Real Mens Journal: Part 7

Real Men’s Journal: Part 7

Hey, Tumblr. Sorry it took me so long to update. Real life is annoying that way sometimes, and as a writer, I’ve been working to earn commission money to help pay the bills. You know how it goes. Anyways, here’s the next installment in the series. I hope you all enjoy. Please reblog, like, and otherwise enjoy as you wish. There’s more to come for our friend, Kyle.

As you bros can see, he’s starting to crack. I wonder how much longer he can endure. Let’s find out.

~DAY ???~

           That video file could’ve gone better. I just … I feel so –Idunno, vulnerable, I guess. It’s taken me a few days to get my composure back. On the plus side, the coaches aren’t too happy about that. I haven’t been working out as much as they want since I’ve been trying to get myself back under control. The rest of the people in my “class” also became more kind after witnessing the event. At least I’ve got some friends now; even if they are pity friends. I miss my real friends and my real family so much right now. And, surprisingly, I find myself missing Kevin and 100.

           I need something to get my mind off of all this. Maybe I’ll go take a shower. Watch a game or something. I could use something mindless right now. Later.

 ~DAY ???~

           I’ve been dreaming. The same dream all the time. I see all the faces in my family, old friends, my old life, even those stupid bullies Damien and Bryan. We’re in high school and I’m laughing like this was the dream and that was the reality. I didn’t even care when I got beat up, or made fun of for my “being a fucking pansy.” I was home. Then I walk into gym class and we’re in the weight lifting segment. We get a substitute and I see Abrams and Stone standing there. They segment us off, make us take different machines and spot and work out with a partner. Surprisingly, I didn’t see the dreadful duo.

I got assigned with Kevin, the Kevin I knew before he disappeared, before the change. He was just as eager, just as kind, just as earnest as ever. I smiled as we got together and began to work on a set with a different pair of individuals working at the bench next to ours. Something about them seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place my finger on what.

We began to lift, and it was surprisingly easy. Up. Down. Up. Down. It was a special kind of rhythm and it just brought a smile to my lips as I fell into it. Kevin smiled back at me as he kept an eye on the bar, his hands hovering just below in case my arms gave out. My whole body throbbed with blood as it pumped and flowed through my veins, filling everything. The weights just kept clanking and clanking in my ears. Up. Down. Clank. Clank.

Then came the grunts, groans, and moans. It started off sort of small at first, a distant person, but then it grew, slowly spreading across the room. When it started to my side, I turned my head to see our two neighbors. I heard their voices growing deeper, shifting in unison as the one lifted and the other watched. Soon the spotter just backed off and started to pose and flex. He was hard as hard could be as he kept going. Then, to my horror, I heard another grunt, a pleasurable groan, and I watched as Kevin left me, walking towards this stranger. The two posed, flexed, and then began to grow together. I wanted to scream, cry out, do something. But all I could do was watch silently as I continued to lift like a robot. Up. Down. Up. Down.

Kevin blew up before my eyes, becoming more and more what I had seen of him before he disappeared. I watched his companion as he grew and swelled, his features slowly changing, becoming masculine, prominent. I watched his smile turn into a sneer as he continued to grow. Soon, in the stead of the nice boy, I saw Damien. Instead of kevin, I saw … I don’t know what to call it to be honest with you. He was big, buff, powerful, but he didn’t even seem to recognize me as he looked at me. He seemed sort of dazed. Confused.

I heard another groan of pleasure and to my right, I watched as the other boy clanked faster and harder. The more he pumped, the bigger he grew. Soon he was as tall as Damien, and nearly as broad, and just as hard. Seriously, do erections have to follow me everywhere? I can’t even get away from them in my sleep anymore. And the more I remember them, the harder it gets to stop. So hard. So very hard. And getting harder. Thicker. Stronger. Muscles. So horny … so … so horny. I … have to go. Be back … later. Bigger. Better. So much better … to be big. Big. Muscles. BIG. BUFF. BIGBUFFMUSCLEBIGBUFFMUSCLEMEATMASSIVEMANLY BULGINGHUGESWOLEBEASTBROMUSCLEMASSIVEMANLYBULGEMASSIVEMANLYBULGEMASSIVEMANLYBUIOIOOONLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLlllllllll—

 ~Day ???~

Damnit, they did it again! Sorry about that. I … let’s get back to the story. The dream. Anyways, the guy to my right. He finally stopped clanking and put the weights on their rest. It was 300 pounds, easy, far different than the starting weight I’d seen before. He grunted, sneered, and then I watched his face turn into Bryan’s. He walked up and patted Kevin on the back. Damien smacked him on the butt. I watched in horror as Kevin’s face twitched, then pulled up into a dazed sort of smile. Then he grunted and posed to the cheers of his two companions as they lay their arms around his shoulders, whispered things in his ears, and he just nodded and mouthed along. Soon they were standing bare as bare could be, a trio of men in what appeared to be posing straps of some kind, similar to speedos. I watched as they looked at themselves in the mirror-wall. I saw Kevin’s smile turn into a grin, and then slowly into a sneer to match his new companions.

And still I lifted. Still, I pressed. Up. Down. Clank. Clank. Pump. Pump. I felt my own member stirring and heard a low grunt issue from my lips against my will. Everything clenched and unclenched. First I was tight, then I was loose, then tight again. Pump. Bigger. Clank. Tighter. Up. Buffer. Down. Big Guns. I felt myself get up and lay the bar on the bench. The weight read 400 lbs. total. I heard the dull thuds of my footsteps across the floor, felt the shockwave as it spread from my heavy frame into the floor. I felt the air across my body as my clothing faded away. I felt the tightness of my skin on my arms as I swung them and shuddered at their power. I looked down to see the floor much farther away than it was before and a neon yellow jockstrap with bright green writing on it. Looking up into the floor length mirror before me, I read what it said in its reflection. “Jumbo Jock Junk” stood out boldly on the pouch of the strap, which grew bigger and tighter every few seconds.

I tried to resist, to fight back, but was powerless in my dream as the three surrounded me, ganged up on me, and ultimately changed me. I grinned at my reflection and watched it warp into an identical sneer. “So big.” I chuckled deeply as I felt something seeping from my head with every pump of blood. “Just a big, dumb jock. Just think with my cock.” I mentally recoiled from that, but the others joined in with my dream self as we slowly grew bigger, bigger, bigger, until we burst through our straps, and still we grew.

I always wake up in a cold sweat with a raging hard on. The first time, I felt so dazed, distant, foggy even. And when I wrote about this … well, you read what happened. Crap, again already? But it can’t be that time. I never used to be so boned. And … my clothes are starting to feel a little tight. Everyone’s giving me the stare. I can only assume I fell into trance again. The scary thing is … I think I’m starting to like this. Scans say my endorphins are through the roof. And my testosterone is increasing like mad. Who knew growing could be so … pleasurable?

 ~DAY ???~

Okay, so maybe the coaches aren’t so bad. Maybe. Stone’s actually been kinda nice. He keeps his distance for the most part, lets me do what I want. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still pissed. I still want to know what these sickos are doing with everyone and how they’re getting away with all of this. But he does show some measure of concern for the others, even if they are just sacks of meat and muscle by this point, like 100. He warns them not to train too hard. Even told me to take a break. That other coach never did that. Funny … I can’t think of his name. But … why can’t I? I see his face. I remember his muscles, the shrill blow of his whistles. His deep voice. His uniform. Coach’s stripes. All official looking, like a coach should look. I … guess I’ll just call him coach. Yeah, coach’ll work. I … I think I remember now. Coach Abrams. That’s the name. Yes, sir. Coach. Coach Abrams. He was pretty respectful, too, now that I think about it. It’s good to show respect. Respect authority. Coach is authority. Respect Coach. Obey authority. Obey Coach.

I have to go now. Have to listen to coach. Have to obey coach. Coach says work out. Coach says to listen. Yes, sir, Coach. I listen. I obey.

 ~DAY ???~

           Man, I just can’t seem to get enough of those protein shakes. It feels like I just finish one when my stomach starts to rumble again. 100’s been a big help, not even complaining when I ask for another one. Each time I taste it, I just feel so good. So warm. I’ve been gaining more muscle, but I don’t feel too different yet. Maybe I’ll be able to stay like me instead of turning into one of them? I sure hope so. I like being me.

           My body’s been feeling a lot more energized of late. And I have to admit, it feels really good. I eat a lot more than I used to, but it doesn’t seem to be much of a problem. My body burns it almost as fast as I eat it. My clothes have been feeling really tight and so have my shoes. I look at myself in the mirror sometimes and I can’t help but smile a little. I actually look fit. I actually feel fit. And … well, alright, once or twice I’ve tried flexing in front of a mirror.

I think I can see why the others do it. After losing so much weight, I’m starting to look like a real model. It’s kindof nice. That and my bulge. It’s … well, it’s bigger. My penis is bigger and I like the way it looks pressing against my shorts, alright? It just makes me … feel good. Especially when I pat it. But every time I cup ‘em, I feel … Idunno, disappointed, I guess. My hands always feel too big compared to em. I feel upset. It’s almost like I want them to be bigger. But I can’t. If I start thinking like that, then the brainwashing will win. But I can’t stop thinking about them. Always growing. Growing bigger. Larger. Like me. So massive. So full. Pressing. Bulging. Mine. All mine. My bulge. My massive, manly bulge. Swelling … straining … bigger. Bigger. BIGGER! MAKE ME FUCKING MASSIVE!!!!!! FUCK YEAH!!!!!!

 ~DAY ???~

ACCESSING #56 VIDEO FILE 003

           A sweaty teenager with plastered hair and well-toned muscles is smiling into the camera. His brown hair is darkened by sweat and his blue eyes blaze with a smoldering sort of pleasure.  

