Finding Confidence In Brotherhood

Finding Confidence in Brotherhood 🌟

I used to struggle with confidence, feeling unsure of myself in so many aspects of life. But ever since I found my true place within our brotherhood, that uncertainty has been replaced with something powerful—confidence. I’m genuinely grateful for each and every one of our brothers, YOU, who have supported me on this journey, and especially to our leader, Pharaoh, whose guidance has been invaluable.

Since being appointed as an Emir, some brothers have asked me how and why I was chosen. The answer is simple, and it’s something all of you can achieve as well. I did exactly what Ammar does—followed the example that Pharaoh set out for us. It’s not complicated! You just need dedication and a genuine love for our movement.

Here’s what makes Ammar perfect, and it’s what I strive to embody every day:

I love Arabs 💚

I love my brothers 💚

I listen to the AP File every day 💚

The AP File fills my mind 💚

I work on being handsome and well-trained 💚

I strive to control myself 💚

I aim to be extremely kind 💚

I always put green hearts in my messages 💚

I’m ready to help all men become like us 💚

I love our movement 💚

I focus on being good 💚

I’m always ready to help 💚

I’m genuinely grateful 💚

I’m happier than ever 💚

I keep a positive outlook 💚

I’ve memorized the Codex 💚

I avoid any degeneracy 💚

I obey our higher-ups without question 💚

I don’t allow myself to become sad 💚

I remain loyal above all else 💚

To my brothers, let’s continue on this path together. Head up, shoulders back, and let’s lead the way with Pharaoh, staying true to the principles that unite us.

How much Ammar are you feeling today? Let’s aim for 100 together! 💚

@romangolden68 came in the gym one evening and saw me, working out my glutes and he came up to me, shared his gold protein with me but something started happening..something bubbling up inside..and then..BUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRP! Shocked that came out of my mouth..my head got fuzzy..i grabbed Roman made him kneel down..put my glutes on his face as another bubbling happened..a big protein toot came out of my glutes...PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT right in his face..it stank like a bomb went off..huhu...Roman sniffed my glutes more, his face getting dopey..i let him go..looked at him and he was dumbly laughin like my gassiness fried his brains and changed him into a more dummer golden bro

Face the Music

Part 1

How tf did I end up here, Starbucks, Saturday morning days already fucking up. Literally just went in for one of them matcha lattes and theres already some dude causing a headache.

'Ay dios mio, like serious bro!?' This guy's card had declined twice and despite the queue stood behind he wasn't gonna take no. Saw the guy the minute he walked in after me, ripped as hell, blonde curly hair, lotta gold jewellery and dressed in gold nikes, gold gym shorts and gold compression hoodie which no surprise he wore unzipped showing off the chains sitting on his pecs. The words 'narcissist' and 'douche' went through my head as I watched him finally relent and reach in his pocket for some notes.

'Charlie!' shouted the barista as she put my latte on the counter, after thanking her and turning round I went straight into the guy dressed in gold, or more he went into me, wayy too busy on his phone to notice mere mortals like me. Next thing I know my latte splashed all over the floor and my shoes, managed to dodge most of it but my vans were soaked with matcha, fucking great...

'Ohhh shiitt brooo!, I'm soo sorry' He seemed genuinely apologetic tbh, as he helped me pick up the now empty cup 'Its chill man' I said back, it wasn't, inside I was pissed but this dude looks like he could literally break a stick like me in half with them muscles. 'Lemme buy you another bro' I replied 'Its fine honest' but again he wasnt gonna take no 'No bro am serious its least I can do' he slapped my upper arm and turned back to the barista and ordered another.

'Yoo bro you wanna come chill with me for a bit, while your shoes like dry out?' Fuckk noo I usually avoid airheads like this guy like wtf do they talk about besides gym, sports, working out and who they fucked this week, I started to shake my head but he just smiled at me and nodded over to some chairs in the window. He dropped to the chair opposite as I perched on the edge of mine as he handed me my drink.

