Josh was discharged shortly after, Miguel tossing him a bag of his clothes to change into it. Miguel's clothes were simultaneously too long and too tight, ill-fitted for his new shape. Josh was just happy to get out of the hospital. Everything that had happened to him had happened in just over the past 48 hours and he hadn't slept a wink. He was exhausted and needed to rest, then he would take stock of next steps. Miguel drove them back to their apartment in his beat up truck, and Josh was already dozing in the car. He barely remembered going back to the apartment and flopping on his bed, immediately passing out.
Josh woke up to an alarm blaring next to him. He groaned, smashing it off with his hand. He rubbed his head and face awake, stopping suddenly as he felt the thick beard and unfamiliar facial features. He sighed as he remembered where he was, who he was. He looked out the window - it was still dark outside, barely dawn. Why was he up? Why did an alarm go off? As if on cue, Miguel burst open the door and grinned as he saw Josh awake. "Your alarm go off as well?" Josh nodded, wiping his eyes in an attempt to wake up. "I guess the app has decided you're joining me on site today. Get dressed, I'll get you some coffee." Josh felt his brain was still catching up as he yawned. "On site? What are you on about bro?" Miguel flicked on the light and pointed down to a pair of beaten up boots in the corner of the room. "José, I don't think you're gonna be a pool boy any more - you've not got that lanky build you had before. You're in construction now, like me." Miguel must have sensed Josh's hesitation. "Bro, just come down for the day and see if it's for you. There are other guys on the crew like you... you know, where English isn't their strongest skill? Besides with that bod I reckon you'll be a beast. The boss is always trying to get me to find new guys, you'd be doing me a solid."
Josh dragged himself out of bed and started raiding his wardrobe. "His" wardrobe he thought, it all felt so familiar. He wasn't even surprised when he saw the wardrobe filled with tank tops, gym gear, clearly worn in jeans, and workman's shirts. The wardrobe of someone who spent his days on site or at the gym. His eyes bugged when he dug a bit further and he found drawers filled with tight thongs, jock straps, harnesses, and more. That kinky side of him had its own entire section.
He grabbed what seemed like appropriate clothes - a tanktop, some briefs and some worn jeans, and then a thick cotten shirt. He laced up the boots, which fit him like a glove. They weren't new, they had clearly been broken in and were perfectly molded to his feet. They were made just for him. He got up and inspected himself in the mirror. He had to admit, he looked good. The clothes were worn in, had clearly been used for work before, but they fit him perfectly and showed off his best assets, including the bulge in his pants. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, admiring they way it highlighted his thick, hairy forearms. With his stocky frame, his thick beard, dark sunkissed skin, he looked absolutely perfect for the construction site. Maybe Miguel was right, maybe it would be for him?
It was. Josh arrived on site and took to the job like he had been doing it his whole life. Maybe, in a way, this body had. Working in the sun, lifting heavy loads, swinging hammers around - he could do it all. He had broken into a sweat within minutes of starting - he had Jace to thank for that - but he didn't care, he found that he actually loved the work. Despite the noise, the shouting, the constant pulling and pushing and loading and throwing, he found it relaxing. It quietened his muddled brain. Rather than worrying about who he was, whether he would get home, what his parents would think, whether he would ever speak English again, instead he just focused on the immediate task to hand. And he excelled at it, at following directions, and knowing exactly what tool to use. It was like he had been built for this. Maybe he had.
He also felt immediately welcomed by the crew. Most of the guys spoke Spanish, so he had no problem chatting along with them, and as soon as he started working they looked up to him (not literally though, he was definitely shorter than most of them). He was well-liked - he was a hard worker and never complained. Sure, he was a bit slow on the uptake and they to explain things, but they were protective of him. Josh soon found himself with a reputation amongst the crew - he was Miguel's idiot bro who you came to if you needed help with any task, always eager to please. His reputation went further than though, as he soon found himself becoming - for some of the guys - their stress relief. Although the work was distracting, being surrounded by hot guys lifting things and working up a sweat was distracting Josh as well. He found his lust almost insatiable and was thrilled when a few guys on the crew began to ease his cravings. Soon, his reputation spread and he spent an hour or two each shift on his knees, bent over, or with his cock up someone's ass. No matter how many times he had nutted, he always had more in the tank, always found himself getting hard staring at his colleagues, their muscles, their bodies. He performed his role on site or after hours at their homes or at the bar. He was the crew's hardest worker, in more way than one.
And with that, Josh found himself in a natural rhythm. Early morning alarm, hit the site with Miguel, maybe fool around with a couple of the guys, hit the gym, chat up some guys or gals at the gym, spend the weekend chilling with his bro or at the gym or out and about. He was on all the apps, and spent a not insignificant time trying to arrange hook ups. He went on a few dates but they never went past the bedroom - all he could chat about was work, the gym, and fucking, so there wasn't much interest in a second date (although he was happy enough being someone's booty call). Any time he tried to access his old interests or knowledge - on history, on movies, on art - it all seemed such a blur to him. And frankly, it all seemed so boring.
And when he wasn't dating, he was at the gym. He normally went with Miguel or someone else from the crew, but he had no issues going solo and getting a pump on. He couldn't help but admire his body in the mirrors, flexing and showing off his thick muscles. He found himself in increasingly revealing clothes at the gym - stringers that showed off his hairy shelf, shorts that were barely long enough to cover his cock - and when he had to get his haircut for the first time (Miguel pointed out it was getting unruly), he opted for a short buzzcut. It was functional, it looked great with his beard, and it offset his pretty face and dick-sucking lips. He could be everyone's fantasy.
