You stare at the bearded man in the mirror, wearing the new Arctos brand clothing. "This can't be happening," you say in your baritone voice. You're disturbed at how your room has changed to fit this new identity being forced on you. You look back at the stack of gay porn on your nightstand and notice a small chest that wasn't there before. Opening it, you find a bottle of lube, boxes of condoms, and some obscene phallic objects along with a stack of photos of more nude, bearish men. If anyone was to look at your home now, they would assume that you were gay, and raunchy.
Closing the chest, you go back to your dresser and search the other drawers, finding a set of ass-less chaps in one and kinky leather underthings in another. You stare at the foreign garments that you now own, trying to make sense of your situation. The phone rings, breaking up your train of thought.
You rush to pick up the phone and try to answer in a voice similar to your normal tone, "Hello?" The voice on the other end is deep and gravelly, deeper even than your new voice, "Hey, Bud. Enjoying the change?" You realize that this must be the one responsible for this freak show, "Who are you? How are you doing this? Why me?" you yell into the handset. "Whoa, calm down there Bud, you'll tire yourself out, and I don't need you exhausted for what I have planned tonight. So I'll see you at the park at 8 then?" You respond angrily, "No, you sick freak! I don't who you are and I'm not going along with your sick little plan!" The man on the other end is still maddeningly calm, "Okay, fine then. I guess I'll come over to your place tonight. You have toys of your own now, anyway. And by the way... Woof."
You were about to tell him off, about how if he showed up you'd kick his ass from here clear to the county line and back, but that last word made you stop from tearing him apart. "All you can say in response is, "Yes, sir."
You hang up the phone, you anger and fear replaced with anticipation. "Why do I feel so... strange?" you say to no one. You walk back to watch some more TV, but as you pass the hall mirror you pause to admire your thick beard and the sexy spread of hair on your broad chest. You cup your crotch and shift your goods into a more comfortable position, feeling that under your jeans you're wearing one of your leather jock straps.