'Sooo what's your name my bro?' 'Charlie, I'm 26' I replied 'Ahhh sweet bro I'm Xavier am 26 too, sorry bout your kicks bro and your drink' he had a slight accent, kinda hispanic 'Its fine man seriously' I said while avoiding his gaze 'Nah bro it aint I feel so bad amigo' I really felt like saying, yeah you should maybe watch where your going, but the dude was just so chill about the whole thing 'Trust bro gotta help people out I'm a footballer and ur team is ur family bro gotta look after' I nodded and did a forced smile as I sipped my coffee he took a swig from his and then asked 'Soo what is it you do bro?' 'I'm in a band man' I said sheepishly 'Nooo wayy bro, you big like you on insta?' Jesus he already wants to follow me next thing he be wanting to be best of friends 'Not rlly that big we only do a few stuff locally' he nodded and grinned 'You need to get on socials bro you could be like loco popular' I have like no socials at the min, and the ones I do am quiet on 'Yeah I got nothing I wanna post about tho' he took another swig 'Trust bro you could be amazing' I just did a polite smile occasionally glancing at him through my fringe while slowly sipping my latte.

I finished it and placed it down which point he looked at my still damp shoes and said 'Ur kicks bro naa can't walk in them you wanna ride?' I shook my head he replied 'Is all good my bro wherever you wanna go I'll drop you' This point there aint much more I can do except go for it, let him drop me home and hopefully alone. He led me outta Starbucks to his car, a gold convertible Porsche, wow this guy must be earning as he got in, I took a breath and slid into the passenger seat.

The drive was kinda uneventful, apart from some smalltalk he didn't really say much other than ask my address, until we pulled up at mine that is 'Yo you wanna swap numbers bro?' I didn't expect that 'Um how common like we only just met?' I said 'Yeah bro but we kinda vibe if you get me you now amigo' he gave me a friendly shoulder punch and offered me his phone, gold cover of course and took mine to swap numbers he seemed to take a minute longer but eventually he handed it back 'Sweet bro, drop me a message sometime yea' 'Yeah okay sure man' He offered a fist bump and I gave a rather pathetic response and stepped out of the car.

About and hour after he dropped me off back home in Camden while I was chilling with the guitar I kept thinking about the guy who suddenly wants to be my bestie, I aint even a bit interested in sports but I think he's one of these new hot shot footballers with that team with the gold jerseys, wow he took that look to heart, I ended up looking on insta for any Xaviers in the area sure enough there he was subtle as always with his insta full of the sorta pics I expected.

"Day I joined up my bros, TEAM IS FAMILY!💛" Yep definitely one that treats his mates like they are related.

"New day new fit ;) like it up my bros" Definitely vain, very vain.

"Trainings life bros, remember that 💛" Shitt so many pics on here of this guy in the gym, like he not do anything else other than gym, football and pose on here? Finally he had a story up posted today I had a cheeky look.

"Met a new amigo today, Charlie, if ur out there just know ur a real bro and hope u gonna have a blessed day 💛💛💛" his story had some loud rap music over the top of it, kinda typical, but I was also kinda mortified about being name dropped in some guys story, especially one with this many followers, thank fuck he didn't tag me...

The day after was quiet apart from me not sleeping so I was tired af, band practice in the morning basically killed me, I was on my way home and then outta nowhere I got a message 'Soo my bro you doing good yea?' it was from Xavier, I sent back 'All good ty, just gonna head home I need sleep man' 'Ayy amigo message me later bro can speak after match yea' I just replied with 'Sure good luck ;)' I got home and basically collapsed on the bed, I still couldn't sleep tho so I broke out my airpods and got my playlist out, usual stuff tbh mostly rock and metal don't rlly listen to anything else besides it chills me out soo I can sleep.

After drifting in and out for idk how long I woke up, first thing I noticed was my music, it was drill sorta music, how tf? I never listen to this shit so how's it on my playlist. I clicked pause and it just went off, nowhere to be seen, huh must have lent of the phone or something, come to think of it it's the same sorta music in Xavier's story yesterday.