“Man, my head’s been feeling so fuzzy lately. But I can’t seem to stop. It’s weird, but I’m actually kindof fine with it. I feel more relaxed than I’ve been in ages. I just sort of blank out and let it go, you know? I’ve gone up a couple of sizes since I last wrote. Tore through my workout clothes while I was doing a set. It’s a good thing 100 was there with another set for me to shift into. He clapped me on the back and I couldn’t help but smile. I really don’t know why I was so scared about this. It’s pretty fucking sweet.” He paused and frowned a moment, like he’d tasted something unpleasant. Then it cleared and he returned to his narration.

“Oh yeah, I’m cursing a little more than usual. What do you expect? Deal with these muscleheads long enough, you need to learn their language. It was inevitable. You know, like it was meant to be. Gotta go. The game’s on and I need to shower with the guys. They’re waiting for me. Knuckleheads. Always trying to show off their gains. Can’t match me though. I’m still bigger.” He smirked. “And it feels good to be big. Can’t wait to see their dopy grins when they watch the screens. Fuckin’ nerds won’t even see it coming.” This time he didn’t flinch. First they’ll turn on the screens, then they’ll watch the lights, then they’ll start to flex. Feels so good to flex. Their muscles will BULGE.” He strikes a pose, flexing a bicep, which barely raises the sleeve of his larger shirt, but is still noticeable. “Then they’ll start to PUMP. Then they’ll get more SWOLE!” He smiles goofily as he strikes a double bicep flex.

“Feels so good, too. FLEXING. Just listening and letting go. Watching the game. Just like the guys. Just one of the guys. One of the team. With a massive, manly bulge. So big. Bigger. Must be MASSIVE. Make MASSIVE.” He smirks as he poses again. “Look at that.” The camera pans down to where a medium sized bulge presses against the shorts. Then the camera pans back up to his face. “That’s my bulge. My swelling, growing, bulgy bulge. Bigger. Have to be bigger. Bigger is better. Makes me happy.” He gets up and moves to the camera. “Time for a shower. With the team.” Before the camera turns off, there is a groan of pleasure followed by a snapping sound. “Ohhhhh hell yeah. Burst my fuckin’ jock.” A dimwitted, deep chuckle is heard as the recording shuts off.

END TRANSMISSION

 ~DAY ???~

Hey, guys. What’s up? Been working out like a fucking BEAST the last couple weeks. Time’s going by so fast. I don’t even know how long I’ve been here now. Then again, I don’t really care so much anymore either. I’ve been having too much fun with the guys. Josh is bulkin’ up like mad, man. If I’m not careful, he’s gonna be bigger than I am soon.

Cooper’s a great kid. Been listening to my MP.3s with him. He was kinda scared at first, but now we’re both really getting into it. It’s just so good to listen, ya know? He doesn’t listen as long as the rest of us do, but that’ll change soon enough. Coach says it’s good to listen to them as much as we can. Hell, I even work out listening to ‘em now. It just feels right, and I get such a huge pump when I listen, too.

As for Trent, well, Coach said he needed special classes. Last time I saw him, he was chowing down as much protein as he could get. The kid’s like three times the size he used to be when he came in. Said hi, he just sorta smiled at me, grunted, got back to eating. Don’t need ta talk really, not when you’re getting’ swole, ya know? Just breaks your concentration. He was wearing solid grey and sitting down with the big boys on the team. Coach said Trent’s a fast track student. His bulge is already so huge. So’s he. I wanna be big too. I thought being fit would be enough, but I just keep wanting more and more. It aches sometimes how much I want it. Need it. Need muscles. Need to grow. I … I need it. So hard. So big. Need to … Need to … I … have to go. Have to work out. Gotta get swole with my massive, manly bulge. My fucking bulge. Yes. Yes, sir, Coach. I’m listening. Coming now. Just let go … yes …

 ~DAY???~

Shit, what happened? Guess coach just sorta needed me … or something. Scanning every day now. Bout three times a day. Makes me all warm and tingly. Every day I feel a little tighter. A little closer. But … closer to what? I … I don’t know. My … my head hurts when I try to think about it. Why does it hurt? Make it stop. Make it stop. Just … make it fucking stop!

This is an incredibly well written story. I don’t like the sexual part (since I’m not really into porn or any sexual scenes), but the rest was a great gradual change both physically and mentally. I couldn’t help but reblog it here. Kudos to dumbmusclejockboi.

BroSimulator 2K18: Frat Bro

Maximilian Maxwell III was a nerd. A dweeb. A geek. He put up with a lot of bullying and name-calling in high school, all while thinking it would all be better in college. Well, he was living proof that it didn’t ever get better. Not really.

Even now in college, he was constantly picked on by the frat douchebags of Mu Alpha Nu fraternity. He had decided to try to join a fraternity himself, who cares if it was like buying friends, at least there was safety in numbers. So, during rush he tried to join a house, but the only house that would have him was Zeta Iota Tau. The nerd house. 

At least he was surrounded by other guys who enjoyed studying, playing video games and excelling in academics. It was an okay existence. There was always something going on whether it was a chess tournament or a game of Magic: The Gathering. It wasn’t what he expected when he originally joined a fraternity, but it was still fun.

The expected girls, booze, parties never really materialized. The hardest thing they drank was root beer and the closest they came to parties was when they organized a round robin M:TG tournament with a genuine Mox Lotus as the main prize. (One of the brothers had started early and had a few of each Mox).

Maximilian was feeling bored and depressed and thought maybe a new video game would make him feel better, so he headed to the Game Stop at the mall. As he was looking around for something interesting, he glanced upon a game called BroSimulator 2K18. It sounded like a bizarrely hilarious game, so he paid for it and went back to his fraternity house.

@@@@@@@@@

When Maximilian got back to the ZIT house, he showed the game to a few of his brothers. They laughed as he said to not bother him for a few hours. Maximilian ran to his room and installed the game onto his computer.

The main screen loaded, featuring a cartoonish gym with various bro-types flexing and posing in front of mirrors. Clicking on the start button, he entered the Bro Customization screen.

He inputted his name, weight and age at the prompts, and answered all the questions that were presented as honestly as he could. His hands were sweating in impatience. And then there he was. A digitized version of himself was on screen.

Digitized Maximilian, DM for short, stood in his room. Text on the screen announced that it was a tutorial, “Getting’ Ready!”  He put on some basketball shorts and tried to put on a t-shirt like he saw the jock frat wear, but a buzzard sounded and the game alerted him,” THE WEATHER’S FUCKING AWESOME, BRO! SUN’S OUT, GUNS OUT, BRO, PICK SOMETHING TO SHOW OFF YOUR GUNS!” So, Maximilian picked out a red tank top. He also put on a snapback.  He exited out of the wardrobe and was rewarded with “+2 HAPPY.” Maximilian couldn’t believe he actually did feel a little happier.

Maximilian’s next tutorial quest (put on some tunes) was also interrupted, telling him to choose rap instead of classical music. He was again rewarded with more happiness. Tutorial quest 3/3 seemed very straightforward for a bro, run to the gym. His digitized character ran to the gym. When he got there, he got “+5 HAPPY” and “+1 PRIDE.”

At the gym, it appeared the game was ready for the regular quests. TAKE YOUR PRE-WORKOUT made him buy pre-workout from the counter. His avatar tried to drink it but the game alerted that he had forgotten to add creatine (BRO, YOU’RE NOT GONNA GET GAINZ WITHOUT CREATINE.). So, he made DM go buy some creatine from the sales counter, added it to his pre-workout, gave it a little shake and downed it. THAT TASTED AWESOME! +5 HAPPY +1 PRIDE +2 SWOLE -3 IQ

Maximilian was even more enthusiastic about this game. He had learned that happiness could make you high, and he was wondering if the game was doing that to his brain somehow. He also felt a little more energetic and was excited to see what would happen next. GO LIFT BRO! GO LEG PRESS 200 KG! BroSimulator 2K18 told him was his next quest.

And so, DM stacked 5 plates on each side and proceeded to do 3 sets of 15 reps of 200kg.  Maxwell didn’t notice that in the real world, as DM did each rep, real world Maxwell’s calves, thighs and glutes inched their way bigger and bigger until his shorts were having slight trouble containing his muscle.

AWESOME, BRO! +5 HAPPY, +5 PRIDE, +5 SWOLE, -5 IQ

Maxwell was feeling super proud of himself. “Fuck yeah!” He said out loud, his voice cracking. He was feeling a little high, maybe a little foggy in the head. He knew his purpose and he continued on to complete more quests. His next quest was to BENCH PRESS 4 PLATES.

Computer Max went to the bench press and loaded up two plates on each side, and tried to start his exercise. FOUR PLATES MEANS 4 ON EACH SIDE, BRO. -5 IQ

Maxwell laughed a dumb, bro laugh, “I’m such a dumbass!” He said to no one.

And with that, Digital Max began to do 3 sets of 12 reps. Once again, with each rep, Maxwell’s chest began to inflate. Slowly growing bigger, and wider and rounder. Until his pecs were filling out his shirt, almost causing the side seams to burst.

BRO-TASTIC! +5 HAPPY, +10 PRIDE, +10 SWOLE, -5 IQ 

Max had never felt more alive! He felt awesome! By this point, he had forgotten all about why he had purchased BroSimulator 2K18 in the first place. Maxwell also didn’t notice that his brain was running a little slower, or that he had started to refer to himself as Max.  Now, he was just totally immersed in the game.

The game had Max lead character Max to do various other exercises. Crunches, bicep curls, back extensions, triceps dips, pull ups, muscle ups, lat pull downs and calf raises, racking up massive amounts of pride, happy and swole. He did lose quite a few more IQ points as well.

POSE IN THE MIRROR BRO!