Josh tried occasionally to read stuff in English and Miguel tried to teach him some basics, but nothing stuck. If he was being honest, he even struggled to read Spanish. He couldn't watch any English TV with subtitles with Miguel - he kept having to ask him to pause and explain shit. It wasn't just the fact he couldn't read English that was the issue though, he found that he just wasn't interested. All those subjects and topics that used to fascinate him - history, classics, the arts - none of them had any allure any more. His mind felt perpetually thick and jumbled, and the only stuff that he actually cared about was working out, fucking around, and having fun. It wasn't long before Josh stopped thinking of himself as Josh. José was just easier - it was what everyone called him, and he didn't have the headspace to carry two names in his head. At the start, he would sometimes walk through his old neighbourhood, trying to sneak a peek at his old house, at his parents. He would get stares, people wondering why this Hispanic beefcake in revealing gym or sweat stained work gear was wandering through their streets. But that life - the suburban houses, quiet streets, everyone there speaking English that sounded completely foreign to him - it didn't feel like his anymore. In this new new life he had a job, friends, a brother, and all the sex he could want. Sure, he wasn't the brightest any more, but why did that matter when he was happy? He wondered - even if he was able to download the app now, would he go back?
***
The crew hit a local dive bar after a particularly gruelling shift. The sun had been blaring and the guys were all tired, their clothes caked in dust and bodies aching. Miguel brought beers over from the bar, and offered to get the next round as well. He had a lot of goodwill to share - the boss was happy with how he was working, and happy that he had bought José on board. Even with his... "extra-curriculars", José was the hardest working man on the crew and he kept morale up across the team. And as far as the boss was concerned, it was Miguel who had brought him along, and Miguel who benefitted with a promotion to crew leader. That meant respect, it meant a bit more cash, it meant a bit less time tiring under the heat. It also meant, he realised, he had to buy the first few rounds of drinks to keep the guys happy. Being this happy about a promotion as a construction worker, it was something that Miguel - in his former life as Michael - would never have imagined. That life now felt so faint, so unappealing.
He brought the beers to the table. "Yo, where's my brother at?" One of the newer guys on the crew laughed, "he's out back with Tommy. They're, erm, taking care of business." Miguel held his hand up and passed him a beer. "Say no more. If it helps Tommy unwind after that shift, let me bro have his fun." Miguel laughed as he walked off to the bathroom. José insatiable horniness, that hadn't been something he'd expected. In fact, the idea that José was now some amalgamation of the people he had been before, that he had adopted traits from each of them into one perfect whole was a surprise.
Miguel went into the booth, locked it and sat down, pulling a phone out of his pocket. Josh's phone. The screen was cracked and there was a dent in the side, but otherwise - it was working fine. Miguel pulled up Josh's TaskRaccoon app and checked the current task was still ongoing. A task that had been set by Miguel himself. He sighed, still feeling shame and a bit of guilt for what he did. The truth was, when José had left the apartment that day Miguel thought it wouldn't affect him. But meeting José, the app making him his brother, had a surprisingly lingering effect. Miguel himself was getting used to having a new life, a life cut off from his old family and friends. So he was surprised when, despite only meeting José for 30 minutes, he wanted him back. So when he got the call from the hospital that some unidentified college-aged kid was in hospital but that they had pulled his number off the phone, a phone that the staff then gave to Miguel for safe-keeping, he didn't hesitate. Even though Miguel didn't immediately recognise the kid unconscious in the hospital bed - the blonde hair, the twinky face, the hairless but buff build - he knew instinctively that it was Josh. Josh clearly hadn't managed to get home, not yet. But Miguel - maybe selfishly - wanted José back. So he set up a new task on his own device - I want a brother, someone I can live and work with.
The change was instantaneous, but not in the way Miguel had been expecting. Miguel - perhaps underestimating the app - had expected Josh to morph straight back into the José he knew, the young, handsome, lean younger brother. Miguel was shocked when Josh grew and grew out in size and bulk without growing in height, when Josh was swiftly covered by a blanket of dark hair, by the thick beard, by the facial features morphing subtly, by the thick veneer of sweat over the body and finally by the fact that he aged up, looking closer and closer to Miguel in age. Miguel had experienced his own changes some time ago, but seeing it happen in real-life in front of his eyes was a completely different experience. Lying on the bed was a behemoth, far exceeding the width of the hospital bed and with a gown that struggled to hold together his bulging muscles. Miguel - with a tinge of brotherly competitiveness - noted that Josh was now even bulkier than he was.
He had been even more surprised when Josh woke, at the thick guttural voice that only spoke Spanish, the fact that he seemed to struggle to hold a complex conversation, and the fact that he gaped at pretty much everyone who walked in and did a terrible job of hiding his clear erection. And then, Miguel lied, telling Josh that his phone was lost, and that he was stuck like this. Miguel knew it wasn't right, especially after he had lost his own life, but at the end of the day, he told himself that Josh was happy. Sure, he was dumb as rocks now, but he was a hunk, a beast in the gym, and had a solid job. And, most of all, Miguel felt like he had some semblance of a family back.
Miguel sat up, washed his hands, and promptly threw Josh's phone in the bin. He didn't need it any more, he wasn't going to change anything else. He re-entered the bar, and caught Jose's eye. José was laughing, a beer in one hand and Tommy's ass in his other. No doubt José would soon run off, with Tommy, other crew member, someone else from the bar. But he'd still be up at the crack of dawn the next morning to join Miguel at work. Miguel laughed - his brother could be a menace, but he was family. And that was all that mattered.