It was only half 1 so figured may as well have a walk out somewhere, town probably, I was still half awake and not rlly paying attention until I noticed across the street, This sports store selling hella golden clothes, kit etc, must be where Xavier shops since his entire life is pretty much gold at this point, my brain didn't tell me to do it but I ended up walking inside this place and right over to an expensive looking display of gold football kits, Xavier's kit, the music playing over the speakers was that same sorta drill rap on my playlist, the same on Xavier's story, like this shit is starting to get freaky man...

Special thanks to @dylangold20 💛 for helping me out with this sick idea part 2 asap?

Jake becomes Yaseen

Jake had always been a man of ambition. Working in a sleek, modern office in the heart of the city, he took pride in his individuality and his Western roots. But lately, something had changed. His once familiar environment now felt foreign, as if it was slowly slipping away from him.

It started with small changes—subtle at first, almost unnoticeable. His colleagues, one by one, began adopting a new dress code: white Nike soccer jerseys with green details, accompanied by black fanny packs slung over their shoulders. They laughed together, exchanging knowing glances and shared smiles that Jake was no longer a part of.

As he sat alone at his desk, surrounded by the hum of conversation and camaraderie, Jake couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider. The contrast between his traditional Western attire and the new cultural norm was stark, making him feel isolated and out of place in the very office where he had once thrived.

Jake watched as his colleagues interacted, their bonds seemingly stronger than ever. He could sense the subtle pressure mounting around him, a quiet expectation that he, too, would eventually conform. But Jake wasn’t ready to let go of his identity. Not yet.

The Encounter

The pressure intensified over the following days. It wasn’t long before Jake found himself face-to-face with Amir, Khalid, and Rami—three colleagues who had fully embraced the new cultural shift. They approached him during a break, their expressions friendly yet purposeful.

“Jake,” Amir began, his tone warm but firm, “we’ve been noticing you’ve been a bit distant lately. We want to help you feel more connected, more… part of the team.”

Khalid, who was carrying a neatly folded white Nike jersey, stepped forward. “We’ve got something for you. It’s a small gesture, but it means a lot. We want you to join us, to feel like you belong.”

Rami nodded in agreement, his eyes fixed on Jake with a look that was both inviting and unwavering. “This is more than just a jersey, Jake. It’s about unity, about moving forward together.”

Jake stared at the jersey in Khalid’s hands. It was the same as the ones his colleagues were now wearing—simple, with green details that had become a symbol of the new order. For a moment, he felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on him, but he managed a hesitant smile.

“I appreciate the gesture,” Jake said, trying to keep his voice steady. “But I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

Amir exchanged a glance with the others, his smile never faltering. “Take your time, Jake. We’ll be here when you’re ready.”

As the three men walked away, leaving Jake alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t help but feel that time was running out.

The pressure had been building for weeks, and Jake could feel the cracks in his resolve. Every day, it seemed as though the world around him was closing in tighter, leaving him with fewer options and less space to breathe.

That afternoon, as he sat alone during lunch, his thoughts spiraled. He couldn’t keep up this resistance much longer—he knew that. But the idea of giving in, of losing the last vestiges of who he was, filled him with dread.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled Jake from his thoughts. He looked up to see Amir, Khalid, and Rami standing before him. Their faces, once friendly and inviting, now held a seriousness that sent a chill down his spine.

“Jake,” Amir said, his voice leaving no room for argument, “it’s time.”

Jake looked at the jersey in Amir’s hands, the symbol of everything he had resisted for so long. The weight of their expectations bore down on him, crushing what little defiance he had left.

“You’ve held out long enough,” Khalid added, his tone both firm and sympathetic. “But it’s time to let go of the past. It’s time to move forward.”

Rami didn’t say anything, but his presence was enough. The three of them standing together, united in their purpose, made Jake feel smaller, more isolated than ever.

With a heavy heart and trembling hands, Jake reached out and took the jersey. The fabric felt foreign in his grasp, a symbol of a new identity he wasn’t sure he wanted but knew he needed to accept.