And so, Max took off his shirt and started a posing routine in the mirror. As his avatar did that, Max in real life started to flex his muscles in the mirror too. “Damn, I look fucking swole,” he thought to himself.

SWOLE BRO!  +3 HAPPY +5 PRIDE +3 SWOLE -1 IQ

FRAT BRO QUEST.  DO YOU ACCEPT? Y/N

Max thought that being a frat bro would be awesome so he happily clicked on Y.  

AWESOME BRO!  QUEST ¼ FIST BUMP 5 FRAT BROS!  2:00

Oh shit!  It was a timed quest!  And how the hell would he differentiate a bro from a frat bro?  And that’s when he noticed some of the bros in the gym had Greek letters on their tanks and shirts.  So, Max guided Digital Max to giving fist bumps to all the bros he could find wearing Greek letters. SWEET BRO!  +3 HAPPY +4 PRIDE -2 IQ

QUEST 2/4 FIST PUMP FOR 5 MINUTES

This was pretty easy.  DM went into the aerobics studio and put on some rap music and fist pumped like a douchebag bro for 5 minutes.  While DM was fist pumping, Max was fist pumping in the real world.  He had turned up the volume on his Bose Soundlink and was losing himself in to the latest Kendrick Lamar.  As he did that, his room started changing.  A poster or Albert Einstein turned into a poster of hot bros flexing muscles. Trophies and awards for academic excellence turned into trophies for football, wrestling and body building.  

DM finished the required five minutes and BroSimulator 2K18 told him:

GREAT JOB BRO!  +5 HAPPY +7 SWOLE +8 PRIDE -10 IQ

FRAT BROS DRINK!  QUEST ¾ SHOTGUN 3 BEERS IN 3 MINUTES.

Using a complicated mixture of tapping buttons and moving the controller around, Max was able to get DM to do the assigned task.  Finishing the task, Max paused the game and stood up to stretch his impressive arms.  He walked to the mini fridge in the room and chugged down a Milwaukee’s Best Ice that only an hour ago had been root beer.  Wiping his mouth with his muscled forearm, Max let out a belch of contentment, and sat down to finish up his Frat Bro quest.

FUCK YEAH BRO!  +10 HAPPPY +10 PRIDE -3 SWOLE -5 IQ

QUEST 4/4 SCORE WITH A HOTTIE

Max knew exactly who to make DM score with.  The bro at the counter had been checking him out all day.  He knew that he could tap that shit.  So, DM went to the counter and told Matty, the counter clerk that he needed help trying on a posing strap.  Matty giggled as Max threw him into the changing room and pushed him up against the wall.  Matty enjoyed himself as Max pounded him at maximum velocity.  It was a legendary fuck, and the bros all over the gym heard Matty’s cries of joy and ecstasy.

The computer dinged:

INCREDI-BRO! ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED. JOCK FRAT BRO

+20 HAPPY +20 PRIDE + 20 SWOLE -20 IQ

Max whooped with glee, fist pumping in the air!  He didn’t notice that his room had further changed.  His pristine bed, becoming undone, crinkled and a bit smelly.  Tanks, sleeveless shirts and basketball shorts had materialized in random piles all over his room, and his wardrobe completely changed to reflect his new status as a jock frat bro.  Neither did he notice that there was now a dull fog in his head and that all the knowledge from his science and math classes had all left him.  He was also now majoring in criminal justice.  The cruise major.

All of the Greek letters on his shirt had also changed.  He was no longer a member of ZIT fraternity, but was a proud brother of Mu Alpha Nu… MAN.  They were the cockiest, manliest alphas of the campus and they fucking ruled! Hell yeah!  

Max looked at the time and freaked! It was getting late and he still had to make a beer run to buy the keg and plastic cups for the kegger at his off-campus house tonight!  It was gonna be a bro-tastic party, cause he and his bros only threw the most bro-tastic parties.  He was gonna get shit-faced, and he knew he was gonna fuck a couple of hotties tonight, but it was ok, cause he also planned a killer workout for tomorrow.  

Real Men’s Journal: Part 4

~Day 15~

           Our numbers are beginning to thin. Whatever’s been happening in our barracks, it’s spreading. I’m getting worried. They’ve started placing protein shakes by some of the beds in the morning for our heavy lifters to drink.

           “Gotta get my protein,” they keep saying. “Gotta bulk up, ya know? Relax, bro.” How can I relax when all these men are being brainwashed and they don’t even realize it? I warned the others who were left about what’s going on. Chris, our defacto leader, furrowed his brows, and many others didn’t want to believe me. They did after they went to the showers tonight. We’ve been trying to do mental games and things like that to keep our minds sharp and focused, but I’m worried for a couple of members:  senior level chess champions. They had a taste of whatever it is, I assume subliminals of some kind. Dick and Tracy, twin brothers. They’re both a little on the short and fat side, but you’ll never find a better opponent for such a strategic game. They were scratching in places that are better scratched in private, if you know what I mean. When confronted about it, they just said they itched and everyone else was doing it anyways, so it’s not like it mattered. It’s the eyes that worry me though. I thought I saw something wriggling way in the back. Something slow.

 ~Day 19~

           I’ve brought my concerns to Chris. He’s a lot like me, only taller and a little rounder. He’s got a good head of black hair that now hangs around his face like bangs. He normally would have styled it, but with everything going on here, he didn’t see much point. I’d say the guy is around six feet or so, like I said, husky build. He’s the head of some big company from what he told me. So he’s basically what I aspire to be, minus the massive pudge. His eyes burn when he chooses to glare at someone. That golden brown can be scary sometimes. Fortunately, that glare wasn’t directed at me today. He actually agreed with me.

           The twins themselves seem to have gotten worse. They act a little more distant now. When we eat our meals, they’re torn between who to sit with. They’ve made it a habit to scan themselves regularly and I notice the pair has started to put on some weight, the muscly kind. They swear up and down they’re not listening to the recordings, but still …

 ~Day 22~

           Dick and Tracy lost today … twelve consecutive times. When we left from our minimal workout requirements, usually just a once around the track at as slow a pace as we can manage, the twins stayed behind. Then later tonight, when we had our tournament, they just sort of moved their pieces wherever, their legs spread out on the chair as they leaned back. It was completely random, almost as if they didn’t care. And trust me, if you’d seen them when they first started here, you’d know that’s not normal. Once they’d lost for the final time, the pair just left and walked off. The way they splayed their legs though, that pose, that swagger … it didn’t look good. And did those two look a little taller? Crap, it’s lights out again. I’ll write tomorrow.

 ~Day 23~

           It’s official. Dick and Tracy have turned to the dark side. I woke up in the middle of the night and looked over to their beds. Then it hit me:  the chorus of mumbling. I didn’t make it out at first, but then it became clearer. My heart raced. I could hear their mattresses creaking and straining. I crept my way to their beds and there they were, flexing their muscles, their tablets glowing in their stands to highlight their bodies. Two wires sprouted from each of their ears, converging on the devices.

           “Yes, coach. I listen. I obey. Good not to think. Just grow. Like to work out. Love to work out. Love to sweat. Sweat it all out. Get big. Get swole. Sports rule. Massive. Yes, sir. Trigger. Will join whenever said. Fall deeper. Want a massive, manly bulge. I want a massive manly bulge. Want to be a big, dumb jock with a massive, manly bulge...” They spoke in unison and started to chant, just like in the bathroom with the others. And soon more joined in a whispering chorus. Even in their sleep they’re programmed to react. You can guess the rest. This is seriously scaring me. And the worst part is we’re trapped in this nightmare until they see to let us go or to force us to become … that.

           By morning, the two were swearing up a storm, slapping each other on the butt and calling everyone Bro while entering poses. We lost two good men. I’ve been avoiding them like the plague. So’s everyone else, though a few poor souls have been staying with them, doubtless trying to bring back the old Dick and Tracy. The twins took them to the bathroom and I heard the TVs running. I shook my head and checked off another couple names. I’d give those kids three days before they give in.

 ~Day 26~

           That gas must be hallucinogenic. It has to be. What I just saw can’t be real. I was just minding my business, deciding to try an audio recording since I had the barracks to myself and then … well, take a listen. I’ll insert my own commentary in the recording as a voice over in the file for how I felt and reacted at the time.

           ACCESSING # 56 AUDIO FILE 004

           Damn, what the hell are they feeding these guys? Are they pumping steroids or something? Dick and Tracy are growing far too quickly. By the time they were out of the barracks for another day of work, they’d gained a solid twenty pounds of muscle and they were growing taller by the day.  The number of times they’d scan themselves, you’d think they were afraid of not gaining. And every time, that stupid blue flash. It’s so annoying! It doesn’t help any with the two of them always showing off. They’re getting cruder by the day. I wouldn’t be surprised if they started jutting their brows out soon and hooting like monkeys.

           “You hear that, Bro? I think Kyle here’s tryin’ to insult us.”

           “I think you’re right. What’re we gonna do about it, Trace?”

           “Dunno, Dick. After all, a coupl’a animals like us can’t reach his level.”

           “Hey, give that back!”

           “What’s this? A diary?” *chuckling* “Fucking pansy. Hey, Dick, get a load of this.”

           *Air whistles through the mike*

           “Sweet! Let’s look at his stats.”

           “Give it back, Dick.”

           “Phew, you’re seriously still at the beginning? Dude, why’re you being such a newb?”

           “I dunno, why’re you being a couple of jackasses?”

           “Says the man who called us monkeys.”

           *Loud Ripping*

           “Well how do ya like them bananas, huh? I can rip my fuckin’ sleeve with a bicep. Can you do that?”

           “I can actually play chess. Can you do that?”

           “Chess is for losers. Football’s where it’s at.”

           “Yeah … football. Football’s the greatest.”

           “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

           “… Everything.”

