Tommy DeLorca was a huge football jock who only cared about sports, girls, and beer.
At least, that's what he was on the outside. Secretly, he was a massive fan of roleplaying games, and he had joined a Dungeons and Dragons league a few months ago with a goblin character that he was rather proud of. When the Monster Virus came around, he'd hoped he'd get struck with it and be able to become his character, but it was too random. He was all too happy to sign up when Nu U came around, and went immediately to their facility with a description of his goblin in hand. At eighteen years old, he was barely old enough to sign the release form without parental consent--he knew they'd never approve. His mom and dad sat around in air purifying masks all day, hoping to stay completely human. Tommy, however, planned on embracing the change.
"This," he said, thrusting out the picture his guildmate had drawn for him. "This is Roscoe, my goblin character. I want this." Roscoe was basically a miniature muscle man, it appeared. He had the traditional green skin, sharp teeth, and yellow eyes of a goblin, but other than standing only two and a half feet tall, he looked like a WWF wrestler, with large pecs, washboard abs, and massive biceps and thighs.
"Sir, you realize we can't guarantee exactly what you'll be," the scientist who would be administering his injection said.
"Choose Your Fate, right? That's your thing," Tommy said. "I choose this." He held out the picture again.
"Sir, I think you misunderstand exactly how much control we have over this process. We can't--"
"I. Choose. This. Give me the serum," Tommy said again. "If I hold this picture in my mind, I'm sure I'll influence the virus. I'll choose my fate." Smiling, he settled into the chair, the sleeve of his shirt already rolled up over his substantially muscled arm already.
Sighing, the scientist injected the six-foot-three broad-shouldered jock with a strain of goblin virus. "He signed the release," he muttered, placing a band-aid over the injection site and replacing the boy's sleeve. "All right, you're all set. I'm happy to lead you to the rooms we have set up for your recovery. It should take about two days to be complete."
"Nope, I'm good," Tommy said, grasping his picture of Roscoe to his chest as he got out of the chair. "Thanks, doc. I can't wait for my next D and D meeting." He headed out of the facility, positive everything would turn out as he planned.