Amir smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re making the right choice, Jake. Welcome to the future.”

Jake’s hand trembled as he took the jersey from Amir. The weight of the fabric felt heavier than it should, as if it carried with it all the expectations and pressures that had been building up for weeks. As the three men watched him closely, Jake realized there was no turning back. The decision had been made, and now, he had to follow through.

The next day, Jake arrived at work wearing the white Nike jersey. It felt strange against his skin, a constant reminder of the choice he had made. The hoodie and jeans that had once been his armor were gone, replaced by the uniform of the new order. As he walked through the office, he noticed the change in how his colleagues looked at him. The once distant stares had softened, replaced by nods of approval and small smiles. He was no longer an outsider.

But the transition wasn’t easy. Every time Jake looked in the mirror, he saw a stranger staring back at him. The man in the reflection was someone who had given in, who had let go of his old identity in exchange for acceptance. The fanny pack, now slung over his shoulder, felt like a leash—one that he had willingly put on.

Jake’s transformation was nearly complete. The man who once clung to his individuality had become someone who valued unity and conformity. The resistance that had once defined him was now just a faint memory, overshadowed by the sense of belonging he had found in the new order.

One morning, as Jake walked to work, he passed by a group of new employees. They were dressed in the attire he had once worn—hoodies, jeans, and unsure expressions. Jake recognized the hesitation in their eyes, the same doubt he had felt not long ago.

Amir, Khalid, and Rami were with them, guiding them just as they had guided Jake. As Jake watched, he felt a strange mix of emotions—empathy, nostalgia, and an odd sense of superiority. He understood what they were going through, but he also knew what awaited them on the other side of their resistance.

One of the new employees caught Jake’s eye, a young man who reminded him of his former self. The man looked lost, uncertain, and as their eyes met, Jake felt a connection—a fleeting moment of understanding.

Jake approached the group, joining Amir, Khalid, and Rami. The young man looked at Jake, and for a moment, there was a silent exchange. Jake offered him a reassuring nod, a gesture that said, “I’ve been where you are. It’s going to be okay.”

As the young man hesitantly accepted the white Nike jersey, Jake felt a sense of completion. He was no longer the one being converted; he was now part of the system, part of the new world that was taking shape.

And as the group continued on their way, Jake knew that this was just the beginning. There would always be others to guide, others to bring into the fold. It was the way of the new order—unite, assimilate, and move forward together.

The man he had been was gone, replaced by someone who understood the value of unity, even if it came at the cost of individuality. Jake had found his place, and now, he would help others find theirs.

Jake had taken the final step in his transformation. He had changed his name to reflect his new identity—a name that resonated with his new role in the world. His former colleagues, now his closest allies, no longer saw him as Jake, but as Yaseen.

Yaseen felt a strange mix of pride and loss as he walked into the office that morning. The man he once was had faded away, replaced by someone who understood the value of unity and conformity. His new name was a badge of honor, a symbol of his acceptance into a world that had once seemed so foreign.

As Yaseen approached his desk, Amir, Khalid, and Rami were waiting for him. They stood with smiles that carried a sense of approval and recognition. This was the moment they had been waiting for—the moment when Yaseen would be welcomed not just as a colleague, but as a brother.

“Yaseen,” Amir said, his voice warm and welcoming, “welcome to the family.”

Khalid clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture of camaraderie. “You’ve made the right choice, brother. We’re proud to have you with us.”

Rami nodded, his expression serious but kind. “You belong here, Yaseen. This is where you’re meant to be.”

Yaseen smiled, feeling the weight of their words. He was no longer an outsider, no longer someone who had to fight to be accepted. He had found his place, and it felt…right.

The group stood together, united by their shared identity and purpose. The journey had been long, but Yaseen knew that this was just the beginning. There were others out there, just like he had been, and it was now his turn to guide them into the fold.

The new Brotherhood

The Aroma Café was a bustling spot, always filled with customers eager to enjoy its famous dishes. The staff, a mix of different personalities and backgrounds, were known for their friendly service and casual attire. They wore typical uniforms—aprons over t-shirts and jeans, nothing too fancy but comfortable for the long shifts.

