Alan fucking Brown

Alan let out a sigh of relief as he read the text message. He’d been nervous he’d killed Jeff ever since Jeff locked himself in the gym bathroom just after lunch. The transformations are usually much more subtle. Some sudden fatigue, a quick nap, and one problem less to deal with. But he had seen this complication happen twice before. Johnson and whoever that guy in finance was, both had a quite violent reaction followed by a blackout.

Knowing this he had of course prepared, as any good manager would. He installed the key logger on Jeff’s PC already two weeks ago, so he could quickly find his way to Jeff’s office, log in, change the password to “GayMuscles” and set up an intrusion alarm to trigger a text message to his burner phone. But then there was nothing he could do but wait. He’d been on pins and needles until now, but it worked. Jeff was alive and rapidly following the same path as the rest.

Alan went back to the recliner, felt tension leave his body and be replaced with anticipation and happiness. He was so close now. Only one more body standing in his way, and he would be done. Sure he’d said that before, but this time it really felt true. He just needed to get rid of Steven Horowiz. He couldn’t use the same muscle recipe though. He’d learnt that the hard way with Rodriguez. It took almost two weeks from when Rodriguez had the twink creamer in his coffee until he finally became impossible not to fire. It had something to do with the size of the change. At least that was Alan’s theory at the moment. Large body changes happened quickly, smaller changes took longer time. Totally counter intuitive, but it wasn’t like black magic followed normal rules. That’s why skinny Jeff had to go muscle monster. That’s why the fat slob Horowiz has to have the twink creamer.

Half the patrons of Palace gay bar must be people he had sent there, Alan thought and chuckled. He hadn’t checked though. Homos disgusted him too much to go near the place. If only there was a way to give them all STD:s, but that wasn’t possible with this process. He could make it likely though. Make them impulsive, extrovert, assertive, poor judgement, bad short term planning, short attention span, poor memory, and above all a constant, unrelenting, crippling horniniess that only went away for the briefest of time after each explosive orgasm, reinforcing whatever behavior led them to it. Big dicks, sensitive prostates, gushing body fluids. Alan felt equal parts pride and disgust in his work. Even if any of them had enough mental capacity to continue with their work, they would be fired before the end of the day for indecent behavior, like Rodriguez had.

He was just about to go to bed, to be well rested for the interview tomorrow, when he heard noises and a muffled “fuck you Alan” from outside. He tensed up again. Was that Jeff? How the hell had he found his way here?