           “But we’ll be better soon—”

           “—With coach’s help.”

           “Gotta get swole with a massive, manly bulge.”

           “What the hell, guys?!” (They were starting to pose and flex and … well, look, they were sporting erections, okay? And shoving them around like they should be proud of them. I may be a teen, but I have my standards. I was kinda getting worried for my tablet, but Dick the dick managed to hang on to it. See what I did there? He kept on flexing with his brother and chanting and then some of the others walked in. I watched as one of them went rigid and his two friends looked on in concern.)

           “Chad? Chad, are you alright?” (The red head on the left asked. I watched as the one called Chad broke into a smile as the brightness in his eyes dimmed.)

           “I … I’m uh … yeah, fine. Just … fine.” (He was practically drooling as he watched Dick and Tracy. The longer he stood there and the more he listened, the dimmer his eyes became.) “They’re so big, aren’t they?” (he remarked dreamily as he stared at the twins.)

           “Well yeah, they’ve been following the program, remember? Working out … getting … swole?” (the blonde one to his right asked. He blinked a few times and shook his head. I’m actually surprised my mike caught this. This thing must have some seriously good reception. Meanwhile, the twins were still at it with their stupid chant. You can hear it loudest in this thing, of course.)

           “They’re just being a bunch of showoffs, Chad. Come on. Let’s hit the showers.” (The red one said as he grabbed Chad’s shoulder.)

           “I … I think I’ll hang around a while longer, Ryan. I … wanna watch.” (The twins smirked here and broke off their chant as they finally realized they had an audience.)

           “Like what you see?” (Dick asked as he flexed a meaty bicep.)

           “Bet you wish you had a dick like mine. Chuckle.” (Tracy patted his bulge and went back to posing.)

           “Work out just like us, follow the program just like us, and you’ll be just like us.”

           “Just like us.” (Tracy echoed his brother as they mirrored one another in their sets before breaking up into more meatheaded laughter.)

           “With a massive, manly bulge.” (This time it was Dick who patted, well, his dick. Then he shuddered as he looked at his brother with those same murky eyes. Tracy returned the favor.)

           “Gotta bulk up. Gotta get swole. Become with your massive, manly bulge.” (The two went back into their muscle show as they returned to the mantra once again of “massive, manly bulge.” They were practically spewing their brains out with every line.)

           “Come on, guys, this is creeping me out.” (Ryan said this as he turned away from the display. His cheeks were flushed.)

           “But … look at them.” (Chad said.) “So … huge.” (He stood there like a statue, his eyes locked on the twins.)

           “I agree with Ryan, Chad. This has … uh … gotten a little … strange. Even if they are kinda big … and buff … and … strong …” (Even as the blondie moved to follow Ryan, he still looked back, almost longingly. His steps slowed and he swayed on his feet.)

           “Chris, Chad, come on. Let’s get to the showers. We’re missing the game.” (Ryan urged, though fear flickered on his face.)

           “So bulky … and bulgy.” (Chad was long gone, his voice distant as he stared, flushed. A small bump pushed against his shorts as the muscleheads continued to repeat.)

           “Chad … this isn’t … it’s not … we have to … to watch the. …the game. Watch … Uh … watch … the game with … players.” (Even as Chris protested, he walked away from Ryan and the showers to stand next to Chad.)

           “Bulge … bigger … buffer … so huge…” (That rip you just heard was the other twin’s sleeves breaking. With an audience like this, the twins have grown more bold … and more stupid.)

           “Huge players … manly … crashing … smashing … bulging … bashing … posing … flexing … just … like … them …”

           “… Just like them.” (Chad echoed Chris as they eyed the pair of nerds turned jocks. They were both gone now.)

           “Chad? Chris?” (Ryan approached them tentatively and tapped them on their shoulders.) “Guys, this isn’t funny.” (I watched the pair spasm as they resolutely kept eye on Dick and Tracey. Soon their lips twitched, then they slowly pulled into dimwitted smiles. They parted their legs into a wide stance and started to mimic Tracey and Dick, posing and straining in their clothes. It was kindof cute in its own way. If it weren’t so pathetic and creepy, I might have laughed. But this was serious. They were basically flexing their brains away.)

           “Work out … just like us …” (Chad said.)

           “Follow the program … just like us …” (Chris said)

           “Be just like us. Yes. Be just like them …Wanna be … just like them.” (The pair said together.)

           “Guys, come on. This isn’t funny.”

           “Just like us … just like them … BE just like us … BE just like them…”

           (Ryan backed warily) “Look, guys, I want to be big too. Muscles are great. They make you strong, big, burly … powerful and … uh …” (He shook his head. The chanting must’ve been getting to him.) “But I don’t want to be just like them, ya know? I want to be buff, sure. And maybe a little ripped. I want to play football one day, sure. But-”

           “Just like us … just like us …” (They never stopped smiling.)

           “Guys, I don’t want to be just like you, okay? I want to be … well, I want to be—”

           “Big … just like them,” (Chad said.)

           “Strong … just like them,” (Chris said.)

           “Buff … just like them.”

           “Guys, please.” (The pair were relentless.)

           “Swole … just like them.” (Chris continued.)

           “Well … maybe I–um …” (Ryan flushed as he took a guilty glance towards the twins.)

           “Bulging muscle … just like them.” (Chad said.)

           “Yes, but so much … bigger …” (Ryan sighed.)

           “Massive size … just like them …” (That one was Chris.)

           “I want … more …”

           “Just … like … us …” (Chad and Chris grinned at their friend)

           “I … no, I just … want to be … I want … want to feel … feel … I wanna--”

           “Be just like them … Be Just like us …”

           “I want to be … big … like them … and uh … manly. … like them … like them … just … like … them--” (Aaaaand there went number three. He immediately stood next to them, all three with their little bulges in a row as they stared adoringly at the twins.)

           “Just like them … Just like us … Big … buff … Massive …”

           “Massive. Manly. Bulge. Massive. Manly. Bulge. Be just like us. Don’t think. Don’t fuss. Massive. Manly. Bulge.

           “Just like them … don’t think. Don’t fuss … Massive. Manly. Bulge.” (I watched them parrot the twins’ movements. Soon they were showing off their own erections with cocky sneers, just like their “role models.”)

           “More big. More buff. More dumb. More swole. The more massive we make our manly bulge.”

           “More big. More buff. More dumb. More swole. The more massive we make our manly bulge.” (I … don’t believe what I’m seeing. I swear, those three were already at full mast. It’s obvious. And so were the twins. But … they’re expanding! What the hell?)

           “Grow your massive, manly bulge. Laugh out the nerd. Put the jock in control.”

           “Massive. Manly. Bulge. Massive. Manly. Bulge. Massive. *Snark* Manly. *eheh* Bulge. *GURK* M-m-m-massive, *huhu* Manly *uuhuuhuuu* B-b-b-bulge-AAahahahaha—” (They laughed like they couldn’t control it. And all the while the twins looked on blankly and just smiled like the idiots they’d become, flexing, posing, and chanting that same mantra about their massive, manly bulges. Those big, fucking annoying, massive, manly bulges that grow and swell and … so huge … so … manly … bigger … must be … Massive … so … so massive … I …I’ll be right back. I have to *GROAN* t-t-take care of … my bulge … my … bulgey … Growing … Massive, manly bulge. Growing … always growing. Make bigger. Bulge ……………...) [Warning: Recording reaching maximum capacity. Closing application in 3 … 2 … 1 … 0--]

           (Okay, okay, I’m back. Sorry about that. I um … had some business to take care of again. It’s lights out here, but I should be okay finishing this recording as long as I whisper. Anyways, where was I? No, been there, fast forward … Ah, there we are. So as you can hear, the jocks are still chanting and the nerds are still laughing. And well, what happened next scared the crap out of me. No joking, their junk must’ve grown like three times in size. And the longer they laughed, the deeper their voices went. It switched from a light, happy laughter to a low, deep, dull kind of boom.)

           “Huhuhuhuuuuu … Massive. Manly. Bulge.” (And as they laughed, I watched them start to bulk up. I kid you not, I watched them physically grow taller. I saw the bumps pressing against the fabric of their shoes as their feet grew by at least half a size, then continued to swell and extend. The fabric burst on the sides as their socks tore. I watched them flexing as they laughed and their shirts started to grow snug. Their arms lengthened and expanded, their legs thickened, their calves became like carved marble. And just as their bodies thickened, so did their heads. I could practically hear the pressure their skulls put on their brains as they expanded.)

           “I feel … funny, uhuu … like uhhhhh … like … *Deep Laughter*

           “I think the word you’re looking for is dumb.” (I said scornfully. And the worst part was the guy, Chris, grinned at me, his blonde hair shining as he posed.) “Dude, I’m so fuckin’ pumped. Like … I never felt this way before, ya know?”

           “Like, so ripped. Dudes, we like, totally need to work out!” (Ryan, the redhead said as his jaw started to jut out and a bit of stubble presented itself on his chin. I kid you not; that’s what happened. Or at least what I saw. I felt so light-headed and the smell from the bathrooms was so strong. But no one was showering. How could it be here too? And now of all times? It … made it hard to focus. It was just so easy to just watch and let things happen, you know? Just sit back, relax and just … listen. So good to listen.)

           “Gotta get swole, bros.” (Gotta get swole. Yeah, they uh … that’s what they said, I mean Chad said. And … he’s laughing. So yeah. Aaaand there goes their compression underwear. You do hear that, right? But … this was a hallucination. Or … was it real and the process just … makes … dumb jocks … big … dumb … jocks. Make more … dumb jocks … more massive men. Massive men. Massive me. I um … I gotta focus here. Focus on … the recording.)