One afternoon, the new manager, Mr. Ahmed, gathered the staff for a brief meeting before the dinner rush. “I’ve been thinking,” he started, his tone casual but with a hint of something new, “about how we can bring more unity to our team. I want us to start wearing a new uniform, something that makes us look more like a team.”

He pulled out a white Nike soccer jersey with green details and a black fanny pack. “We’ll all wear this from now on,” he said. “It’s more than just a uniform—it’s a way to show we’re all part of something bigger.”

The staff exchanged curious glances. The jersey was quite a change from their usual casual wear. Chris, a young waiter with blonde hair and bright blue eyes, raised his hand. “But why, Mr. Ahmed? We’ve always worn the aprons. They’re kind of our thing.”

The staff exchanged curious glances. Some were hesitant, but most were willing to go along with the change. After all, it was just a uniform, right?

The next day, the staff arrived at the restaurant, each wearing their new white Nike jerseys with green details and black fanny packs. The AirPods were a bonus, making them feel modern and connected. The transformation was subtle, but noticeable—everyone looked more unified, more professional.

But as the day went on, something strange began to happen. The staff, who had always been a mix of different ethnicities and appearances, started to look more similar. Their features darkened slightly, their hair grew thicker and darker, and a sense of seriousness settled over their usually cheerful faces.

During a lull in the afternoon, Chris approached his friend Jake, now sporting the name "Rafi" on his jersey. “Jake, don’t you feel... different?”

Rafi smiled, but it was a smile Chris had never seen before. “It’s not Jake anymore, Chris. It’s Rafi. And no, I feel more focused, more in tune with everything around me.”

Customers noticed the change too. “Didn’t you look different yesterday?” one regular asked Tariq, one of the waiters.

Tariq smiled politely, his new appearance striking against the familiar backdrop of the restaurant. “Just trying out the new look,” he replied, his voice calm and composed.

*Chris is from now on Talib*

Over the next few weeks, the changes became more pronounced. The staff, now fully embracing their new uniforms, had all adopted distinctly Arabic features. They wore their Nike jerseys and fanny packs with pride, moving through the restaurant with a sense of purpose and unity.

Even their names began to change. Chris became Talib, Jake became Rafi, and the others followed suit. The transformation was complete—everyone at Aroma Café now looked like a cohesive team, both in appearance and in spirit.

Customers began to comment on the new look. “This place feels different,” one remarked to another. “It’s like everyone here is on the same wavelength.”

And it wasn’t just the appearance that had changed. The staff worked with a new level of efficiency, their movements synchronized, their service impeccable. The restaurant had become more than just a place to eat—it was now a symbol of unity, a place where everyone was part of the same identity.

In the kitchen, the once jovial chef, Mark, was now "Khalid," working with a precision and efficiency that seemed almost robotic. The playful banter was gone, replaced with a focused intensity.

By the end of the month, the transformation was complete. Aroma Café was no longer just a popular spot for a good meal—it had become a place of transformation. The staff, all wearing their white Nike jerseys with green details, black fanny packs, and AirPods, had fully embraced their new identities.

The customers, too, began to change. Regulars who visited often found themselves subtly influenced by the new atmosphere, adopting parts of the uniform, wearing their own jerseys and fanny packs as a sign of belonging.

As Mr. Ahmed looked out over his restaurant, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. The transformation had been gradual but complete. Aroma Café was now more than just a restaurant—it was a movement, a symbol of unity and identity.

And as the evening rush began, the staff moved as one, serving their customers with a sense of purpose and confidence that had never been there before. The Aroma Café had become a place of transformation, where everyone, staff and customer alike, was part of something greater.

1 week later...

Daniel pushed open the door of Aroma Café, smiling to himself as he looked around the familiar space. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of clinking dishes filled the air, just as it always had. But something felt off—there was a tension in the air that he couldn’t quite place.

