.
A message popped up on an unfamiliar piece of technology on his table- he realized it was an email. His mind was foggy, but he knew this much.
‘Welcome to Ardashir’s Army” it said. “Farrokh- please make your way to our new palace and await your instructions. The emperor wants to give you a mission”
Farrokh, oddly familiar with this strange house, grabbed car keys and left the house, headed for the new headquarters. He somehow knew the emperor would be just as imposing and powerfully build a man as he was now, and he longed to see him again, now in this new age.