           “Fucking ‘A man, I feel fucking awesome!” (That one was uh … Chris again. They were so … out of it. And … flexing so much. So much flexing. Posing. Swelling. I … I don’t know where everyone else was. M-maybe that’s why … why this happened. Let them flood the place with … with the gas …)

           “*SHRED* Uhuuuuu … look at my fuckin’ bicep, bros.”

           “Chad, that’s like … so fuckin’ cool.” (That one was Ryan. He’s still a little behind the others, but that’ll change soon.)

           “Bro, like … call me Thirteen.” (They call eachother by numbers now? I … guess that makes sense. Takes away their individuality. Makes them more compliant, more like a group. Less like a person.)

           “Dudes, like, only coach calls us that, remember?” (That one was Dick.)

           “But, it’s so fuckin’ boss, bro.”

           “I know, but we can’t yet. Not till coach tells us we can.”

           “Gotta obey coach.” (This one was Tracey. Then they all just sort of went rigid.)

           “Obey coach. Listen to coach. Coach makes us bigger. Coach makes us better. Coach makes us men. Massive, manly men. Massive, manly bulge.” (There they go again with their chanting. I had to look away after a point. Their bodies grew so much, they *GROAN* shredded their clothes with their muscles … their massive muscles. So … massive … manly … bulging. I uh … don’t have much more to report on this. Just … they changed in a few minutes. That’s … that’s powerful stuff. I … I don’t think I should say anything about this to the others. Nobody’d believe me. But yeah … there were basically … three naked studs left and *PANT* two more next to them. Studs like horses, I mean. Hung like horses. Dumb as horses, too. Big, dumb jocks. So big. So dumb. Uh … yeah, let’s just move on before I keep repeating myself.)

           “Big. Dumb. Jock. Massive. Manly. Bulge.” (And so they continued. At least until Coach Abrams came in. He took one look at the five of them, then at me. He gave me a creepy smile, then turned to the others and barked an order.)

“Twenty-two, Twenty-three, Thirteen, Five, Ten, fall in!”

           “Yes, sir.”

           *Loud Clattering*

           END TRANSMISSION

 ~Day 27~

           My head’s a lot clearer today. Sorry about that from last night. Anyways, time for my rant, so hold on to something.

Those stupid grunts broke my tablet! Abrams said they won’t be able to get me a new one for a while, so I’m stuck with this old one for now and its stupid flickering screen. Good thing I already know how to touch type. As I suspected, the twins are gone now, along with their three … I don’t know what to call them. Brainwashees? Fellow jocks? Former nerds? Something. Anyways, they’ve been promoted to the next step in their process. That’s what Abrams came to do when they messed with my tablet. The ones who were gullible enough to follow them in the showers and gym are showing the signs, too. The ones that are left anyways. We’re dropping like flies. Jake, one of our overdramatic members went through a nervous breakdown today. I had to try to comfort him. Man, can that guy cry. Guess that’s all for now. I’ll write again tomorrow.

�6��c

Real Men’s Journal: Part 5

~Day 28~

           … I can’t believe what I just saw today. I … everyone saw it. And it wasn’t inside. What happened before must have been real. But how? What’s the point? This changes everything. Just … just let me explain it.

Jake actually tried to escape today. He ran for the wall and started to climb. The coaches tried barking orders for him to get down before he hurt himself, you know, stuff like that. He wouldn’t listen. For such a weak little guy, he was surprisingly agile as he climbed. It didn’t last long though. The men on the wall picked him off before he had the chance to get much further. First they shot him with the darts. I can’t count how many must have hit him. Somehow he kept climbing despite it until he reached the top. That’s where the real bad stuff went down.

           “’Sup, bro?” One of the thugs said. Jake just sort of stared at them. Then it came again. “’Sup, bro?” Another said and they all just smiled at him, repeating the same thing over and over. It just kept going and going and going, annoying the crap out of me.

It did worse for Jake.

He grabbed at his head like he had a migraine or something. Next thing I know, I hear grunting, then a popping sound. I watched as he slowly began to grow, tearing through his pants and shirt. He blew up like a balloon. All the while the jocks kept repeating “’Sup, bro? ‘Sup, bro? ‘Sup, bro?” I watched his dark hair lighten before my eyes as his skin started to tan. I shudder at the memory of it. He looked at his hands in horror. I remember that well. Then he tried to bolt. That’s when the flashy guns came up. Jake didn’t get very far along the wall.

           He ran and barreled through a couple of the thugs, the ones with the bandoliers and dart guns. They slapped him on the butt and the back as he passed, still repeating, still in perfect unison. “’Sup, bro?” I watched Jake’s hair retreat into a short crew cut. Yes, I know I sound crazy here, but I mean it. These changes happened nigh instantaneously. By now, his hair was a bleached blonde and he was running left and right as the other guards closed in with their silvery armor. I heard the cock of several cartridges being locked and loaded.

           “’Sup, bro?” Their voices rang across the yard. I heard their guns charge with a high pitched glissando. For those of you meatheads trying to read this, that’s a musical term. It means a note that gradually slides up without actually pausing for a break or a rest between the notes. Then there was a bright flash. I heard the discharge. Their lips had stopped moving, I was certain, but for some reason I could still hear those words echoing in my head. I still do. Probably because of the horror associated with them.

           I heard a scream, high pitched with terror, gradually crack, then suddenly drop into a deep bass yell. The light kept streaming, the yell kept coming. Then, slowly, the light died. The screaming stopped and the compound was silent, as were we strong ones left. The other mental lightweights looked on in anticipation. Then the crowd on the wall parted to let a dazed-looking, massive, tanned meathead look down at us. All he had on was a tightly straining jock strap. I looked away in revulsion from that vacant stare, that wide, stupid grin. But though I may have closed my eyes to it and him, his voice was something different. It rumbled across the courtyard. It echoed in my eardrums. And it filled me with a terrible sense of dread.

           “’Sup, bros?” he said and the rest of the thugs on the wall swarmed him, congratulated him, slapped him on the back. I heard a loud snap and knew his last article of clothing was gone. A platoon of practically identical meatheads surrounded him and began to escort him along the wall. I heard his deep bassoon laugh the whole way. “I’m a jock, bro. I’m a big fuckin’ dumb jock with a massive, manly bulge.” The group continued to cheer, hooting and hollering. Then it turned into a chant, just like before. First it echoed on the parapets, then it started low in the grounds, just a whisper. Slowly, it increased as another joined in, and yet another, flexing and grinning like fools. And the coaches just looked on and smirked, nodding in approval. Slowly it died down and the meathead that used to be Jake disappeared. That didn’t stop the thralls down here from enjoying themselves though. That stupid phrase must be a key. It accelerates their mental degradation. We’ll have to be careful.

Jake is gone now, and with the guards armed with technology like that, we don’t stand a chance at escape during the day. By night, our barracks, or our communal cell as I like to look at it, is locked up tight. I’m still no closer to getting out of here. At this rate, I don’t know how much longer we can hold on.

 ~Day 30~

ACCESSING # 56 AUDIO FILE 005

           “It’s been a couple of days since we lost Jake. Our little group is falling apart to despondency. I can’t say I blame them. There has to be a common factor; some way they’re doing this to us, but I still don’t know what it is. I have to assume it’s some sort of chemical conversion designed to stunt brain development and maximize muscle mass combined with hypnosis and mind control. Or perhaps it’s designed to rewrite the neural pathways of the brain and make you think and act like a dumb jock. Whatever the case may be, it seems to be working … only too well. I caught a glimpse of our former classmates in the cafeteria today. They’ve grown positively massive. I suppose with regular exercise, it’s possible to experience these kinds of changes in a month, but still … I’m not entirely sure about this. Perhaps the chemical is designed to put us into an accelerated rate of puberty? A sort of hyper puberty if you will? Though if Jake’s transformation is anything to go by, it seems this drug, or chemical, or whatever it is, is designed to benefit the body physically everywhere, so I doubt it’s a steroid. It’s possible that this chemical is one that, once built in the system long enough, becomes naturally produced within the body and constantly renews itself.

           “Still, the method of delivery is a matter of concern. I would assume there are a few possibilities for how they slip it to us. The first and most likely is through our food and drink. Probably in smaller doses. It seems that the drug, or whatever it is, won’t take effect without permission from the user. At least not in the smaller dosages given in the food. I think that’s what the recordings are for. If what I heard is any indication, it weakens the mind and reinforces the idea of working out regularly and the desire for muscles and power. Such exertions must be the key to triggering the effects of the chemical. And the more they work, the bigger their appetites grow, and the more they consume. It’s a vicious cycle, that is, if that really is how they’re reaching us.

“*Sigh* I wish I had a lab to use. Then I could analyze my hypothesis; figure out if they have a “secret ingredient” in the food. I’d just stick it in a solution and pop it in a machine to let the chemical analysis take place. Then I’d just have to wait. Waiting’s always something I’ve been good at. Waiting and waiting and weighting and lifting weights and … What was I -- saying?”

“Starting to feel it, aren’t ya, Kyle?”

“Feel what, Branden? Just get away from me already. I’m not in the mood right now.”

“Huhuhuhuh, course you’re not in the mood. It’s ‘cause you worry too much. Ya gotta think simple, ya know? Focus more on these, and less on that.”

“Just because you’ve chosen to give in to these psychopaths and become one of them doesn’t mean I have.”

“My muscles are a fuckin’ mountain. Look at these abs. Look at this bod. I see how much you watch us, Kyle. You want these muscles. You want this strength.”

“Not at the cost it takes to get them. Look at yourself, Branden! You used to be the top in your physics class. You loved to read and write and work on labs. Now all you do is shower, eat, workout, shower, sleep, repeat. You’re dull, Branden. Getting duller all the time.”

“Don’t need brains when I got these.”

“Those are nothing in the real world. You said so yourself.”

“I was wrong. Gettin’ swole’s fuckin’ awesome. I feel great! Brawn over Brains, Ky.”

