As the Jungle King raised his hand, the air around Brett crackled with a primal energy. A low hum echoed through the clearing, growing louder with every passing second. Brett could feel the power of the Jungle King’s magic coiling around him, like vines tightening their grip. His heart pounded in his chest as an unfamiliar heat began to spread through his body, starting at his core and radiating out to his limbs. His muscles tensed involuntarily, as if preparing for some unseen force to take hold.
“You seek truth,” the Jungle King repeated, his deep voice like the rumble of an approaching storm, “but you will find it in your most primal self. No more will you be the man of civilization, Brett Baxter. You shall serve me, as a primitive Jungle Man.”
Brett tried to speak, to protest, but as he opened his mouth, his voice faltered. The words, once so confident and sharp, caught in his throat. He felt his thoughts slipping, like water through his fingers. “W-what… are you doing to me?” he managed to stammer, his usual deep, commanding voice wavering. He glanced down at his hands, where his skin seemed to be thickening, coarsening, darkening with a deep, earthy tan.
The Jungle King watched with a smug smile, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “You will see soon enough. The jungle does not tolerate outsiders. It transforms them. And you, Brett Baxter, will become one of my own.”
The heat in Brett’s body intensified, making his skin burn and his muscles twitch uncontrollably. His chest heaved as his breathing became labored, and he realized with growing horror that his once-rational thoughts were becoming muddled. The changes were happening faster now. His khaki shirt stretched and strained over his broadening shoulders, the fabric tearing slightly at the seams. His chest, already covered in a light dusting of hair, became thicker and coarser, dark blond hair sprouting rapidly across his pecs and stomach.
“No… this… I—I'm not… not a…” Brett struggled to form the words, his mind fighting against the creeping fog of confusion. But the magic was relentless. His arms swelled with muscle, veins bulging as his once-civilized body morphed into something more primal. His shirt finally gave way, ripping apart as his chest and back expanded. The cool air of the jungle hit his exposed skin, now slick with sweat, and the remnants of his explorer’s outfit hung in tatters from his body.
The Jungle King chuckled, a deep, mocking sound that seemed to reverberate through the clearing. “Look at you, Brett,” he teased, his eyes roving over Brett’s transforming body. “The brave explorer, turning into nothing more than a beast of the jungle. You won’t need those clothes anymore.”
With a wave of his hand, the Jungle King’s magic finished what Brett’s changing body had started. His pants and boots disintegrated into dust, leaving him standing there, naked except for a simple loincloth that materialized around his hips, just like the one the Jungle King wore. Brett’s hands reached down in a desperate attempt to hold onto something, to grasp at the last shreds of his former self, but his fingers had grown thick and clumsy, no longer suited for such delicate tasks.
His mind reeled as he tried to speak again, but the words came out jumbled and broken. “N-no… I’m… man… no… not… like this…” His voice, once deep and commanding, was now rough and guttural, the cadence of his speech slower, more primitive. He shook his head violently, as if trying to shake off the fog clouding his thoughts, but it was no use. His body continued to change—his legs thickened, his posture shifted, his entire form becoming more brutish, more primal.
The Jungle King watched with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes, his smile widening as Brett’s transformation progressed. “You’re already losing it, Brett. Soon, you won’t even remember what it was like to be a civilized man.”
Brett staggered forward, his mind screaming for clarity, but all that came out was a garbled, incoherent growl. His chest heaved with effort, his muscles rippling beneath his skin as he tried to fight back. “Brett… no… man… help… me…” But his thoughts were slipping further and further away. The world around him became a blur of sensations—the warmth of the earth beneath his bare feet, the scent of the jungle in his nostrils, the call of wild animals in his ears.
The Jungle King stepped closer, towering over Brett now, his smile cruel and condescending. “Ah, look at you now, Brett. A true Jungle Man. You belong here, with me. You’ll be faithful, obedient… my loyal servant.”
Brett’s blue eyes, once sharp and intelligent, were now wild, filled with confusion and fear. He let out a guttural groan, his lips struggling to form words. “Brett… serve… Jungle King…?” His voice was stilted, broken, the remnants of his civilized speech barely hanging on.
The Jungle King chuckled and reached out to grip Brett’s shoulder, his hand firm and possessive. “Yes, Brett. You will serve me now. The explorer is gone. All that remains is the Jungle Man.”
Brett’s once-rational mind, now clouded with primal instincts, could no longer resist. He felt a strange sense of peace wash over him, the last traces of his former life slipping away. His breathing slowed, his body relaxed under the Jungle King’s touch, and his thoughts became simple, animalistic.
“Jungle Man… serve…” Brett muttered, his eyes glazing over as he accepted his fate.
The Jungle King laughed, a deep, booming sound that echoed through the jungle. “Good boy, Brett. Welcome to your new life in my realm.”