The next morning, Brad awoke early, and stretched, feeling the strength blooming in his body and he checked the clock. An entire hour earlier than his usual time, as he usually preferred his leisure and sleeping in. Dragging himself into the bathroom for his morning rituals, Brad was astonished by what he saw in the mirror. His flesh had changed, and in the heat of last night's indulgence it appeared his skin was bronzed, tanned into a very appealing shade - his hair looking like it was now two-toned as well.
He almost felt like he wanted to panic...but then his eyes traveled across his voluminous pectorals, down his sculpted abs, and then looking over his tight glutes and strong quads...and Brad realized something.
Contrary to his usual demeanor, he liked the way he looked. Usually he would dismiss the sort of vain Hollywood celebrity that enjoyed tanning their bodies on the beach. But looking at his amazing, tanned form himself, he saw the virtues and value of this sort of countenance. It brought out all the peaks and valleys of his musculature. Before long, thus, Brad was flexing and checking himself out. His eyes traveling with eager haste across his body again and again.
"Ohh...I'm...I'm hot." Brad did a lunge to the side and then flexed his arms, cheekily smiling at himself. He never considered himself a full fledged bodybuilder either, but with this look? He might just go for it. He could just imagine himself standing up there on a stage with a bunch of other preening, handsome men, being evaluated for the rippling visages they cultivated...and it made Brad's dick jerk.
He chuckled down at himself, "Damn, Lil Brad, I'll have to take care of you before long..."
Leaving the bathroom and wrapping himself in clothes before long, the altered Brad ruminated on how a black shirt and tight gray pants really brought out how hot he was now. He did note his more caramel-aligned complexion made him look somewhat younger, but he supposed being carded when he went for the rare drink was worth the sheer thrill he felt in how he looked.
Checking the door to his suite room, Brad noted it seemed his Amazon Order was there. He remembered the vanity order, and sighed. Did he really dare go for it?
He thought again of that woman, that daring bitch Kenda, and just how he could never hope to control her. And how that oh so very much excited him, inciting arousal AGAIN. Damn, he thought with a wry grin, I've never been this horny since I was a teenager... Brad had thought he had this kind of thing under control. But he guessed he was wrong. And so before he even really thought about it he was tearing the box open with his bare hands.
His hands that were shaking with excitement. He wondered when he started explicitly fetishizing this sort of dress up...
And his thoughts only intensified when he saw the outfit in question. A tunic and old style slacks, decorated and sewn with fabrics, sleeves short and seemingly made for aesthetic appreciation. It was a direct outtake from history, a similar outfit to what he had seen countless Natives wearing during movies and such, with some edits for decided accuracy.
He felt somewhat embarrassed as he started to undress, and as he looked in his bedside mirror he asked himself, "Am I weird for being so excited for dressing up like a Native American...? Or am I weird...cuz just THINKING of what I'm gonna do all dressed up...has my dick so hard...?"
He shrugged and started dressing up.
Brad felt the tight shirt flatteringly fit to his overmuscled torso and shoulders, his back flaring out the shirt nicely, and he grunted a little when he felt how tight the slacks were on his ass and legs. He saw his bulge prominent in the front...and Brad turned to look at himself in his new outfit. "I've come to hunt and connect with the land." He said in an impression, and he quivered from how good it felt just pretending at it.
Brad stuck his hand down his pants, and groaned outloud, trying to achieve some semblance of "character", "...Mmph...this arousal, surely the spirits stoke it in me so I may find a fitting mate to my desires..."
His dick felt surprisingly sensitive, almost like something was changing down there about it. Brad looked in the mirror again. Much as it was odd doing this, he wanted to go on and do more than just swagger about his room like this. He wanted to go out, and really experiment with this.
Brad gulped, it'd be one thing to do this in his room, but it'd be another forbidden thrill to go outside and engage with people while doing so. He almost wanted to talk with Kenda while wearing this, like she'd think he was of her people. Even though...he thought with some forlorn resignation, he was ultimately one of the white guys responsible for so much shit going down.
Ah, he decided, what could a bit of pretend hurt?
And so Brad decided to head out and see what he could do with this...