“It’s Kyle, Branden. Now get out of my face and leave me alone.”

“Fine, ya little prick. You’ll see things my way soon enough. Oh, don’t forget your scan.” *Deep Laughter*

END TRANSMISSION

That jerk! He’s turning just as bad as those bullies, Damien and Brian, were. But he was right about one thing. I am a little jealous of all the muscles around here. And I’ll never be able to have some of my own. I’ll likely die before I get the chance. I’m going to try to keep a detailed report of my personal statistics with body alterations from this experience, and possible modifications in personal behavior. If they show, I’ll know I’ve been compromised and that I need to fight. If not, then well.

At least one thing he has right is my need to scan. I haven’t done that in a while. The system will lock me out if I don’t get it done soon. And after that I have some rather … urgent matters to attend to. I’ll write again later with my next update.

 ~Day 33~

           The days have been pretty much the same thing. Get up early, shower before the other jocks-to-be, get dressed, get breakfast, do the mandatory check in at the gym, then leave as soon as possible. We’ve lost a lot more people to this “process” since Jake changed. They figured they might as well enjoy the changes instead of getting hit by a bunch of darts or blown away by what appears to have been some form of laser beam. More and more I hear them repeat their mantras as television screens flicker and headphones plug in. Before my eyes, I am watching intelligent, kind people turn into idiotic jerks who couldn’t even tell me two plus two without a calculator.

           Even Chris is showing signs of flagging. I see him eating more, staying in the gym a little longer. He said he’s keeping an eye on the others, but I’m not so sure. I see him staring at the others as they enter the shower together, laughing, reveling, hooting like a bunch of animals. I think I see longing in those eyes. I’m getting kind of scared. Soon I’ll be alone. I’ll be all that’s left. And then they’ll come for me.

 ~Day 38~

           It’s been about a week. Getting harder to find time to just write in this thing. People keep trying to get me to work out with them, be all buddy buddy brain drain. How cute. I’ve been trying to just stay out of everybody’s way. The process seems to be accelerating. I see them wearing their headphones almost 24/7 now. It’s all “Yes, sir. No, sir. Yes, sir. Wanna be big. Gotta be big. Gotta be swole. Need to get swole. Need to obey nnnnnneeeed to … listen

Gotta scanscanscanscanscan … I … something issssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssszx----------

           JOURNAL ENTRY SAVED

 ~Day 39~

           I blacked out again. What the hell just happened? There I was writing about all the stuff those meatheads are saying and then I got this weird sort of … Idunno, pain in my head? I woke up a sweaty mess in my gym clothes and I’m sore all over. All the jocks are looking at me like a side of meat. And all my changing roommates, what’s left of them, just smirk at me like they’ve got some kind of inside joke going on. What kind of sick place is this? Did those dickwadds put something in my drink yesterday? And what’s with the others shying away from me? I’m still the same old Kyle I’ve always been.

Kevin, on the other hand, now he’s gotten absolutely huge. He’s been sort of cropping up from time to time. He tries to keep out of my sight, but when you’ve gotten as tall as six feet and you’re even half as bulked up as the rest of the guys here, it’s hard to hide. He looks … I don’t know, sort of conflicted, I guess. They gave him a haircut, finally. Now he’s styled close-cropped. Got that Caesar look going for him. His glasses disappeared a while ago now. I guess they must’ve gotten him contacts. Or maybe something in the drug makes it so he doesn’t need them anymore? That’s an amazing medical application now that I think about it. Could you imagine that? A cure for blindness, any ailment, really, I guess. Cancer, AIDS, all the big diseases would be gone in an instant. Pity I don’t have the formulae, that is, if they really are using a drug. I suppose it could be genetic therapy, but that would take a virus of some kind and we’d be laid up and sick while they tried to rewrite our genetic code. Nobody’s been sick, so I doubt that could be the case.

Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah, Kevin. He’s been sort of looking over my shoulder. They’ve given him some new clothes. Now he’s wearing spandex like some of the gym helpers around the area. And may I just say, holy crap, he’s hung! I mean seriously, did they stuff some tube socks down there or something? He’s still kind of shy about it when I see him in the gym. He’s been volunteering as one of the helpers, I guess. Bringing protein shakes, helping spot, making sure they’re listening to their “coach,” that sort of thing. The rest of the team … well, I guess I can call them that anyways, either that or drones. Yeah, drones is better. The rest of the drones were all around him, patting him on the back, encouraging him. Feeding his ego. They say when he’s done he’ll be “the swolest dude around.” He’d always smile and shudder after that. He’s gone a long ways. I don’t even know if he’s the same Kevin or not anymore, but that shy streak gives me some hope. Maybe he’ll be lucky. Maybe he’ll keep his original personality. I’m afraid I can’t say the same for Chris.

I caught our mighty leader today being a slack-jawed pile of tapioca as he listened to his headphones on his bed. I tapped his shoulder and he just kept where he was. He was totally relaxed, his face a blank slate. You have no idea how creepy that is. And that erection … holy crap, it’s worse than Dick and Tracey’s! He was muttering, just like everyone else. You know the usual bit. Talking about being bigger, buffer, swole, all that good stuff. And, of course, it had to have the same dialogue and key phrase every muscle head’s been using. Seriously, can’t these guys come up with something more original? Then again, I guess they’re trying to squash originality here. Original means different. And different can’t be tolerated when you’re slowly brainwashing everyone to be the same. Here’s what he said.

“Yes. Wanna be a man. Wanna be massive. I will be massive. Massive, manly man. Yes. Massive manly men have massive manly bulges. (So that’s where they insert the trigger words.) Yes, sir, coach. Real men swear. Real men don’t care. I … I wanna …” he scrunched his brows together at this point, like he was resisting. Guess the old man had language issues. Then he smiled and relaxed. “Big brawny men have big bulging dicks.” He chuckled. “Big dick. Big dick.” I could hear the hissing as one of his headphones knocked loose from the laughter.

“That’s right,” it hissed. “Big men have big dicks. And you’re gonna be a big man, aren’t ya?”

“Yes, sir, coach,” he said. I think I recognized the voice, but … I’m not too sure. Can’t think where I heard it before.

The hissing paused a moment as if assessing his reaction. Was this a live feed hypnosis? Or was the technology so advanced it was interactive?

“And what do massive, manly men care about?”

           “Muscles.”

           “And what do you care about?”

           “Muscles.”

           “And?” it pressed.

           “My big dick,” he said, grinning goofily.

           “That’s right, your big fucking dick.”

           “My big fucking dick,” Chris parroted.

           “You liked that, didn’t you, Chris? Felt good to curse, good to swear.”

           “Uhhhh …” he blushed.

           “It feels good to curse. Feels good to swear. Real men don’t care, remember? And you’re a real man, so you don’t care either.”

           “Yes, sir. Feels good to curse. Feels good to swear about my big fucking dick.” He shuddered in pleasure. “I don’t fuckin’ care about what some jackass says. I like to curse and I like to swear, damnit.” He was starting to get into it.

           “Good boy. You really want this, don’t you? You want to be a massive manly man with a massive manly bulge.”

           “Yes, sir. Want this. More than anything. Want to be a Massive, manly man with a massive, manly bulge.” He patted the bulge just to make a point of it and shuddered again.

           “Big, massive … and dumb.” I don’t know why, but I took a deep breath then and just waited. Guess I was rooting for Chris to come out on top. He wasn’t like this. He didn’t want to be one of them. He was respectable. Owned his own business. He was one of the smartest here. Surely he wouldn’t give up that easily.

           “Fuckin’ big,” he chuckled as he flexed a muscle and shuddered. I gawked. He wouldn’t.

           “Fuckin’ massive.” He groaned and I … I swear, I thought I saw his bulge get bigger, no kidding. How did he even have room for that monster? He looked so out of it, like a druggie on a massive high. Guess I would be too if I had that much testosterone raging in my system.

           “And?” the voice prompted.

           I hoped just a little that he’d resist, that he wouldn’t give in. That he’d tear those earbuds out and shout at the voice. Tell it to go to hell or something. Instead he just turned that smile into an empty headed grin.

           “And fuckin’ dumb,” he lolled.

           “What’s the number for pi?”

           “3.14,” he responded. There was hope for him yet. The voice sighed.

           “The bigger you get, the more you work out, the happier you’ll be.”

           “Yes, sir. Just like you said.”

           “But that won’t be all.”

           “Won’t be all.”

           “You’ll want to be bigger. Need it. Crave it. And more than that, you’ll crave the companionship of bigger muscleheads. You’ll join them in the showers. You’ll follow them to their tables. Eat the same food. And the more gains you make in your body, the less you’ll make in your mind, got it?”

           “… Yes, sir. Wanna be bigger. Bigger man. Bigger dick. Bigger muscles.”

           “And who do you need to be with?”

           “Muscleheads. Big men. Huge men.”

           “And what will you do with them?”

           “Everything.”

           “That’s right. Until you’re just like them.”

           “… Just like them.”

           “Bigger is better.” Bigger is better.

           “Bigger is better,” he parroted.

           “Bigger is dumber.” Bigger is dumber.

           “Bigger is dumber.”

           “You want to be big.” I want to be big.

           “I want to be big.” I want to be big.

           “So you want to be dumb.”

           “So I want to be dumb.” So I want to be dumb.

           “The bigger you get, the dumber you get.”

           “The bigger I get, the dumber I get.” The bigger I get, the dumber I get.

           “The more the muscle, the less the brains.”

           “More muscle, less brains.” More muscle, less brains.

           “The bigger your dick, the smaller your brain.”

           “Huhuhu, bigger dick. Smaller brain. I like my big fucking dick.” Big dick. Small brain.

           “You want a bigger dick.”