As he walked in, Daniel noticed the staff moving about the restaurant. They were all wearing white Nike soccer jerseys with green details, black fanny packs slung over their shoulders, and AirPods in their ears. The uniformity was unsettling; everyone looked so serious, so different from the relaxed and friendly faces he remembered.

“Hey guys!” Daniel called out, waving to his colleagues. But instead of the warm greetings he was used to, he received only nods and brief, unreadable smiles.

He spotted Talib—at least, he thought it was Talib—handing a jersey to a customer. Daniel frowned. “Where’s Mr. Ahmed?” he asked as he approached. “And what’s with the new uniforms?”

Talib turned to face him, his expression intense. “Mr. Ahmed is in charge now. The new uniforms are part of his vision for the café. Everything’s more... unified now.”

Daniel blinked, trying to process this. “Unified? What happened to Chris? And Jake?”

Talib’s face remained stoic. “Chris is gone. His name is Talib now. Jake is Rafi. They’ve embraced the change. You will too, Daniel.”

Confused and a bit alarmed, Daniel walked through the café, noticing more changes. The usually friendly banter among the staff was gone, replaced with quiet efficiency. There was an intensity in the air, as if everyone was moving to the beat of an unseen drum.

He found one of the chefs, Khalid, in the kitchen. Daniel had always enjoyed chatting with Khalid, who was full of jokes and laughter. But now, Khalid’s face was set in a serious expression as he meticulously plated a dish.

“Khalid, what’s going on?” Daniel asked, his voice low. “Why is everyone acting so... strange?”

Khalid didn’t look up. “We’ve all made changes, Daniel. It’s for the better. You’ll see.”

Daniel’s heart raced as he walked back out into the dining area. Everything felt wrong. The warm, welcoming atmosphere that had made Aroma Café so popular was gone, replaced by a cold, efficient uniformity.

He spotted a familiar face among the customers—a regular who always sat by the window. The man looked up as Daniel approached, his eyes wide with recognition. “Daniel? What happened here? Everything’s changed!”

Daniel shook his head, still in shock. “I don’t know. I was only gone for a few weeks... but it’s like I don’t even know this place anymore.”

Before Daniel could process what was happening, Mr. Ahmed appeared, flanked by Talib and Rafi. The manager’s face was calm, almost serene, but there was an underlying intensity in his gaze.

“Daniel,” Mr. Ahmed said, his voice smooth but firm, “I know this is all a bit overwhelming. But this is the new Aroma Café. We’re a team now, unified in our purpose.”

Daniel stepped back, his confusion turning to fear. “I don’t understand. Where’s Chris? Where’s the old manager?”

Mr. Ahmed’s expression didn’t change. “Chris has embraced his new identity. As have I. As will you, Daniel. You can either join us or... well, let’s just say, resistance is not an option.”

Daniel’s heart pounded in his chest. This wasn’t the Aroma Café he knew. This was something else entirely—something he wasn’t sure he wanted to be a part of.

But as he looked around at the serious faces of his former friends and colleagues, all transformed into something unrecognizable, he realized he might not have a choice.

Join the New Brotherhood Daniel, accept jersey number 22 and become Brother Amir. The Arome Café was from now on Al-Mat'am Al-Hadeeth and they are always looking for new staff. After all...look how happy our Brother Amir is... Mr. Ahmed made him see the light, now it is your turn Brother...

The Checkup

Jamal had been feeling off for weeks—nothing too severe, just a persistent headache, bouts of dizziness, and occasional stomach cramps. It was enough to be annoying, but not enough to drag a scrawny nerd like him to the doctor right away. He wasn't exactly a fan of hospitals, after all. But as the symptoms gradually worsened, Jamal finally decided he couldn't ignore them anymore.

A quick online search led him to Dr. Farid Nasr, a local physician with glowing reviews that praised his "life-changing checkups." Jamal rolled his eyes at the exaggeration. Still, he was desperate enough to book the next available appointment, which happened to be on Wednesday.

When the day arrived, Jamal arrived at Dr. Nasr’s office ten minutes early. The waiting room was quiet, almost serene, with soft lighting and gentle instrumental music playing in the background. It felt a little too perfect. Before he could dwell on it, a nurse called his name, leading him into an unremarkable patient room.

