Family Branding

 

 

 

Was Everett still himself? That was the question wasn’t it. He’d been dreading his 18th birthday for as long as he could remember. That day had come and went. He stood in front of his bathroom mirror searching for any traces of his former self. 

—

The Reynolds weren't like any other family they had an image to maintain. Mr. Reynolds saw it as his responsibility to make sure his sons upheld that image. The Reynold boys had always believed the sports and activities were for that. No, it was all a presentation.

Mr. Reynolds was more than a man, he was an idea given life in a three-piece suit, adorned with Rolex watches, and burnt cinnamon cologne. He walked into the room and people noticed, if not his chest first, it was his Oxford shoes clacking along the way. So many tried to pretend they didn’t stare at his muscles stretching every suit he owned. His ass and bulge were always on display. In addition to his body his smile was captivating. One that could make people feel like the center of the universe, when it was gifted to them. The man seldom yelled but his words always came out firm and were always heard. 

Everett and his brothers were in constant awe of their dad growing up. The four of them and unbreakable set: Mr. Reynolds, Neil, Gray, and Everett. They knew what his smile looked like, not the one he saved for business meetings, and virtual call, his REAL smile. For as tough as Mr. Reynolds presented himself, he wasn't hard on his son like so many other fathers. The Reynolds had just assumed that was just their dad’s way of parenting. 

How wrong they were.

Everett had learned that lesson when his oldest brother, Neil, had turned 18. Neil was the laid-back comedian of the group, always coming in with one-liners diffusing tension between his brothers. A guy is more comfortable in sweats, than anything else. Golden hair never in place. Mr. Reynolds took Neil with him when he went out on business runs. A casual mention by their dad that “We have to stop by the tattoo parlor today, it's time.” 

Then they were gone. 

There had been jokes about the family tattoo their father had long declared they were getting. Their dad had never made them do anything, so they hardly took it seriously. When Reynolds came back though, stepping through the door was Neil, dressed in a pink dress shirt, navy dress pants and dockers, blond hair combed for the first time in his life. A piney aroma clung to him as he strutted from behind his dad. His body was bulkier. Neil had always been a fit dude, but this guy was a tank. His shirt wasn’t even done up all the way, pecs sitting out. He didn't just look older, he was older. Everett and Gray sensed it even in the vibes he gave off.

Neil greeted his brothers formerly, with strong handshakes. “Grey, Everett, allow me to re-introduce myself. I'm Neil Reynolds, Future COO of the Reynolds Company. I hope you two will take care of me.” He turned to his father with a nod. “Dad, I’m going to go read up on our work.” And then, he didn’t sprint up the stairs, as Neil normally would, he walked properly. One foot at a time. The stairs creaked below him and his new weight.

Mr. Reynolds treated it as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile Grey and Everett were dealing with The Invasion of the Body Snatchers. He looked like Neil, talked like Neil but his humor was gone, his laid-back nature was more a sign of professionalism than being genuinely unbothered. 

Everett would be the first one to spot the Reynolds’ tattoo on Neil’s back. The same one their father had. He happened to see his brother sitting shirtless, door open, and as if he was psychic, Neil looked up spotting Everett. He tried to ask Neil why was he acting so differently; he was acting like dad. Neil laughed, stating he was acting like a Reynolds and that Everett would understand someday. Then Neil let Everett touch the tattoo. He traced it and he hated to admit felt like it always deserved to be there.

Everett brought the issue up with his mom.  Why wasn't she freaking out? She smiled, forced, and said Neil was fine. This was the life she had chosen. He’d thought it’d end there but his mom showed him a photo album, pictures of a boy Everett didn't recognize in the slightest. Silly. Playful.

“That was your father. Before he got his tattoo.” She said. 

—

Everett had wanted to just give his old smile, his body instead choosing to flex.

“You love this, don’t you?” a different version of Everett spoke. Everett didn't get the dignity of answering back because they both knew the answer. The body; pecs, abs, arms, V-line. The face; strong jaw, pink lips, thick eyebrows. All undeniably his, but now something more.

 

When Gray had to get his tattoo, Everett remembered how scared his middle brother was. And how he hadn’t done anything to help. He didn't know what to do. He gave him a hug as Dad took Gray away. Other kids may have fought or had rebuttals. but this was the only thing in their lives their dad had been firm on. They had no defense for it.