           “I want a bigger dick.” I want a bigger dick.

           “Every day you’ll feel horny.”

           “Every day I’ll feel horny.” I feel horny.

           “You’ll relieve your stress in the showers.”

           “Relieve in the showers.” Relieve in the showers.

           “You’ll do it with the men.” Do it with the men.

           “I’ll do it with the men.” I’ll do it with the men.

           “With the team.”

           “With the team.” With the team.

           “In your designated stall.”

           “In my designated stall.” In my designated stall.

           “Tell me your number.”

           “Number 100.” Number 56.

           “From now on you will use the stall number to match your team number. That will be your stall.”

           “From now on, I’ll use my stall.” From now on, I’ll use my stall.

           “And what is your stall?”

           “Number 100.” Number 56.

           “That’s right. And each time you relieve yourself, the better it’ll feel. And each day you’ll grow bigger, and so will your dick.”

           “Yyyeessss …” Bigger every day. Bigger dick. Bigger pleasure.

           “Just like the team.”

           “Just like the team.” Just like the team.

           “The men are your team.”

           “The men are my team.” The men are my team.

           “You love to show off.”

           “Love to show off.” Love to show off.

           “And what do you show off?”

           “Muscles.” Brains.

           “That’s right; muscles.” … Muscles. Show off muscles. Not brains. Brawn.

           “You don’t care about brains.”

           “Don’t care about brains.” Don’t care about brains.

           “You don’t like brains.”

           “Don’t like brains.” Don’t like … brains?

           “Brains don’t matter.”

           “Brains don’t matter.” Brains don’t matter.

           “Whenever someone compliments you on your muscles or your progress, you’ll be very happy. And every time they mention a massive, manly bulge, you’ll join them in a chant.”

           “Happy about muscle compliments. Join when say ‘massive, manly bulge.’” Enjoy compliments. Massive, manly bulge.

           “You’ll listen to your recordings all the time. You’ll hardly take out your headphones except when you’re with the team, cleaning up, or picking on the weak ones.”

           “Listen all the time.” Listen to recordings.

           “Think like a muscle head. Think like a jock. Be like a jock. Become a jock. Just like the rest.”

           “Think muscle. Think jock. Be jock. Become jock. Just like rest.” Just like the rest. Think … think … like a … think …

           “Scan yourself every day. You need to every day.”

           “Need to scan … every day.” Must scan daily.

           “Now take off those headphones and go work out. Be proud about it.”

           “Yes, sir!” Yes sir …

�0���D

Real Men’s Journal Part 10

DOCTOR’S LOG

~February 28th~

It’s been nearly a month. Subject 56 has changed drastically. He’s grown in size and mass to the point of being truly “swole.” He’s been positively stacked with muscle and his penis has grown to the point where it’s remarkable he can manage to put together so much as a sentence. The boy is constantly swearing and cursing up a storm, repeating the words “Fuck” and “Damn” over and over again. Every time he speaks a trigger word, the easier it is for him to fall into trance. He’ll be lost soon enough and then I can move on.

Statistics as of last scan:

Height:  5’9

Weight:  290 lbs

Subject Response Rate:  90%

Subject Rank:  Advanced

Recommended Course of Action:  Advance to next level. Transfer to intermediary.

As for me, I’ve made some serious gains over the last month, and Coach Stone has encouraged me every step of the way. I’m grateful for the lights now. They help me to focus. I doubt I’d be able to get my work done if they were fixed. Viewing the statistics, watching 56 transform and convert, it’s been very … informative. I believe I have a better understanding of the language our subjects use now and occasionally, I use it around my colleagues as a joke. A few of them laugh, but the only one who really seems to get the humor is Coach Stone. We continue to meet on a regular basis for three hours a day at the gym while I work out. My musculature has improved vastly and my dates have been through the roof. I guess it’s true what they say. Working out is an excellent way to improve testosterone production. My sex life has been nothing but aces since I started. I’ve never felt better, and I’ve never been bigger. I am loving the new me. Goodbye, Doctor Seroyan. Say hello to Big Rookie.

 ~March 30th~

56 continues to grow. He’s gotten so huge. I’ve made it a habit to review his journals every day now. The way he slowly changes is so captivating. He started off so small, so out of shape. Now he’s essentially a god. Cocky, confident, boastful, and slowly becoming obsessed with sports, physical fitness, muscles, and of course, his bulge. Watching his hologram progress projections in sync to his entries as well as seeing the videos from security footage and the recorder in his tablet have become my new hobby. That, and spending some more time with Stone.

My own personal clothing has grown rather snug with the gains I’ve been making. Since the lab coats are specially tailored, along with my other garments for work, I have little choice but to shift to my work out gear when I can. I doubt it will go unnoticed, but I don’t have much choice. I have to go. It’s time for my work out again. Coach Stone and I have agreed we’re going to try to extend a little longer. I can see why our subjects love the gym so much. The rush of endorphins is incredibly pleasurable. So much so sometimes that I even find myself dreaming of the gym, working out, and continuing to grow. The ladies love my new muscles and increased masculinity.

…

So do I.

 ACCESSING SUBJECT 56 JOURNAL

~DAY ???~

Phase 2. Entered. Hard to think. People posing so much. FLEXing. I feel so small compared to them. I want to join them, but I can’t. Not after what COACH did. They’re trying to wear me down. I … can’t let them. Have to remember. Have to … think back. Back home. School. Classes. Man, they were so boring. And I was so weak. A fucking pussy. But … I liked being like that, didn’t I? Did I? It’s been so long. Can’t even count the days anymore. Who has time though? Got so much work to do. Worked so hard at school. Worked like a fucking dog. Worked and worked and worked out. Felt so good. Feels so good. Working out is good.

Damn that hissing! I’m not one of them! I won’t give in. Won’t let myself get SWOLE. Even if I am a fucking stud. Hell, I’m hung like a horse. Like a fucking bull. Feels so fuckin good with my MASSIVE, MANLY BULGE. People coming up to me. Callin’ me bro. Yeah … lil’bro. We’re bros …

Damn it, we’re not!

… But we are. I’m so confused. It hurts my head. But I can’t stop. Can’t stop. Can’t stop touching myself. I’m fucking ripped. Look at me. Look at us. So HUGE. So SWOLE. FLEXing. Posing. So good. But … I was … thinking about … something …

…

Game time. Report. Go to showers. 56 Reporting. Must March. Must Report. Yes, sir.

…

 DOCTOR’S LOG

~April 12th~

I’ve been having such strange dreams lately. I don’t remember them well. Something about pushing. I remember a heavy weight. Grunts. A sense of satisfaction. I felt … almost mindless. I think there was a voice of some kind in the back pressing me on. I … I don’t know.

For reasons they won’t tell me, my superiors have had me confined to the base. I am having great difficulty dealing with that since my romantic life was doing so well, and it helped to relieve certain urges that are now building up in my system without release. I’ve lodged a complaint, but have yet to receive a response. The only things I can do now are observe 56’s progress and work out.

I’ve taken to referring to Coach Stone by his title, much like the other test subjects. My reasoning behind it, however, is a bit more logical. Since he has decided to dub me “Rookie,” it seems only fair that I call him “Coach,” much like the relationship between a boy and his trainer. I’m rather glad to report I took him by surprise when I said it. We both had a good laugh over it as I got to work on my routine. It’s a great joke: a nickname for a nickname. I’m up to five hours now in the gym. Time goes by so fast. It’s hard to stop. Part of me wishes I didn’t have to.

I think I’ll see about extending my hours again.

56 has been upgraded to Phase Two in The Process. “Coach” made the unfortunate miscalculation of starting into the desire to be a football jock too soon. He neglected to look into the boy’s, well, I guess I can’t call him a boy anymore. Let’s go with strapping young man’s history. It would appear that before he was recommended and brought into the program, Number 1 and Number 5 decided to act on the bullying program instilled in their subconscious as football jocks, which we use as standard cover for our operatives to fit in. The High Schools are so judgmental and cliquey that a living stereotype blends perfectly. Unfortunately, this bullying has led to a great aversion to the sport in the subject at a subconscious level. It will take some time before the desire to play takes root, I fear, though being around fellow members appears to be helping him in the long run.

The close proximity to greater muscle excites the subject and pulls him into a hypnotic stupor which allows the subliminals we play on the speakers every day to have greater effect. That combined with the trigger words we’ve installed in him will soon have him towing the line again. He’s already adopted the others in his new barracks as “bros,” and they have adopted him in kind. The command to watch sports and follow reinforcement protocol is also intact and he has followed it militantly with his brothers. Even as he fell in line, I watched as he gained an extra two inches in height while matching stride. His pre-programmed arousal only added to his euphoria and sense of displacement from his former self. Even if he claims otherwise, the subconscious desire to conform, to fit in, to be the same, to belong, is strong in every high school student. It is strong in him. I watched as his genitals expanded, while they marched in unison. While he is not yet at their level, he will soon catch up. Soon he will match in hair style, in weight count, in competitive nature, in muscle mass, and, of course, in I.Q.

Here is a recording of their transcript. Watching them as they filed in was quite the experience. Of course, I did make sure to include filters in the cameras to preserve dignity. It’s part of company policy.

ACCESSING PHASE 2 CONFORMITY CAMP CAMERAS

A group of boys line up in files and prepare to make their way to the showers. One is shorter than the rest with shaggy dark brown hair. As each file forward, they approach the camera and a light blue light surrounds them as they are scanned. A door opens, and they pass through. Eventually, this shorter boy walks up and stands inside as the entrance seals shut. His jaw is square and his eyes are open, staring obediently ahead as he spreads his legs, exposing his erection while he stands at attention.

“Identification?” a female voice inquires.

“Kyle Matthews,” the boy replies.

“Identification?”

“Kyle Matthews.”

