Summer’s just around the corner and you find yourself in the awkward situation of badly wanting to go back to Europe and doubting whether or not you even should. As much as you want to go, you don’t want to feel invisible again. By the time that temperatures start climbing from the relative coolness of spring, you’re pretty set on not going — at least until you see an ad on the net from a company known as Hierarch Industries, claiming to have the ability to turn you into the man you always wanted to be.

It’s almost like there’s a devil in your shoulder, whispering into your ear that you don’t really have anything to lose. So you make your way to the nearest Hierarch Industries clinic, but not without your doubts. Talking to the receptionist does little to alleviate them. You’re not even sure it’s possible to do what you want, and part of you is convinced that this is all just a scam, quackery designed to take your money. But their models and the before-and-after photos are extremely convincing.

And so you find yourself in one of the consultation rooms at the clinic. The attendant is swiping through the screen of a digital tablet, occasionally asking you a question and humming in response to your answer. Before you know it, he looks up and smiles at you. “Good news,” he says, “We think you’ll make a great match for our Alpha program. And we can get you started right away, if you’d like.”

Despite your own doubts, you feel excited. You ask what the Alpha program is about. The attendant pats you on the shoulder and tells you, “Suffice to say, you’ll feel like an entirely new person when you’re done. The Alpha program improves self-confidence and physique, allowing you to transition into a dominant, assertive, and, most importantly, contributing member of the Hierarchy.”

You don’t even think about it for half a moment. You agree. The attendant presents you with a contract, which you sign, and then a styrofoam cup with a faintly blue liquid inside. He tells you to drink it. You do. Immediately you feel hot and tingly all over. You can feel your skin tightening around your frame, years melting away from your face. You heat up, sweating buckets all over yourself, as your cock stiffens to full hardness.

You try and stand up from your chair, but the attendant holds you down. He doesn’t need to do much because you feel weak, so weak. For a few minutes, at least. And then as your muscles settle into their new configuration, as your transformation ends, your strength returns. You end up feeling better than you have ever felt in all the days of your life.

You get up and walk over to the floor-length mirror in the room. You’d found it strange the first time you came into the room, but now it makes perfect sense. You flex your new, cut body in front of the mirror, not even caring that there’s someone else in the room and you smirk as you feel the incredible self-confidence, power, and authority that now pulses through your veins.

You step out of your clothes, and grab your large cock, stroking it languidly in front of the mirror, watching as your abs contract and expand with every breath, rubbing one hand over your pecs and flicking your fingers at your nipples. You love the rich gold tan that adorns your skin, and while a small part of you, a remnant of your old self, is a bit disappointed that the chest hair didn’t grow in, your new self finds nothing wrong with your new body.

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If anyone had told you a month ago that you would resign your relatively cushy job at a respected firm, join a new company, and then take an all-expenses paid trip to Italy the day after starting to look for a guy (or guys, they had emphatically reminded you) that would be by your side for the rest of your life, that would complete you, you would have laughed in their faces.

But right now, you’re too busy enjoying the warmth of the sun on your back to care about your old life. This is the vacation that you’ve always dreamed of. A week ago, some of the old doubts had cropped up on the way over to the Italian peninsula, but when you disembarked from the plane and watched the heads of the hot men around you turn in your direction, all those old thoughts were dashed against the rocks.

There’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Well, with the exception of maybe in a mating bed, breeding your omega. But you know you can’t rush these things. After all, you’re in Italy looking for him — or them. You might as well take your time.