18 years to be themselves, then they became a part of the family. That was how Neil described it when Everett was chilling in Neil’s room, while Gray was gone. Neil wasn’t as fun to be around, but he didn’t seem to mind Everett’s presence either. He sat in his desk chair, his muscular frame spilling over all the sides. Everett laid on Neil's bed tossing a football up in the air roaming his brother’s frame. The hunch, the glasses, how he often forwent shirts for just a pair of shorts, putting his body on show. All this while Neil devoured company papers currently examining a merger.

Everett may not have known much, but he knew his oldest brother wouldn't even have been able to define ‘merger’ before. Now Neil was working at their family company closing business deals. The years he should have been at college spent at the Reynolds offices, not learning to be a professional, already one. But even if he’d had gone, he still would have looked older than his peers thanks to the family tattoo.

“How come you don’t want to be head of the Reynolds Company?” Everett asked. Neil was the oldest, wasn't it typically assumed he’d run it, or at least be given the chance? 

“It’s not for me; I have my position. “

“Why because a tattoo told you so?’ Everett said smartly, catching the ball and no longer tossing it.

Neil set down his papers and turned with a smirk, “You’ll understand when you get your tattoo.”

 “I doubt that.” He sighed.

They met the new Gray, the older, suave, composed, Gray. Neil and Everett came downstairs lined up next to each other as instructed by their father. Gray entered shoes clacking on the floor, shiner than anything Everett had seen, khaki pants cinched at the waist by a belt that made his ass appear fatter, all topped off with a tight polo. “Great to see you guys again, Meet the new me, Future CFO.” He winked, then Neil and him laughed as if in on a joke. Gray had been the hot head of the family, good heart, but often too willing to charge into danger. Even tried to beat Neil back into his old self. That just ended with Gray a pretzel in Neil’s hold. This Gray though? with his slicked hair, gold chain, and matching bracelet. He wasn’t fighting anybody. His muscles certainly could, but his brain was the powerhouse. 

Everett was alone in the dynamic with two guys that had his brothers' faces and memories but had brought their own mannerisms and bodies.

—


 Then the day came for him.


 Everett felt like cattle. He had been a boy once and now he was this: an heir. He had sensed it from the moment the needle hit his skin, the change worming into him. But it wasn’t until the ink was dried that it took hold. The Reynolds lineage claimed his body and his mind as another conquest. He had laid shirtless in the tattoo artist’s chair, tired, exhausted, alone. His father had left him to complete payment at the front, Everett heard his back crack, broadening, and couldn't do anything about it. 

His pecs beat against the cushion of the chair gaining mass. The arms he had from fancying himself a martial arts student, bulked with the power of boxers. He mumbled as his next problem was two-fold: his vocal cords thickening and balls swelling.  An abrasive tone rising out of him, doing away with his honeyed voice. His dick, rudely, took up space in the front of his pants pressing forward, not much place to go when his thighs had fashioned themselves in the style of footballers of the past. 

He heard his ass split his pants. He felt the wind on his bare cheeks when his boxers lost the fight. They wouldn't stop swelling, generating their own heat. It made his legs wobble and they too ironed out into new longer forms. His feet tauntingly stretched his shoes, acting as if they wouldn't break or destroy them. Not a chance with the size 15 monsters that exploded onto the scene slamming on the ground.

The tattoo on his back had remained in proportion to his back stretching out, given a pleasurable scorching sensation. It had conquered the body; the mind was next. Everett Reynolds was swallowed by the ink. There were structure, rules, and orders to be followed. It wanted only the best of him. The rest would remain, but just below the surface. Memories and personality to be called upon, not acted on.

Everett Reynolds had aged in that chair finer than any wine known to man. His cock snapped out of his pants as he shot his load over the chair. He smiled knowing it was over, his boyish grin now a cocky smirk. Soon his dad and the tattoo artist would come in and add his seed to the very ink embedded into his back. The young man forever and always a piece of the recipe for future Reynolds makings. Just as he had been anointed by his dad and brothers with his inking.

That’s why he knew: He was the future CEO. 

Blessed with all his family had to offer.

—

He wasn’t supposed to, but during quiet moments like after a shower. Everett couldn’t help but admire himself. Which always led to that one question. Was Everett still himself? He didn't look the same, feel the same, or talk the same. His big brown eyes had a permanent smugness infused into them. And yet, under all that he could see a spark that lit when he even dared to think about such a thing.

Everett wondered if his brothers ever had that same spark?

Rolling his shoulders, he spread his lats. His connection to the family stronger than ever. They were the Reynolds. He was their future king. They were going to dominate.