“Please state registered identification.”

“Ky–”

“Please state registered identification.”

“… Number 56.”

“Voice identification imprint confirmed. Initiating scan.” The light blue light flashes up and down over the boy as he stands there, unblinking. His pupils contract as his erection presses further against his pants. His brow grows slightly more prominent as the hair along the ridges becomes bushier. “Confirmed. Player Number 56. On track.”

“Player Number 56. On track,” he mumbled back and shuddered as a smile crossed his face. A new door hissed open as he passed into the locker room and the camera angle shifts to the inside. He approaches a locker where another scanner waits. The shower room is cavernous and from the upper vantage point, multiple men stand side by side as they look into the digital eyes on the metal surfaces. No benches are anywhere in sight. The room slowly becomes more filled as the systematic hissing of the entry doors repeat rhythmically. More men march into the room at a measured pace. No one speaks. No one interacts. They just file and wait in front of the lockers. When everyone has arrived, the men turn as one body to the red lenses that stare back at them from the seamless metal before them. A large, bold number identifies which portion they are meant to stand before.

“Welcome, subject players. Identify.” As one, the men stare at the lens and announce their numbers simultaneously.

“56.” He flexes in front of the lens as others perform similar actions. A red beam fires into his eyes, scanning his retinas as his pupils dilate, then contract to pinpricks. “Gotta get swole. Massive, manly bulge,” he says in unison with the others. The beam disengages as a musical chirp sounds, followed by a loud clunk as the lock is undone on the locker unit and the metal hisses open. Unabashed, the subject proceeds to disrobe with the other men as he stows his clothing in the locker and takes the towel, shampoo, and soap provided. As one man, they turn and file towards the stalls with only their jockstraps left.

“Gotta catch the game. Can’t miss. Too important.” These and other snatches are caught on the camera being muttered by various men as they continue to file toward their stalls. A clouded glass door descends over their stall entrances after they disrobe and casually toss their jock straps to the side.

The sound of flickering screens turning on is heard as the sound of static surges through the air. It soon clears to a more bell-like tone. A calm, deep, smooth voice is heard.

“I want you to relax. Just sit down, and relax. Listen to the sound of my voice. So deep. So smooth, so relaxing. Just listen … and sit … and relax.” The silent whirr of machinery is heard as several dark shapes rise slowly behind the clouded glass. As one, the sound of shifting weight and slapping feet is heard. Flashes between cameras show the distorted shapes of the hulking men sitting on the shadowy shapes that rose. The camera then returns to stall 56. This distorted shape is still standing.

“I … don’t understand. Where is the game?”

“So calm. So relaxed. Just happy to sit … and listen … and relax as my voice takes you deeper and deeper. Lower and lower. Until you are fully seated. Fully relaxed.”

“But … the game …” The form is trembling where he stands.

“Your legs are feeling heavy. So very … very tired. Even now, they want to rest. Want to relax. Just as you want to relax. Relax and listen. Listen and relax. As my voice grows stronger, clearer. It’s all you want to listen to. All you want to hear. Everything else grows less and falls away. Falling away. Just as you are falling. Falling into your chair. Falling into relaxation. Falling into peace. Falling into a warm, happy place. Falling and letting go as you sit. Falling into trance.” A chorus of mumbles echo around the showers, responding to the promptings, affirming them.

“I … I feel … heavy … so heavy … legs … tired …”

“And as you sit, and rest, you feel perfectly at peace. So glad to just listen and rest. To sit and rest. To listen and sit. To sit feels good. To listen feels good. So good, so restful, so peaceful. Just listening to my voice and letting go. Listen and sit. Listen and rest. Listen and sit and obey. Falling deeper and deeper. Listening more and more. You want to listen. You want to obey. To obey your legs as they say to sit. To obey the voice that makes you aware of what your body wants. Of what you want. And you know it’s the truth. You know that you want it. So sit. And listen. And obey.”

The figure in stall 56 has entered into a crouch and is trembling above the shadow. “S—so tired. I … I can’t. Can’t … have to …” A heavy thud is heard as the shape falls onto the shadowy chair. “I listen … feels good to listen. Sit. Listen. Relax. I follow. Yes …”

END TRANSMISSION

What follows is a series of continuous hypnotic dialogue as they are slowly converted to match the personality and body type we wish them to take. In that session alone, Number 56 grew to a full six foot three. He also consented to a haircut, calling the “fucking mop on my fuckin head a fucking disgrace.” Subject has clearly reached mesomorph status and is still growing. Body fat content has dropped to eight percent. His muscle has grown at an astounding rate since the treatment took place. The boys chant and sing together on a regular basis about their “MASSIVE MANLY BULGE.”

Odd … why did I use all caps? Perhaps a computer error? I mean, they are BIGGER. There it goes again. Why must I emphasize with capitals like that? The only time I see that is in the boys’ journals. But I’m clean. My scan said so. It must be the computer’s fault somehow. I’ll make a call in to the I.T. people tomorrow about it. After my workout with COACH.

Mmmm … Can’t wait to get my PUMP on. It just feels so right in the gym. Helps me work off some of that tension from being stuck on base, too. COACH just makes it all go away when I LISTEN. When I LISTEN to him, I can just let it all go. I LISTEN to COACH and just let it all GROW. Mmmm … flickering lights. Love em. Going off. Making me feel BIG. BIGGER is better. BUFFER is TOUGHER. COACH is calling. Time to work out. Gotta get SWOLE. GROW that MASSIVE, MANLY BULGE.

 ACCESSING NUMBER 56 JOURNAL

~DAY ???~

Been a week now … I think?

Music. Pounding in my head. Crashing. Thrashing. Bashing. Tackling. Grunting.

So much fighting. Wrestling. …I want to join. But not ready yet.

Feeling so big. SWOLE. Not enough though. Still smaller. Too small.

Been eatin’ a lot. Workin out a lot. Just workin’ ya know?

Easy to let go that way. Easier to listen. Easier to get SWOLE.

Big and SWOLE MUSCLE bro. Just like 100, ya know?

Just like him.

All MUSCLE.

All BRAWN.

Want that. Don’t I? So hard to think.

Why think?

I … don’t know.

Maybe I … shouldn’t?

So fucking horny. I … gotta go. Time to report.

Report my GROWTH.

My MASSIVE, MANLY BULGE.

GROWing MUSCLE in my head.

Other stuff goes to my dick instead.

BIG MUSCLES.

MASSIVE BULGE.

So much pleasure.

Can’t stop. Don’t wanna. Can’t stop.

Report. Train. Gotta train.

Bulk up the BRAWN.

Dim … dim … can’t think of the word. Can’t spell it.

Something about my brain? Forgetting?

I … I am forgetting.

Oh god, I’m forgetting.

What’s happening to me?

…

 DOCTOR’S LOG

~May 12th~

Doctor Seroyan

Big Rookie

56 is almost done. Soon he’ll be part of the TEAM. Just like the rest. COACH says it’s time to test him. Dunno how we’re gonna do it. COACH says he wants me to take the test, too. Be a sort of spy for him to see things up close and personal. He says I’m BIG enough.

I asked about the head honchos. The BIG guys. Not MUSCLE BIG, but the in charge kinda BIG. They said I couldn’t go in before. Said it was a bad idea. COACH just looked at me. I never felt so bad. If COACH says it’ll happen, it’ll happen. I have to listen to COACH. Trust him. The more I LISTEN, the more I OBEY, the better I feel. The BIGGER I become. Become. Yes. Become what COACH wants me to become.

Yes, sir, COACH. I’m listening. Spy is just like the others. Avoids suspicion. Acts just like them. I’ll spy for you. Be just like them. Yes. BIGGER. BUFFER. STRONGER. Make me fucking MASSIVE!

Um … yeah. Excuse me. I um … have to go now. Have to get ready. Ready to GROW—uhhh … I mean go. Besides, it’s gym time. Have to get used to their schedule if I’m gonna fit in. Gotta get SWOLE, right? And GROW my MASSIVE, MANLY BULGE. Yeah. I’ll fit right in.

…

New Writer on the Block

Hey, all. I’m Omni, also known as Omnikitsune on Furaffinity.net. I’m a writer who’s absolutely obsessed with transformation fiction. I particularly enjoy muscle growth and hypnotic themes, but I also enjoy other types, such as animal, and am willing to experiment with new ones, like inanimate, etc. For those of you who find this blog, I hope you enjoy the work that I post. Some of it will come from previous works that I’ve written, and others will be fresh material.

That being said, I do have some little rules I’d like to go over with people.

I may be willing to take requests, but if I do, it will likely be shorter posts. I love doing a properly developed story, but I do have real life work that I need to take care of, too, after all, so I won’t always be able to be so detailed on scenery and character development, etc. Suggestions are also welcome, if people have prompts, but I don’t guarantee I’ll be able to get to them all or even be willing to do them all.

Rule one may be changed, if I get enough subscribers who wish to see me write content for them to use full time. That being said, I would require an alternate means of support. So, any donations to Ko-fi or commissions would be appreciated. I don’t use Patreon, since I don’t really have enough followers to make it worth it at the moment. Kofi link will be below. If you wish to discuss commissions with me, you can send me a private message, and I can give you a quote. http://ko-fi.com/omnikitsune

I do not do adult content. I will go mature, and occasionally I may use more crude or crass things as certain characters may require in my work (Perhaps push the envelope), but I will not write graphic sex scenes. Please respect this rule when you send me requests or commission me. There doesn’t have to be sex for a story to be great or fit a trope.

I may occasionally ask for some advice or help with parts of tumblr, since I’m new to this particular blogosphere. I hope you guys will understand and be patient with me as I learn. Any advice you can give would be greatly appreciated on those topics as I ask them.

Thanks for reading, and I look forward to joining the tumblr community.

~Omni