Tyler fought like a killer at first but with the application of some medication and the shock of the rather painful ear injection Tyler calmed down and was quickly pacified. They brought him to a room for evaluation; finding beneath his large muscles was a larger ego and dominating attitude. He despised weakness, frailty and people who sought popularity. Even among his own he was a reckless rebel, attacking his own friends if they caved into the hip hop craze, listening to any of that, especially that Justin Bieber was a cardinal sin in his book and it didn’t take long for the scientists to discover who the perfect transformation for the strong willed Tyler would be. Tyler’s addictions and anger problems were deep and grotesque. It was decided he must be kept at the center; carefully locked down and monitored at all times to keep him from lashing out at the other teens are personal. After tuning his chip and warning him once again to behave he was escorted to his room which he had to himself, as he asked but it was outfitted with hip hop posters and beats played in the background day and night, not so loud as to disturb his neighbors or the employees but loud enough to pluck the delicate strings that would throw Tyler into his infamous rages for Tyler’s chip was specially programmed to trigger when his anger levels peaked. And judging by Tyler’s reaction upon seeing his new ‘home’ for the next few weeks that transformation was not far off. He immediately reverted to his old self, struggling violently with his captors before being forcibly thrown into the room, the door locked behind him.
“This is fucked up man!” Tyler said to himself, looking around at the white wash walls, devoid save for the posters and the mirror on the wall, obviously just for watching him, or so he thought. The bed looked harder than the floor, with the all the effort they put into decorating, no energy was put forth to making him comfortable, after all he was a criminal. But he couldn’t help it, ever since his mom left his father for his uncle Tyler’s life ahs become unbearable, the beatings became unbearable and in between the beatings were his fathers unbearable bouts of depression where he just smoked, drank and did nothing, leaving them near broke for long stretches. But instead of making him fear and hate his father Tyler respected him and the power he commanded and tried desperately to emulate the power so he acted like his father whenever he could in the hopes it would keep him from being swallowed by the cold world. However the addictions wore on him, football, his only outlet, had abandoned him and all Tyler came to know what abandonment. So his attitude and anger grew worse, determined to reject people before they rejected him, a self-fulfilling prophecy. Fate was not without a sense of irony however and now it was time for Tyler, to momentarily join the popular mainstream and instead of rejecting people he would be entertaining him.
The room around Tyler seemed to close in on him, in his mind he pictured the posters laughing at him, a dozen two dimensional Justin Biebers were calling out for him to join them, it made his anger flare hotter than the Sun. Fire burned behind his eyes as his veins began pumping the adrenaline through his body, the adrenaline that would condemn him. He screamed his rage to the deaf Heavens above stopping in shock and horror as his defiant yells became higher pitched and musical, the deep masculinity being slowly siphoned from his voice.
“What the f… freak, what’s going on, I can’t curse anymore and my voice its freaking high pitched like a little kids!” Indeed, not only was cursing taken from him, his voice was shooting up through the octaves becoming distinctly high-pitched and familiar sounding. Tyler rushed to the mirror, almost tripping as he felt his clothes grow loose, the room around him swaying in and out of focus, a sense of overwhelming vertigo causing him to almost vomit as his height was ripped from him and he sank down each after inch. Within minutes 6”3 went from Tyler’s height to his lost dream as he plummeted down to Justin Bieber’s miniscule frame, his shirt hanging on him like a dress, his jeans in folds around his ankles. He couldn’t be more than 5”5 now, a loss of nearly a foot. The once small, enclosed room seemed vast and frightening: the ceiling looming high above, the easy to reach now miles away. Never in his life had eh felt this helpless, this unprotected, this vulnerable.
“No, holy crap this can’t be! What are you weirdoes doing to me! I feel so... feel so light, feel like I wanna sing… I wanna… ugh, sing? What is this?!” As Tyler struggled with the growing compulsion to let go and sing his muscles lost size, the strength being sucked out of them. His hard earned biceps diminished as his arms went from his large, threatening weapons to Justin’s pathetic, pale twigs, the hand that could once palm basketballs no longer fit to grasp anything heavier than a microphone with small, thin fingers. His once mighty, mountain like chest crumbles and caves in, causing his shirt to sag even more as his protests became weaker and weaker, all will leaving his body as the chip worked its magic for the first time. Justin creeping across his body and mind like a sickness, replacing every cell of him with Justin. His shorter legs began to grow thin and weak as his arms, his once great calves and thighs like popped balloons, sagging away into tight, teen tone. Nothing more or less. His pale toothpicks became even less masculine as the coat of dark hairs he was once so proud of evaporated into naught but a thin trace of light ankle hairs. Even his feet were not spared, his boat sized 15 feet became small, angular almost feminine. With tiny, pale, kid’s toes, now only about a size 7, the girlish feet struck new horror into the heart of Tyler, his pulse pounding, his anger diminishing, sadly it was already too late. His shoes, as poorly as they fit would not come off and seemed to constrict his little feet. They twisted and contorted around them, the expensive Nikes becoming Justin’s small high top supra sneakers. The sound of Velcro made Tyler shiver with fear, knowing he was now wearing Justin’s shoes. But it didn’t stop there, his ridiculously baggy jeans began to morph, tightening around every little curve, material changing and becoming more expensive, tightening especially in the crotch which had also dwindled down to Bieber size. In no time at all Tyler was wearing skinny jeans. Somewhere in the building two scientists high fived each other watching the fear in Tyler’s eyes becoming an uncontrollable childish energy and innocence that was quickly shoving him into a cage in his own mind. His intelligence, while far from formidable was shot to hell, reduced to what Justin can learn from tutors between shoes, how to fight replaced by how to sing and dance as his new feet did just that against his will.
His horror now unparalleled Tyler watched immobilized as his shirt vanished exposing a pale, almost muscleless bird chest with small pink nipples. With an agonizing burning Justin’s bird tattoo appeared on his stomach before a new small shirt and disgusting purple hoodie appeared to hide his body. A set of dog tags dangled around hsi thin neck, where an adams apple once stood out but now refused to show. Part of him was screaming inside but he couldn’t help but feel sexy and cute in purple, a horrendous smirk crossing his face as his eyes gained a new sparkle, changing color ash is face lost all age and became cute and innocent, his hair becoming lighter and styled. The smirk broadened into a huge, bright white grin as he lost all control of his body, going into a fast spin. “Yeah… oh baby baby baby…” The temporary Justin began singing and dancing to the beats, inside Tyler screamed at his humiliation, and somewhere the scientists applauded the performance. It worked.