In the brightly lit offices of the Bureau of Gay Cloning Compliance, Nate adjusted his tie. He stared at the blinking red notification on his holographic work tablet. It was another anomaly. Of course it was.

“Opposites attract,” he muttered, scrolling through the flagged file. “Not on my watch.”

The anomaly in question was Couple #10748: Brad, a 40-something gym rat with a shaved head and a body like a Dorito chip, and Colin, a twinkish barista barely out of his twenties who could recite every Best Picture Oscar winner since 1980 but couldn’t lift a five-pound dumbbell without spraining something. The pair had been spotted holding hands at a wine bar, their contrasting aesthetics throwing the bureau’s sophisticated gay harmony algorithms into a tailspin.

Nate sighed and grabbed his Bureau-issued Change Ray—a sleek, rainbow-festooned device that looked like a cross between a toaster and a leaf blower. “Another day, another makeover,” he said to no one in particular as he logged the assignment, slung the Change Ray over his shoulder, and headed out into the field.

The wine bar was precisely the kind of place where opposites might meet: dim lighting, overpriced Pinot Grigio, and acoustic covers of last generation’s chart toppers wafting through the air. Nate spotted the couple immediately. Brad talked animatedly, his meaty hands gesturing like he was demonstrating a bench press, while Colin giggled and played with his hair. It was nauseatingly adorable.

Nate approached with the practiced charm of a DMV employee who’d been forced to smile. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I’m with the Bureau of Gay Cloning Compliance. Mind if I have a word?”

Colin looked confused. Brad looked ready to punch someone. Typical reactions.

“Relax,” Nate said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I just need to… recalibrate your relationship. It’s standard procedure.”

“Recalibrate?” Colin asked, his voice a half step higher than necessary.

“Yeah, we’re just going to smooth out some… incompatibilities,” Nate explained, hefting the Change Ray into position. “You’ll thank me later. Most couples do.”

Brad started to stand. “We just met. We’re not a couple. Not yet. We don’t need—”

Before he could finish, Nate flipped the switch. A beam of shimmering light engulfed the couple, and the machine hummed loudly. Usually, this part was quick and painless—a flash of light, a momentary sense of vertigo, and bam: two indistinguishable clones ready for happily ever after. But this time, something went wrong.

The Change Ray sputtered. Sparks flew. Nate’s tablet beeped frantically with error messages.

“Oh, damn,” Nate growled, smacking the side of the device with the heel of his palm. The beam intensified, engulfing Brad and Colin in a swirling rainbow energy.

The laugh lines framing Brad’s eyes smoothed out first, his skin adopting an unnaturally youthful sheen. His jawline sharpened into an angular masterpiece, while his brow ridges subtly thickened, giving him a perpetually cocky expression. His thick neck swelled, veins popping like decorative cords, as his shoulders broadened, shredding the seams of his fitted shirt. His chest ballooned outward, symmetrical pecs bulging, while his waist cinched into a lean V shape. His once calloused hands softened, now manicured and pristine, but still as meaty as ever.

Colin, meanwhile, underwent his own shift. His soft features hardened into sharp, chiseled planes. His delicate nose straightened, his cheekbones raised, and his lips puffed into a perfect pout. His wiry frame filled out rapidly, muscles expanding beneath his skin as if he were being inflated. His hips narrowed, his thighs thickened, and his previously slender arms became corded with muscle. His posture straightened, and effeminate gestures were replaced by confident swagger.

As their bodies changed, their expressions transformed to match. Brad’s intense focus melted into an open-mouthed grin of sheer, vacant joy. Colin’s nervous giggle was replaced by a slow, dumb chuckle. Their eyes glazed over, sparking with a blissful idiocy that suggested no single thought lingered behind them.

Finally, their clothes matched to suit their new identities. Brad’s shredded Oxford shirt reknit itself into a bright neon crop top that clung to his torso like a second skin. His slacks shortened, morphing into obscene short shorts that showed off every inch of his sculpted legs. Colin’s vintage sweater and skinny jeans transformed into an identical ensemble, their new looks so synchronized they seemed pre-planned.

When the blinding light of the beam finally subsided, Nate’s jaw dropped. Standing before him were two identical men: tall, bronzed, and impossibly muscular, with matching blond fauxhawks and vacant, dazzling smiles. Their tank tops clung to bulging pecs, and their shorts barely contained their massive packages. They blinked at Nate, then at each other, and squealed in unison.

“Oh my God, bro, you’re, like, perfect,” one of them said, his voice a deep, syrupy drawl.

“No, you’re perfect, bro,” the other replied, flexing his bicep and kissing it.

Nate stared. The Change Ray hadn’t averaged them out as it should have. It had pushed them into some hyperbolic realm of basic himbro perfection. The bureau’s algorithms must’ve broken under the strain of their oppositeness. With such disparate source material, the Change Ray couldn’t extrapolate an average, and now they were… this.

“Well,” Nate said, snapping a photo for his report. “Guess I’ll mark this one as ‘resolved.’”

The newly minted himbros were too busy taking selfies to notice Nate withdrawing from the wine bar. “Dude, let’s start a fitness TikTok!” one of them said. Nate couldn’t tell them apart, and neither would anyone else.

“Totally, bro! But first, let’s get out of this place and hit up a smoothie bar,” the other replied.

Nate rolled his eyes and slung the Change Ray back over his shoulder. “Enjoy your lives,” he called as he ducked out of sight. Behind him, the himbros were already planning their matching gym outfits and brainstorming protein shake recipes.

When Nate returned to the bureau, he filed the incident under ‘Technical Malfunction’ and made a mental note to request a new Change Ray. But deep down, he knew this wasn’t a simple malfunction. The universe—or maybe just the bureau’s glitchy algorithms—had a sense of humor. It was nothing to lose sleep over, however. Brad and Colin would be just fine.

“Another job well done,” Nate said with a smirk as he clocked out for the day.

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