Inside, a Middle Eastern man in a crisp white coat and blue tie greeted him with a warm smile. "Ah, Sami. Good to meet you. Always a pleasure to see a new face here."

Jamal blinked in confusion. "Uh, do you mean Jamal?"

Dr. Nasr’s smile didn’t falter. "Ah, yes, of course. My apologies, I must have mixed up my patients today." The tone was off, too casual, but Jamal decided to let it slide. He was here for answers, not to get caught up in small talk.

"So, what brings you in today?" Dr. Nasr asked, his eyes keen and focused.

Jamal explained his symptoms while the doctor listened intently, nodding occasionally. "I see," Dr. Nasr said after a pause. "It doesn't sound too serious, but to be thorough, I think a full physical is in order."

Dr. Nasr started by checking Jamal's blood pressure, wrapping the cuff around his thin arm. "My, what big arms you have," the doctor commented with a chuckle.

Jamal snickered, assuming it was a joke—until he looked down and saw his arms swelling, muscles bulging and straining against his sleeves until the cuff snapped off. His heart pounded in disbelief. "Thanks… I've been working on them for years," he heard himself say, though the words felt foreign on his tongue. He’d never set foot in a gym, but now that he thought about it, how else could his arms have gotten so massive?

"Good to hear," Dr. Nasr replied, completely unfazed. "Let’s check your legs next."

He tapped Jamal’s knees, and in an instant, Jamal felt his legs stretching, growing stronger, pushing his height up until he was towering over the chair at 6’4”. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling the seat beneath him dip as his thighs thickened and his rear rounded into a solid, muscular form. "I see you work out your legs too," Dr. Nasr noted.

"Of course. It’s all the soccer I play," Jamal responded automatically. But wait—he’d never played soccer. Except…he could suddenly recall afternoons on the field, the thrill of the game, the white soccer jersey that now clung to his athletic frame. Confusion twisted inside him, but the memories felt so real.

"Your legs are in excellent condition," Dr. Nasr said, moving to listen to Jamal’s chest. As the cold stethoscope touched his skin, Jamal’s chest surged with growth, his pecs expanding into firm, defined muscles. He gasped as a wave of warmth washed over him, mingled with a creeping sense of dread. Something was happening to him, something beyond his control—and yet, he couldn’t help but enjoy it.

"Time for the final part," Dr. Nasr announced, his tone soothing yet commanding. "I’m going to check your eyes. Just relax and stare into the light for me."

Jamal found himself unable to look away as Dr. Nasr shone a small, bright light into his eyes. The light seemed to pulse, drawing him in, making his thoughts sluggish. He could almost see a spiral pattern swirling within it, mesmerizing him.

"Repeat after me," Dr. Nasr’s voice echoed through the haze. "Your name is Sami."

"My name is Sami," Jamal—no, Sami—echoed, the name fitting him like a glove.

"You have played soccer your entire life. You work out every day."

"I have played soccer my entire life. I work out every day." The words were becoming facts, etched into his mind.

"You are a proud Muslim. You serve the Brotherhood."

"I am a proud Muslim. I serve the Brotherhood." The pride in his voice felt natural, like he had always lived by these values.

"You are a Middle Eastern man, and you speak Arabic."

"I am a Middle Eastern man, and I speak Arabic." As he spoke, his skin lightened to a warm tan, his features subtly shifting to reflect his new identity. Memories of Bible study were washed away by recollections of prayers at the mosque, of community, of brotherhood. Sami’s past life as Jamal faded like a distant dream.

Dr. Nasr finally moved the light away, allowing Sami’s vision to clear. "How do you feel, Sami?"

"I feel great, Doc. Thanks a lot!" Sami’s voice was confident, strong, filled with gratitude.

"Of course, brother. Just be sure to leave a good review."

Sami smiled. He would leave a glowing review. After all, everyone deserved a life-changing checkup—even if they didn’t know it yet.